Daast Family Crypt, Private
Duke Raz Daast
Posted: Dec 31 2011, 03:07 PM


The Razzle Dazzle


Group: Human
Posts: 162
Member No.: 14
Joined: 3-July 10



The actions of Duke Rhylzynar Daast were single-minded as he drew the grey Gerudo stallion to a halt adjacent to the domed structure which stood pearly white against the colorless grasses immediately to the north of Castle City. Though the structure stood not alone on this section of the plain, for more dotted the landscape in his periphery, Raz remained heedless of them. His goal, his fulcrum lay before him, and Raz knew nothing else as he swung his right leg over the stallion's back and dropped to the ground. Sarpedon, thrilled by the adventure, tossed his iron-colored head excitably, as though goading Raz to continue the quest, but the nobleman altogether ignored him. In his haste to reach his destination, Raz had not even bothered to tack the stallion and had ridden bareback, accompanied only by his twin swords and the bottle clutched in his right hand.

His blue eyes sliding upwards, Raz absorbed in full the engraved, marble columns and facade of the Daast Family Crypt and subsequently felt his chest tighten. The frieze, inlayed with colored stone and circumventing the entire structure just above the encircling columns, held his attention, and for a moment Raz stared at the depictions of his ancestors, the engraved family motto in three different languages, and the ornate emblem which resided on the top of the dome, rising upwards towards the eastern sky. With the sides of his throat adhered together, Raz pressed his left hand against an indented stone adjacent to the bust of the family's legendary founder and choked out the incantation which released the magic-infused seal, granting him entrance.

As the door slid open, the magical energy raced around the main room of the crypt and lit a ring of torches that hung about eight feet off the marble floor, which was, like the house itself, inscribed with both the motto and Daast insignia. Behind it, though, the crypt branched into two paths, each diving underground, and it was the left, southern path which caught Raz's eye. Taking one of the torches from its stone casing, Raz descended into the depths of the crypt, his footfalls nearly soundless upon the marble steps.

The sealed, stone casket of Duke Leovir greeted him, and Raz faltered. His breaths became shallower and rapid, his jaw clenched, and his eyes widened. For a moment, it seemed as though the nobleman was fated to remain there, frozen in the doorway of subterranean section of the crypt, but in his frustration Raz rediscovered his purpose.

"Father," he said, his voice tight, his control flagging, "I have failed you."

Slumping against the base of the casket, Raz felt his eyes moisten as he uncorked the bottle and embraced the burn of the potent alcohol against his esophagus.


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Pride, Power, Prestige

"The safety of a kingdom depends more upon its alliances than upon armies or riches." Sallust

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Duke Raz Daast
Posted: Jan 1 2012, 11:24 PM


The Razzle Dazzle


Group: Human
Posts: 162
Member No.: 14
Joined: 3-July 10



The bottle was empty, utterly and completely bereft of every last benumbing, sating alcoholic drop. Raz knew this implicitly, of course, as nothing but air now greeted his mouth, yet he continued to stare at the bottle in his upraised right hand, beseeching and altogether livid at the same moment. The bottle, the whiskey had betrayed him, much like everyone else in the perilous convoluted arena of Hylian politics, and he could not possible why something so insensate, so secular, would connive with forces much larger than its unintelligent self to so torment him. He craved it, he needed it, and yet the alcohol mocked him, sliding away through infinitesimal holes in the casing of the bottle, gaps which Raz could not have ever possibly anticipated.

All at once, the nobleman's rage consumed him, and Raz was suddenly on his feet, the movement so swift that he hardly registered it, and with an unbridled, vehement expletive, he hurled the bottle against the opposite wall. His breaths rapid, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, Raz watched the glass shatter into several dozen shards, some catching flickers of the torchlight as they clattered to the decorated marble floor beneath them.

"Are you not yet satisfied?! Are you not yet done debasing me!?!"

Swearing, cursing the splintered vessel, Raz charged at the remains of the bottle, his hands flying to the hilts of his dual swords. "How easy it must be," he taunted, his voice magnifying as his control, seduced by the volume of the potent drink he had imbibed, fled in the face of his despairing fury. "How easy it must be to desire nothing in life other than to bring men to their knees, to topple entire regimes through the sheer dependency of one man! Have you not a care?! Have you no knowledge of the chaos which you have induced?!"

