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I sat in the tavern that was overlooked by the White Castle. Of course, the Castle was so big that it was visible anywhere within the City. The mug in front of me was half full with mead, as I had been sitting there letting the foam die down. The lukewarm drink filled my stomach with a home-type feel. I was then taken back into my childhood, the sound of wood hitting wood during training. The feeling of me being watched overtook my flashback, and I scanned the tavern. The dim lighting caused much confusion for the drunkards. One of them stumbled into me and made me spill my drink and fall off of my stool. I hit the ground with a thud, the breath being taken from me as I exhaled when I hit the ground. I shook off the daze and rose, meeting the drunkard's gaze.

"Sorry 'bout that, mate. You were just in my way." His hot breath invaded my nose, making me look down for some sort of relief. Apparently, that was not a smart move. A quick jab to the chin threw me back a single step. Had he lost his mind?

"Apologies." I said, throwing a right hook that knocked the man into a heap of drunk meat on the ground. He didn't get back up. I replaced my stool where it had once stood, and returned upon its seat. A fresh mug was set before me, making me wait again for its foam to die down to a drinkable state.

I was sitting down minding my own business, when a thud startled me, I watched as a drunkard jabbed a fist into another man. I sighed as it ended with the drunkard out cold on the floor. I looked over to see another drunkard bothering a lady.
"Damned fool...," I said under my breath. The man must of heard me because he stalked towards me. "What you call me girl," he asked, the he continued to ramble on about how he would kill me. I rolled my eyes and slammed his head onto the corner of the table, knocking him out. "Enough of that shit," I said while taking a sip of mead.

Verlin Calder walked with confidence through the city. His red scale jacket and boots were eye-catching against the snow. He hoped it at least distracted from the small blade he carried. He also had on a backpack, having travelled from a much smaller town. His breath clouded in the cool air, thicker than most peoples' breath would cloud.
How had things gone downhill so fast? Why can't I just live out the rest of my life in peace? ... I'm getting old. He'd closed his shop down not long ago and now he was already exhausted. Maybe he'd be better off just locking the doors and pretending he wasn't home until this whole thing blew over, assuming it would. But, damn it, he was out here anyway.

Tawny, her pet dragon, started going crazy in her satchel. She opened her satchel up and used her cloak as a curtain. She lifted Tawny, now colored yellow, in her hand. "What are you doing? Your gonna draw attention." The dragon turned his scales to a dark red and started pacing in her palm. He looked up stuck his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes and put him back in the satchel. 'I wonder whats wrong with him,' she thought.

A hush fell upon the street outside the tavern as a column of a dozen soldiers marched along it, all carrying pikes in hand and swords at hip. The bottom edges of their white cloaks were dirtied by the mud and dreck of the road. People scurried out of the way, heads low as they avoided being noticed. A few people inside the tavern watched through the grimy window--one of them, a man with ratty red hair and a missing ear, even got up and headed towards the stairs leading up to the rooms.

It was no wonder he was afraid. At the column's head there was a man a bit different from the rest. His full-plate armor was whitesteel, pale as sunbleached bone but so matte it seemed to absorb the light. Unlike the soldiers in their kettle helms, he wore a sallet that covered his face--and instead of a pike, he carried a massive tower shield, its surface polished to a mirrorlike shine. This man could be nothing but a member of the Order of the Bent Knee, knights said to be feverishly devoted to the White King.

The pale knight lifted a hand and the column came to a halt, then followed him in through the tavern doors. The hush from the street outside spread into the common room as the soldiers filed in. The knight's helmet rotated slowly as he scanned the room.

"We seek a man," rattled a ghastly voice from the sallet. "Theodore Wellen--charged with rape, assault, and heresy. He has one ear. By the splendor of the White King, he will be brought to justice." A pause. "Where is he?"

