Hand of the Mist
Committed
Roleplay posts: 57
Registered: Mar 26, 2021 0:51:23 GMT -5
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Post by Hand of the Mist on May 13, 2021 15:27:50 GMT -5
Here lies a den of lions and all their cubs. One is welcome here, but under watchful, predatory eyes. One will be treated well here, provided you have the means to give back. What is the price? Well, really, it depends on their mood: hopefully, it isn't a hungry one. A menagerie of tents litters the grounds, white on the outside, with a darker cloth layering within, blocking out the sun. At the end of the rows is a grander, larger tent dark as night inside. To the left are a couple more tents, not quite as large as the grand tent, but certainly roomier than the others. A few stalls have been put up for various things to shade the thralls while they cook and craft. A flag with the Correa Crest flies on a stick above.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
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Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
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Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Jul 6, 2021 22:40:33 GMT -5
As the next day dawned upon them, Vasco felt a weariness hang upon his limbs. Had it not been for his cavorting the night before, he might have been passed out in his tent. For now, he was invigorated, even if the daylight was making him feel far more human than he liked.
A third of the children were out and about; all dressed heavily in bonnets and cowls to keep their skin from the sun. Vasco was no different, hiding beneath a thick hood that cast an uncannily dark shadow across his face. It was attached to a rather dashing black cape lined with manticore fur around the neck, and it was one of the vampire's favorites. For anyone who paid attention and knew of such things, it was obvious it was enchanted. The magic was dampened, of course. Even though it protected him from the worse effects of the sun, he couldn't see himself with even half the power he would obtain at sundown. Dramatically and very brattily, he sighed. Why couldn't he have it all?
At some point, and Vasco wasn't sure when this was, Huey found his place next to the young man. The vampire nearly jumped out of his skin but kept his motions to a twitch of the eyebrow.
"Couldst thou verily not, you horrifying child?" he scoffed. Huey's expression was a vague smile.
"I can't imagine what it is you speak of, Sir Vasco."
The vampire let out a miserable hrmph and crossed his arms, intent on ignoring the absolute creature of a boy standing beside him. Unfortunately for him, Huey didn't share those plans.
"You seem invigorated. What an exciting night you must have had, or so I presume," he said, a hint of exaggeration in his voice.
Vasco side-eyed the thrall. "And what is it to you? Do you have so little excitement in your little slave-boy life that you must nose your way into my business? How sad."
An evil little smirk danced across the child's lips. "Oh? At least my inquiries don't include peeking between the legs of every young woman in the vicinity. Did you remember to say 'please' and 'thank you' when you were done, m'lord? We can only tolerate your perversion that far, I'm afraid. Otherwise, I'll have to tell Mother on you."
The glare that came from the vampire's hood was deadly. Murderous.
"I fed and nothing more, child. You'll hold that tongue, lest I see fit to rip it out of your head."
"If you would like to try. Lady Zasha might have something to say about such brutish threats, however. I suppose if it gets you two to fight..."
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Zasha Tolstov
Established
Roleplay posts: 26
Appearance: Zasha is a lithe and lanky woman, standing a good 6' 5" tall. She is almost purely muscle, with an aggressive stance to match. Her bleached hair remains in a ponytail with long bangs and an severe undercut. Tattoos of various rules and symbols seem etched into her arms and shoulders. Each one radiates a green energy that grows in intensity to match her temper.
She wears a jumpsuit with the top pulled down and tied around her waist, with the legs tucked into calf high stockings. A pair of reinforced gloves and goggles never leave her side.
Equipment: · Reinforced gloves with built in brass knuckles
· Goggles with sea glass green lenses
· Blessed bandana usually tied around her right arm
. Earnings made from the teeth of a wild beast
· Steel skinning knife
· Heavy crossbow
Skills and Abilities: Zasha is a master of boxing and martial arts. Her particular school focused on overwhelming offensive manoeuvres and an almost dance-like agility. Her dexterity and poise are honed to a fine art.
A lifetime of service to The Reverend gives Zasha token book knowledge of a few academic subjects. Her particular passion concerns history and labour rights movements.
In addition, Zasha believes herself to be possessed by a spirit that enhances her aggressive actions and attitudes.
Biography: "My name is Zasha Tolstov", at least that is what a handwritten card left in the basket with her claimed. As a baby, Tolstov arrived in a wicker basket on the front step of The Reverend's home. He took the baby in and raised her as his protege and helper, watching in awe as she grew tall quickly. Her physical prowess was evident from a young age after she protected The Reverend from a band of would be thevies.
