𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊- medieval/shifter

[Stargazer3000]

vc

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to tear the pride apart after the return of
a long exiled heir. But the issue of
succession isn't the only threat to the
kingdom - beneath the pride's nose, an
unknown race of shifters have been
growing their numbers in secret and
strengthening their united pack. The
first of their kind came from the frigid
north, a stranger to the pride's courts,
but the pack knows that freedom from
the pride will only come from their
downfall. Hunted and hunter, fang and
claw, either pack or pride must fall.

The king is dead. The kingdom mourns, but
they did not know the truth of their ruler.
He was no ordinary man, no ordinary king -
he was a shifter, the leader of a pride.
And in his death, the question of succession
has become fiercely debated, threatening

┌─────────────┐

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The Pride
──────● ● ● ● ● ○
The Pack
──────● ● ● ○ ○ ○
rules/info│discussion│open/closed

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[Stargazer3000]

x

✦ Please follow all of
nick + tess' rules here
✦ Only one char per
RPer to start! *I'm
happy to talk about
adding more - pm me
✦ Send reservations
over PM and have
your form up within
48hrs on the discussion
✦ Discord will be

┌───────┐

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x

I will always, always be
down to have more peeps
join, regardless of where
we are or how much has
been written, or what
character slots have been
filled; so if you're really
interested or have any
questions, just PM me -
we'll work something out!

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c

heavily used, so I
recommend having an
account!
✦ No chars under 18
✦ While this is
a semi/lit roleplay, I'm not
expecting a full essay -
min of two paragraphs
✦ Try to keep the
gender rep and the char
groups somewhat even
✦ I reserve the right
to not admit folks
✦ This rp is set in the
medieval era, and
while I don't expect
perfection, please
be conscious of the
setting (this does
not apply to char
images and refs)
✦ Please let me
know if you have any
questions or ideas, and
have fun!

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✦ We will be starting on
the night after the dead
king is buried - there
will be a feast in his
honor and the question
of succession will be at
the forefront.
✦ There will be a map in the
discord with more specific
details, but for anyone who
doesn't have a discord/want
to make one:
xxxx✦ The story will mostly take
place inside the castle walls,
which is surrounded by a
moat and deep forest
xxxx✦ There are a few hunting
paths that lead into the
woods, and a small town
a few miles away, but for
the most part, the castle is
fairly isolated
xxxx✦ The castle is close to a large
lake which ices over in the winter
✦ I intended for the story to
take place in Germany just
before winter sets in in full,
very cold and gloomy with

c

a heavy atmosphere.
✦ Shifting is something that can
be done at will, though there
is some slight difference for
those born as a shifter vs
those who were turned. Wolf
shifters are primarily turned,
whereas lion shifters are
mostly born.

[Stargazer3000]

x
x

┌──────────────────────────────────────┐
xxWild lions have long since died off, starving in their caves,
xxbut one breed of lion still thrives in Europe. The pride has
xxheld its royal seat as long as memory has served, and has
xxlived richly, fought fiercely, and ruled without challenge.
xxAlmost all of their number were born shifters, as few who
xxturned survive the process. All members of the pride can
xxchange at will, though the process seems to be easier to
xxthose born with the ability to shift, and during the day.
└──────────────────────────────────────┘

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙

Staying close to the crown, the heir apparent and their
loyal pride have helped maintain the peace in the kingdom,
and have enjoyed the physical comforts of court. But so
too have they endured the cutting nature of royal life, and
are far more clever than any give them credit for. Highly
educated, ruthless, and loyal to only each other, this
pride will stop at no end to see their will done, and their
leader ascend the throne.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖘

Why the old king exiled his original heir remains a mystery -
perhaps he saw danger in the heir and their followers, or
perhaps he wished them to be forged by more than the
cruelties of court - but in his death, their exile is lifted.
Years spent fighting to survive have honed the exiled pride
and cemented their bonds, making them both feared and
formidable. And now they have come to reclaim what is
rightfully theirs - whatever the cost.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙

The new ruler to be, they have trained all their life to do one thing - lead
the pride, and maintain the power and safety of their people
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 cassius 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 star 𝖆𝖌𝖊 34

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖑 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙

The second to regent, the advisor hold more power and influence than
any other in court - at times even more than the regent
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 sybille 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 fortissimo 𝖆𝖌𝖊 29

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙

The leader of the military, the general is unmatched in their fighting
prowess, and are as fierce with metal as with claw and fang
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 atlas 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 chase 𝖆𝖌𝖊 30

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗

The ruler of nothing but ambition, they have had their future stolen
from them - and will see their rightful position returned
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 mara 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 senna_ 𝖆𝖌𝖊 29.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖑

The second to be exiled, and loyal beyond the ties of blood, the
advisor is clever and quick to gather allies and influence
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 . 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 друг 𝖆𝖌𝖊 .

