Inquisitor Jordan Eliott

“Mozelle Deliond. Henceforth ya’ will be a Dame o’ House Brooke an’ House Stygian. A golden wolf, adorned wit’ our honorary rose. 

“Ya’ may rise, Dame Mozelle Deliond.”

— Natalie “Miso” Brooke, Countess of Rosevale | @thestoryofmiso

A salty coastal breeze blew over the beach, the air lilted with the sound of waves lapping against the shore and the distant chittering of insects. Mozelle drew in a deep breath as she stared out over the moonlit waters. A dull ache fluttered through her still-healing knee but she ignored it.

Once, very long time ago, she had dreamed of being a paladin; a Knight of the Holy Light, of the Alliance, with a sword in her hands and her allies alongside her, faceless in their gilded helms. Those dreams had withered and died on the vine as she was talentless in the Light and truly unsuited for being a paragon of virtue and justice; the wilds and the shadows were where she ended up, for so long skulking.

But she was a knight now. A knight who knew a dozen different ways to kill a man and make it look like an accident. A knight who knew a half dozen vendors of crime. A knight who knew secrets and sins the world preferred to forget.

How unvirtuous.

How ironic.

House Stygian is recruiting!

<House Stygian>

 is opening its doors to the RP community for recruitment. Join and experience some of the most active, long-running, and involving plots on the server, as well as a wonderful group of friends to attend them with.

House Stygian is a community active, heavy RP guild with a lawful neutral alignment. We are a naval and expeditionary themed organization focusing on the action/adventure side of DM storylines. We do transporting of supplies, storyline events, combat training nights, scientific/lore events, and other social events; such as drinking games, brawl nights, and community events.

As of now, we are actively engaged in story through Legion, into BfA, in terms of lore-following events. We have at least 2-3 social events a week. As well as normally 1-2 plot events for our ongoing story. Not only that, we actively engage in PvE, doing raids weekly, as well as Mythic+ runs regularly to help our members gear, and experience end-game content. Let us know if you have any further questions!

Inquire if you wish to join, or fill out an application!

Guild Links:

Sigil/Tabard (Seen above)

Officer Pin (Seen below)

House Description

Guild Combat System - Note: Looks hard, but is very simple.

Last, but not least, for the Tumblr community.

                                                                        Our House in a Nutshell

Gaining a good reputation as an RP guild can be hard. As such, House Stygian strives to adhere to global standard of a drama-free environment. We cater to every type of schedule, and form events that will match anyone who seeks to join. We are particular of who we allow to enter our ranks, as we pursue a literate, and maturity standard for our members. This may seem restrictive, but if you can type coherently, and act like a logical adult (when you need to), you will fit in perfectly.

From oath nights every fortnight, where our members bind their honor to an allegiance with their house, to brawl nights, where members can lay out feuds for all to see, as well as test their meddle in varied combat. We cover most of the spectrum, when it comes to events. We also allow our members the opportunity to build their own events, and plot out their own storylines, for their fellow wolves to follow.

The Stygian family carries on a rich, dark theme. Building a dynasty from the pieces of a previous defeated, and fractured family, our legacy continues, tenfold in strength. With great leadership, we bear the banner of gold and crimson with pride.

The Banner: A golden, howling wolf upon a foundation of crimson. The crimson represents the blood that stains the field as a foundation for a pristine golden entity to arise. As such, the dark history of Stygian is accursed through years of bloodshed, only to formulate a house with pure desires, and a wealthy tariff of trade, and other reputable forms of business between other guilds and noble houses.

Our Mission: To better the great kingdom of Stormwind, and the Alliance as a whole. To do that, we raise our banner to humanitarian, liberation, and philanthropic efforts across Azeroth. We carry out military expeditions to combat, and defeat antagonistic groups that threaten those less fortunate.

You, or your character, will fit in House Stygian if…

Your character is attentive, and willing to be loyal to a cause.

You OOCly are a logical RPer, and do not mind the occasional roll-based fighting event.

You OOCly are mature enough to have a conversation without being offended, and having people walk on eggshells around you.

You OOCly are pleasant to be around, and do not cause drama on a regular basis.

You OOCly do not demand attention to be placed on your character as a hero for every situation, and do not attempt to take the spotlight from other RPers. Everyone has their moment to shine.

The Ranks of House Stygian

Every recruit requires an In-Character interview in order to gain an In-Character rank. The ranks are as follows:

The Countess (GM): Lady Natalie Brooke, heir-presumptive to House Stygian, and direct heiress of House Brooke.

Liege-Commanders (Co-GMs): Commanders, and hosts of the High Council. Above the divisions’ direct councilors, they act as direct delegates of the countess, using the combined strength of the divisions to assure they are all utilized to their full potential.

High Council (Senior Officers): Division Leaders, and primary commanders of operations within the house.