Bringing a fist in front of his face, Raz simultaneously clenched his hand and his jaw, his fingernails digging into the calluses on his left hand. Knowing the abandoned remnants of the bottle could not provide the answers he sought, Raz rounded on the stone casket. "And what of you?!" he challenged. "For all of your proclamations and accolades, what have you accomplished?! Were all of these grandiloquent designs contrived merely to magnify your failure? My failure?! The failure of this family!!"

Heedless of both the rise in the tenor of his strained voice and the moisture on his face, Raz advanced on the sepulcher which held the body of his late father. "You never intended to succeed, did you?! You intended to deteriorate before your time, to fly away to the clouds and leave me here, cast asunder in a pit of wolves! Why did you abandon me?!"

Apathetic to his desperation, the sealed casket lay statuesque, both faultless and supercilious in its silence. It seemed to leer at him, highlighting and emphasizing the retinue of grievous errors which the nobleman had committed since the murder of Duke Leovir the previous year. In all of its rapturous reverence, it sneered at him, and Raz could feel its supreme disappointment consuming him, engulfing the room and conveying to Raz the truth of his own inadequacy. Despite all of his proclamations, Raz would lead the ancient, renowned family to absolute ruin. The incendiary flames of obliteration had already been lit.

"ANSWER ME!!"

His face contorted, his enraged voice cracking, Raz gripped the both sides of the casket, his face only a foot from the marble casing. Heaving for air, he stood over the grave of Duke Leovir, consumed with despair. Yet the echo of his own proclamation, ricocheting off the frigid marble walls of the crypt sobered him somewhat, and Raz, pulling away, lapsed into silence. Turning away, Raz slid to the floor, his back pressed against the encased coffin, and pulled one knee up to his chest. Leaning his forehead into his right forearm, Raz, pulled by the alcohol, grieved for his father while his mind slipped towards Fen.


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Pride, Power, Prestige

"The safety of a kingdom depends more upon its alliances than upon armies or riches." Sallust

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Odessa
Posted: Jan 2 2012, 01:23 AM


Every little thing she does is magic...


Group: Human
Posts: 104
Member No.: 11
Joined: 29-June 10



A most important day was upon them and neither hide nor hair of her betrothed could be found. He had not returned home, nor did he remain at the castle, but thanks to a bit of prying, the Duchess Lyshek had narrowed the possibilities of his whereabouts down to a few. Odessa may not have been eager to wed the Duke Daast, but after all that she had been through thus far—which included coaxing Sloan and Rin into dresses—she would see this to the end. Raz may have made several idiotic mistakes during her short time with him, but she would not allow him to slip away from the current one so easily. Having been forced to rise early to prepare for the wedding later that evening, Odessa was not in the least bit jovial as she rode toward the site of the Daast family crypt. The events that had unfolded the night before had left the raven-haired young woman with little time for rest before the sun rose, and now that she was in search of her missing betrothed, she was placed in a most sour mood.

The painted mare that Odessa had borrowed for the early morning journey slowed to a stop as her rider noticed Sarpedon tied near a large mausoleum. The Duchess growled a bit as her fair features twisted into a vile scowl. “What has that fool done now?! Brought himself to his family tomb to die?” The thought was altogether pleasant and disturbing as she edged her mount closer to the tomb.

After dismounting and tying her mount next to Sarpedon, Odessa entered the elaborate mausoleum. Her eyes did not wander to the intricacies found within the tomb, but rather toward any part of them that may hide Raz. Had she took the time to notice, however, she may as well have scoffed at its extravagance and wondered how people could build such great structures for the deceased when there was people currently living and doing without such luxuries—it was rather ridiculous. Nevertheless, as she delved deeper into the tomb, a familiar feeling began to surround her. It made her feel uneasy and put her on high alert. Its source appeared to come from even deeper within the structure, and without much else to go on, Odessa decided to follow it to an open door which revealed two paths: one to the left and one to the right. The young woman paused for a moment to consider which option she would choose. A faint shout reverberated throughout the passage to the left and provided her with an answer.

