- So you’re Zodiark.”
“- The god for whom Ascians are always wrecking shit and whatnot.”
“- And you want me to become Warrior of Darkness.”
“- And unwrite history and go through time travel shenanigans and all that kind of stuff.”
“- If I do all this, can I save Haurchefant?”
“+ … It was not the intended purpose, yet if the chance presents, thou mayestー”
The Warrior of Light becoming the Warrior of Darkness, probably.
So this doesn’t irk me a whole lot; but for those using programs to change into the Ascian robes; please bare in mind that there are three different types of Ascian Robes and that each robe holds a certain meaning and rank among the Ascian Order.
First up we have the Emissary Robes.
The Emissary’s robes are white and there is only ever one Emissary.
Next up; Overlords Robes:
Overlords are more of a black version of the Emissaries garb with some minor design changes in what is displayed on their robes. There are only 12-14(?) Overlords TOTAL. These overlords already have names in Lore. Some may not have been introduced yet but they all have names already.
Lastly we have the Lesser Ascian Robes.
These robes lack the ornamental pauldrons and other ornaments that designate one of high rank in the Ascian order. They also are only seen with full black masks who’s design is tied to that of the Overlords who’s world they come from. There are an ENDLESS number of Lesser Ascians.
So! For lore purposes and those who have half breeds, the correct robe you would want to wear is the Lesser Ascian robe. For someone who is not an Overlord to be wearing an Overlords garb may draw the ire of any Overlord and even potentially the Emissary.
If you’re not aware of the number combo needed in order to equip the lesser ascian robes, please message me! o/I will not answer anons as I can’t private message you the correct numbers for these robes.
This has been a friendly PSA, from Overlord Nabriales.
And remember fellow Ascians, be wary of the coming days for danger lurks ahead!
She had to escape somehow. Waltzing was the worst of traps when one’s partner had the mental and physical capacities of a morbol. Ranya might admit in private whispers that there was an appreciation for dance when done correctly. It was reminiscent of order and process, step after step. Command and the commanded.
But not this man.
Sadly, the eldest daughter found herself incapable of departing the dance floor. The weight of her mother’s glare against the back of her head offered an unavoidable enforcement of social manners. Her father, empathetic as he was, could only comply amidst the crowd of judgmental stares. Saving face. What a pathetic excuse for tolerating incompetence.
Ranya had disregarded whatever bland conversation her partner offered in favor of formulating some sort of victory in this horrendous situation. She could not -leave- the situation. Retreat held too many consequences. Which meant she had to make him quit the field. From the corner of her eye, she caught one of the other ladies tripping over her feet, laughter pealing from her as her partner caught her round the waist.
“What do you think, Miss Ranya?”
Her pale stare honed back to her partner who stiffened slightly under her full attention. Hmmmm…
Perhaps a dance was not so useless…
With an almost mechanical consistency, she stepped a bit too far forward to continuously clip the fronts of her shoes over his. While certainly not painful, it threw off their patterned motions as the man fumbled to adjust. Once she’d made him overly wary of his own steps for a while, she finally found a proper answer.
“I think often of my future,” she told him, pushing herself to sound far more cheery than she could ever be naturally. It would help sell the deal to those dancing around them, even if she was just white noise along the dance floor. “I think of marriage, bonding to a man. Bending and breaking his will until he acts only when I ask. Subjugation is such a marvelous commitment.”
Ranya stepped on his feet yet again, glancing down between them to allow her partner the time to soak in her idle chatter. “Oh, my apologies. I fear my dancing skills are lacking. Father always said that strategy and tactics lessons took priority over my grace. Surely you forgive me?”
Her request was met with the man leaving her on the dance floor without another word, hunting down someone else with more of an interest in pretty dresses and afternoon tea. Such a shame that he would abandon a lady like that. The young redhead huffed, making a little show of weaving through the crowds to stand near her parents.
At least they would not consider matching him with her again. Nor would they antagonize her to go back to the dance floor again this eve.