Moon´glade` n. 1. The bright reflection of the moon's light on an expanse of water.
“MOONGLADE” is a non-canon Fairy Tail rp. Our story begins in the northern continent of Giltena, more than 400 years after the “disappearance of dragons”. With a focus on the Kingdom of Valeria, a country with a deep history revolving around the Moon Dragon, you will be able to play a vital role in the development of this kingdom--unless you choose a different journey. In Giltena, revered dragons have chosen to walk among you, and villains posing as heroes litter both the royal courts and the city streets. Weary traveller, what will you bring to the kingdom? Forge your path, and push forward through a world of magic and dreams.
WATER DRAGON FEST
The portside Town of Elmina is holding their annual Water Dragon Festival in honor of the Water Dragon Waka. Water Dragon Waka is a known foodie, so there will be a cooking competition held by the city lord as well as a variety of street vendors set up to celebrate the festivities. Additionally, the royal family of Valeria will be holding a hunt in the nearby Pouring Rainforest in honor of this event. This forest is controlled terrain so they will be releasing captive beasts into it. Choose. Do you want to help or hinder with these activities? The choices are yours.
This skin was made by Pharaohleap of pixel-perfect. Moonglade is the ugly bastard child of Baby and Spade and is a Fairy Tail roleplay. A special thanks to Hiko for his contributions. Fairy Tail is created by Hiro Mashima. All images on site belong to their respective artists.
He had gotten himself separated, only in part on purpose, from the rest of his squadron. The station had made it easy for him - the late afternoon at the end of the working week was far busier than it had been when they’d arrived, and the crowd swallowed him up like the ocean. It brimmed throughout the station building, small streams of people trickling to platforms and shops and exits. For a while he had wandered, unhurried and comfortable in the knowledge that his train would take its time in arriving, in offloading its passengers, in getting refuelled and cleaned.
And then he found the stream of people which would take him to the right platform, joined with them and let himself be led again, lost in idle thought. The journey wasn’t one he looked forward to particularly - Tekka City to Draseel did not offer much in the way of sight-seeing out of the stained windows - but it was an opportunity to be alone before he was to spend more time than he was comfortable with around people who could (and some, he did not doubt, were willing to) kill him with the power stored in their pinky finger. The journey would likely be the last time when he was able to drift off in at least tentative peace.
Not that he was willing to admit this to himself.
The crowd on the platform, now stagnant as they waited, was less easy to maneuver than the moving sea of people had been. The uniform helped, though, stiff as it was - the silvery moon-sigil on his shoulder, his heavy boots, the clicking of armour under pale blue fabric had that effect on people. Ruaridh realised he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in it, suspecting he would find himself stiff and aching when he woke up at Draseel Station. Unfortunately, it was also an incredibly warm sort of attire, and the warmth would likely not prevent him from drifting off.
The train doors opened with a hiss, and Ruaridh sucked in his last fresh breath (insofar station air could be considered fresh) before boarding the carriage right behind the one the squadron had boarded. He found an empty compartment on his third try, and closed the door decisively behind him before collapsing, rather ungracefully, on one of the seats. A few moments later, the train whistled, and they began to move. He didn’t know exactly when the rhythmic sound of the train on the tracks lulled him off to sleep.
What he did know, is that he was awoken by the door to the compartment opening - it shook him awake with the sort of start that officers dozing off on duty are known for. He couldn’t help an “Oh?” escaping him, looking up at the new arrival and straightening himself into one seat (rather than slumping over three) at the same time.