Frowning, she didn’t stop to take one of the torches, but instead stormed down the path. The only thing used to light her way was a few charges of electricity that wrapped around her hand and crackled dangerously. At the end, in the depths of the crypt, she found her quarry with his back resting against a stone casket and his face hidden by his arm. The Duchess was not without compassion for the grieving man, but her condolences would have to wait.

“Rhylzynar!” she hissed as she strode up to him, fists clenched firmly by her side. As the man looked up to her, a petite hand came across his cheek. Odessa glowered down at him as her chest heaved with fury. She winced only slightly at her healing wound before continuing to chastise her betrothed. “What were you thinking?! Did I not warn you of the consequences and offer you an alternative solution? And now what? You’ve completely tarnished your name and buried yourself in numerous accusations!” She did not care if he was angry nor did she take into consideration that he may have been sincerely mourning as she continued. “Here I am, a mere twelve or so hours before the wedding ceremony, staring down at the man whose soiled name I must take. The stench of alcohol wafts from his person and he has thrown himself like a hapless ragdoll into his family crypt. I look at you and I see a disgrace, Rhylzynar—a disgrace to man—and you have none to blame but yourself. “

Odessa’s venomous words were in great supply now that she had the chance to confront Raz, and while her volume barely increased, her voice was amplified as it echoed through the crypt. “You said that you would redeem yourself, but I fear you lack the common sense to do so. This is not a game anymore Raz, and if it was, I daresay that you are losing. You cannot continue to take these audacious gambles and expect to win. Stop thinking of yourself and start considering those around you before you run everyone and everything into ruin.” Odessa glanced toward Leovir’s final resting place and then back to Raz as her pruple eyes began to swell with tears of frustration. Very rarely had she been brought to this place and how she wished to avoid it. She could not, however, prevent herself from it and was at its mercy. “You—“ she clenched her fist tightly and closed her eyes as she fought the urge to draw her sabre. A small tear streamed down her face as she was silenced by her fury.


((Wow... Sorry bout that, but Odessa was just on a roll--wouldn't shut up. XD))


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Duke Raz Daast
Posted: Jan 2 2012, 12:19 PM


The Razzle Dazzle


Group: Human
Posts: 162
Member No.: 14
Joined: 3-July 10



Ineptitude was alien to Duke Rhylzynar Daast. Throughout the course of his twenty-three years, ambition had driven him to succeed, to excel and victoriously surmount every obstacle placed before him. That desire for conquest, the insatiable lust for absolute power, had motivated his chauvinistic fervor to embody everything his father desired, to prove himself deserving of the leadership of the ancient Hylian family. The fact that his younger brother, only biological son of Duke Leovir and Duchess Ivetta, held a hereditary advantage had never perturbed him; Raz had known, bolstered by the unspoken assurance of his adopted father, that the dukedom was his to claim. Fen's position would be elucidated so that Raz would rise to power, and Raz, despite the murder of his father, had achieved that goal.

And yet, he had wrought ruin upon the family. Their revered reputation lay shattered, torn into thousands of reviled pieces. His allies had scattered, shying away from the suspicions and iniquitous accusations cast upon him, and on the eve of his wedding, which would cement his position as duke, he stood at the helm of a family perched precariously on the precipice of annihilation. Out of desperation, Raz had moved the wheels chaotically, and in the need to have Zhivko in his house had set him on the path to destruction. Instead of reviving the family's fortunes and leading them to even loftier heights of success, Raz had fatally wounded them.

This knowledge consumed him, and Raz, pressing his face deeper into his arm, did not perceive the entrance of his betrothed until Odessa snarled his name. Reflexively glancing upwards at her, his face a mask of anger wreathed in despair, Raz abruptly found himself on the receiving end of her hand. Inhaling, Raz accepted the sting that fired in his cheek, and silently, lividly, made eye contact with Odessa. Her angry words echoed his own, confirming that which he already knew to be true, and as Raz clambered to his feet, he clenched his hands at his sides, repelling the failure that mocked him. Turning his back to Odessa, he leaned over the casket once more. "I am well aware of my failings," he said coldly.

