Fanalis of Sindria: The Red Lion

independent Masrur from Magi

[exgladixtor]

naajma‌:

…What was there to say, if anything at all? Here lay a man of whom he had known for most of his life, whose ( inbred ) prowess was long lost and exchanged for the strength of a scarred beggar. One who had all but a sliver of their conscience stolen away by the plague upon his soul. Even when touched, the sheer magnitude of his suffering could not be accurately foretold. The fact that he’d maintained enough strength to cross such perilous deserts to arrive here—at the cost of sanity—awed the king in so sour a way. For what he’d done back then, he ought to have thrown him out to the next wayward country on the map. Amongst Heliohapt’s inner circle, he was an enemy of the state and deserved little except his own demise.

But Sharrkan couldn’t bring himself to inflict so grave a punishment onto his friend; not after all they’d been through, and all the memories they’d shared in between. His mind—a fool’s conscience—strung him along to a place of indecision the longer he stared down upon him; confliction set deep within his gaze. One part of him saw the monster, and the other saw the companion — two roads diverged by the very man who’d given them thought. ❝Serve me…?❞ were his words, riddled with forlorn disbelief and the softness of a feather; hand coming to overlap the one that’d gripped his clothes so fiercely. ❝N-No I… I couldn’t.❞ The thought made Sharrkan sick, just thinking about it; slowly prying his fingers apart so that his palm was fully visible against the light filtering through the room. The monarch brought it slowly to his cheek, hardly phased by the rough exterior of the other’s skin. How long had it been, since last he held him like this? Memories of Sindria slowly seeped into his mind, flooding with indescribable hurt. He closed his eyes, blinking back whatever tears were left.

❝I want you to stay … but as my friend. Isn’t that what we still are?❞ A ( childhood ) relation that transcended all others, caring not of barriers or the social status of others. ❝We go back too far for me to see you that way…❞

What else was left but to beg? It wasn’t just his home and family that he had lost. The slavers had taken away his freedom, his body and soul. The memories of Sharrkan was the rope dangling above the pit of darkness of complete depravity that he was clinging onto. Yet, even that had been tainted. The best Masrur expected was to be kept as the king’s slave to be used as a bodyguard. At the worst he’d be made an example of and locked away in the dungeons or publicly executed for his crimes against the previous king. The Fanalis clung to Sharrkan’s shirt, as he was clinging to the last strand of his sanity. If Sharrkan tossed him out now, he’d completely shatter, and he’d give the king anything he wanted to avoid that outcome.  

His heart felt like it stopped, when Sharrkan replied with a question rather than a acceptance. When the smooth hand brushed across his callus and scarred skin, he jerked back, pulling the king’s garment. The other’s rejection would have sent him spiraling, if it wasn’t for the unexpected hand caressing his face. A gentle touch was not something he was used to, even when he was a general of Sindria. Now that he was a slave again instead of feeling safe by the caress, he felt fear. The hand was to close to his his neck a vulnerable spot that was easily used to bring him to his knees, if he wasn’t already on them. He started to tremble under the other’s hand.

Dark rukh shot out of his back and whirled behind him, waiting to finish off its weakening prey. “No...y-your king...” Sharrkan no longer was a colleague, working for Sinbad. He was the king of heliopath, a position containing incredible power, and he was a Fanalis, a lower being, who had dishonored the previous Heliopath king. “I-I’m nothing...I can’t go back...it’s to late. P-Please...” Masrur bows his head so that his forehead lies on the other’s chest. The black rukh thickened around him, threatening to overtake him the second his last hope shatters. “Let me serve you, my king. Please...”

