I'll be a stone, I'll be the hunter,
The tower that casts a shade
***
The tower that casts a shade
***
To pass the night nestled against the Tarrasque's leathery neck, made safe in the cage of one of her loosely-wrapped arms, felt like preconsciousness. Her pulse beat a slow, steady tattoo against his flesh with the unseen rivers of blood cascading through her veins. Her breaths kept a low, thunderous rhythm that enveloped him in walls of sound.
For the first time in the countless nights, he slept like he had when he was a colt: deeply, completely.
But the night did pass.
Raymond woke smoothly, spurred on by a sense of awareness, of purpose, that had taken root in his breast. Ruth slept on, her mind a pillar of warmth pressed catlike against his own. For a brief moment he weighed the logistics of scaling her furled arm and securing freedom for himself from her unconscious possessiveness. He weighed, too, the consequences of staying exactly where he was - but again, the pangs of purpose spurred him forward. However great the agony of separation after so brief a time reunited, duty called him elsewhere with a cold and insistent drumming.
Ruth.
The slow, deep sussuration of her breathing became a guttural, plaintive groan as she too began to stir. A wash of indistinct color poured through the link, and he placed the plane of his white-streaked forehead against the curve of her mighty jaw. I need to leave for a little while.
No, she groused sleepily, curling her arm more tightly around him. Stay.
Raymond shook his head, I have things to do. What passed through the bond then was a plea in pictures and emotions instead of words, as clear to him as when she would make yowled demands at his feet.
I'll go with you. He laughed loudly - a sound equally amused and sad. He was no brutal warlord to allow a machine of conquest and destruction to walk alongside him into the capitol of Denocte, carrying in her wicked, bladed shadow the very same threat of tyranny that had lurked here beneath a dragon's wings. Perhaps someday - for he could never condemn her for the reality of her existence - but not today. Not yet.
Ruth groaned plaintively and the sound echoed like whalesong through the mountain range; after a moment, the long fingers opened like the petals of a jagged flower, releasing him back to the outside world. The silence of the wilderness descended upon him like a thunderclap after so long spent cocooned within the Tarrasque's grasp.
Thank you, my dear.
Her tail switched unhappily against the ground, crushing a small boulder, but she did not rise with him. Turning with fresh resolve toward the heart of Denocte, he allowed his blade to skip lightly along the rusty pebbles of her skin in an affectionate, reluctant farewell.
The time for resting had past. Now, he would act.
---
The journey to Night Court's center from the most secluded corner of the Arma Mountains gave Raymond ample time to reflect. His soul ached with the bruises inflicted by revelation after brutal revelation, throbbing with scars of an intellectual and emotional awakening he would never have expected to come so late in his life.
He had come for truth and to chase away the specter of a dragon and the creeping rot of a neglected throne. He had come to protect Calliope from the wildfire raging in her own heart, to avenge the white flashes of fear in Isra's eyes, to make certain that every uncertain, darting glance cast in the streets and every flinch at a bird on the wing would be answered with steel and blood and the reverberating peal of justice.
He had come for all that; what he'd gotten was silence and then the agonizing flames of rebirth, forging him anew as the waves of his own making broke upon his shores.
There would be no judgment for Reichenbach. Whether he had vanished against his will or fled rather than face the charges leveled against him, neither he nor his regime had returned to take up the mantle of their rule, and in the vacuum that remained Raymond felt a sense of belonging take root in his wanderer's heart. He'd risen from the ashes of a broken paradigm; he could give that back to Denocte.
The first thing he saw as he arrived was Caligo, a black panther glittering with diamonds as she stalked amongst the other mortals that her summons had attracted. His expression was stone, his eyes stormy, and a presence stirred at the distant corners of his mind as Ruth grew restless with the depth of his severity. He had never met a god he could trust - he was not about to make a mockery of this meeting by pretending to do so now - but he knew as any tactician would know that trust and partnership could be quite separate things indeed, as long as their motivations aligned.
