[Heimdalic_Dreams]

__
_

The Story

It has been several years since Sinclair had climbed to the position of Captain of the Astra Knights, and by the grace of the Oracle, dawned the mantle of the Blood Moon Rising in response to the threat of Liviana and her supporters, whose dark castings of his race will no doubt cause the total extinction of all Na'hrem within Meranthe if not kept in check. Things have not been so easy; finding precious few of his Kin who hold the moral and insightful wherewithal to disregard the ways of the Moons Chosen, the situation of both his positions have been strained as he struggled to overcome the manpower issue. Sin is not as strong as he would like to be, nor as skilled, and is doing his best with sheer grit, ambition, and determination at this point. There is a sinking feeling within his duel hearts. A sensation that whispers to him in the quiet mourning light of the dawn; it tells him he is letting down his people. Both the Aphrosians as Captain. To his islanders as Baron. As well as his bloodline, the Adara, by not having the ability to overcome the trials and tribulations that come with his duties. So rare a time where the red shade of the moon allows a Blood Moon to Rise, and yet it feels as if he's falling, whelmed by all that has happened. 

__

_

The total, wholesale destruction of New Dexia, a place meant to be a sanctuary away from the horrors of the past, and a flag dug into sand for the sake of the Future. Worse, it was orchestrated by the wretched hands and cunning deceptions of the Witch Moon Chosen, utilizing a ritual which resulted in the fel arts blasting the city into dust, tearing the very life-force from the innocent denizens, ripping away the lives of the women, children, and non-magi who lived there for the sake of loosening the seal of the Moon itself. It was then Sinclair knew - He had lost. Originally the plan had been simple; replace Livi, bring his race back into the Light, reprogram those who were not too far gone and perhaps... Bath in the True Light cast down upon them, by Aschea. The blood bath was not over, however - The battle of Shoel, which shook the very foundations of Maranthe, where everything, EVERYTHING could have been drained by the vices of Gluttonous desires. Though it ended with a bang for the main fighters, locked in the heat of the flames of war was Liviana, against so many, MANY of their own forces. First was the beloved ghost of Nyt'hjem, Ahtziri, who despite everything, fell into dust before rescue could come. Then it was Sinclair himself, who did his best to tear justice from the void itself and sunder it upon his eternal foe. Yet he, too, fell - And only survived by the stroke of luck he wielded that day. One after another, perhaps five mighty warriors or so attempted to take on the woman. Every one of them failed. But none more the Batkin Captain, as it was his destiny to take her on - And yet, and yet, and yet...

__

_

There was no way, it would seem, to simply dawn the mantle of the Blood Moon Rising and usurp control from the Witch, place his hands within the fate of a people who now had their own dirtied by what they had associated themselves with. But then, after many a lonely night reflecting on his failures, mending his wounds and recalling nights in a forest so long ago, did a thought came to him - It was a dangerous gambit, to be sure, one that could come back to 'bite' him later if he could not contain their dark inclinations... And yet, the time for simple measures were far from over with the echoing ghosts of screams unheard. With the Oracles permission, the Captain of the Knights-

__

_

No. The Bloodcrowned Prince of the Adaira, Son of the Matriarch, runaway heir and last in line to the bramble throne deep within the sacred groves, placed a single sealed envelope with the insignia of his heritage into the saddle of a loyal knight. Using the skills only a mastered blood magi might hold, the Na'hrem added something else to the mans' mana matrix as well. As the brave soldier galloped away, Sins' lips tightening by the knowledge only he knew; the letter the man was escorting was nothing more than gibberish, random hogwash made to seem impressive to any layman or bandit who happened to get their claws into the cargo sack... Rather, it was the message he had hidden, protected by ignorance in the mans' very body, which was meant for its Final Destination - And nothing, or no one else. His blood, which held for a call to Arms of his people, requestion for a small group to come to his aid, and assist in removing the taint of the Dark from these lands... All of this, attached by magic to the Sacrifice that now rode off, unknowing of his fate to be but satiation of the sanguinistic proclivities which merrily haunt his people. In the end... He was quite literally feeding his people the needed rally for mobilization.

___

_

The Adaira

What are the Adaira...? We are Batkin of an ancient bloodline, whose sworn purpose was to remain in the dark like a dagger, ready to strike upon those who threaten the extinction of our race; after Shoel, after New Dexia, and being mindful of the current trajectory of our kind, it is high time for us to step out from the sanctuary of the hidden groves, and walk in the crimson shadows of our most holy ancestors for the sake of the future prosperities of our children. We are true of heart and honor, with a desire to see the light of the moon shine by the grace of Ascheas mercy, and not the evil, madness inducing force that comes to others of our kind. If you are being sent to Meranthe under the instruction of the Matriarch, it is because you have proven yourself worthy of being a Hero of our kind - Worthy of body and heart to test your mettle against the very reason our people exist. But things are not so easy for us. Adaira have very specific weaknesses, first and namely, our lack of inhibitions to anything Blood related. It is in our nature and nurture to find it appealing, as it is the foundation of what makes us who we are, tied as we are to a power we will never be allowed to hold. As such, generations upon generations of this culture leads us to -desire- blood. To drink it from the necks of those weaker than us, stronger than us. To take what was theirs, and make it our own, empowering us as we do so. Sip it, maybe bathe in it, perhaps play in it a little. We understand this is looked down upon others - But our philia aside, we are people who appreciate both cunning and action, taking both hand in hand as we fly into the night. We are loyal by predisposition, stemming from a matriarchal society that focused on budding the love of ones neighbors over almost anything else - Team building exercises, hunting in groups, and so on, so forth. 

__

_

Adaira Naming Scheme, ect

There are a ton of cultural quirks I'll have to write down later, but for now, I'll just write this here - Adaira is our clan name. It will always be tacked onto the end of our denomination at birth, and will never change, even upon marriage. This is because it is a badge of sorts, to display to others of our kind, and show we are walking in the Light. As such, the Family name will be in the middle - For instance, my name is Sinclair D. Adaira. The D stands for my family name, but the last must always end in the clan name. There should be some blood based, moral based, or Duality/Balanced based scheme in the name you chose. Sin = Vices, Clair = Clear, as an example. A lot of our family names are blood based, so if you want a relatively normal first name, feel free! 

__

_

We're not cringe because we're wannabe Vampire bats.

We're cringe because we're -good- wannabe Vampire bats.

Discord: heimdalicdreams#0000 < --- Speak to me here, and I'll fill you in on what the letter might have said, if you're interested in becoming one of us!


"Required" reading: https://chronicles-of-eternia.com/forum/...15424.html