[exgladixtor]

forazaiqa‌:

Unconsciously drawing closer, he had more or less dropped to his knees in a state of ( voiceless ) shock; unable to process what—or rather, who—lay in front of his eyes. Barely maintaining consciousness, and the strength to speak. How could such a thing happen in the span of only two years? Where had he been? What had he done? There were more questions than answers running amok in the king’s mind, and not a single one had the will to be spoken aloud. Per his ( silent ) request, the guards took it upon themselves to shy away from the scene - leaving Sharrkan to linger amidst the TENSION weighing upon his shoulders. Fingers trembling along the scars that would’ve long killed anyone else, and gently caressing his cheek so that his ( dulled ) gaze would face his.

“…Hi, Masrur,” were the words that fell from his quivering lips; choked up by a sudden sob, which had no sooner become a broken string of chuckling. Unable to keep himself composed long enough to exude the strength and impenetrable confidence that he’d always displayed in front of the other. His eyes, filled with unspeakable grief, bridged slowly onto the brink of shedding warm tears. God, what an idiot - getting himself into trouble for so long like this. Making him worry to the point of no return, and only now show up while hanging by a thread. It’s too cruel for him to bear. “…Everyone kept telling me that you weren’t coming back…”

@naajma​ The lightest touch of a feather floated across the Fanalis’s newer scars, yet even the gentlest touch had the ex-general flinching. He had not flinched away from Sharrkan, expect in the midst of a nightmare, since they were children. As Masrur taught Sharrkan the harsh realities of the world that Sharrkan had been previously sheltered too, Sharrkan had taught him about laughter. Sharrkan taught him that playing games didn’t mean a fight to the death. He taught him about pranks and mischief that didn’t end in beatings. The prince had showed him what being a child was supposed to be like. Masrur trusted Sharr with his life, but more importantly to him, his heart. Nevertheless, as his glazed eyes stared up at the figure before him he not only recognized that child, but a king. Sharrkan was a king, now, and he held himself like one. How could he, a mere slave once more, ever compare to such a being? In the face of such worth, he was truly worthless. 

The caress to his face was as gentle as to his scars, yet Masrur tilted his head to the side to try and escape the other’s piercing gaze, which reminded him too much of a crying lonely Heliohapt child. He had often heard that voice in his feverish dreams. The shaking voice of the other was just so Sharr. The joyful man had rarely sobbed, but when he did, his voice shook as it did now. Yet, it was the words spoken and not the voice that had Masrur whining like a dying dog, “S-Shouldn’t have...” His crimson eyes shut as he saw images of his pursuers riding after him. He could hear the ponding of the hooves, the cracks of the whips, and the profanity they spat at his back. The giant started to tremble, “N-No w-where to r-run...b-banned from Sindria...I didn’t...” He sobbed, “have a-any choice...” No one left from Sindria would take him in, he knew he was still banished for his crime against the previous Heliohapt king. He thought Sharrkan may help him when no one from Sindria could, but now that he was here why did he think it would be a good idea? He was in this mess because he had insulted the previous king of Heliohapt. If word got out that he was here, he was more likely to be executed than helped. His eyes widened panicked at the thought, and he lunged forward to grip the other’s royal robes in shaking fists, “D-Don’t m-make me leave, please. I-I can serve you, as I did S-Sinbad.” He would be just as loyal and deadly, if he could just be given sanctuary. Even if an entire social hierarchy separated them, which it really always did, the part of Masrur that had not fallen into depravity had hope that their past would save him. If Sharrkan remained the man he once was, if the power of a king had not clouded his mind, if he could look at the Fanalis and feel something other than disgust, then maybe he had a chance. Maybe Sharrkan would let him stay, despite all he had done and what he had become once more. 

[exgladixtor]

forazaiqa‌:

There’d been a large ruckus that came about just as he’d placed his paperwork to the side; the ink from his pen dripping lightly onto the table, and hesitating to be put down. Though the exact feeling could not be placed properly upon the tongue, there weighed a strange heaviness in the monarch’s heart - a heaviness that, unbeknownst to himself, forebode a much more complicated situation than a mere odd feeling. 