Since her youth, she has been a constant companion to The Reverend, helping him serve the sizeable flock which attended his cathedral. No spare moment would see waste as Zasha worked and trained wherever she could.
Now, following the total destruction of her old homeland, Zasha finds herself possessed by some spirit, invisible to all but her and The Reverend.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 15:52:20 GMT -5
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Post by Zasha Tolstov on Jul 14, 2021 20:47:02 GMT -5
After the chat with dear old dad, Zasha managed a precious few more moments of sleep back in her tent. It was the sort riddled through with dreams which fade with exasperating closeness. The words of her father buoyed things up slightly, as they always do. He never failed to help put her mind in the right order. Those dreams, however, those are best left forgotten for now. Now she struts, stomach full of black tea and thick cut slices of dried venison on the most peculiarly bitter bread Zasha ever tried. Something about the air and the waters and the way the yeasts grew near Pannoa made the resulting loaves sour. That’s what one of the bakers said, at least. Whatever the cause, its results were unambiguously tasty. Ahead, the voices of Vasco and Huey murmur around the trills of morning birdsong. The little camp set up at the request of the visitors painted a picture of the greater Pannoan settlement in miniature. A little cooking fire here, tents circles there. Zasha waves to the few children who toddle around with their unnatural gait. Unnerving as ever. Vasco and Huey come into view now, standing around like two old men chatting the morning away. Zasha makes a show of stopping up short to spread one arm out towards the horizon, palm upwards. “Good morning, Mr Vasco! Mr Huey! Dawn is here, and with it comes our hunt.” She drops the arm, sending the wood and iron crossbow slung over her shoulder sliding downwards. With practiced ease, Zasha catches it with her right arm, guiding it towards the earth. Her foot secures the large metal loop at the front of the weapon, and her right arm draws the string back to the metal latch. What would take the strength of both arms, and a good deal of grunting and sweating, for the average Pannoan seems childs play for the strapping woman. Her snaggletooth grin is on full display now. A little metallic snick sounds as Zasha thumbs a lever near the rounded guard covering the trigger of her massive crossbow. She cradles the instrument against her chest and strides the rest of the way forward towards her associates. “I trust you both had whatever the appropriate amount of sleep is for Vampyrs. Can’t have clouded minds or sleepy arms today.” Still cradling the crossbow, Zasha looks towards the sky again. Seems like a hot day brewing. The slight stickiness of humidity in the air makes her frown. The Old Country never got as hot as it did here... Zasha slowly rolls the sleeves up on her jumpsuit, showing off the tattoos and runes underneath. In the early morning sun, they radiate with that sickly green-teal hue of her flames. Next comes down the collar, the center of her outerwear zipped down to just above her navel. The orange of her tight orange hued tunic cut up to a shadow of its former self. Satisfied with these adjustments, Zasha looks between Huey and Vasco. “I like your cloak there, Mr Vasco. You’ll have to put me in touch with your tailor one of these days.” A gesture to herself accompanies a mock sheepish smirk. “I’m afraid my wardrobe usually revolves around things I don’t mind seeing burned, torn, or otherwise scuffed up.” As she says this, various burn marks, hastily sewn patches, and tears reflect the accuracy of this statement. The article which betrays this general declaration are Zasha’s boots. Carefully treated and polished to a shine, the boots seem impervious to the dirt and grime of daily use. Thick platformed soles set Zasha’s already impressive height up another notch, and savage hobnails driven into the base leave gouges in the earth as she walks. “Mr Huey, I couldn’t help but overhear mention of a fight between Mr Vasco and I, eh? Did I miss something fun?”
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Jul 23, 2021 21:29:57 GMT -5
Even among the bizarre nature of the thrall children, Huey's smile had something truly demonic about it. Like a fanatic with fire, the boy was drawn to mischief. Despite his love for her, Mother's absence gave him the chance to pursue his second obsession.
Noting his expression, Vasco was sure to plant his hand over the child's face before he could open his mouth. "What a striking picture you paint this morning, Lady Zasha. As well-tailored as my cloak is, it would only clash against your radiance." The statement was half-joking, as hers had been. The vampire continued to speak as Huey's little hands tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Although its tailor wouldn't surprise me if she somehow managed to survive the end of the known worlds. One Regina Whittle. A spitfire."
With a shrug of his shoulder, Vasco shoved Huey behind him, releasing the boy at last. His eyes veered toward the weapon Zasha had so artfully strung.
"That looks as though it might pierce right through an old oak. How cautious."