Roseguard (Junior Officers, and commanders in the field):  Stygian’s most trusted. Tried and tested through the Trial of the Rose to be promoted from the general divisions into the officer core. They are pulled from those that excel in any of the four primary divisions listed below.

Physician (Medical Division):  For characters with healing capabilities; divided into combat medicine, and clinical medicine. For combat and non-combat individuals.

The Lady’s Fang (Specialist Division): Operations; intel of House Stygian, led by the Operative Captain. They are the task force that detaches to complete reconnaissance and detailed operations. The tip of the spear.

Rose Battalion (Ground Forces Division): Specialized in ground tactics, the battalion operates as a well-oiled machine to lay siege upon enemy forces, and to out-maneuver their opponents in the field.

Vale Scholar (Scholar/Caster Division): The researchers, skilled incanters, and general highbrows of the organization. These gifted individuals are the lifeblood of House Stygian’s research and development core. Between offering lore lessons, studying artifacts and items of interest recovered from operations, and managing supernatural affairs as a contact between the house and the Kirin Tor, they often are the most busied of our order.

Contingent (Enlisted):  Unproven combatants, or skilled workers; handmaidens, blacksmiths, chefs of House Stygian. Those who enlist in Stygian begin as a Contingent, until they’ve proven themselves in the field to be placed among the proven Stygians in their aspired division.

Ancillary (OOC rank): Alternate characters, characters awaiting interviews, friends of the guild, or characters ICly dismissed from House Stygian pending return (for story, or otherwise).

Jo heard footsteps approach behind her, but didn’t look. They were light, so it must have been one of the women and not Rhett coming to throw her off the starboard bow. She heard the rustling of leather and the click of a tin opening and closing before she saw Cathrin beside her, lighting her cigarette with the usual swift flame from her fingertip. “I still try tha’ trick Quai showed me. Works sumtimes ya’ know.”

Cat smirked and raised a brow. “And the other times?”

Jordan sighed and shook her head. “I’ve lost more lighters tha’ way…” She looked to Cathrin with a closed-lipped smile before the two of them shared a short chuckle. Cat glanced to Jo’s cigar, and Jo finally held it out for a light. She nodded in thanks as the smell of cinnamon picked up with the flame.

“How is it feeling?” Cathrin motioned to Jo’s face as she took a long drag after speaking.

“Like rubbish.” Jo rubbed at the bruising and winced, letting smoke out between her lips as she sighed. “Once I feel like I’ve go’ sumthin’ in me, I’ll ‘eal it up a bit. Than’ ya’.” She looked down after she finished speaking.

Cathrin smirked at her again. “I was going to say I’m sorry, but you’re welcome.”

“I needed it. Wot Rhett would 'ave done would 'ave been far worse.” She looked out over the ocean as the rain and wind made it ripple and sway. “I jus’…I couldn’ let it 'appen in front of me again. It wus jus’ like-”

“I know.” Cat interrupted, eyes narrowed as she reached up to pat Jo’s shoulder. Jo just nodded.

“Still, I’ve -never- forced my way into a comrade’s mind. I’ve -never- controlled one.” She took a few deep breaths and long drags, and spoke again as she tapped some ash over the edge of the ship. “It’s wron’. I don’ know if it’s ego, or pride, or wotever else but it’s wron’!” Her eyes flared gold and as she opened her mouth to speak again, Cathrin stopped her.

“Jordan! Stop. Just…stop.” Cat held her hands up and offered a mostly calm smile. “Go get some rest.”

Jordan sighed heavily and finished her cigar, tossing it over Jinx’s side just as Cat tossed the butt of her cigarette. Cathrin patted Jo’s shoulder one last time before walking past her to Monette, whom was at the helm, as Jo started to move below deck.

@ Crysen Jackson

Jordan sat quietly in her home after her heated discussion with the Chancellor. The leather chair she sat in was worn, and usually the place where she found her greatest comfort. But today, it was only mildly so.

Jo replayed the conversation in her head. It had gone astray rather quickly. It wasn’t what she wanted. Why was it that with anyone else she could speak easily with a silver tongue, but her word with the Chancellor always echoed instead her informal upbringing?

She pinched the bridge of her nose, red framed glasses pushed up atop her head for the time. Her legs were crossed, foot still tapping as she only became more frustrated as she tried to settle down.

Finally, Jordan stood. She made her way around to the back of the study, to a simple wooden staircase that led down into the wine cellar.

Jo glanced over the racks, sliding her finger over the necks of a few options as she passed, taking into account color, age, brand, and a few other things. Her finger rested on the neck of what she felt was the perfect choice, but her eyes wandered to one bottle set aside from the others.

She tugged free the bottle she’d chosen and walked to the other, swiping a glass from the tasting table as she passed it.

Jordan stared at the lone bottle in silence.

