<b>RE: A new fate for the Twins [Razgriz x Karameida x Serenity]</b><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><a class="link link--internal" href="http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=45597&amp;pid=1192010#pid1192010"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Mortimer Fortescu</span></a></span>::<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">Harmon Fortescu</span>::<a class="link link--external" href="http://lalaax.deviantart.com/art/My-Empire-165692541" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">Archibald Morinth</span></a>::<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">Occultists</span></span>​</div><br/>It took poor Harmon a few moments before he finally calmed down; looking back into Archibald's eyes, he then said<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Forgive my outburst, Your Grace; I just......"</span>. However, the Duke's hand came to rest upon the Lord's shoulder,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"Fret not, Lord Fortescu; were any of my sons or daughters mentioned like that, I would be in the very same state you're in. Rest assured; Mortimer is completely off the table"</span>. Lord Fortescu nodded weakly and replied,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Thank you, Lord Morinth</span>. He then stood up straighter than before and tugged at the edges of his coat to straighten it,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"This ritual...When will it happen?"</span>This made the Duke pause; there was still some things that needed to be done. Not to mention the other 'complications' of the ritual itself.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"I cannot honestly say; we can't have there be more than one Lord come to your house. Can't have the ruffians asking too many questions, after all"</span>. Of course, with the way society was, it was unlikely that anyone would mind if all thirteen Lords came to the Fortescu household. But with what they were planning, it paid to be prudent.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"There's also the matter of trying to make sure that when the seal is broken, the Twins will have someone to bond to. That of course is your part; we'll then need to find someone talented enough in black magic to sever the bond and bend them to our whim"</span>.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Black magic? My Lord, something like that will draw too much attention, even for those of our status. Witchcraft and the dark arts are strictly forbidden"</span>.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"Do not worry, Lord Fortescu; you know of my skill in acquiring 'less-desirable' goods. The only trouble will be locating such an individual, and believe me, I do not wish this were a part of the ritual, but what we've translated so far makes it appear to have to be that"</span>. Lord Fortescu only smiled,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"It seems bringing in Lord Bennet was a wise move indeed; his knowledge seems absolutely limitless"</span>.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"That's what happens when your father is a talented linguist and studier of languages, both dead and thriving"</span>.<br/><br/>With that, the good Duke dusted off his top hat and placed it back onto his head,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"Well, I must be off; expect that the ritual will happen in less than three days. I will send a letter soon enough, but for now...."</span>He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"These are your instructions for when it does happen"</span>. The two then ascended the stairs and after closing the concealed path behind them, Lord Fortescu bade the Duke farewell; the latter was soon met by a familiar face.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"I take it Lord Fortescu was none too happy by the arrangement..."</span>It was Lord Bennet, the Duke's right hand man in this whole escapade.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">"I would be very shocked if he was; regardless, he believes his son Mortimer is now off the table. But that boy is crucial to the success of this endeavor. Have some of the Snatchers grab him; anyone who flirts with the lower class is undeserving of their title anyway"</span>.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"As you wish, Your Grace"</span>. And with that, the two gave their goodbyes and parted ways to prepare for the coming time.<br/><br/>*Later that evening*<br/><br/>Mortimer Fortescu was on his way back home after escorting<a class="link link--external" href="http://www.burchardgalleries.com/auctions/2000/mar2600/l002.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Amelia Willownest</a>home from a ball. Pulling out his pocket watch, a beautiful gold piece gifted to him by his father, he glanced at it and saw that it wasn't working. He put his ear to its back; the traditional lowkey whir could not be heard. "Blast it...Confounded device is always jamming" the young boy muttered; he would have to fix it when he returned home. Little did he realize he would never get the chance.<br/><br/>As he put the watch back into his pocket, he found himself being assaulted; he struggled as he felt arms grip him and begin to drag him into a side alley. Sadly, there really was no one around to witness it and as much as Mortimer struggled, he was being overpowered. It was only after he threw an elbow into his attacker's gut that he felt the hold release, only to feel a powerful fist connect with his own stomach. Mortimer doubled over in pain, a hand coming to rest over his abdomen as he curled over. He would not be spared yet; another pair of arms wrapped around his neck, slowly choking off his air supply. Mortimer's hands clawed at the limbs; the efforts grew weaker and weaker until they ceased completely, his body falling limply in the assailant's grasp.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Boy's a fighter, I'll give him that"</span>one of them said in a grunt-like tone, to which another replied sharply,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Shut it, you; let's get this meat back so we can get paid"</span>. A third one threw the unconscious boy over his shoulder, and the trio carried Mortimer soundlessly into the night.<br/><br/>*Two days later*<br/><br/>Everything seemed to be going according to schedule; the various bits and pieces of the ritual were in place, and one after another, the various members of Lord Fortescu's cell were invited into the home. Their arrivals were timely and spaced out so as not to arouse suspicion, even if it was unlikely anyone would find such a large gathering odd. Lord Fortescu read over the instructions to make sure everything was right; when his 'son' Mortimer returned home, he was deeply perturbed that he was getting close to that Willownest girl. Of course, the lad would hear nothing of it and proceeded to storm out of the house. Well, at least he wouldn't be in the way.