[sentinaels]

#sentinaels , formerly #vagomvndo . sporadic activity, fantasy - focused multimuse featuring characters from arthuriana, dnd settings, modern lit & more . oc, crossover and au - friendly . dash - only , iconless, uses beta editor by default . est. july 20, 2015 . penned by kim .

a study in ⎯ myths made flesh , the legacy of your forebears , the pitfalls of duty , vengeance that consumes , and the ghosts haunting the narrative .

MAYBE IF I KEEP TELLING THE STORY, IT WILL NEVER HAVE TO END.

best way to get started – send memes ! you don't even have to pick a specific muse on my end if you don't have a preference, as long as i have maybe a selection of characters or fandoms to work with. alternatively, please feel free to dm me for plotting ! i may not be fast, but i'm always down to chat.

[motleyd]

her smile is the answer to a thousand questions left unasked — years of worry soothed by the line that now mars her once - familiar cheek, furrowed and formed by the simple flow of time and deepened by a life turned towards simple joy. he greats it with a smile of his own — a true smile, neither the fool's sidelong sneer nor lord golden's sardonic grin, but something pulled from the depths of his heart: soft and warm and faintly glowing, a candle in the wind: ❛❛   perhaps you are right. we have both changed, and the world with us.   ❜❜ sweet and almost solemn, his words sink and settle around and between them: stretching companionably on into silence, broken only after some time by a soft snort and a quick shape of his golden head. ❛❛ but i will always be your fool — or your jamaillian lord, whichever suits you best. ❜❜

mawkishness turns to mockery: with all his old tumbler's grace he stands, punctuating his words with one low and sweeping bow — though when he rises it is with a strange sort of solemnity, the moment's joy contorted by his furrowed brow and tight - pursed lips. ❛❛   though i fear this is not the happy homecoming i have long wished for.   ❜❜ once more he sits, he sighs, he stares: watching her with wide and worried eyes, as if sight alone would wipe away their troubles, and when he speaks his words are less a question than a proclamation: ❛❛   your son is missing.   ❜❜

[sentinaels]

oh, fool. what a rare gift it is, to be able to pull a smile from any set of lips, no matter how dire the circumstances. for a brief moment, as the one who now calls himself lord golden stands and bends the way his old self used to tumble and caper, kettricken allows herself a grin ; just as quickly, however, the moment passes, and her anxiety settles over her again, just as heavy as it was before.

❛ so you have heard. was it chade who gave it away ? ❜ for all that he proclaims to serve his queen in all matters, her old advisor keeps his own counsel more often than not. part of her appreciates it more now, in this time of great burdens, than it did during the most peaceful years of her reign. she meets the fool’s gaze evenly. ❛ you must understand that this is a secret among secrets. no one, no one must know until we—i— ❜

there the queen’s composure cracks, to give way to the mother. she inhales sharply, willing her spirit still as a winter lake. ❛ i thought i knew the boy, ❜ she says quietly. ❛ that i understood him well enough that i could guess where he went, if indeed he ran away. but if he did not go willingly, then… ❜ for a split second, her mind refuses to consider the possibility. she forces it to, the way one stares into an open flame. ❛ i know you are not a storybook prophet, ❜ she continues, her voice softening, apologetic. ❛ but if anything had happened, if any harm had befallen him… would you know ? ❜

[sentinaels]

[through gritted teeth] read g/radalis they said. it'll be fun they said

[sentinaels]

everyone consistently posting on a full time job how do you do it. oh my god

[motleyd]

the white prophet claimed that he had seen not just the future, but many possible futures, and most of them were dreadfully similar. but in a very few cases, there was a shining difference, and that difference lead to a realm of new possibilities!

MOTLEYD ⋆˚࿔ a private & independent roleplay blog for THE FOOL, from robin hobb's REALM OF THE ELDERLINGS, [ ... ] written by kait ( twenty - five, any pronouns ) ... est 2025 !

