Briar

Description: BLOOD OPAL TO RED BLACK WIDOW WARLORD PRINCE | JONES

Briar

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Black Widow Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Askavi Territory Court First Circle Escort
    Askavi Terreille
    102 Posts    43 marks
Briar
« on: March 13, 2018, 10:07:37 AM »
Briar


The Basics


Full Name: Briar
Age: 227
Gender/Pronouns: Male he/him

Ethnicity:Long lived, Eyrien and Hayllian
Birthplace: Askavi, Terreille
Current Location: Askavi, Terreille
Profession: ShitSon

Caste: Black Widow Warlord Prince
Birthright Jewel: Blood Opal (CUT 96)
Offering Jewel: RED (CUT 93)

Face Claim: Diego Fragoso



The Body


Height: 6'2
Body Type: Sexy
Hair Color: Dark Brunette
Eye Color: Amber gold

Appearance:
Pale skinned, like his mother, despite their Hayllian blood. Eyes not quite gold enough, hair not quiet black enough. Handsome in an exotic way to the long lived queens he used to service. A tall man made of sinew and hard muscle. Proof that he his wings serve him little purpose. Body made strong from walking and clinging to the Winds. Strong jaw and soft lips. Often topped by a forehead puckered in anxious question.

Suitably dressed. Not wealthy enough for finery. Briar often covers a slew of tattoos with shirts. Remnants of a time when that small act of defiance was the only control he had over his own body.


The Mind


Craft Strengths: 15pts-8pts= 6pts
Chalice Healing 
Psychic Masking
Tangled Webs
Craft Weaknesses:Compulsion Webs and Spells.

Personal Strengths: Is an EreSon
Personal Weaknesses: Was a Witch Pet

Personality:
Once Briar was a tenderhearted youth; haughty because he was sheltered and naive. Those days are behind him now, even if arrogance and youth still grip him hard around the edges. Prickly and prone to shifting moods. All the things he did not learn weighing on his delicate ego. Thrusting him, regularly, into shame faced admittance that he doesn’t understand the game, or gesture, or craft. Or worse, simply cannot understand how to perform it.

He is not shy, but trying to mask or hide his own embarrassment leaves him a bit socially awkward. Making him a quiet, watchful prowler. Always on alert for things that might remind him just how worthless he once was. Staring with open mistrust of most other Black Widows, and every queen he meets. Even as they stroke his protective instincts, they remind him of things best left forgotten.

Embittered as his past has made him, Briar is not afraid to speak his mind. Or press his will on others. A bossy young man with enough silent determination to wait you out. And all the time in the world to do it with. His violence of a psychical sort, rather than Craft. Sharp shoves and temperamental fussing. Hurt to the core when anyone hits back.

Sometimes he slips away. Into his mind. Either caught by the leftover residue of century old mind traps, or sunk into memories that still make his heart work into a fluttering panic. They come at random. Though there are ways of touching him that drive him back to dark days too. That is when he is most dangerous, and least himself. Startling back to reality with stomach in knots, or completely confused about where he is and why.


The Backstory


Family:
  • Aishwarya Gupta | Mother | Broken White to Broken Tiger Eye Priestess
  • Eremiar | Father | Sapphire to Red Warlord Prince
  • Dian | "Aunt" | Yellow to Summer sky Black Widow deceased

History:
multiple mentions of rape/sexual abuse

Conception:
With no queen to rule her district Lady Gupta was the voice of the people she ruled. Expressing their discontent until her speeches caught the wary attention of Witch. People came to hear the priestess speak her mind, to hear the solutions she offered. From her tower in Askavi Witch expressed her distaste for the displays. And ordered them silenced. To save the greater territory Aishwarya was bound and offered as a sign of submission. Given away as a tithe. Unbending, Aishwarya stood without fear to await judgment.

A torture of punishment. Long days of waiting, alone in a cell. Close enough to smell the danger of a violent male lurking in the dark side of the room. Hours spent feeling his seething, wordless rage. They wanted her to know he was the thing to be afraid of. She was denied the mercy of a swift death, or even the ignorance a shattered chalice would have brought. Drugged, stripped and put on display. A laughing audience to watch as her body and Jewels shattered on the violent spear of the caged man. Chalice guarded by the Black so that there was no escaping the memory. Then back in the cage to wait more. See if the seed would stick.

Childhood:
Like a thorn in her womb it did. They moved her, the instant they were sure. Later she would hear it was to keep the sire, the beast man that had planted the child, from destroying it. If she had known him capable she would have asked he kill them both. Or at least free the fetus.

Too late. Whisked off to a distant eyrie. Released from the dungeon but not imprisonment. Made to serve as a slave in a school for winged girls as oppressed as she was. Near Winsol the Dhemalense queens that ran the school visited their homelands. Only a small group of guards were left behind. A disobedient queen child was to be taken away. So Aishwarya, knowing what punishment likely awaited, warned the creature. Run, if the chance came, run. What happened to her the Hyallian woman would never know.