The bottle was dark, knowingly filled with a deep red wine. The label was in pristine condition, a cream color, vintage lettering, dated in red. Hanging from the neck was a Gilnean silver bottle ticket.

It had rested upon its throne for over a decade.

Jordan sighed lightly and took a seat at the tall table in the center of the cellar. She poured a perfect glass of the wine she’d pulled from among the others and scented it, allowing herself to take in the spiced scent of it before she’d sip.

She’d enjoy the entire glass while staring at the lone bottle.

—

A letter on fine parchment is tied with a thin red rope to a sturdy, sealed, wrapped, box. On the front of the letter in a carefully written cursive is written the Chancellor’s name. And inside:

“The third and most important of the Light’s virtues is compassion.” - Uther the Lightbringer

Jordan took a moment to admire the dark metal of the pipe organ she’d grown so familiar with playing. The instument stood out against the stark white stone walls. Her amber gaze drifted over the pipes in awe as though it were her first time looking upon their grand stature.

The priestess closed her eyes and pushed up her glasses with her ring and middle fingers on the corners of the cherry frames, brushed her raven hair behind her shoulder, and slid herself onto the center of the hard wooden bench without so much as a creak.

The Gilnean’s leather-clad fingers slowly traced over the tiers of ivory keys and she pressed a boot down to feel a pedal fall to the floor. She adjusted the old, hand-inked, sheet music just so with a small nudge of her hand.

Jordan tilted her head back and took in a long and pleasureful breath. The scent of the wooden frame was intoxicating.

The old bench held silent and strong as Jordan straightened her back, almost curving into an arch. The leather of her gloves creaked as she tightened them on her hands and flexed her fingers before resting them in place along the ivory once more.

The inquisitor took in one more deep breath; as she released it, her fingers would press leather to ivory in a swift and sure motion…

The halls of the Stormwind Cathedral would flood with the heavy note. It would reach the deepest depths of the catacombs and the highest heights of the bell tower.

Sister Eliott’s fingers danced over the keys like a sudden and strong gust of wind. Her body was sturdy and strong like a marble statuette.

The powerful, surging, waves of notes would fill the halls with a relentless current of music! The sound would whirlpool in the main hall with the force of a typhoon!

Jordan’s gaze was steadfast. She could feel the breeze between her leather-clad digits as they struck like lightning against the ivory keys.

Each push of a key added another drop to the swelling ocean of sound. The tide would rise with each stroke, with each turn of the melody and fluctuation in tempo.

The inquisitor’s rapidly moving fingers took the rhythm to heights far above the cathedral towers in a steadily growing pace before she let the wave of resonance crash down upon the city in a climactic tidal wave of reverberation.

Jordan threw her head back and held the final, harsh, note for a moment more. She’d nearly lurch forward and loom over the keys as the melody would turn again. The tempo slowed and the beat evened.

The tide would begin to recede with a string of slow and steady, reverberating, notes. As quickly as the cathedral halls were filled, they were drained.

The study was a dim and almost bleak place.

The walls of the oddly shaped room were covered end to end with bookshelves, stocked full. The shelves were a dark cherry wood, sturdy, dustless. They housed book upon book of all categories, sizes, ages, and origins. Along the rows were spaces where Jordan pulled tomes for research and cross reference.

The only light came from a single lantern, of Gilnean make and style, at a table to Jo’s left. It cast a flickering light only large enough to encompass the center of the room.

Jordan sat in her worn leather chair, legs crossed, glasses slid to the tip of her nose as she read, quickly. She only managed a few strokes at the fur of the cat that rested on her lap, Knox, before she would turn each page.

The text Jo held was old, noticeably by the discoloration and inevitable wrinkling of the page corners she so desperately tried to keep crisp. Before her, on a matching cherry-wood desk, lay a stack of books. Some were open with page markers laying on the text, others still waited patiently for their turn.

The ordeal with Zailene and the “Epsilon Team” had left her with a lot to think about, and a lot to research. It was the third night she’d spent like this.

Jordan didn’t look up from the pages even as her ear caught the sound of the metal latch clicking open at her study door.

Domindra stopped in the door-frame. Even in the light of the single candle she held her beautiful features and dark curls were unmistakable. She couldn’t help but smile at the two on the chair, finally bonding.

Knox mewed and hopped down from Jo’s lap, but still she kept reading, hand rested on her thigh. Domindra sighed heavily as she leaned down to pick up the purple-furred critter. “Jo, dear, are you coming to bed?”

Jordan finally looked up from the pages, slipping in a silk bookmark that matched the ruby-colored metal frames of her glasses. She smiled just slightly and pushed the frames up to her eyes again, the metal shimmering in the light of the lantern. “Aye, Doll.”

Jo rested the book on top of the stack on the desk and uncrossed her legs before she stood, taking the lantern by the handle and moving toward the door, and her fiance.