And he wasn't about to scold her like a petulant child for her absence in the face of Denocte's suffering. It was not Caligo who had brought the kingdom low, but something within the kingdom itself. Why should anyone expect Caligo to step in and set it right? Any of them was capable of accomplishing as much, if they would but step up in earnest.
The red stallion stepped forward, radiating the same primal fierceness that had raced Calliope across the beach and called Reichenbach to answer for the fruits of his declining regime. He was a wild and primitive creature, naked and unashamed before her, and neither the diamonds cascading like starfall from her flesh nor the dark infinity of her eyes bade him avert his eyes as he addressed all gathered before the goddess of night.
"My name is Raymond, and I didn't come here to sell myself like a fat pig at market." Words are wind, and no mortal here could hope to judge him by what he chose to say, and Caligo wouldn't - for he could easily say anything in an effort to impress. His voice carried through the crowd with a bard's relentless confidence, projected rather than shouted for the benefit of all in attendance. To Caligo specifically, he continued, "You are the Night Mother; I am certain you already know my worth."
"You know what I risked for the sake of your children when they were mere strangers - and what more I'd pay for the sake of those I love and serve."
He had faced dragons and demons and pestilent beasts, waded through filth to cleanse the souls of the innocent, devoured the sins of others that they might live even one day in liberty. He had stepped into the ashes of Denocte's blighted mountain pass and seen soaring potential and a kindred tenacity in its resilience. He wanted to see the sky sparkling with diamonds again, as undoubtedly it had in its vaunted past.
"I ask only for the opportunity to do so."
For the first time in the countless nights, he slept like he had when he was a colt: deeply, completely.
But the night did pass.
Raymond woke smoothly, spurred on by a sense of awareness, of purpose, that had taken root in his breast. Ruth slept on, her mind a pillar of warmth pressed catlike against his own. For a brief moment he weighed the logistics of scaling her furled arm and securing freedom for himself from her unconscious possessiveness. He weighed, too, the consequences of staying exactly where he was - but again, the pangs of purpose spurred him forward. However great the agony of separation after so brief a time reunited, duty called him elsewhere with a cold and insistent drumming.
Ruth.
The slow, deep sussuration of her breathing became a guttural, plaintive groan as she too began to stir. A wash of indistinct color poured through the link, and he placed the plane of his white-streaked forehead against the curve of her mighty jaw. I need to leave for a little while.
No, she groused sleepily, curling her arm more tightly around him. Stay.
Raymond shook his head, I have things to do. What passed through the bond then was a plea in pictures and emotions instead of words, as clear to him as when she would make yowled demands at his feet.
I'll go with you. He laughed loudly - a sound equally amused and sad. He was no brutal warlord to allow a machine of conquest and destruction to walk alongside him into the capitol of Denocte, carrying in her wicked, bladed shadow the very same threat of tyranny that had lurked here beneath a dragon's wings. Perhaps someday - for he could never condemn her for the reality of her existence - but not today. Not yet.
Ruth groaned plaintively and the sound echoed like whalesong through the mountain range; after a moment, the long fingers opened like the petals of a jagged flower, releasing him back to the outside world. The silence of the wilderness descended upon him like a thunderclap after so long spent cocooned within the Tarrasque's grasp.
Thank you, my dear.
Her tail switched unhappily against the ground, crushing a small boulder, but she did not rise with him. Turning with fresh resolve toward the heart of Denocte, he allowed his blade to skip lightly along the rusty pebbles of her skin in an affectionate, reluctant farewell.
The time for resting had past. Now, he would act.
The journey to Night Court's center from the most secluded corner of the Arma Mountains gave Raymond ample time to reflect. His soul ached with the bruises inflicted by revelation after brutal revelation, throbbing with scars of an intellectual and emotional awakening he would never have expected to come so late in his life.
