Rea Family/Dancer/Nightmares

"He who fights monsters should beware, lest he become a monster himself." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

Nightmares 1 Letters stacked his camp desk, inked words flicking and twisting under the lantern light. Dark bags had settled under his eyes, and his clothes were disheveled. He drummed his fingers on the desk, face set, assessing the letters spread before him. Truly, he was the candidate with the most experience, the most honorable, the most prestigious, the most logical choice. However, he couldn't simply tout his full credentials, and he certainly hadn't been in this realm long enough to accumulate a list of recent accolades for a high council position. For a moment, he paused his drumming, eyes falling on one of the longest letters. The only real threat to his candidacy, and she was still so green. Children seemed to be ruling the world these days, some literally, others stirring the whole court into a fight over a few peasant deaths, and still others leading the greatest Hypocrisy he'd seen since the Invasion. Eva. A low growl escaped him, rage boiling to the forefront of his mind. The reports had come in weeks ago of her abdication of the throne, shortly after the reports of the loss of the Hypocrites' so called 'oracle'. It didn't take a genius to untangle what had happened. Dancer resumed his finger drumming, harder. Eva had been an innocent child, and they had taken her deeper into their Heretical fold. How far, he did not know, but a power vacuum of that magnitude opened many pits into Heresy. "Sir!" A messenger barged into the tent, neglecting all common courtesy. Ragged, sea-soaked clothes hung off the man, squelching as he pawed through a bag slung around his torso. Still inwardly fuming, Dancer struggled to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "What, exactly, makes you think you can simply bust into my tent?" Entertaining thoughts of murder, Dancer stood, pulling his sword out from under his desk and brandishing it. Steel glittered in the lantern light, Dancer's eyes shining in the same fervor. "M'Lord Dancer, a package for you! I've traveled all the way from the Colonies, Sir! I was told to get this to you as soon as possible!" The messenger pulled out a silver tin the size of a small dog, a large stylized 'D' twirled around the outside. Dancer didn't lower his sword, but his eyes gazed hungrily at the tin. The messenger shuffled his feet, discomfort flooding his face. "Sir?" Dancer broke from staring at the package to glare at the messenger. "Holt!" Dancer rose his voice to a commanding shout, and a middle aged man promptly marched into the tent. Dancer strode across the tent, deftly nipping the tin from the messenger, sword at the ready with every step. "Take him to the nearest Mordok pit, and chuck him in, as quick as you can." The soldier wasted no time jumping on the messenger, both men hitting the dirt. Muffled protests from the messenger went unanswered, as Dancer stepped back, keeping his distance from the pair. He wasn't taking any chances when it came to his brother.

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from System

Dancer's Cookie Jar Dancer's patience was running thin. He had tried to hide his cookie jar. Still, it was found and pilfered. Now, he was moving onto boobie traps. Rubber bands, a bow, a clay pot, and some deodorant were all he needed, and he had gathered them together. The cookie thief would rue the day he stole a cookie for Dancer Rea! And the thief had taken not just one...

System