Due to the rushed whispers and footsteps from those outside his study, it didn’t take very long for at least one of them to ask for permission to enter ( albeit, breathlessly, as if they’d just stumbled upon something horrid ). Their words, racked with fear, relaying the events of what others had seen at the gates leading into the capital; the news traveling quick, due to circumstance. A man of great—yet battered—physique had collapsed near the feet of a fledgling guardsman; the king’s own name steadily leaving his ( weathered ) lips, before he’d sank into an unconscious sea. Medics had already been sent out to retrieve him before anyone else got wind of his whereabouts, likely to keep him hidden until he’d recovered in full health.

The news all on its own had left Sharrkan in a state of absolute bewilderment, wondering how such a thing had even occurred to begin with; promptly asking for the identity of the stranger, to which the messenger’s lips TREMBLED in response. His inevitable reply was the very thing that made the ruler’s eyes bulge, as if shot in the heart; reflexively shooting up from his chair. ‘I don’t know for sure, but it’s rumored to be that exiled general—’  Words that run chills down his spine, and prod him to exit the room the moment he felt himself take a step. 

It’d been hard to believe that two whole years had passed since he’d last seen him; thinking that’d he’d taken off for good, resorting to a life that was even bloodier than the past. Many nations who’d been aware of his deeds had feared him beyond belief - Reim in particular experiencing much trouble in regards to dealing with the hysteria that’d been unleashed in his wake. How he’d wound up here—of all places—would forever remain a mystery to Sharrkan; rushing down the halls as quickly as he could to reach the room that they were holding him in ( only to gape at the sight he’d seen ).

Masrur knew he looked like he just came out of battle, which wouldn’t be an exaggeration. He always fought with the intent to kill, and having nothing left he let his inner beast loose, killing mercilessly. His clothes had already been stained red with blood and torn from wear and battle, but that was before he had been captured. Being tortured for days on end, falling into half-depravity, had taken it’s toll on not only his mind but also his body. His skin was covered in grime and dried blood. Wounds covered his entire body, oozing puss as he had no time to treat them, as he ran for his life. His back burned like it hadn’t in years, not since he was a slave in the colosseum. He knew it was badly infected, yet he ignored the pain, as he forced himself to reach his last hope. Now he was finally here.

Yet, he wasn’t safe. He had fallen at the gates, and he knew unless he saw the man himself, he could easily be sold by the locals. He had no idea how close his pursuers were or even if there weren’t still slavers around Heliohapt. Despite the burning surrounding his body. Despite how his body felt like it was to heavy to life his arm. Despite how the darkness in his soul was screaming at him that Sharrkan would never accept him. That he would see what the fanalis truly was, a worthless slave. Despite everything against him, the warm memories of him and Sharrkan playing as children, getting into trouble, is what ultimately gave him the energy and will to open his eyes, as he smelled the other’s unforgettable scent. Even though his sight was blurry, he could make out Sharrkan, even in his royal get it. “S-Sharr....” He hoarsely whispers out, his throat still raw from screaming. The king was his last hope of survival, but even then he wasn’t sure if he could keep him from falling completely into depravity. 

[exgladixtor]

@forazaiqa starter

It had been two years since Masrur was banished from Sindria. During that time he traveled as a mercenary and became a criminal. With no restrictions, the Fanalis started to target slavers, uncaring if it was illegal and considered murder. If he was left with no home, he was going to try and help those like himself for as long as he could. Unfortunately that placed a bounty on his head. Slavers and bounty hunters alike had been chasing him for some time, but the Fanalis had managed to avoid them. That was until two weeks ago. They had gotten wise to him being immune to the paralyzing poison, so they decided to try sleeping gas. He wasn’t expecting the attack, and he found himself once again in shackles. The rest of the week was spent with the slavers trying to break him. They knew he had been trained before with the evidence of his scarred body and branded wrist, and despite the ex general’s determination to never be a slave again, his already unstable mental state was starting to give in. He knew if he stayed to much longer he’d completely fall into depravity, as he was already half way there, and then there was no going back. In a last ditch effort, the Fanalis made an attempt to escape.