[weltenwellen]

Hua Xi, from "The Past Still Needs Me"

[blacknighted]

"Finally stirring, are you?" Who goes there?! When they wake, they'd see this -- sunshine full and gold and the summertime bees.

Ugh. What had happened? And my word, where on are earth are they? Evidently, the answer's but some unnamed belly of some overgrown copse. In it, there kneels a man with but a few summers beyond their own, perhaps three if they're generous where as two'd strike the mark. He's busy with some sort of mashing of ointments, the smell of in-season chamomile dazzlingly pervasive, and by him, a wee little pot with some stew if bubbling. Lentils. And unseasoned, oatmeal, most likely, as befits a peasant.

But what doesn't befit a peasant everything else about him. Why's their sword so handsome? Perhaps he is their captor?!

"You led me on a merry chase, you had. 'They went this way and that' all the folk kept telling me. Wasn't sure whether or not it was you I was looking for or the Holy Grail." How funny. Beneath them, the earth lies sodden, but fortunately for them, he'd bunched leaves beneath their sheet to shield their back. "I'm wagering you'd ran yourself ragged lending everyone a hand. I'd found you about dead to the world in the middle of God knows where. You were burning in that rain." / @sentinaels, fantasy starter call.

[sentinaels]

the sunlight wakes them before the other’s voice does. they blink blearily, staring up at the canopy before their awareness catches up to them. there’s soft moss at their back, and a mass of leaves keeping them off the damp earth, and the interlaced branches above have kept the worst of the rain off of them. and, of course, there is a man, kneeling under their shelter with a pot and mortar in his hand.

perhaps another knight would have reached for their sword. sir galahad, however, has always tended to err on the side of trust. perhaps, they think as they sit up, they will indeed have cause to regret it one day ; in the meantime, though, they find kindness often yields more results than harsh words ever do. ❛ beg pardon, ❜ they answer, pushing themselves upright and leaning forward. whatever he’s brewing, its sweet warm scent is a balm to the morning. ❛ i wasn’t aware anyone was looking for me. ❜

they study him as they speak, a young man just slightly older than they are, clad in armor that’s definitely seen better days, brushed with a thin layer of dust from the road. he has the air of a seasoned traveler about him. knight, then, or simply errant swordsman ? they decide it doesn’t matter so much at the moment. ❛ was i ? i must’ve…overexerted myself somewhat. ❜ grey eyes meet his, full of candor. ❛ and caused you some trouble along the way, at that. to who do i owe the pleasure ? ❜

[sentinaels]

starter call , @stormbrained .

❛ sparrow ! ❜ the madam bellowed out, her eyes on the ceiling.

a chorus of gasps ran out among the gathered courtesans as a small child all but dropped down from the eaves, dangling from the beams by their legs. only madam celandine was unfazed, gazing up at sparrow with eyes that promised patience in very limited supplies.

they knew well what it meant. with a sigh, sparrow hauled themselves upright again, balancing on their beam, then scampered down the nearest wall until they rolled and came to a standing stop, arms spread wide in curtsy. the women tittered ; some even clapped and waved little candied treats wrapped in thin paper at them, a promise of future sweet delights. ❛ yes, ma’am ? ❜

❛ do refrain from horsing around during opening hours. anyway, i’ve got an errand for you. ❜ madam celandine jerked her chin towards the open window and the street below. ❛ the lads below say they saw some ragged child wandering up and down the street. go and see what that’s about ; it’ll turn off the clients to see street urchins loitering around the front when they're trying to have a good time. ❜ for just a second, her expression softened at the edges. ❛ find them somewhere to be, so long as it’s not on my doorstep. and be quick about it ! ❜

if there was one person in the aerie whose word would brook no argument, it was madam celandine’s. those were the circumstances that saw sparrow sauntering out the front door, calling out greetings to the bouncers idling on either side of it, and took a look down the street, their head swiveling back and forth.

it didn’t take them long to spot him. the boy was like a dark spot amidst the colorful display of the way of kisses, with his matted black hair and drab clothes and the way he kept to the shadowed corners of the street. at this time, there were no so many passersby, but those that were here skirted around him as though they were trying to avoid some kind of contagion. ragged truly was the way to put it, sparrow thought as they tiptoed closer, taking every step carefully until they were fairly sure the boy had spotted them.