Once he recovered, Huey also leered at the weapon. Though neither man nor boy thought that such a thing would kill Maribel, it would certainly throw her into a rage. The child spoke of watching Zasha and Vasco fight, and perhaps it would be a fair one, but to see her versing the elder vampire would be much like watching a water buffalo struggle against the largest gator in the river.
It was going to be ugly.
"I should mention, perhaps, that if you do find her before we do... call us over?"
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Zasha Tolstov
Established
Roleplay posts: 26
Appearance: Zasha is a lithe and lanky woman, standing a good 6' 5" tall. She is almost purely muscle, with an aggressive stance to match. Her bleached hair remains in a ponytail with long bangs and an severe undercut. Tattoos of various rules and symbols seem etched into her arms and shoulders. Each one radiates a green energy that grows in intensity to match her temper.
She wears a jumpsuit with the top pulled down and tied around her waist, with the legs tucked into calf high stockings. A pair of reinforced gloves and goggles never leave her side.
Equipment: · Reinforced gloves with built in brass knuckles
· Goggles with sea glass green lenses
· Blessed bandana usually tied around her right arm
. Earnings made from the teeth of a wild beast
· Steel skinning knife
· Heavy crossbow
Skills and Abilities: Zasha is a master of boxing and martial arts. Her particular school focused on overwhelming offensive manoeuvres and an almost dance-like agility. Her dexterity and poise are honed to a fine art.
A lifetime of service to The Reverend gives Zasha token book knowledge of a few academic subjects. Her particular passion concerns history and labour rights movements.
In addition, Zasha believes herself to be possessed by a spirit that enhances her aggressive actions and attitudes.
Biography: "My name is Zasha Tolstov", at least that is what a handwritten card left in the basket with her claimed. As a baby, Tolstov arrived in a wicker basket on the front step of The Reverend's home. He took the baby in and raised her as his protege and helper, watching in awe as she grew tall quickly. Her physical prowess was evident from a young age after she protected The Reverend from a band of would be thevies.
Since her youth, she has been a constant companion to The Reverend, helping him serve the sizeable flock which attended his cathedral. No spare moment would see waste as Zasha worked and trained wherever she could.
Now, following the total destruction of her old homeland, Zasha finds herself possessed by some spirit, invisible to all but her and The Reverend.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 15:52:20 GMT -5
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Post by Zasha Tolstov on Aug 9, 2021 21:54:45 GMT -5
“Back in the Old Country, there was one particular night of fighting that I loved the most. See, the various gymnasiums and clubs and associations all had their top fighters. Who could say which was best? It got so bad for a few years that these chmapions would go at it in the streets. So everyone got together and decided. Every year there would be a free for all fight between the thirty or so top winners from the previous calendar of fights. Wrestlers, boxers, the more exotic types, all signed up for this fight. There’d be a big drawing at the beginning that gave you a number which told when you’d enter the ring with everyone else.”
Zasha leans against a nearby tree, her smile betraying a missing tooth which granted her a certain amount of earthy charm. She winks at Vasco.
“For seven years, Zasha ‘Arms of Stone and Fire’ Tolstov got to enter the ring second out of thirty. And for those years, she left the ring last. It didn’t matter how many of those lads and lasses conspired against me, I’d win. Some tried to throw me off guard by working with me to eliminate other fighters before trying to pull the mat out from under my feet. Others ignored everyone else to focus me down. I tell you this, Mr Vasco. None succeeded.”
With one hand, Zasha moves her clothing aside to show a tattoo under her ribs. Seven flames, each growing larger than the last, seem to flicker across her muscular core. Another hand shows that there is still room for more ink across her stomach and to the opposite side of her torso. She leaves the fabrics disheveled.
“Now! I took the opportunity to ask someone to give us a scouting out of those wildlands. I’m not really in the mood for marching around on a wild goose hunt, not when someone has the talents at hand to help us bypass that completely. Come, here is what she found.”
A brief scuffing of boots across the ground to expose a relatively even layer of dirt precedes Zasha squatting down low over her makeshift canvas. She flicks her wrist to send small droplets of fire falling into the loose diagram of the surrounding areas. In the lower left is the settlement. Scrubland gives way to forests and rolling hills. Near the far reaches of her diagram, Zasha strikes a burning X.
“Wolves here. Big old shaggy black things that ooze and shimmer in ways which suggest them being, well, not real wolves. Our teamwork will get us there, and that same teamwork will carry us to finding your mother. I have no aspirations of doing this all on my lonesome, Mr Vasco.”