He knew he needed help, and with Sindria out of the option, he only knew of one other person with the power to help, even if it was a long shot. Sharrkan had become a king now, and if he gave him sanctuary, he could be safe for awhile. Running off instinct, desperation, and pain, Masrur managed to make it to Heliohapt. He didn’t remember half the journey, and he knew he was a wreck both inside and outside with his skin covered in grim and dried blood, and his mental state coming apart at the seams, full depravity seemed only a short step away. Yet his stubbornness won out as he finally reached the entrance to the capital city, collapsing at the gate near a guard mumbling, “Sharrkan…Sharrkan…”

[exgladixtor]

Updating Blog a bit

Since people are coming back I’m going to update my pages a little bit ^.^ 

[kurosis]

         the remnants of the magi: the labyrinth of magic fandom presents !!         THE         FRE$H         PALACE         OF         SINDRIA

are you still a fan of the magi manga / anime ?? are you a magi roleplayer whose like “where tf is everyone and why am i still here” ?? are you still rolling around in fanart / fanfic hell and have no one to cry about it with ?? are you still feeling personally victimized by the final arc and still want to scream about it ??

                                        then this is the server for you ~ !

interested in joining the huddled magi masses? click that link below and get on in here:                                                           L I N K

[exgladixtor]

@forazaiqa continued from here

Masrur shrugs at Sharrkan, “We are brother’s but...when you wake up you’re...grumpy” He had learned to let his brother get his beauty rest.

[exgladixtor]

red-string-assassin‌:

kurosis‌:

“ breaking a banker is one thing, but a magi? “ “ oh, now that! i’d love to see ~ “

“ try if you can, but don’t bitch and moan when inevitability whips your asses red and blue ~ “

“Then I suppose it’s fortunate for you that I’m in a courteous mood,” The advisor states, pupils slitting as blades sprang to his hands and sparks began to dance along his fingertips. “Just don’t come crying to us once you finally get a taste of what you’ve been asking for all these years.”

Masrur’s lips turned into a small rare grin of excitement at the prospect of fighting alongside Ja’far to take down the annoying pest. He moves his body into his battle stance, ready for the fight. “He won’t be able to. He’ll be too unconscious...or dead.” His blood sung with the thrill of battle and blood, more than ready for this fight. 

[exgladixtor]

kurosis‌:

“ cause they were there? idk man, you’ve never skipped stones on a lake just because?? “

“...and you were skipping stones, not throwing them at people?” A look of disbelief covered the fanalis’s face.

[exgladixtor]

red-string-assassin‌:

kurosis‌:

“ bitch you can’t even get through my borg S I T   D O W N “

“We can try-I broke that banker’s without too much trouble, I’m sure yours can’t be that much harder to shatter.”

“Maybe not alone...but with Ja’far...you’d be no match.”

[exgladixtor]

red-string-assassin‌:

That seemed to give the advisor room for pause, a thoughtful expression crossing his features before he was relaxing just slightly into the other’s form. “I suppose that is true. Though would be better if the borg wasn’t in the way. Hard to tell just how accurate the shot if it simply bounces off the bubble.”

As the other relaxed into his arms some of the tension left the general’s body. His love was in his arms and safe. His paranoia eased at the small reassurance. “True...that borg is annoying...but together we can break it...in fact.” He turns to look at Ja’far with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Why don’t we try?” 

[exgladixtor]

red-string-assassin‌:

“Define ‘nice’ where Judal’s concerned, I would just love to hear the logic behind that one.”

Masrur shrugged. He couldn’t disagree with that one, “Well...he makes for good target practice.” He said completely serious and continued to hold Ja’far protectively.