Her own chance to run arose. So she did. Into the night. Too heavily pregnant to get far. But she was not alone for long. Met on the road by an elderly Black Widow that welcomed Aishwarya into a warm if small cottage. Named Dian she was an unassuming old woman with wings too twisted for flying. In her webs she had seen the baby, and realized he was her responsibility to raise. So before the guard could track them down, Aishwarya took a brew to bring the early onset of labor. Dian held her mouth so that the screams could not draw attention. A few miserable hours later a baby boy was pushed into existence; pale as his mother’s Birthright White had been. Smaller than any living child ought to be. His cry was loud, though, and he nursed well before his mother pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered a prayer. Then Dian tucked the newborn bundle into the front of her dress and left.

There was no hiding from Witch. What she sought she found. Over and over again. So they moved regularly. Always narrowly avoiding capture. Withered old Dian teaching the young boy what she could. Sure, already, of his castes. Long before they stopped for him to have his Birthright ceremony in a quiet mountain temple. With his Blood Opal in hand masking his presence became more difficult. They had to move faster and more often.

The boy, now known as Briar, did not tell Dian of the dreams he had. Sweet dreams of a mother he did not remember. Warning him from The Keep, to stay away, to ignore the dreams... He tried to listen but there was a longing in her eyes that made him hungry to hold her hands. To be wanted. He had been raised for fifteen years to believe he was always in grave danger. An anomaly. Black Widow freak, the other children hissed. Unwanted by anyone but his exhausted old aunt. It was a lonely childhood. He thought he would be glad when it was over.

Adolescence:
At fifty Briar thought himself a man. Girls crooned at him wherever they went. Some tried to bed him but he was a sheltered youth. Untested and nervous. A prickly temper to match his castes and name. Not easy to get along with. Especially has his Aunt Dian aged more rapidly. Nearing the end of her life and eager to teach him all he would need to know in a quarter of the time it took to learn.

It didn’t help either that the dreams turned more gruesome as he aged. No more softly calling woman draped in shadows. She suffered. Fingers clipped off joint by joint. Still she refused to beg him to come. Sometimes Briar worried it was more than just a nightmare. What if, he wondered, his mother had survived somehow? A prisoner all these decades, shown to him on threads darker than his own Webs could perceive. So in the night Briar went. Not knowing he left Dian in her final sleep.

He was not sure how he would gain entry to The Keep. Thought there would be some great trick to it, or some complicated plan. He arrived though, and was greeted. Brought into the house and tucked into a quiet room to wait. She came. Witch herself. To see the pet she had nearly been denied. Briar trembled with uncertainty and anger. But he had never seen a queen. Faced with this one, he was putty to be molded. Just as she had hoped.

If the punishment must fit the crime, then so too should the rewards for fealty. The Red devil in the dungeon might have only been good for breaking bitches and thrilling the daring, but his son could be used for pleasure. He was puffed up and naive. Easy to fool. Showered in pleasure so that twisting mind traps could be slipped behind his barriers; brainwashed and captured less than a week after he arrived at court. Shyness soon stripped along with his virginity. Turned into little more than a toy for using. Sometimes by Witch’s own hand- sometimes by her lovers so that she could watch. Young enough still to blush and tremble, or cry when it hurt. That venom tooth a good excuse to tie him down each time. Briar was her favorite for a long while. Decades perhaps. He tried not to note the passing of years. It did him no favors. Nor did being well liked by the queen he was forced to serve. He wasn’t sure it was any better than being a chained monster. He didn’t know the dungeon housed his sire, though. Not back then. And Witch liked it that way. One seething, feral Red was enough. Briar could not become a second.

As he grew older he grew more petulant. Boring her as he learned not to cry. Not to react at all. So when Briar was nearly eighty he was sent to the temple. Warned that nothing less than a full descent would be acceptable. She intended to turn him into a gift, passed around pet queen to pet queen. Guiding her hand selected pupils through their Virgin Nights. Put to bed with women that needed to be coaxed into behaving. A reward for those that pleased her in some way. There were no rewards for Briar though. Powders forced into his nose to make him pliant. Tricked and shamed into positions he did not enjoy. Made to lick until his mouth was raw and fuck until there was no pleasure left in the thrusting. Shrinking into the sad expectations of his future. Turned glassy eyed by the monotony of his own life.

The Red in his cabinet meaningless after Witch’s Black Widows had laid their webs in his head. As he grew older he was less interesting to them all. Another male. Special, perhaps, in that he wove webs of his own, or walked the Kingdom from time to time. But he had seen the only way out was through. Briar was waiting.

