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Possessing temporary living quarters within Church land was more trouble than it was worth, the disciples preached order and
made polite with words, however, the internal workings of the sect painted a disparate visualization. Where he was promised
quiet, he was repaid with hearsay among their people. Fastening the last of an incredulous number of buckles, Elwin adorned
the familiar garish dark metal armor of his own Markov family, distaste shadowing his striking features after one gloss over his
appearance. The only semblance of satisfaction bloomed at the lingering thought of being spared from wearing the Church's
personal uniform, while it may also compliment his countenance he'd rather be affiliated with vampiric monsters as opposed
to mortal ones. A faint brush of fingers swept his obsidian hair from obscuring his vision, a foul reminder of his entitlement
and how he'd been removed from his own extensive and prideful locks. Others considered the high pony-tail that he'd donned
a symbol of his adolescence, his image was once unchanging until they'd forcefully plucked at his sophisticated plumage. It
was a matter dignity in his red beryl eyes, he'd felt like a fierce lion who had been thrown into captivity naked. Releasing a
short but heavy breath he left his grand Church residence, his equally imperious companion taking that as her cue to follow.
Unforeseen was the sudden leave that Elwin was granted, as the head of countless endeavours in the name of the Church of
Avacyn it was simply unorthodox for the sleepless beast to be found so far from the heat of battle. One could smell the putrid
stench of conspiracy laying in the wake of such silence, a single day in the absence of deaths at the hand of Elwin The
Broodslayer caused canards to spread faster than the beat of a hummingbird's wings. Ignorant to the ushered chatter that
circulated him, the lofty vampire walked in large and purposeful strides through the Church's grounds, lighter and far less
invested clicks could be heard following decorously behind him as Tartarus' dagger like claws grated the cobblestone pavement.
"They're talking about you," rich was the voice that appeared in Elwin's mind, his great dragon partner sneered in her tone and
he couldn't help but share the sentiment, albeit in a more restrained manner as he grunted in acknowledgement. "Do you
ponder the meaning of this morning's gathering?" As much as the black haired Markov wanted to pretend he were a deaf
man, he knew better than any that the ink-scaled dragoness would not drop her mental invasion until after he'd replied.
Suppressing the rising urge to pinch the bridge of his tall nose he internally conceded, Tartarus cared not for the ire she could
feel from him, more so pleased at his submission. "Considering that you're invited, this venerable one can only assume that
it's important enough for them to risk their heads,"dripping with a foreign drawl native to vampire aristocracy, he spoke
in a manner that gave way to his position and promptly shut the topic, she merely chuckled at his choice of words before
settling back into silence.
Once the pair arrived at the designated meeting room Tartarus took the lead and claimed their spot, across the round table
adjacent to the doors, what was commonly referred to as the head of the table. They had made an entrance at the exact
time forewarned, Elwin's obsession with punctuality was to blame. While he was prompt he wasn't the first present, however,
he wasn't usually keen on small talk so he stood with his arms crossed in silence hoping to impose his unwillingness for speech.
Familiar figures slowly flooded the space with the sheer mass of their dragons, some with hefty presences of their own that
only served to further the sense of suffocation that Elwin was battling up until the moment he watched Rune enter alone.
Offering a sloped raise of his lips in response to her nod, his clouded mood briefly clearing. Such peace was short lived as
Aoba, a paradox himself, began his spiel even going as far as cracking jokes despite how mundane the mission was growing.
Frequent frowning would have left deep impression lines on Elwin's forehead had he not been an immortal creature, his mind
busying itself by processing the pathetic snippets of information they were handed. Lifting his head Elwin noted the entry of a
particularly poorly received guest, also known as Io, another Church dog who came across a little less than completely
manipulated under their nauseating grasp. The fiery quip Aoba told was fearless in the face of potential backlash, causing
Tartarus to chortle deeply in her chest as smoke erupted from all four of her nasal orifices. She declined one of her heads to
hover over Elwin's shoulder while Io addressed her companion, "you should be taking notes from the blue haired mage,"
still reeling from her unexpected mirth he took those words in stride whilst blaming her affect on his own emotions. "Not
nearly long enough little vagrant slave," offering a less than flatting response, concealing the way his blue toned skin itched
at the idea of simply reaching over and wringing the, frankly appetizing, disciple's neck. Tartarus, caught off guard when she
was addressed informally so by a meager human, plainly blinked and assessed the newcomer with mild interest. Hearing Io's
dismissal of jokingly flying with him, he turned to face his beloved friend he added kindling to the flame while the opportunity
was still fresh, "be thankful Tara, who knows of the bugs that rodent may carry," a sentence that served to
send Tartarus into another short wave of haughty laughter, impressed by her stoic partner's boldness.