❛ you can’t stay here, ❜ they called out, balancing back on the balls of their feet. they tried for a friendly smile, the innocent tilt of their head that claimed they meant no harm. ❛ say, where’s your pa and ma ? ❜

[sentinaels]

in an attempt to get back in the saddle, here's a starter call — please specify muse(s) or at least a couple fandoms, either on my side or on yours ( or both ! ) for multis ! tysm <3

[sentinaels]

in an attempt to get back in the saddle, here's a starter call — please specify muse(s) or at least a couple fandoms, either on my side or on yours ( or both ! ) for multis ! tysm <3

[motleyd]

❛❛   the realm owes you a great debt.   ❜❜ / @sentinaels ( kettricken )

❛❛   oh, my queen   —   ❜❜ with the softness of a sigh,   the fool takes her hands in his:   speaking in a single touch of debts long - since paid,   and of old friends found again.   for a moment he thinks that he might weep, but, even as the tears begin to well, he smiles, freeing her hands with a squeeze and using his own to straighten the satins and silks that have replaced his well - worn motley. ❛❛ any debt the realm owes me has been paid a thousandfold. you know, i have became a very wealthy man. ❜❜ he laughs, a sound like the chiming of bells. ❛❛ i have changed, but you are exactly the same. i don't know how you do it. ❜❜

[sentinaels]

how the years have passed them by ! the fool’s hands are, as ever, cool to the touch. did she not remember them burning with fever, she’d have thought it an old dream. when kettricken lets go, she does so regretfully, folding hers back in her lap.

❛ i can see that, ❜ she laughs. the girl who first came down from the mountains would hardly even have noticed his fine clothes, and the glittering jewelry that catches the light as he pats his garments back in place as a bird preens itself, but even she can recognize costly bingtown brocade, and the thin, webbed silk she has been told is woven in the rain wilds. ❛ yet what you have done for us - for me - could not be repaid with all the gold in the world. i have not forgotten, fool, that i would not have reached my father’s mountains alive if not for you. much of what i have, i owe to you, as does my son. ❜

she studies him—not dazzling lord golden, but the one she believes she knows underneath his fanciful ways. time has indeed wrought many a change in him, but, kettricken finds, not so many that she could not recognize him. ❛ i am glad you think so. i myself feel i will never be that girl again. ❜ her mouth pulls into a wan smile. ❛ perhaps it is for the best, though. she could not have ruled in peace. ❜

[fitzchivalric]

❛❛ well, i’m not a knight. not yet. ❜❜ / @sentinaels ( dutiful )

❛❛ nor are you ever like to be, considering that you are sole heir to the six dutchies. ❜❜ the words are not meant as a rebuke, though my treacherous tongue cannot help but add an edge where softness ought to be. i silently curse myself for it, though i know better than to try and curb that sting now. what's said was said, and any efforts made towards fixing it were likely to do little more than prickle at the boy's well - worn pride.

stubbornly, i turn my gaze from him, focusing my senses instead on watching the road, casting out with my wit for any sign of beast of man alike — and finding nothing.

thoughtlessly, my hands tug at myblack's reigns, and with only a moment of fight she stops. there is a wrongness in this, one that eats its way to the very depths of my soul. the wood is silent, devoid of life on a day that should be full of birdsong and the shuffling of small animals. hopelessly, i cast out again with wit and wolf - sense alike, and again i come up empty. ❛❛ my prince ... ❜❜ my voice is low, barely more than a whisper, but still it feels overloud against the morning's stark silence. and with it, my worries seem overloud as well, an old man's fears weighing down what should be a fit and fine morning. still i cast about, seeking a way to put my fear into words and failing miserably. ❛❛ do you sense that? ❜❜

[sentinaels]

❛ i know that ! …of course i know that. ❜ trying to meet tom badgerlock’s eye will only make him seem more petulant. instead, dutiful decidedly fixes his gaze on the horizon, his hands tightly clenched on his mare’s reigns.