Honesty was a double-edged blade, but one he was glad to wield and even more pleased to encounter another wielding. There was a time and a place for secrets and double-meanings, certainly, but conversations with Ruaridh was not the place or the time for them. He had never found himself much of a many-tongued riddler, more interested in the truth of the matter than the game of sifting through words in order to find said truth. The remark on spies and honesty extracted the quiet laughter of someone who was professionally not supposed to be amused, but personally certainly was.[break] “If they did so more often, perhaps they would not find themselves so widely mistrusted.” He responded, mentally tallying the number of spies he trusted against the spies he did not - the imbalance, though striking, was no surprise. Then again, this was not about spies. He did not doubt they were present at this party (to do so even Ruaridh would find too naive) but they were outnumbered by a much more destructive sort of spectator - people of power and influence, of means and of malice.[break] He counted himself lucky to have been approached by a woman who did not appear to be either spy or spectator, and returned his glass to his hand, brought it to his lips in an unspoken declaration of … trust? He couldn’t quite call it that. But it was something like that, certainly. Ruaridh did not find it necessary to abstain from alcohol entirely during the conversation - even though it would likely not have mattered. It was the gesture, not the actuality, which counted, and with that thought he found himself back at the beginning of his trailing thoughts, at the hidden meaning behind gestures and looks and certain words.[break] “An unfortunate truth, that.” He remarked idly, a little divot forming there where his brows furrowed slightly. “There’s an awful lot to be gained from good conversation, and only a victory or loss from a fight.” Pacifism? No. He found himself too occupied with daily crimes to advocate for it. But some breathing room between conflicts, some conversation to prevent said conflicts from escalating to begin with - Ruaridh could certainly see himself speaking out for that cause.[break] His head tilted to the side and he let his eyes meet her, frankly searching for a reason behind her question. Ruaridh suspected he already knew, but there was a risk in assumptions that he was rarely willing to take. “I suppose its appeal is rather similar to the appeal of guild work, all things considered.” He spoke with care, considering each word before stringing a sentence together. There was only a thin line between enthusiasm and propaganda, and he had to walk it carefully - fanaticism did not suit him, he knew that much. “I get to protect what I love, and I get to do it in a way which I enjoy. The pay isn’t bad, either.” The slightly lighter tone indicated that the last part was a joke more than anything, but even without the intonation, he suspected that it would be obvious. A bastard he may be, he was still well taken care of by his father, just so he kept quiet on the political scale. Generally, though, it was a non-answer, a scripted line that he had practiced many times over.[break] He didn’t want to bother everyone he met with his actual reasons, with his bitterness. Especially not someone like Lady Jury, who did not need to talk to him but did of her own free will. Chasing her off was the last thing he wanted to do.[break] “But, more personally - I grew up at court, in part, always looked up at the guard. It was really rather natural, looking back. I was always going to join them, in my mind.” He paused, considered his wine and then sipped it. “If you do not mind me asking, what motivated your decision to join your guild?”
There was a headiness to the late afternoon that he, looking back on it, had not expected. The lazy summer heat, only alleviated occasionally by a sea breeze, in combination with the mingling of scents and tastes of rich, well-prepared food, brought with it a certain heaviness that settled comfortably into his bones. Perhaps too comfortably, considering the company he kept - lordlings and diplomats, heiresses and merchants. The sort for whom he needed a clear head to carry on a conversation, lest he say something he might later regret.[break] Not, of course, that there was much conversation initiated with him by the company he currently kept. The invitation to this social gathering had been somewhat of an afterthought of a formality from its host; perhaps they simply didn’t quite catch his name or his person beyond his father’s title. Anyone who did know who he was either went through the niceties and found better company, or did not even go through those motions. Not, Ruaridh found, that he minded much. He would have been in Elmina either way, having been called in on regular duty, and the atmosphere was pleasant enough without conversation, the dinner presented absolutely excellent, the view breathtaking. Complaining would do nothing but ruin his very pleasant afternoon.[break] As the evening crept in on him, as easily as the heaviness of today had earlier, he found himself on his second glass of red when approached. He noticed her later than he would have liked, letting her catch him at a moment where his shoulders had just relaxed enough for him to look somewhat slumped. He straightened himself smoothly, setting the stemless glass in his hand aside in nearly the same motion.[break] “I don’t believe,” His voice, hoarse in that way that indicated he hadn’t necessarily used it in a while, embarrassed him. He would have coughed, if his mother hadn’t trained that kind of behaviour out of him as a young child.“I have had the pleasure of being spied on before, no.” In the back of his mind, he went through the catalogue of names and faces he kept - never brilliant at matching the two of them up, he made an effort to remember everyone who was anyone. That this woman’s face did not strike him as familiar was not necessarily unpleasant, but the fact that she knew of him and he not of her was … well. That really depended on what she had heard of him, he supposed.[break] ”Lady Jury.” He took her hand in his own, ungloved, knuckles rougher than a nobleman’s ought to be, and shook it with some renewed certainty. Although her face did not strike him as familiar, the name certainly rang a bell in a far-off place in his memory - certainly a noble house of some renown, though for the life of him he could not recall details. “Ruaridh Sutton, royal guard, at your service.”[break] He let fall the polite amount of silence before continuing, with a laugh. “To answer, though - yes, I’m quite enjoying the whole affair. Certainly beats slogging through the forest hunting down a vicious beastie.” Best to make it seem as if there had ever been a choice, even if it was widely known he hadn't had one.