He had come for truth and to chase away the specter of a dragon and the creeping rot of a neglected throne. He had come to protect Calliope from the wildfire raging in her own heart, to avenge the white flashes of fear in Isra's eyes, to make certain that every uncertain, darting glance cast in the streets and every flinch at a bird on the wing would be answered with steel and blood and the reverberating peal of justice.
He had come for all that; what he'd gotten was silence and then the agonizing flames of rebirth, forging him anew as the waves of his own making broke upon his shores.
There would be no judgment for Reichenbach. Whether he had vanished against his will or fled rather than face the charges leveled against him, neither he nor his regime had returned to take up the mantle of their rule, and in the vacuum that remained Raymond felt a sense of belonging take root in his wanderer's heart. He'd risen from the ashes of a broken paradigm; he could give that back to Denocte.
The first thing he saw as he arrived was Caligo, a black panther glittering with diamonds as she stalked amongst the other mortals that her summons had attracted. His expression was stone, his eyes stormy, and a presence stirred at the distant corners of his mind as Ruth grew restless with the depth of his severity. He had never met a god he could trust - he was not about to make a mockery of this meeting by pretending to do so now - but he knew as any tactician would know that trust and partnership could be quite separate things indeed, as long as their motivations aligned.
And he wasn't about to scold her like a petulant child for her absence in the face of Denocte's suffering. It was not Caligo who had brought the kingdom low, but something within the kingdom itself. Why should anyone expect Caligo to step in and set it right? Any of them was capable of accomplishing as much, if they would but step up in earnest.
The red stallion stepped forward, radiating the same primal fierceness that had raced Calliope across the beach and called Reichenbach to answer for the fruits of his declining regime. He was a wild and primitive creature, naked and unashamed before her, and neither the diamonds cascading like starfall from her flesh nor the dark infinity of her eyes bade him avert his eyes as he addressed all gathered before the goddess of night.
"My name is Raymond, and I didn't come here to sell myself like a fat pig at market." Words are wind, and no mortal here could hope to judge him by what he chose to say, and Caligo wouldn't - for he could easily say anything in an effort to impress. His voice carried through the crowd with a bard's relentless confidence, projected rather than shouted for the benefit of all in attendance. To Caligo specifically, he continued, "You are the Night Mother; I am certain you already know my worth."
"You know what I risked for the sake of your children when they were mere strangers - and what more I'd pay for the sake of those I love and serve."
He had faced dragons and demons and pestilent beasts, waded through filth to cleanse the souls of the innocent, devoured the sins of others that they might live even one day in liberty. He had stepped into the ashes of Denocte's blighted mountain pass and seen soaring potential and a kindred tenacity in its resilience. He wanted to see the sky sparkling with diamonds again, as undoubtedly it had in its vaunted past.
"I ask only for the opportunity to do so."
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
About the RPer
@Odeen
28
I have played multiple leaders on a variety of different games - from a stallion on a harem-based game who was king of his particular island for nearly a full real-life year to characters that were leaders on more kingdom-based sites. Some of those characters were elected through an IC or OOC election, others challenged for their positions and won, then defended those positions.
I have been a staff member/administrator on multiple RPGs in the past, including one game I co-created.
I have also held officer positions in a couple of my World of Warcraft raiding guilds. As healer officer, I dedicated myself to being knowledgeable about all of the healing classes or at least know who to point people to if they had questions or needed to improve, and I was also in charge of organizing healers on a fight by fight basis so we could progress through difficult content. Most recently I was a raid leader for about 6 months, and in that position my role was to research and explain raid mechanics and organize our raiding roster to make sure we had the classes and roles we needed to get things done.