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑

The one who kept their pride safe, and fought with whatever they
had on hand is a formidable force of nature - one to be feared
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 zevran 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 Furrydogs12 𝖆𝖌𝖊 32

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[Stargazer3000]

x
x

┌──────────────────────────────────────┐
xxThere is more than one breed of wolves that hunt the
xxwoods around the kingdom. A lineage as long as that
xxof the pride is built on fallen foes - though some may
xxreturn to pay back in kind what they lost. From over
xxthe sea, and the frigid north, comes a threat long
xxforgotten - shifters who can grow easily in number.
xxStrengthened by the moon, and able to shift at will,
xxthe pack is steadily growing, lead by their alpha.
└──────────────────────────────────────┘

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

Traveling from lands so far away that they have slipped
from the pride's memory, the unknown pack has come
to seek vengeance for a forgotten slaughter. Trained in
battle and hardened by years of harsh survival, they
were raised on an oath of blood and little else. As they
have traveled closer to their target, they have steadily
been turning those unlucky enough to cross their path
under a full moon, tipping the odds ever in their favor.

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

Luck was not of the side of those changed by the strangers
on a quest for blood. Their homes are scattered across the
kingdom, though some may be closer to the castle than
others, but each endured the painful change as they were
made into something other than human. Changed, then
bound to fight against foes they did not know, their lives
never seem to settle. For some the change might be
welcome, for others, it is little more than a moonlit curse.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆𝖑𝖕𝖍𝖆

The leader of the pack, life has trained this wildling to do what they must,
go where they must, to fulfill the oath of their elders
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 . 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖌𝖊 .

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖆

The second to the alpha, the beta keeps their leader safe, and is loyal
to no other. Without the beta, there would be no alpha
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 vallentin 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 rogan 𝖆𝖌𝖊 28

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

A member of the pack, they have been with the pack since the start.
They prove their place time and again, with fang and claw.
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 . 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 . 𝖆𝖌𝖊 .

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

Pulled suddenly from their mundane life, the changed face a life of
unknowns, and battles that are not their own
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 elmo 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 друг 𝖆𝖌𝖊 28 .

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

Pulled suddenly from their mundane life, the changed face a life of
unknowns, and battles that are not their own
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 . 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖌𝖊 .

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖌𝖆

Unlike the others who were changed, the omega did not take to
the transformation, and struggles each day to shift, to survive
𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊 iris 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖗 iqtrash 𝖆𝖌𝖊 26.

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[Stargazer3000]

just in case

[Stargazer3000]

𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖚𝖘
tagged | mentioned| location bedchamber, entryhall
─────────────────────────────────

The sun was setting, and fog began to churn over the castle grounds as the looming shadows stretched, warped, and engulfed the land below. From the tower of the keep, the steady stream of hastily-lit torches pouring through the lowered drawbridge looked like a glowing, molten river. Tents were already scattered across the castle grounds in clumps, and more were being erected with each passing second - the keep itself was already overrun by nobility and visiting dignitaries, come to pay their respects. And above them all, a long figure sat by the window.

By the time the sun’s final rays were smothered by the horizon, the stream of people arriving at the castle grounds had doubled in size. Each was adorned in brightly colored clothes, intricate masks pulled low and obscuring their faces. There would be no break from tradition tonight - no one would risk a chance encounter with the ghoul of the deceased king, and would instead ward off the dead with dance, drink, and distraction. Tonight, they wore their masks to confuse, to frighten - and to hide from consequence.

Golden eyes flicked from the window to the door at the sound of a polite knock - the festivities were about to begin in full, and Cassius was already woefully late.