Something about the tone Vasco deployed upon seeing her had Zasha feeling on the back foot. If he was planning something, maybe her little story would have him reconsider. The alternative was that this skinny boyo doubted her abilities. This smarted a bit, especially given his general... how to put it? Zasha cocked her head to the side and regarded Vasco again as he continued to wrestle with Huey. The kid really needed a lesson in torque if he seriously wanted to compete with the taller man. Zasha fakes a yawn to stifle a rogue laugh. Showing off to Vasco at this point wasn’t worth it. Best to leave things be and show him exactly how much business she could handle.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Aug 26, 2021 22:30:18 GMT -5
Vasco gave Zasha the ear she demanded as she spoke, though her words did not reach him to the core. After all, he wasn't quite sure she understood. Perhaps there were things he didn't, either, but he did know how powerful his mother was.
A memory flickered in his mind of a time he was in dire straits. A hunter found him, this older, middle-aged woman. Oh! How it burned him to think such a hag found a way to better him! Shaved hair of salt and pepper, armor laced with ringlets of silver, and a long pipe parked between her teeth, bellowing with a mysterious smoke that encircled them. There were voices in that smoke. They whispered to him, twisted him around, grabbed him, poisoned him. He was on the ground, burning like tinder, becoming part of her smoke.
But there was a storm brewing, and it was blocking the sun.
His vision was all but gone when he saw it: the clouds spiraling down, pulling apart, morphing, until it pulled together again into the shape of a massive hand. Before the hunter could react, it slammed down on top of her. Once more, it tore apart and dissolved. Standing there, next to a pile of ash and bone, was Maribel.
As the memory faded, so did the fog in his eyes. Zasha was an impressive fighter, no doubt, but Maribel didn't fight. Knowing this, Vasco didn't see sense in warning Zasha any further. They needed to find his mother.
Splaying his arms, Vasco shrugged. "I believe you. And, of course, you'll have my help. Nothing to be afraid of with a dashing prince at your side, ah?" He flashed another smile, and this time, with his fangs retracted, it could have been believable. Without skipping a beat, he turned his attention to the map the fighter laid out before them, scanning it as though he knew what it meant. He did not know the area, but he did know which direction they came from, which means that the wolves were... there?
"Is that a field?" he asked, scrunching his brow. "They were sighted before daylight, surely? They'll be looking for cover. The nearby forest-" He pointed toward what he thought had to be tree cover. "Unless there's a cave. Burrows. Whatever's dark."
"Even the smallest crannies will accommodate such a form, don't you think? But they will be the darkest of them."
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Maribel Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Appearance: Maribel is a towering, broad-shouldered woman with skin as pale as polished ivory. Though she has a square jaw and sharp, piercing features, there is a way about her movements that retains a soft, delicate manner.
She has yellow eyes like a cat's with impressively large pupils, becoming pitch black in the absence of light or when she spots something particularly fascinating. Her hair is predominantly white with a few strands of black beneath the layers, similar to how hair changes as humans age.
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Equipment: A bladed whip is the last surviving weapon in Maribel's repertoire after the great flood. Other than that, she has the crystal ball, which is little more than a toy now in the mists.
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Skills and Abilities: Transformation:
Maribel's vampiric curse can allow her to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a humanoid bat creature, and an oily snake, none of which are smaller than Maribel's human form.
Her senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. She has excellent night vision that causes her to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. If in direct contact with sunlight, she burns.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite, and sired vampires are created with a bite that doesn't kill the victim, and then feeding the victim the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newly found disdain for it.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 14:42:37 GMT -5
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Post by Maribel Correa on Jan 1, 2022 19:21:05 GMT -5
As they came to the camp on the outskirts of the settlement, the group would find themselves surrounded by children. One by one, then five by five, until the entire coterie was upon them. They gathered around Maribel, vying for her attention. Each was of different age, from unique places, had varying quirks, but every single child had the exact same look in their eye; glazed over, grey, glassy, deadness. And yet, their actions, their hunger for the matriarch's attention, suggested otherwise.
Here, they witnessed something different from the domineering woman. She knelt, as she did with Huey, and allowed herself to be smothered by them. Soon, she erupted into laughter as she showered them in kisses and embraced them all in turn. The children jeered and chattered and giggled as they climbed all over her. This went on for no more than five minutes, for once Maribel clapped her hands, the children swiftly and silently slid away from her and lined up in front of the tents, becoming marble statues in the blink of an eye.
Satisfied with the result, the vampiress let Huey down, then mumbled to him a few words. With a bow, he, too, skittered off and vanished inside of the largest tent. Maribel gestured to her guests and announced to the children "As you were. Please treat our company nicely, as they are my guests. Tea and a snack, if you will." And then, she was off, walking into the largest tent.