My favorite part about taking on a leadership role is being able to be a bit more intimately involved in whether a kingdom or team succeeds or fails, and being able to "lead by example" if you will by approaching everything with enthusiasm and inspiring others to do the same, step out of their comfort zone, and grow in-character and out-of-character all at once. My least favorite part I would have to say is having to come to terms with my own limitations. You can't possibly interact with everyone at once, so I had to learn to prioritize and optimize my time. You can't possibly make everyone happy with your choices as a leader all the time, so I learned how to be fair, logical, and transparent with my assessments and expectations. I know that whenever I hold a position of power, other people are counting on me to be there, be honest, and be a positive force for the whole team.
My favorite thing about Novus is the richness of the lore, and the fact that players themselves can impact the lore either by creating adoptable characters or by creating whole mini-factions. There is a lot of depth and organic growth in the game, and if you're looking for connections or a purpose for your character it's pretty easy to either find a corner to fit into - or be the change you want to see in the world (literally!) by decorating a corner for yourself. I also love the frequent events that are mainly about mixing of characters that wouldn't otherwise meet on a regular basis, like seasonal festivals hosted by each herd. The world feels very vibrant and alive, and I've loved being a part of that in some way.
General Information
@Raymond
9 [Year 492 Winter]
Male [He/Him/His]
Heterosexual
Technically he's full-blooded Rendari - for the sake of build, he's got a sort of mutty thoroughbred look
15.0 hh
Appearance
Click for Reference
To the uncritical eye, Raymond would be remembered only by the bright copper-red of his coat. A wiser individual would recognize him for what he is: either a powerful ally or a dangerous foe. He has a slender, sinewy build, and carries himself with the measured restraint of a viper coiled to strike. His martial upbringing is carved into the intentional way that he moves, the sheer economy of motion. His mane is sparse where it grows at all, and he keeps it cropped close to his crest.
He has a long, dexterous, leonine tail reminiscent of a unicorn. Also reminiscent of a unicorn, he has a single horn, but very much unlike a unicorn his horn grows at the end of his tail in the form of a wickedly sharp scythe.
Now the obsession with precision makes a bit more sense, eh?
Raymond's tail blade is not just for show. Maintaining its deadly edge is a matter of racial pride and maintaining his edge is more of a matter of personal pragmatism. Raymond has spent the better part of his adult life alone and prepares for the worst case scenario. If his charm cannot get him out of a tight spot, his combat skills will.
Personality
Positive: Cunning, just, thoughtful, pragmatic, tenacious, patient
Negative: Vindictive, independent, slow to trust, pessimistic
ENTJ: The Commander
Raymond is an observer, first and foremost. While not quiet by any stretch of the term - often he speaks first and longest, and enjoys engaging others in conversation - he views interaction as a tool to gain information or persuade others. He will wring every ounce of value out of empty chatter and put it to use if he can. He has a well-developed sense of humor and uses it often, which makes the rare times he loses his temper all the more shocking when they occur.
He is affable as often as he can be and treats others with genuine respect until they prove themselves unworthy of it. As far as Raymond is concerned, the importance of one's political station is either completely unrelated to or negatively correlated with the respect that they deserve. He enjoys giving gifts to those he cares about, and is pretty good at remembering things about other individuals even if he's only met them once. People are important to him, even if he keeps very few of them close enough to potentially hurt him.
Raymond keeps a cool head, doesn't spoil for a fight, and generally won't willingly get into combat unless he has no other choice or has already guaranteed a positive outcome for himself. He adheres pretty strictly to the "measure twice, cut once" school of thinking and isn't afraid of speaking frankly with others. He is what one might call a voice of reason. This restraint, patience, and prudence are seen as necessary because, when he does get tilted, he tends to tilt off the face of the planet and will stop at nothing to destroy or dismantle whoever or whatever has wronged him.
He has a strong sense of personal justice but little patience for any concept of institutional law and order, so his methods of achieving what he deems to be right can become quite grey at times. Having been burned by the establishment once, he would prefer to defer to his own standards and principles, and views reason as the most potent tool for determining morality. He values loyalty above all else and does not break ties lightly. As such, he still views Calliope as his queen in a way despite them having left both her kingdom and her throne long, long behind, and will go to great lengths to assist or defend her.
