after the storm [black faction]

Post by Octavian Yggdmillennia on Aug 18, 2014 1:55:35 GMT

Despite the fact that Octavian had not been alone, nor the one to claim the most lives, there was the blood of ninety-nine members of the Mage's Association. However, the man's disposition was relatively pleasant, distant sounds of the crashing waterfall making for soothing white noise. But no matter how serene the surroundings were, anyone with a pair of eyes could tell that the tension in the air was very real.

Still, as far as Octavian was concerned, the majority of the people sitting at the desk that had been moved to the shrine (along with the Grail) were incredibly capable. He sat at the head of the long, rectangular table, pushing back a sleeve to check the time on an expensive-looking wristwatch. "Twelve o'clock sharp," he mutters under his breath, clearing his throat and glancing at each of the seven faces seated at the table.

"Well, I certainly hope this gathering place is to everyone's liking," he says with a smile, an expression that, to an outsider, would have masked any ill intentions. This was not a smile that a man who had officially renounced his, along with the rest of Yggmillennia, loyalty to the largest and most powerful group of magus. "And if it isn't, I suppose you'll get used to it quickly."

(If anything's off or if you've got any questions, please feel free to ask!)

 

Post by Amaury St John Yggdmillennia on Aug 30, 2014 14:59:18 GMT

If the odd local concerned him, nothing showed on the face of Amaury St. John Yggdmillennia. In fact, those who did not know him might have even thought that he wasn't even paying attention. It was an easy assumption to make; rather than examine his surroundings he seemed more focused on the butterfly-like creature in his hand. In the moments leading up the clock striking noon, he whispered and cooed at his familiar, one that he'd created just today in fact.

Then, smiling, he raised his and and released it into the air. It flapped away with erratic movements, disappearing out of sight but never out of mind for Amaury. Thus, when Octavian spoke there was nothing distracting him.

"Ah, c'est magnifique. Such a pleasant local, my fairies take to it quite well. They will be keeping a watchful eye, so we need not fear others interrupting our meeting, Monsieur Octavain."

He then looked around at the various individuals seated around him. He knew Octavian fairly well, but these others were a mystery too him. And he did so love learning new things.

"I must confess though, I do not know the faces of many others here. Come friends, introduce yourselves and let us become truly united in this endeavor!"

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Post by Altai-Erdene Nergülgiin on Aug 31, 2014 20:45:24 GMT

"It's a damp and depressing place, made worse by everyone here inhabiting it," said Altai, a ray of sunshine.

He didn't know why he was here. It wasn't like he had anything to say, nor did he particularly like the company of anyone else present. Altai still hadn't decided if this place was better than the last place he'd been holed up (hidden away, safe, bored out of his mind), but either way, it sucked. A cage was a cage, and company made it worse.

Altai was on time, precisely so, in the fashion of a person that had no intention of showing up any earlier than they had to, yet not so disdainful as to show up late. Timeliness was easy, anyhow. He was supposed to live here now; it wasn't like it was a far walk from where he slept.

He eyed Amaury's butterfly. It wasn't a normal butterfly, clearly, and once gone, not knowing where it had flown off to was unnerving, to say the least. It was obvious to see that the calibre of mages here was far beyond his ken. Altai didn't doubt that each of them had earned their place as a Master.

He slunk a little lower in his seat and rolled his eyes, patience running thin (it had started out thin). "What endeavor? To not die gruesome deaths over the next week? Good luck."

Post by Amaury St John Yggdmillennia on Sept 1, 2014 16:00:31 GMT

The first to respond to Amaury's words did so with derision and pessimism. Had the intention been to offend, it had failed; Amaury still smiled pleasantly as he turned his attention towards the one who had spoken.

"Indeed, mon ami," he said with such warmth it was as though he was indeed talking to an old friend, "we struggle for our very lives. What could be more thrilling, what could make for a greater story than the threat of its ultimate end? This should not be cause for fear, but an inspiration for us all."

He studied the young man who had spoken. And indeed he was young, only in his teenage years by the look of him. Some might have said that he was far too young to take part in a battle such as this, but Amaury wagered he was not far off from the age in which he had lost his own family. The stories of men did not wait for when they were old enough to hear them.

"But I realize that in asking, I have done a great disservice by not providing my own name first!" Amaury rose from his seat and inclined his head, bowing only slightly but respectfully towards his new peers.

"I am Amaury St. John Yggdmillenia, a man who has no true lineage beyond the family that has been provided to me now. I hope to learn much from each of you before this tale reaches its end."

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