At that moment, Raz was sorely tempted to declare to Odessa that she should just abandon him here, that she should forgo the marriage and return to her sordid, clandestine life among her bevy of urchins and waifs, until he recognized the tenor of his self-pity. Leaning over the casket, Raz abruptly recalled the circumstances of his father's ascension to grandeur, of the plague that had ravaged the family and had left Leovir, barely sixteen years old, as sole commander of the Daasts.

Am I so different? Would he have adopted me if he did not think me competent? Perhaps he erred; perhaps the semblance of greatness he detected was merely a facade. But greatness is in my blood is it not? Am I to spurn it in the face of these obstacles? Inhaling to steady himself, Raz pushed away from his father's casket and faced Odessa. He did not speak, but merely gazed at her for a moment, and then strode deeper into the crypt, brushing his left hand along the top of the casket of Duchess Ivetta as he did. Descending down the marble steps, Raz reached his destination and for a moment stood gazing at the marble casket and its engraved name: Duke Rhylonar Drusus Daast.

Without hesitation, Raz heaved the stone lid off the casket and stood gazing at the mummified body, its face a mirror of his own. Like all members of his family, Raz knew well the story of his namesake, of the great, ambitious man whose lust for power had caused him to betray his own brother and commit high treason. In his audacity, Rhylonar had allied himself with a Gerudo noble, only to lose his life when he failed to deliver the son she had desired, the terms of their contract. Raz's grandfather, Arthalion, had retrieved the body from the sands and interred it in its rightful place, adjacent to the brother who had, despite the betrayal, not condemned him.

The symbolism was not lost on Raz. His shoulders rising, the dark-haired nobleman placed a hand on the chest of the corpse of his infamous ancestor and composed himself. The ability to succeed, to achieve unparalleled success and educe absolute glory for the Daasts resided within his blood; Rhylonar had very nearly achieved it himself. Raz could not expect to tread this path unobstructed; he just had to prove himself able to supersede the challenges.

Securing the lid over the engraved casket, Raz rotated away and placed a hand on Odessa's right shoulder. "Fortune has granted me a second chance," he said, echoing Hayden's advice, "And I do not intend to waste it."


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Pride, Power, Prestige

"The safety of a kingdom depends more upon its alliances than upon armies or riches." Sallust

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Odessa
Posted: Jan 3 2012, 02:05 AM


Every little thing she does is magic...


Group: Human
Posts: 104
Member No.: 11
Joined: 29-June 10



Odessa’s eyes snapped open at Raz’s reply and she found him once again leaning against the coffin, this time with his back to her. The question was not how aware he was of his failings, but what he could do to prevent future ones. That was the one thing that plagued the Duchess’s thoughts as her gaze bore into her betrothed’s back. She drew her sleeve up to her eyes to wipe away the water, but just as the nobleman began to turn, she returned her hand to her side.

A moment of silence passed between the couple as they locked eyes, but then Rhylzynar turned about and walked deeper into the crypt. Odessa, partially with the desire of not letting him out of her sight, followed behind him. She bit her tongue as he ran a hand over one casket and then heaved the lid off of another. What was he hoping to accomplish here? Was there some scroll located in these tombs that would provide him with the wisdom and knowledge he needed to succeed and was it clutched in the fists of some lifeless ancestor?

Odessa’s hand sank into her pocket as she withdrew her locket and popped it open. “Sometimes I wonder what you would say to me if you where still here, but there is no use in it, is there?” She sighed as her parents and brother stared back at her and then put the trinket away once again. The young woman could, to some extent, understand his desire to seek comfort with his lost loved ones, but what could they do now to help him? They were nothing but piles of bones and memories who could not speak, much less act. Odessa had felt similarly to when she first heard word of her parent’s murder, but she soon realized what she knew now: she would have to pave her own way and seek the guidance of those with her. She also had to remain strong for Paxis and care for him, which may or may not have hastened her growth.