History
While exactly what Raymond is is far less important than who he has become, it might be beneficial to know that he began his life as a respected yet unremarkable member of a tribal race called rendari horses, which were known for their brightly colored coats, bladed tails, and fierce dispositions. The rendari took pride in their rituals and discipline - a necessity in a society where even the very young carry weapons - and Raymond would have lived and died as a defender of his clan but for the cruelty of ambition.
Where some preferred to lend their strengths toward conquest, the dal'rend of Raymond's clan hoped only for peace and prosperity among his people. Neighboring societies made far better allies than victims in his eye, and years of honest toil had carved out a stronghold and a budding diplomatic network with other rendari clans and foreigners alike. But some among the clan thirsted quietly for the glorious tales told of blademasters and bloodshed from the days of old. They chose to practice their new ethos first upon the dal'rend and those who shared his vision, murdering them in their sleep before they could raise the alarm.
For the last time in his life, Raymond was blinded by his own naivete.
Only a warning from the lips of a dying comrade spared him from the same grisly fate. Faced with the prospect of a valiant, suicidal charge against the usurpers, Raymond was forced to flee.
After that day, he seemed to disappear as far as the clan could tell, and the fate of one wounded exile was no bother to them when there was conquest to be had. But the new dal'rend would find as they worked to cement their power that the wilderness suddenly seemed more treacherous for his war parties; allies dried up like water in the desert. Strangers anticipated their tactics and thwarted them more often than not. The rituals that had kept them and their blades keen and ready for generations were suddenly a crippling weakness.
Raymond moved on only when word came that the new dal'rend had fallen, his stronghold left for the carrion birds. He carried nothing with him but himself - every trinket his words had bought traded away again just as quickly, every drop of blood spilt to further his cause left to stain only his memories - and the lessons of his ugly work. He watched everyone with the distrustful scrutiny of a hungry dog and exploited their strength to fortify his weakness. He fought with information where his tail blade could not hope to reach. Honor was a child's fantasy. Even the sacred traditions of his people were not too high a price to pay for justice. He could never show his face among the rendari horses again.
With no home of his own Raymond did what any self-respecting outcast would do and started walking. Various shenanigans ensued - none of which are collectively important, except to say that they happened and served to propel him forward in his own narrative, hardening him against such fancies as hope, charity, and law - until he arrived at Ravos.
It was full of all the intrigue and dangerous tribalism that had done him so poorly in the past, but the land was steeped in strange magic and preyed upon his curiosity. It was then that he met Calliope.
She was more beast than unicorn. He offered his strength to her cause at first by the sheer ballsiness of her pitch, but grew respect the honesty of her savage elegance and her reckless pursuit of a sort of justice he understood well. The allegiance he had meant to give as a means to obtain leverage for himself grew into proper loyalty the better he came to know her. When the rift called them to leave Ravos and Velius behind, he did not hesitate.
But the rift was a vicious thing. He arrived to find Shrike - Calliope's closest companion - dead, and Calliope herself mad with vengeful fury. Only the cool logic of his own harsh lesson, now long past, was sufficient to calm her bloodwrath. But she was not one to be harnessed and led by well-placed words; she was a roiling sea in a tempest, depthless passion and terrible conviction. He might save her life by soothing her rage, but nothing could turn her from her hunt. Accompanied by his new companion Ruth - a strange hairless kitten found near death in the western riftlands and nursed back to health by Florentine - Raymond returned to Velius, to the seat of Calliope's once and future power, and returned with a silver cuff he had forged both as a focus for her power and a token of his loyalty.
He developed a strong bond with the spirited kitten on their shared journey, though he would never have admitted his fondness for her out loud. Instead he poured all of his remaining spellforging power into the delicate sapphire-adorned collar she wore. The enchanted collar would protect its wearer from virtually all harm, both physical and magical, thus ensuring her safety. Together they returned to the Rift, where he presented Calliope with the token from her lost kingdom.