Ruaridh, whose name you pronounce as Rory, don't worry, is a man of great conviction but not magic. He is a knight under the royal Valerian banner, and has had to prove himself over and over again as a man of worth to both his family and the world at large. He is a noble on his father's side, but was technically born out of wedlock and then adopted, and has thus missed out on being a proper Valerian Lord as well as his inheritance. The next best thing he could be was a Kingdom Mage, but that didn't work out either, considering that Ruaridh's talent for magic is genuinely appalling. So he's the next best thing after that - a royal guard serving the country he loves so much. [break] Ruaridh is loyal but stubborn, professional but judgmental, educated but a little arrogant about it. He's the quintessential knight, deeply invested in the wellbeing of both the royal family of Valeria and the country itself, valuing loyalty and persistence over everything else. He has a difficult relationship with magic itself, although it does not extend to mages - he both desperately wants to wield magic and despises his need for magic in order to be useful. This dichotomy lies at the core of his character, and most of his opinions are a result of this constant inner struggle.[break] Then again, he could just get a magical sword and get it over with. But he has refused to do that so far, because that would be giving up. And Ruaridh doesn't give up. Ever.
friends
When it comes to friends, Ruaridh tends to favour people with similar worldviews - it keeps his life simple and his resolve strong. He's a lot like a guard dog in his friendship - it takes a while for him to warm up, but once he has, he will defend his friend and his friendship with tooth and claw. And, in his case, sword. He has a great deal of admiration for kingdom mages and, as he is technically a member of the same guard as they, most of his friends will be kingdom mages. From childhood, he might have a couple of leftover friendships with other mages. He might have a sort of rivalry-type friendship with a guild mage, as he finds himself terribly jealous of the adventures they are able to go on and the freedom they have, while he also kind of disapproves of their use of magic, which is not to serve Valeria directly. He has a healthy amount of respect for anyone from the rebecca church, even though he is perhaps not as faithful as he ought to be (it's hard to fit in church time while you're trying to keep up with as many things as Ruaridh). I'm very open to any likely or unlikely friendships Ruaridh might develop or might already have developed, from sparring partners to banter-lads to genuine, caring friendship based on a mutual respect for one another.
foes
Let's be real - it's mostly going to be dark guild mages on this list. Not because he personally dislikes them or their life choices (even though he probably does) but because it is his duty to make sure they are stopped. Other potential rivals could be rogue mages with whom he has an ongoing rivalry (one that usually works out against his favour, because he's a useless non-magical swordfighter and not a capable mage), colleagues in the guard or in the kingdom mages who he just doesn't get along with, or anyone else who you would feel comfortable pitting against this boy.
romance
I would be lying if I said that I'm not interested in giving him a romantic storyline. I'm always up for a little romance, preferably with a mage he can be delightfully jealous of before realising that he probably has a crush on them. I'm not dead set on anything here, but if you're interested in romancing the knight beyond his stern ideals, then please hit me up with your ideas!
Let us be greedy together; let us hoard. Let us hit each other with birch branches and lock each other in dungeons; let us drink each other's blood in the night and betray each other in the sun. Let us lie and lust and take hundreds of lovers; let us dance until snow melts between us. Let us steal and eat until we grow fat and roll in the pleasures of life, clutching each other for purchase. [break] Let us be greedy together; let us hoard. Let us hit each other with birch branches and lock each other in dungeons; let us drink each other's blood in the night and betray each other in the sun. Let us lie and lust and take hundreds of lovers; let us dance until snow melts between us. Let us steal and eat until we grow fat and roll in the pleasures of life, clutching each other for purchase[break] Let us be greedy together; let us hoard. Let us hit each other with birch branches and lock each other in dungeons; let us drink each other's blood in the night and betray each other in the sun. Let us lie and lust and take hundreds of lovers; let us dance until snow melts between us. Let us steal and eat until we grow fat and roll in the pleasures of life, clutching each other for purchase.[break]
q. who?[break] half mage, half lord, an heir of neither and knight of nothing.[break][break]
ruaridh is the magic-less son of leliana sutton and lord alfryc the third, born out of wedlock. thus he has missed out on two birthrights - that of his father's lands and that of his mother's magic. both denials have made for a bitter young man, cheated out of what could have been by the mere circumstances of his birth, but not a hopeless one. he was raised by two people disappointed in his existence, and has done nothing but try and prove his right to as a result of it.[break][break]
q. why?[break] because you have to, in the way that a fish has to swim and a bird has to fly. you were born to it, this violence. because whenever you close your eyes you see her disappointment at your lacking, and it hurts. because you know all the ways in which you are lesser than and all you want to be is equal to. because if it is impossible, you have to try.[break]
