Illarion.org

((closed rp, apart from those involved in it))

It was a new day, and it had seemed that over time, the famous town of Troll's Bane had fallen desolate; the aftermath of the battle with the Salkamaerian army had left the battered atmosphere as a playground bred on chaos, fear and dying breed of hope. With both it's leaders and citizens unsure of what the future would bring to them, the arrival of the prince had shook the land, as the first conflict between the townsfolk and princes men of the first siege would thereafter bring an oddly grim silence...

It was still the early hours of the day, when farmers would rise to tend to their livestock, and whilst others would still sleep and dream of better days. A cool yet hollow embrace swept across the land, blowing the dead leaves of winter to side for another passing year... It was around this time that an aged tall ship, appearing as a product of war once fought, approached the island's main harbour. It's sails bearing the symbol of a 'king of hearts' as familiarized to the symbol in a pack of playing cards.
As the ship arrives, the creaking of the boat rocking gently from side to side echoed on the shore, the fresh ocean air blowing in the wind.
Jefferson stood idly by, watching the scene with eyes slightly narrowed. Leaning on his diamond skull staff, a vague smile crosses his lips for a very brief moment.

"... My plea has been answered.." He thought, walking further toward to greet the ship...

The image of two figures stood tall at the forefront of the ship, looking on at the harbour, Jefferson then lifting his hand to salute them in a military fashion...

Far on the outskirts of Illarion, close to the mountains that are left nameless, lays a place dark in it's nature and cruel in it's welcoming... A land where chaos reigns and the dark hearts once banished to this forsaken place seem as though a stranger to any majority theory of a 'natural' law...

• 10 Days prior....

A long table stood the center piece of a large, dimly lit hall. The structure's decor had seen better days, appearing unkempt and worn with cobwebs scaling the crumbling archways. Surrounding the table sat many obscured and shady characters, all adorned in ebony, black and grey robes. The robes were fashioned with an assortment of animal furs, weaponry strapping and bones of fallen opponents roped to their concealed forms. There, there sat one at the end of the table in a larger chair - much like a make-shift throne - obfuscated in its design and fashioned with many hooks, skulls and points that curled and pierced in random patterns. They who sat there appeared to be a leader, dressed instead in black and white robes. It would appear a meeting was taking place between the elders of a mysterious cult...

"Word has come to us that one of our Judges requires our...'Help'..." The leader stated sharply, as a short burst of cackling and crooked laughter echoed the halls.
Looking on, the black and white robed leader tapped his aged and scar-faded fingers unto the staff that he held close, looking over the occupants of the table with a blank and haunting glare. His hands would emit a red aura before continuing:

"Judge Akahira!... Judge Zheth!..." He demanded, as two figures stood from their seats: one bearing the symbol of 'spades' on their garments and the other bearing the symbol of 'clubs' - similar to designs often seen in decks of playing cards. Both would raise to their feet in confirmation, saluting their master with a loyal gesture.

((more soon))

"...The prophecy has been written ...

"The fools that follow his symbol, and align stand shaken... It is with this order, that you must aid your brother of chaos, under Narguns name... And reclaim the trinity set forward on your paths..." The leader proclaims with narrowed, contemplative eyes.
The two who stand then throw off their robes, and in their place stands a dark elf bearing the insignia of clubs on his battle regalia, with one glowing longsword strapped under a teardrop shield across his back; and a striking woman with the insignia of spades on her garments; appearing delicate in her figure but hard in her piercing gaze, boasting fine, fiery red hair, and an excellently crafted glowing riders bow at her side.

"Venture forth Judges, to the land of Gobaith. And align the trinity of old law for what may be your final battle..."

Present day...

Zheth makes his way off of the ship to Gobaith with careful footing as he walks down the gangplank and into the harbor town. He walks with measured steps and a shadowed demeanor as he tightens a strap across his front which keeps his shield and sword in place. Long light hair floats slightly back in the wind, with two thin warrior braids on either side. Confidence, almost to the point of cockiness, seems to flow from him.

He catches the wandering eyes of the harbor folk with his passing, just as they catch his. A smile graces his lips as he nods to a goblin merchant in passing, and his eyes meet suspicion and caution as a darkly robed figure seems to observe him closely, but these things are soon behind him. He vanishes along the road which skirts the western woods, making his way to the town where his brother, and the coming trials, await.

Akahira adjusts her quiver on her back, full of arrows in easy reach, before following Zheth down the gangplank. Her keen gaze takes in the scenery of Gobaith as she brushes a strand of red hair from her eyes and on the inside of her wrist one may glimpse a tatoo of a spade. A simple nod acknowledges the harbormaster as she passes him, her step light but sure as she easily keeps pace with her companion. Gusts of wind off of the ocean billow her robe and blow her hair wildly about, yet her manner is confident with the finely crafted bow slung over her left shoulder.

Seveal pairs of eyes watched them with wary curiosity disappear over the horizon in the direction of Trolls Bane.