When the rift fell to ruin, Raymond left with her, but not without cost. This time, as they crossed through the tumultuous Rift, Ruth lost her grip on his back and was torn loose, tumbling deep into the heart of the rift.
He reunited with Calliope in Terrastella and, while coming to terms with the death of Ruth, he became aware of trouble stirring in Novus and set out to gather as much information from others he met as he could. Several individuals he met - including a young visitor from Denocte - spoke of strange or troubling developments in Denocte, but when he attempted to investigate he found the gates had been sealed and the land was somehow scorched.
It was not until the portentous developments on the Summit of Veneror Peak, when at last the gates to Denocte were opened again, that Raymond was at last able to obtain the answers he sought. When he reached the Night Court he encountered Isra, a mare that had been caught up in the events that had blighted the Arma Mountains and sealed Denocte away from the rest of Novus. She told Raymond how she had nearly been trapped by the dragonbreath turned against the regime's own people, and when they demanded an explanation for their actions the regime refused to heed them and locked themselves away. Given how doggedly he had fought against corruption, tyranny, and cruelty in his life, he could not sit idly by and let Denocte fall to ruin. He chose to become a Denoctean himself, so that he could elevate and revive the struggling kingdom from within.
Sovereign Questions
While Raymond may at times seem flippant and coarse, one cannot deny the passion with which he pursues his goals once he is set on a path. Wherever he goes, he seeks to preserve freedom - not just his own, which he undoubtedly prizes - but the freedom of others, however much or little he knows them. He will freely offer advice or counsel to others, pulling from his diverse life experience. Privately he wants everyone to one day become their best selves, as he believes he was robbed of the chance himself thanks to the twists and turns his life took.
He is highly observant and analytical, rarely acting rashly, and holds skepticism as one of the greatest virtues one can have. It is not enough to tell someone you are a force for good - you must demonstrate it, and until someone has demonstrated their character when the chips are really down he will not trust them. While he understands the practical benefits of tradition, he doesn't believe there are any sacred cows. If an individual, a group, or cultural norm is exploiting or harming people who cannot defend themselves, Raymond will do what he must to cut out the rot at its roots for the greater good.
First and foremost, Raymond would do what he could to help repair any damage that may have been done to Denocte's reputation by the actions of its previous leadership and the subsequent closing of the gates. He would impress upon the citizens of Denocte that while it can be good to be careful before trusting others, there is greater strength and security to be found at home by harboring more open relationships throughout the rest of Novus - exactly the same way that they have built relations with societies from foreign lands to establish the Night Markets.
He would formally do away with institutions of the Night Court whose sole purpose was to mete out fear, pain, and injustice at the individual whim of their leader, and promote a stronger Denoctean society by incentivizing citizens to learn from each other's strengths, weaknesses, triumphs, and mistakes, thereby lifting each other up as a unit.
While Denocte is traditionally a band of misfits, represented by a goddess who herself was scorned by the other gods, he would work toward a more open and accepting society because the kingdom gains nothing but turmoil by visiting the exact same scorn they suffered upon others for absolutely no reason. He would also insist upon being a more accessible and available leader - in part because he finds that the best way to resolve any problem is to see it coming before it becomes a problem, in other part because he really prefers the outdoors anyway (haha) - and do what he can to appoint a regime that supports and enables those ideals. He is a fan of get-togethers, so he would love to be able to build and strengthen bonds by hosting events and parties, and potentially arranging friendly competition in battles and stealths between kingdoms.
While one could hardly say that he bleeds Denoctean blood quite yet, he has seen both pain and potential in the kingdom and wants to do everything he can to help it flourish. If Caligo were to grant him that opportunity, he would be able to demonstrate that he is as loyal to Denocte as he is to Calliope. Also, I've personally got some great ideas to expand the lore and get some fresh blood into the court!
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