In light of Io's approach to Rune, Elwin had quickly come to terms with his overstepping feeling little of the worry he had
harbored moments prior. What he didn't appreciate was the way that she'd singled out but he resigned to manifesting negative
energy toward Io's general direction. If they were being honest, Elwin would say that he lacked care for the dragon wreaking
havoc across vampire land, however, the Church of Avacyn wouldn't stand for insubordination and it wasn't in his nature to
outwardly confer his personal view so he stood impassive to the situation. The meeting itself was beginning to tug on Elwin's
self-restraint, from the foolish sayings of those present to the faked amiability he'd almost experienced enough for a lifetime,
Calypso was a finely polished warrior but he had to stifle an elegant snort when she suggested needing 'additional help,' if only
she'd observed the attendees closer she'd have noticed that the martial prowess and potential of both living and undead present
was freakishly unnatural. What they required another Church fanatic for was beyond his reasoning, comfortably tucked behind
his contempt for holy beings. Tartarus began posturing, flaring both sets of frills and puffing her jagged chest out upon notice
of Valkor's reaction to Elwin, not quite fond of his species' relationship with dark creatures she continued to size him up until
they could both relax. Her attention was quickly divided between avidly watching one Valkor and greeting the red head's dragon
counterpart, narrowing endless red eyes she looked down on the oddly feathered, quad-winged bird in front of her. Quickly
considering him nothing of a threat she snaked her head from side to side appraising the odd beast, "and here I thought I
looked strange," ignoring his greeting in favour of thinking out loud as she craned her neck to look closer at Cantivore's
many wings. Having long lost interest, he watched the interaction with fascination amused by Tartarus' beguilement, not
bothering to start conversation with any group or individual.
made polite with words, however, the internal workings of the sect painted a disparate visualization. Where he was promised
quiet, he was repaid with hearsay among their people. Fastening the last of an incredulous number of buckles, Elwin adorned
the familiar garish dark metal armor of his own Markov family, distaste shadowing his striking features after one gloss over his
appearance. The only semblance of satisfaction bloomed at the lingering thought of being spared from wearing the Church's
personal uniform, while it may also compliment his countenance he'd rather be affiliated with vampiric monsters as opposed
to mortal ones. A faint brush of fingers swept his obsidian hair from obscuring his vision, a foul reminder of his entitlement
and how he'd been removed from his own extensive and prideful locks. Others considered the high pony-tail that he'd donned
a symbol of his adolescence, his image was once unchanging until they'd forcefully plucked at his sophisticated plumage. It
was a matter dignity in his red beryl eyes, he'd felt like a fierce lion who had been thrown into captivity naked. Releasing a
short but heavy breath he left his grand Church residence, his equally imperious companion taking that as her cue to follow.
Unforeseen was the sudden leave that Elwin was granted, as the head of countless endeavours in the name of the Church of
Avacyn it was simply unorthodox for the sleepless beast to be found so far from the heat of battle. One could smell the putrid
stench of conspiracy laying in the wake of such silence, a single day in the absence of deaths at the hand of Elwin The
Broodslayer caused canards to spread faster than the beat of a hummingbird's wings. Ignorant to the ushered chatter that
circulated him, the lofty vampire walked in large and purposeful strides through the Church's grounds, lighter and far less
invested clicks could be heard following decorously behind him as Tartarus' dagger like claws grated the cobblestone pavement.
"They're talking about you," rich was the voice that appeared in Elwin's mind, his great dragon partner sneered in her tone and
he couldn't help but share the sentiment, albeit in a more restrained manner as he grunted in acknowledgement. "Do you
ponder the meaning of this morning's gathering?" As much as the black haired Markov wanted to pretend he were a deaf
man, he knew better than any that the ink-scaled dragoness would not drop her mental invasion until after he'd replied.
Suppressing the rising urge to pinch the bridge of his tall nose he internally conceded, Tartarus cared not for the ire she could
feel from him, more so pleased at his submission. "Considering that you're invited, this venerable one can only assume that
it's important enough for them to risk their heads,"dripping with a foreign drawl native to vampire aristocracy, he spoke
in a manner that gave way to his position and promptly shut the topic, she merely chuckled at his choice of words before
settling back into silence.