The now familiar sound of soldiers clanking around helped the headache I was already developing come to light much faster than I would like. I turned in my stool to see a member of the Order of the Bent Knee. A snarl formed on my lips before I could contain myself. Uppity "leaders" who took the law way too seriously and let no one out of their sight. I had previously noticed the man described make a run for it, but I wasn't about to turn him in. I turned my back to the Knight and sighed, sipping my mead. The barkeep looked like he was about to soil himself, and started blubbering about how he saw so many people come through his tavern, yadayadayada.

She had spent many a day at sea. Two months of sailing to be exact, and all to meet some strange king in a land which she'd never heard the slightest whispers of. Even as she stepped off the boat she could tell this land was far different from her home, for while all her people wore the highest in fashion from Nobel men down to the farm workers.
The people here wore garish rags that reeked of mead and sea salt. It was evident that she and her small caravan of guards would stick out like a rose amongst daisies with their scarlet robes made from silk, under which laid armor with a strength resembling that of a dragons hide painted in rose gold.

The guards now waited on her patiently as she strolled through the market to brows many stalls.
She felt all sorts of glee as she experienced new things, people, and places. Yet she could not ignore the sense of ever looming dread, which came to a head for her when she had forgotten to pay for a single apple before taking it.

Perhaps Freya would have noticed Ver at some point, for he was also dressed in red. It was dragonscale, nonetheless.
Ver's attention would be preoccupied, however, with the Order of the Bent Knee. When he spotted them, he slowed his walk to stand at the side of the street, shifting his small sword out of view. He followed to the door of the bar, but didn't enter, just listening.
Well, for rape, assault, and heresy, perhaps it's best to let things play out as they're intended...

In a shadowy corner of the tavern, there was a sort of tear. A rip in reality, hidden by the dim light and the sudden commotion of the arrival of the Order of The Bent Knee. On the other side of this tear watched Apparos, silently surveying the scene, watching from deep within the underworld.

"They expect to catch a criminal that way?" He asked himself, in disbelief of the scene. "By just barging in and announcing their arrival, demanding he come forth? It's like using a dragon to catch a rat. Try as the dragon might, in all of it's radiant ferocity, it will never see the rat scurry away... Truly an awful way to catch such a small bounty. If it was murder the king would have an excuse to send out such a high-ranking order." He scanned the room with empty eyes for the man he was supposed to meet. "The damn fool still hasn't arrived. Half an hour he's been missing... He probably thinks he can swindle me like that. No matter, I'll just rend his head from his body and take his gold for myself. Although perhaps I could get a higher price for that Theodore man. That is, if the king would pay me. But I have no time to be rambling to myself like this. I have gold to collect, even if it means killing my client."

With that, the tear in reality sealed up as if it was never there, and Apparos set out to find the man that had robbed him of his reward.

The pale knight's helmet turned slowly as he surveyed the room, staring for a long moment at Eddard before the fellow turned away. If the knight noticed the rip in space he did not acknowledge it. It was strange, for twelve soldiers to pursue a common raper--there must be more at work than simply bringing one man to justice. A flex of the White King's arm, perhaps ... or perhaps aught more.

The knight stepped closer to the counter. The clank of his sabaton seemed to be as loud as a thunderclap. With each step, the barkeep grew more desperate, pleading with his own reflection in the knight's mirror-shield. Finally the knight stopped--nay, he faltered, a brief hesitation of step that only the sharp eyed would notice. He flexed his right hand; his gauntlet had a manacle shape around the wrist, complete with a few links of chain to represent his thralldom. It seemed like, for a moment, it pained him.

"If I ... learn any of you have kept him from me, you ... shall all be subjected to the Catherine wheel."