<br/><br/>He then pulled out the letter that Duke Archibald Morinth had sent; it contained a detailed list of instructions on how to perform the ritual. Since the Duke ironically WASN'T a descendant of the original thirteen to have performed the sealing ritual, he left it up to Harmon to complete the job. If everything went according to plan, their little scheme of overthrowing the crown would indeed come to fruition. Some local boys carried in a large crate of wine, apparently a gift; truthfully, it was a cover for the flesh sacrifice and the boys were in fact employed by the Duke to deliver it as such. It was obviously a boy, dressed in rags yet seemed to be relatively healthy, and on top of it, his face was covered by a burlap sack. When he attempted to lift it to see who it was exactly, one of the other Lords who had come up for a moment said not to, telling him that the Duke did not want a vagrant's eyes to behold the utter power that he was going to be used for.<br/><br/>Harmon, before all this, dismissed his maids for the day, allowing them to operate in relative solitude. A good thing too, for soon it was time to begin; taking a deep breath, he took out a fine velvet sack and unfurled it to reveal a golden six-pointed star. This was a keepsake that was passed down from father to son, a hand-me-down that Harmon never knew what it was until the Duke revealed to him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Well....I suppose it's time"</span>he muttered; he then stood from his seat and straightened his jacket before making his way down to the strange cavern beneath his own home. He still wondered how it got there and why it had not been revealed to him before; the fact that there was a switch to lead to it was also strange, but Harmon realized that it was not important and that now they could truly begin. Soon, he and Mortimer would have everything, even more than they had now; he could give his son an even more secure future and help him find a well-to-do woman like his mother.<br/><br/>Upon arriving, eight members in crimson robes with the hoods over their heads stood around the circular stone tablet, the ragged-looking boy laying on its carved surface.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"My Lord..."</span>the eight men said simultaneously; Harmon looked to each of them in turn and replied,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Gentlemen....Thank you for coming. Today marks the start of a new era. For too long have we allowed these charlatans to say that we must give the undeserving a fair shake; why, we ask? And the crown replies, "Because it is our duty". Balderdash, I say!"</span>This was met with murmurs of approval, only for Harmon to continue,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Indeed; when this ritual is complete, we will overthrow the crown and establish a truly polite society! One where only those in their proper class will mingle! You will never have to worry about your fair offspring having to mingle with the plain! Never have to worry about the parasites trying to marry their way into nobility to take what you have rightfully earned!"</span>The previous murmurs became a loud roar, each of the cell members cheering in overwhelming acceptance.<br/><br/>At this, the boy on the table groaned; Lord Fortescu walked over and bowed over, whispering,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"And as for you...You'll be the catalyst that ushers in this new era. Be proud to die here, boy....By your blood, you'll exonerate all like you and place them where they belong"</span>. The boy seemed to perk up and start trying to thrash; however, within moments, Fortescu secured his limbs with iron shackles and an iron collar over his neck.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"There....The flesh sacrifice is ready"</span>Harmon stated, something that distressed the bound lad greatly as he thrashed and writhed to free himself of his restraints.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Sire...Seven flowers have been floriographed as per the ritual requirements. Two baby's breath, one amaranth, two coreopsis, one daisy and one elderflower and the heart of a pure woman taken without malice for the Order Avatar"</span>one of the occultists to the left of Harmon then said; another piped up to his right,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Same over here, m'lord: One sword of pure iron and thirteen bones of a wicked man"</span>Fortescu nodded and said,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Very good...Gentlemen, take your stations"</span>. Each of the hooded members spaced themselves evenly around the two displays, four to each while Harmon remained just behind the lad's head. Reaching into his pocket, he then procured the golden star and after cutting the boy's shirt, placed the item on his bare chest, directly over his heart.<br/><br/>In a flash, each of the eight occultists and Harmon drew a silver knife and held it to their exposed palm; Harmon then cleared his throat and began the chant, his voice booming across the empty chamber:<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff"><b>Egressus gemini fatis! Quaesumus!<br/>
<br/>
Videte vocationem meam perdere, et inimici nostri, Avatar tenebrarum, Chaos et contritio!<br/>
<br/>
Audite vocem meam, et sanes perditis Avatar Lucis rerum ordine!<br/>
<br/>
Imperioque deorum aethere mundi dimittere te!<br/>
<br/>
Liber a vinculis aeternis tua!<br/>
<br/>
Tredecim proditoris sanguine signati estis!<br/>
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Octo sanguine iusti, tu autem alienus eris!</b></span><br/><br/>Once the chant was finished, each of the occultists cut their palm, spilling their blood - which carried within it the blood of the ancestors that had originally sealed the Twins away - over their respective displays. Harmon then cut his own palm and placed the incision directly onto the star itself, letting his blood spill onto the star which glowed brightly and brilliantly. A sizzling could be heard as the heat burned a mark into both the father's palm and the boy's chest; the poor lad could only scream in agonizing pain, the muffled sound due to the gag that was placed over his mouth beneath the mask. The stone tablet and the swirled onyx and diamond portal glowed as well, the latter beginning to spin rapidly and cast a magnificent display of light around the entire cavern.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00bfff">"Yes...YES! It's working! They're coming, gentlemen! A new day is upon us! Be free, Twins of Fate!"</span>