Once the pair arrived at the designated meeting room Tartarus took the lead and claimed their spot, across the round table
adjacent to the doors, what was commonly referred to as the head of the table. They had made an entrance at the exact
time forewarned, Elwin's obsession with punctuality was to blame. While he was prompt he wasn't the first present, however,
he wasn't usually keen on small talk so he stood with his arms crossed in silence hoping to impose his unwillingness for speech.
Familiar figures slowly flooded the space with the sheer mass of their dragons, some with hefty presences of their own that
only served to further the sense of suffocation that Elwin was battling up until the moment he watched Rune enter alone.
Offering a sloped raise of his lips in response to her nod, his clouded mood briefly clearing. Such peace was short lived as
Aoba, a paradox himself, began his spiel even going as far as cracking jokes despite how mundane the mission was growing.
Frequent frowning would have left deep impression lines on Elwin's forehead had he not been an immortal creature, his mind
busying itself by processing the pathetic snippets of information they were handed. Lifting his head Elwin noted the entry of a
particularly poorly received guest, also known as Io, another Church dog who came across a little less than completely
manipulated under their nauseating grasp. The fiery quip Aoba told was fearless in the face of potential backlash, causing
Tartarus to chortle deeply in her chest as smoke erupted from all four of her nasal orifices. She declined one of her heads to
hover over Elwin's shoulder while Io addressed her companion, "you should be taking notes from the blue haired mage,"
still reeling from her unexpected mirth he took those words in stride whilst blaming her affect on his own emotions. "Not
nearly long enough little vagrant slave," offering a less than flatting response, concealing the way his blue toned skin itched
at the idea of simply reaching over and wringing the, frankly appetizing, disciple's neck. Tartarus, caught off guard when she
was addressed informally so by a meager human, plainly blinked and assessed the newcomer with mild interest. Hearing Io's
dismissal of jokingly flying with him, he turned to face his beloved friend he added kindling to the flame while the opportunity
was still fresh, "be thankful Tara, who knows of the bugs that rodent may carry," a sentence that served to
send Tartarus into another short wave of haughty laughter, impressed by her stoic partner's boldness.
In light of Io's approach to Rune, Elwin had quickly come to terms with his overstepping feeling little of the worry he had
harbored moments prior. What he didn't appreciate was the way that she'd singled out but he resigned to manifesting negative
energy toward Io's general direction. If they were being honest, Elwin would say that he lacked care for the dragon wreaking
havoc across vampire land, however, the Church of Avacyn wouldn't stand for insubordination and it wasn't in his nature to
outwardly confer his personal view so he stood impassive to the situation. The meeting itself was beginning to tug on Elwin's
self-restraint, from the foolish sayings of those present to the faked amiability he'd almost experienced enough for a lifetime,
Calypso was a finely polished warrior but he had to stifle an elegant snort when she suggested needing 'additional help,' if only
she'd observed the attendees closer she'd have noticed that the martial prowess and potential of both living and undead present
was freakishly unnatural. What they required another Church fanatic for was beyond his reasoning, comfortably tucked behind
his contempt for holy beings. Tartarus began posturing, flaring both sets of frills and puffing her jagged chest out upon notice
of Valkor's reaction to Elwin, not quite fond of his species' relationship with dark creatures she continued to size him up until
they could both relax. Her attention was quickly divided between avidly watching one Valkor and greeting the red head's dragon
counterpart, narrowing endless red eyes she looked down on the oddly feathered, quad-winged bird in front of her. Quickly
considering him nothing of a threat she snaked her head from side to side appraising the odd beast, "and here I thought I
looked strange," ignoring his greeting in favour of thinking out loud as she craned her neck to look closer at Cantivore's
many wings. Having long lost interest, he watched the interaction with fascination amused by Tartarus' beguilement, not
bothering to start conversation with any group or individual.
words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words
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.
archetype;xxxx vampiric operative
alignment;xxxxxxxx.. chaotic good
dragon;xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.. tartarus
tags/ment;xxxx everyone probably
word count;xxxxxxxxxxxx.... 1284
alignment;xxxxxxxx.. chaotic good
dragon;xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.. tartarus
tags/ment;xxxx everyone probably
word count;xxxxxxxxxxxx.... 1284
.
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