The hallway was quiet - Cassius suspected that someone had ordered for servants to be mindful around his chambers, to leave him to his kingly ruminations, but even two stories above the kitchen, he could still hear the bustling anthill of servants rushing to have the feast prepared. But Cassius strode in steady, unbroken paces - he was no servant.

As voices drifted up from a nearby stairwell, and Cassius fitted his own mask securely in place before sweeping down the steps, his cloak trailing behind like a bloody stain against the grey rock. As he approached the entry hall, people scattered before him like waves breaking against the bow of a boat - heads tucked, postured stooped. His mask - an intricately carved sun, gleaming and inlaid with gems - seemed fitting for their averted gaze, but his mouth tasted of ash. It had for days.

At last, before Cassius were the open gates, leading down where the night’s festivities were to be held. He knew the path well, knew that it would take him beyond the inner walls, and into the press of bodies and masks below, gathered round bonfires and tables laden with a feast to honor a great king. Heavy torches beat back the shadows of night, though that chilled fog still churned beyond their reach, obscuring the path as it sloped down and away from the castle. Undaunted, Cassius strode forward and into the night. His pridemates were below, and despite his hours spent in his chamber, Cassius found no interest in food or strangers - only in them.

[fortissimo]

▸ 𝑺𝒀𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑰𝑺𝑺 ─────────────────────── ❝ i'm only cryptic and machiavellian cause i care. ❞
〈 counsel apparent 〉〈 tags: cassius and lassie 〉〈 mentions: none 〉〈 word count: 1,589 〉


A MASK TO WARD OFF THE DEAD. A FESTIVAL THAT TURNED MOURNING INTO A PUBLIC SPECTACLE. Sybille Weiss smoothed the fabric of her gown - blue, naturally, with golden accents. It might have felt inappropriate under normal circumstances, given that the late king had only recently been buried, but she knew that others would be wearing much the same. The point was to focus on the joy that he would never be forgotten, forever a name in the history books, rather than to mourn that he had passed. - with an idle hand at the thought; she did not care for this tradition in the first place. It had always seemed so… garish and insensitive, but she knew better than to question it.

She could only begin to imagine how Cassius must have felt, having his predecessor’s death be used as an excuse to imbibe and dance rather than to grieve. Not that he was in any position to openly challenge it, though, with his coronation on the horizon. It required a great mental fortitude to put on a jovial smile after the loss of a loved one — but tradition had willed it so, and so it would be done. It was not for him to question, she knew — kings did not grieve, they presided, and he would be a king, no longer a prince, before long.

And, as always, Sybille would stand beside him, unshaken. If the weight of his crown ever threatened to crush him, she would ensure it settled firmly on his head with a guiding but gentle hand instead.

She had already dismissed her ladies for the evening after they’d ensured she was prim and proper for the festivities. Now, all that was left was to fasten her mask in place for the night, and then she would be ready to join the revelry. So thinking this, she glanced at the accessory in question — beautifully hand-crafted, she could tell. Its gilded frame was shaped so that the sides unfurled like the outstretched wings of a delicate butterfly, intricate filigree tracing faint veins through the metal base. Deep sapphire embellishments were set like dewdrops along the edges in such a way as to capture the light and shine whenever she turned her head. It was a thing of beauty, designed to deceive, ornate yet obscuring, and with one final sigh, she settled it firmly over her eyes, hiding her features behind a veil of shimmering mystery.

Not that her identity would be much of a question, in any case; she did not intend to stray far from Cassius or Lassie this eventide. The former had been acting… different, as of late. Oh, he played his role well, letting the court believe he was just as untouchable as ever, but Sybille had noticed the way his gaze drifted, recently. He was no stranger to power, but grief was unfamiliar territory, and it showed — perhaps only to her and Lassie, given how long they had all known each other. Staying near Cassius would be just as much a comfort to her as to him; it seemed that, in light of everything that had happened recently, his usual protective instincts had only been amplified. It would not do to worry him unnecessarily.