( it doesn’t seem very fair, does it ? all the minstrels do is sing tales of how his mother rode out to bring home those of their people who had been forged out of their souls when she was merely queen-in-waiting, or how his father won them the war on the back of a stone dragon. what kind of ruler is he supposed to be in their wake ? )

he opens his mouth to tell badgerlock as much when the other pulls his mount to a stop. ❛ what is it now ? ❜ the question dies on his lips as he watches his companion turn about. the edge in his voice curbs dutiful’s ill temper into something like unease. sense what ?

a moment later, the emptiness hits him. there is no scuffle of squirrels in the trees, no flapping of tiny wings as birds flit about. his mare paws at the ground, gnashes her teeth at the bit. he leans forward to run his hand along her neck, muscles taut beneath his palm. ❛ sense what ? there’s— ❜ his mouth feels dry. ❛ —nothing here. ❜

[sentinaels]

starter call , @zeitkeist / yin azula.

the master of lore’s garden was a strange, whimsical place, a nest of orderly chaos. at first glance, the plants seemed to overgrow their pots, and the grass to grow haphazardly, pushing through between the paving stones towards the sun, but the stems never sagged under their own weight, and when fruit budded in the branches, a hand would pluck them some time later. altan had never seen master jiang at work here, but someone must tend to the place, and he doubted anyone else cared enough to.

at any rate, it was perhaps the only place in sinegard where one could be relatively confident they’d be left alone. in an academy where art was art and religion both, the common training grounds were always overrun when class ended, and with the crowd came the whispers and the sideways glances. do you think his skin was this dark when he was born ? is fighting all he knows to do ? do you think he can even understand us ?

he had a great deal of practice at ignoring such petty sniping, but it made his few moments of peace and quiet all the more valuable. here, with the wind rustling through the branches and the weight of his staff in his hand, he knew what to do. here, he felt grounded, focused, one with his purpose—

—or he would, if someone would leave him alone.

❛ what is it that you want ? ❜ master irjah would’ve certainly paused, and reminded him to show the imperial princess all due respect—but master irjah wasn’t here, and she was, despite what he’d thought was rather convincing encouragement to leave him alone. if anything, irjah had taught him that once a strategy had failed, there was no point in trying to reproduce it if the circumstances hadn’t changed.

he swung his staff from one hand to the other, shifting his feet into the next stance in his drill. ❛ so ? don’t you have some other hapless fool to terrify ? it’s not even dinnertime yet. ❜

[sentinaels]

the plan was in fact to sit down and write tonight, but i picked a very bad time to come down with tendinitis in my dominant hand, so... we'll see what can be done </3

[sentinaels]

with my muses page freshly redone, here's a starter call ! like for a starter ( although i'd appreciate it if you specified at least a few muses or fandoms on my side, & your own for fellow multis ). depending on the situation, i might hop into your dms for further plotting ; please feel free to let me know if you'd rather pre-plot by either replying or directly through dms ! thanks <3

[sentinaels]

what is handier for you guys

current muse page layout (just names, click into about)

muse list with name + short blurb + link if about page exists

Voting ended onJun 16, 2025

an example for the latter : GALAHAD OF CORBENIC. they/she. fc : drawn / bailey bass. the child of princess elaine and lancelot du lac, the near-perfect knight. prophesized by virtue of their might and goodness to achieve the grail.

[sentinaels]

taps the mic. hello is this thing on