Odessa’s shoulder jerked slightly under Raz’s hand. He had never actually touched her in assurance and comfort and thus the Duchess wished to pull away. Conversely, it may have been a result of his inebriated state and him throwing caution to the wind. “Then don’t. I hardly believe that fate will be as kind a third time. Unlike the thoughts of men, it is not always ‘three strikes and you’re out’.” Her face had, until recently, begun to show a sliver of empathy, but she immediately replaced it with another look of displeasure. “Now, if you are capable of riding without falling off of your steed, it would behoove you to return home to prepare for this evening. I may have been forced into this union, but by Din, if it is going to be done, it is going to be done right. Until then.” She gave him a stern look and then turned on her heel. Should there be more to discuss it would have to wait until that night, for in the Duchess’s mind, some things were already behind schedule thanks to last night’s, and now this, incident.

((I’m going back to the mansion to fiddle with Sloan and Paxis. See you when/where ever!))


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Duke Raz Daast
Posted: Jan 3 2012, 11:02 PM


The Razzle Dazzle


Group: Human
Posts: 162
Member No.: 14
Joined: 3-July 10



Self-deprecating frustration highlighted the creases on the scowling visage of Duke Rhylzynar Daast as he watched his betrothed depart. For a brief moment, he thought he had detected a measure of sympathy, even empathy, in her expression, yet it, if it had even existed at all, had proved ephemeral and vanished before the crescendo of the Duchess's exasperation. She had taken her leave, her words still burning in his mind, and Raz assumed than an upsurge of anger would be sequential. However, the fury he anticipated did not arise, and, turning back towards the casket of his namesake, the noble was inclined to wonder if the alcohol had blunted his ire, dulling his senses and veiling them from that wrathful poison.

But Rhylzynar, despite his musings, knew the ironic truth of the entire situation: he had allowed Odessa to take charge of the ceremony. Everything for which he had strived, the rite of passage for which he had sullied his family's reputation, appeared as little more than secular specters at this moment, at this precipice of absolute ruin. For such an action he could not conceivably blame Odessa; he had, after all, very nearly relinquished his own control over the ceremony. Such a trivial thing matrimony seemed at that moment, so insignificant compared to the tribulations arrayed before him, and Raz, with the alcohol leading him, considered the possibility of altogether abandoning the coerced wedding.

"How easy it would be to accept that convoluted fallacy, to embrace that path of utter weakness. It would appear to offer the most secure path, yet scorn is inevitable, is it not? And what of the Duchess? What of the information she has garnered within the walls of your house?"

His baritone voice, slightly slurred by drink, was directed not at Leovir, but at the sepulcher of his namesake. "You entertained no such delusions," he continued, "Yet did not your infallibility, your conceit, ultimately facilitate demise? For the sake of a fortuitous alliance, you gambled upon a dangerous road and did not reap the rewards of your wager. Am I to follow in an indistinguishable path, to resume your trek?"

The casket and the mummified corpse it contained remained absolutely silent, though Raz had never expected a reply. His words were born of necessity, of a desire simply to hear himself speak, yet Raz knew, even as he brought a palm to his forehead, leaning his weight into it, that he already arrived at his decision. His shoulders rising once, the nobleman gave the marble grave a final, pensive stare before turning away and striding towards the main chamber of the domed crypt. He paused, though, in the primary room of the southern wing, anchored by the sight of his father's final resting place. Bereavement rushed forth to moisten his eyes, but the nobleman clenched his jaw deliberately and refused to surrender to the sensation.

Placing his left hand on the casket, precisely in the middle of his father's engraved name, Raz composed himself. "I will not fail you again, father," he declared, his voice reverberating off the staid stone walls of the crypt. "By Din, I swear....I swear upon the mutilated soul of my namesake, Duke Rhylonar Drusus Daast, that I will lead this family to the greatest height of prestige that it has ever known."

Doubt bombarded his thoughts, but Raz repelled it, and, with his muscular shoulders taut, replaced the magical seal upon the crypt and collected Sarpedon, bound for his house and the impending wedding.


--------------------
Pride, Power, Prestige

"The safety of a kingdom depends more upon its alliances than upon armies or riches." Sallust

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Fortune Favors the Bold
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