There was little point in delaying the inevitable any longer, so she left her private chambers shortly after, mask - the one concealing her features… as well as the mask over her own emotions - set firmly in place. Just as with any celebration, she would not let her guard down for the evening simply because everyone else was planning to; nights like this were perfect for scouting useful information, secrets that she might later find handy in a time of need, especially as the guests and visitors lost themselves and their good sense to alcohol. Most prominently, she needed to pay attention to how people reacted to Cassius; now was the perfect time for any potential naysayers to strike and object to an otherwise peaceful transition of power. She could trust the ever-reliable Lassie to suitably handle any would-be assassins or physical threats with barely a scratch for it, but the hidden ones? Those were for Sybille to root out and extinguish before they fully took form.

After all, if you asked her, hidden threats were much harder to find.

She could have gone ahead to the fairgrounds and begun the night first, but for the time being, she focused on the first member of their pride: Lassie… and she knew at once where he would be.

It was a bit of a walk from the keep proper to the stables, and she would not have bothered under most circumstances (especially not in the dancing shoes she donned for the evening… if they were ruined for this, she would absolutely force Lassie to buy her new ones), but unfortunately for her, she was fairly certain by this point that Atlas Smith liked horses more than people — and he had absolutely no patience for court intrigue, so he definitely would not have gone ahead without her or Cassius to keep him sane. Sure enough, she found him exactly where she always did when he was deciding to be inconvenient to her: half-hidden in the dim torchlight, fussing over a horse like it was his own kin, his posture far more relaxed than it ever was in the court.

He had definitely heard her approach. Her shoes were not made to be quiet, and he had better senses than most.

Letting out a long breath through her nose, she folded her arms, letting her gaze sweep over the scene before arching a brow… not that he could see it under the mask. “If you are quite finished wooing the horses, Lassie,” she began, injecting her usual cadence with a teasing tone she reserved solely for him (he could take it. It was fine.), “there is an event that requires our attention. Or have you forgotten?” If it were up to him, he would no doubt stay here until the whole thing was over so… Sybille turned, already heading for the exit, the exact same way she’d just come from, her voice carrying over her shoulder as she began walking again. “Now, come along; you know as well as I do that we can’t leave Cassius to those vultures from court.” Appealing to his sense of duty was always a safe option.

And if not, she could always drag him along…

Sure enough, she heard him following after a moment or so and allowed her smile to soften into something more genuine as she slowed to let him match pace with her… not that it was difficult for him to do so. He stood at least a head taller than her and his stride was naturally much longer. He would have been able to outpace her in a few simple steps.

“I dislike these traditions,” she told him as they headed to the fairgrounds proper. “I understand they serve a purpose and they have their merits, but it all feels so—” she gestured vaguely, searching for the right word before settling on, “performative. The king is barely cold in the ground, and we are meant to toast to his eternal memory while gorging ourselves on wine and revelry? This is going to be exhausting for Cassius.”

The time for sharing their true thoughts - and idle gossip - was soon over, though, when they finally reached a sea of equally fancifully dressed guests, all wearing masks not unlike their own. She did not rush to dance or drink, but instead let herself drift along the edges of the revelry, a silent spectator to the court’s theatrics. The game had begun — truthfully, it had never stopped, the masks and anonymity simply made the players bolder. She momentarily left Lassie to fend for himself as she walked around the crowd first, then began slowly weaving through the throng, her gaze hidden behind the butterfly she wore on her face.

By the time the man of the hour finally showed up - fashionably late, just as she’d expected - she had allowed herself to be pulled into a dance with a nameless, faceless individual. A distraction, really; her partner didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives beyond getting as drunk as possible (and she was fairly sure he was halfway there already), but she couldn’t be focused the entire night or people would grow suspicious.

She did not even need to look to know it was him; the crowd parted before him like he was already a monarch, and she would recognize him even with the bold sun mask he donned tonight hiding his features. Instantly, she knew from the way with which he carried himself that he still bore far too much on his mind. It was in the subtle set of his shoulders, the way he seemed impervious because it was expected of him.

“Excuse me,” she excused herself from her partner with a polite smile and a curtsy, then glided toward her target with the effortless poise of someone who had spent years perfecting the art of walking through crowds, if there was ever to be such an art. She allowed herself a small, indulgent smile and dipped into another small but deliberate curtsy; Cassius may not appreciate the gesture, but he would have to get used to it before long. “You took your time — so much so that I had to find my own entertainment. Now, shall we?”