[exgladixtor]

kurosis‌:

“ i literally just woke up to throw some stones, i didn’t expect a goddamn reverberation of activity throughout the universe here “

“...and why were you throwing stones?” 

[exgladixtor]

thousands of geckos came running at the fanalis screaming before stopping right in front of them. One began to chirp while others began to hop. One screamed and that sent them all off to scream again. All 860, screaming.

The geckos were back, but the Fanalis found he wasn’t annoyed by this. He looked down at all 860 screaming geckos, and leaned down to extend his arm. He opened his palm, as a silent invitation for the tiny animals to climb on top of his muscular shoulders for a ride.

[exgladixtor]

red-string-assassin‌:

“The quiet was nice while it lasted.”

Masrur laid his head on Ja’far’s shoulder. “Indeed...they are always so noisy. But...it is nice to have them back.” 

[exgladixtor]

@red-string-assassin, @kurosis, @amaninamonstersbody

Looks around, “It’s loud again.”

[exgladixtor]

Anyone Left? (sobs)

A CALL TO ANYONE WHO RPS MAGI CHARACTERS/OCS

I first made this blog January 2014. The Magi fandom was the first fandom I meet people, talked to people, and made some amazing friends. I was a part of a community, and I loved every second of it. I felt loved, and heard. As time went on, life got busy and I gained other muses. However, throughout the years I continued to develop Masrur’s character, creating a detailed backstory and psychological profile. He is a character that is seriously dear and important to me. I even made a magi Discord for the fandom to come together and talk. I had so many fun nights just staying up and talking to people, talking about magi. Then the magi manga started going downhill. People didn’t like how the stuff, myself included, was heading. Everything past the Alma Torran Arc in my opinion went downhill, and I stopped rping it, as a lot of people did. It was fine at first but as more updates came out people got more and more upset, and drifted apart from what made us a community, Magi itself. Then came the fandom drama. I haven’t been on this blog since February 27, 2018. I had taken breaks before, and just assumed like all the other times, I could come back whenever I wanted. I have had this blog since 2014, thats 4 years, and the fandom was always here when I came back. I took it for granted. I shouldn’t have.  Now, coming back and seeing just how many people haven’t been on for months. It looks like the fandom after the 4 years I was in it, has died, and I just missed everyone leaving by a month or at least a few months. There are so few active blogs I feel like sobbing. In fact I have cried a little. This place has always been my home, a fandom I could always come back to, and now it seems I finally can’t. Honestly, I feel heartbroken and stupid, because I knew this was inevitable. Fandoms come and fandoms die, but I have a hard time letting go. I don’t want to let go of this place.  I’LL NEVER LET GO OF MASRUR AS A MUSE. His character is so dear and personal to me he will never leave me, and I never want to stop rping him.  So

What now? Honestly, I’m not sure. I want to rp with Masrur. I don’t think I can get the same feeling as rping with characters from magi if I rped with other characters outside the fandom. I just don’t know. The blog will still be here, and I’ll check in on it. But, will anyone be here to rp with?

For now I will be on the hunt for anyone who still rps a magi character! If you rp a character from magi or knows someone who does please I beg you send me a message. 

If the fandom on tumblr is dead maybe we could all move to discord? Start an rp group there for magi rpers? 

Even if it’s just a few people I’d set up the group and do everything if anyone was interested. 

I truly hope this isn’t goodbye...in my heart I will always have the fondest loving memories of the Magi community, and I may be foolish and stubborn but I want to try and fight to keep it alive. Even if not on tumblr. 

So ya that’s my spill. I know it came suddenly, but I never expected it to get this bad. I regret not staying those last few months that I could have been here...I regret all the times I took a break even if I know I really needed it. I miss this place...

I miss everyone.  

Love you all, I hope you are all well. Please if you see this, message me, if you want to stay in contact at all.  My discord is Murmur#8812.

Love, Murmur, mun of exgladixtor formerly known as masrur-general