Adulthood:
Eventually the time was right. Feigning interest was easy when the people around you were accustomed to little emotion at all. So he poured too much of it on a new favorite, a docile queenling in Hayll that wore light jewels. As the frontline of the war encroached Witch worried her weaker allies might be taken. So he was sent to escort her back to Hayll where it would be easier to ride out the worst of the fighting. Witch had been so sure of victory. So sure of his submission. His smile should have been a warning. The lopsided grin he wore when he told her goodbye.

No Hayll for Briar. They were quickly captured by Eyrien forces, and he abandoned the lady to strike out on his own. He sought his Aunt Dian the moment he was free. Not truly free of course. The webs had a funny way of calling him back. Not quite strong enough to make him return to The Keep, but he would become confused and wander back. Or shelter in the eyries occupied by her loyalists. Wake up sweating to a house filled with the dead. It went on that way for two years until Witch was finally slain. He rode out the ripples of her power at a camp in the cold valleys of Shalador. Unfit to travel the way others of his race did. No one had ever taught Briar to fly. His wings were strong, but he didn’t understand the Craft behind it, so never left the ground.

With his master finally gone he sat. For days. Unsure of what came next. Confused by the webs and the sick mixture of despair and relief he felt. Missed her even, disgusting as she had been to him. Missed the certainty of his every day, at least. All he had known as his life for nearly a century suddenly gone. Eventually his eyes turned to Hayll. Land of his mother. He went there, seeking her story, perhaps hints of her fate. Was shocked to find she was there. Considered too weak to be a threat, Witch’s interest in her had failed the moment Briar was no longer in her womb. So she had recovered slowly in Eyrien camps. Returned to her district the moment she thought it safe. Craftless now, and feeble. Her mind was still whole, however, and she could lead good work.

Briar found her presence soothing to his emotional scars. A wise woman that could help him keep reality and the webs separate. Still, some days he woke up in Askavi again. Tricked in the night by the traps in his mind. Trying to return to what he thought he knew, things that were long gone. Back and forth, Hayll to Askavi. Over and over again.  Between those confused excursions the promised protection of his Red lured his mother’s community back together. People returned to the borderland. In time a queen set her court in the heart of their district. Muscled Briar and his mother out of her limelight. Prematurely aged by her breaking she gently urged him to return to Askavi. To be among people that would accept his wings.

Briar eventually agreed. There were questions there, after all. He sought Dian or news of her for years. Even now, asking fresh acquaintances. He has never found answers. He tried to visit Dhemlan to. Hoping to inquire about the demon in the dungeons of the Keep. They refused him, and despite his fair temperament would not let him into the territory. So he settled a while in a makeshift court, half master of the guard and half seer. They fell apart a time or two, queens squabbling for power. Desperate to be backed by his Red. Even if his mind was riddled with traps that lured him back to The Keep a thousand times.

Unhappy with the fighting he abandoned the shifting court. Struck out to find something new. That was how he found the Inn. The Inn with the Opal girl that smelled of fear as he sniffed out her caste. Crowded her into a backroom. A Black Widow he did not know, did not mistrust. She was made to help him sort the real from the webs. Guiding his own Red to clip away the worst of the traps. Not strong enough to pick the deepest rooted traps out, but enough that he was free.

Finally, truly free.

She didn’t want his sex though. Rejected and ashamed he had offered it in payment to begin with Briar left the same night. Spent a few months in the border camps of Dena Nehele and Raej. He went back, though, to the inn. Every few months or so. To make sure no one was giving the little Opal innkeeper any trouble. In his travels he listened for rumors of withered old Black Widows and Red Jeweled monsters. In recent weeks he has set his sights on the court of Ilithian. It has lasted this long, he suspects she must be doing something right. Though he’s less interested in serving, and more curious about rumors he has heard.

She took The Keep back under Eyrien control. What fate befell the dungeon man?


The Writer


Player Name: Jones
Player Pronouns: She/Her
Timezone: CST
Contact: Discord or PM
How did you find us?: RPG-D

Inactivity Instructions: You can archive my brain babies and write them out in whatever way keep the plot going, just avoid killing them unless its absolutely necessary.

Roleplay Sample:
See Eloise

The Darkness

  • Staff
  • Red to Black

  • 1 Posts    9999789068 marks
Re: Briar
« Reply #1 on: March 13, 2018, 10:10:52 AM »
The Darkness has granted you...
Blood Opal
Cut 96
to
Red
Cut 93



As requested, TWO family rolls:
1: White to Tiger Eye
2: Yellow to Summer-sky
 What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 10% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   Wow, it's really heavy!  

The Darkness

  • Staff
  • Red to Black

  • 1 Posts    9999789068 marks
Re: Briar
« Reply #2 on: March 18, 2018, 03:00:04 PM »
Approved
 What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 10% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   Wow, it's really heavy!  
 

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