Abruptly he turned and left the tavern with his soldiers at his back. If Ver was in the way of the door he might have to scramble to avoid a collision. Collision or no, the pale knight led his soldiers through the streets with haste, back towards the castle on the high hill. It almost seemed like he had been summoned ...

click click click The sound of my fingernails clicking against my marble throne echoed throughout the entire marble and crystal hall. Of course I was awaiting the return of my Order, but something else was on my mind: the rogue servant. I had given the Order multiple excuses that would lead to the execution of the man they were chasing. I needed him dead. He had done me wrong. I made the mistake in trusting a servant with a message. Now an emissary from another kingdom was in my own. Crystalia was supposed to be a kingdom of seclusion, not of open borders for war and new ideas. A servant passed in front of him and tripped, spilling red wine all over the floor. Immediately my fingers snapped, and white mist came from behind the throne I was seated upon. I hadn't killed anybody in a day or two. I grew tired of mistakes within that time frame. The mist surrounded the servant, picking her off the ground about five feet. Slowly it snaked up her legs and soon around her arms. My head turned to the side in amusement as she screamed and attempted to free herself. With a chuckle, I winked as the mist spread into her mouth and down her insides, burning everything it came in contact with. Soon, her dead body was dropped to the ground in a heap of charred flesh and ash.

Ver would not move out of the way, straightening up, only to be jostled aside. He pulled away with a quiet, indignant sound. He watched them go, then quickly pushed the door of the tavern back open.
"Is everyone alright in here?" he asked, just loud enough so that most could hear him. That wasn't too loud; the silence hung in the air as if the presence of the Order was lingering.

(Hey white king is it okay if I be your daughter in this roleplay???)

(Kinda already planned this all out in PMs )

(Hey Lilly start an rp with me in the pm I'll meet you there.)

(U um o okay)

Eren was in the tavern, taking the time to check out a few bounties he would potentially take up. Some seemed pretty interesting, they seemed to have a nice pay and were for the most part easy, or at least he thought they were. Since he arrived from the neighboring kingdom of Canis Majoris, he's been using the bounty hunting job as his primary source of income. While he's been taking on the various jobs around the kingdom, he's been able to get a little information over why, but not by who framed him for the murder he never committed in the old country. Like usual, Eren was sporting his black cloak, golden gloves; each of whom had his family's insignia; the red, white, and blue sunflowers. His lance was laying to the side of him as he quietly looked over the papers.

(Cool roleplay)

On the rooftops of the alley in which the tavern was, a black claw tore through the air, creating a rip in space for Apparos to appear through. As he drifted through into the mortal realm, the portal sealed shut behind him. He looked over the bustling street, which was slowly returning to its usual uproar. "My my, more busy than usual. The fool must be down there somewhere." His eyes went ink black as he focused his telepathy. He could hear the thoughts and experience the sights of everyone below him.

He picked out a few select people of interest as he searched for the man who had robbed him; a strange girl with a dragon hiding beneath her cloak, the small reptile radiating a blazing fury. A man dressed in scales who, after searching around a bit in his memories for any reason to kill him for money, found that he had a of fear of psychics. 'Ironic,' he thought to himself, as he continued his search. A man sitting in the tavern glowed with hatred towards the White King. A bounty hunter like himself was looking over different bounties. A woman dressed in fine silks was seen by others, but he himself could not detect her thoughts, as if she was simply just an outline, a shadow of her true form. 'Perhaps a charm preventing things like me from getting at private matters. She looks like royalty enough, but the others around her are just as finely dressed as her. Perhaps she's just paranoid.'

As he continued to search, not a single trace of his previous client could be picked up. 'He really did flee, the coward. Not like that peasant was paying much anyways. A measly ten gold coins...' But he noticed something strange. At the head of the Order of The Bent Knee, where their strange leader should have been, instead was a writhing, pulsing energy, obscuring the Hanged Man. Thoughts that were not the leader's bellowed from the mass of magic. It almost hurt to look at.

Apparos' eyes turned stark white again, and he whipped his head toward the troop of knights advancing back towards the castle. There, at the front, rode the Hanged Man, as imposing as when he appeared in the tavern, looking as if there wasn't anything that could harm him. As if there wasn't a horrid mass of dark magic surrounding him, commanding him. Apparos' eyes returned to their blackened state and he reached out for the select few he had studied earlier. Just a simple nudge at their thoughts, nothing to alarm them much, and weak enough to imprint on the finely dressed woman without activating the charm that protected her. They seemed powerful enough to help him. Perhaps one would notice and pay attention. He simply could not let this discovery go unnoticed.

(Is it okay if I join)