It was a little bare, but there were some furs and quilts about. A small fire was set in the middle, where a pot of hot water was put to boil while Huey ran around to find a mixture of seeds and leaves to combine to make tea. He worked deftly, like an old butler who'd been doing this for years.
Maribel gestured to a short table with a quilt beneath it, where she knelt with one leg beneath her, the other propped up with an arm balanced on her knee. She was open, relaxed, but not sloppy. Her back was straight, chin up.
"Now, tell me: how did you all come here and where are we?"
Vasco opened his mouth to speak up. With a look, Maribel silenced him, waiting for the girls to reply.
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Post by Theophania Correa on Jan 1, 2022 21:20:14 GMT -5
Theophania hadn't been at the roll call when Maribel arrived, and it was the usual culprit. Truth was, the reason for it was the child's tendency to wander off from the others. She always made it back home when called on, but her wandering usually meant a delay in her responsiveness.
Indeed, the child had been wandering along the water collecting empty shells from the sand until suddenly she stopped walking and stood still with her expression unreadable in it's dream-like haze. She stood straight, the breeze brushing through her platinum blonde hair and causing her strikingly red dress to billow gently. One arm was wrapped around an old fabric doll where her hand gripped the fabric of her skirt in such a was o create a pouch for her collection of seashells. There was silence, until her short body completely turned around towards camp and she took off running as fast as her feet could carry her. She ran through the sand, the grass, the rocks barefoot. Not because she didn't have shoes, but rather she had forgotten them on the beach when she'd taken them off.
When she finally arrived at Camp the Thrall Children had already dispersed, but she caught a glimpse of Mother and their big brother inviting two strangers into the biggest sandcastle they made. She made a detour by her tent to deposit her new treasures. She let go of her skirt and watched as the empty shells sprouted long spindly legs which they used to climb down and gather on her small cot. She could still hear the shells hissing as she ran off again, a sound only she could hear.
The thrall child slowed down her steps as she approached the big sandcastle. She said they should have made it bigger for Mother, but the suggestion had fallen on deaf ears. She dusted off the remaining sand off her clothes before entering just to be safe.
The child entered quietly, and since their big brother was there, the short Thrall would hug Vasco's legs briefly before letting go and joining the true object of her childish affections: Maribel. She wasn't very interested in the guests, since she didn't get any of Mother's affection when she arrived, there was always the next best thing. After sitting her doll next to Mother, Theophania retrieved the ivory comb from among Maribel's personal things. When she returned once again, she began passing the comb through the Matriarch's hair. The utmost care was taken towards any knots taking care to not pull.
It was only once in the routine of the action that Theophania glanced at the guests. It looked like some kind of strong tree-woman creature (Heavys) and a large porcelain doll (Csilla). Mother didn't seem pleased about something but to the child it wasn't yet obvious.
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Csilla Kato
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Coming from humble beginnings, Csilla dresses simply in the fashion of the settlement of Pannoa. In spite of her ordinary upbringing, she carries herself with feminine grace while never being too dainty to carry out hard chores, at least normally. While not considered the most beautiful woman in the world, she is still noteworthy in terms of beauty.
Due to illness, her skin has grown pale, her lips and around her eyes have a blueish tint, and she's become thinner. She still has plenty of awareness and intelligence in her eyes however.
Equipment: Embroidery hoop
Sewing needles
pins
Threads of multiple colors
Mint based medicine
Skills and Abilities: Thread Spinning
Weaving
Sewing/tailoring
Embroidery
Contagious: Though the chances of being infected with her illness are low for healthy individuals, those with compromised immune systems are more vulnerable.
Biography: Csilla's family had been among the lucky ones to get onto the boat that saved their lives from the flood, but among the unlucky ones that did not make it to landfall. After the strenuous months at sea, an illness claimed each family member one by one. With no medicine to cure the along with the harsh conditions of the ship, Csilla arrived to the Isles alone.
The illness that ravaged her family has taken root in her as well, and has weakened her considerably. With no cure among them all they can offer is sympathy and comfort, and all she can offer in return is quiet busywork. With the time she has left she has been spending it praying or mending clothes,sails and other cloth based necessities that have been torn. Whenever she is not overburdened by work or her illness, she will take a stroll along the coast.
Registered: Apr 10, 2021 9:23:26 GMT -5
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Post by Csilla Kato on Jan 1, 2022 21:38:48 GMT -5
Csilla clung to Vasco's arm the whole way to the encampment from the moment it had been offered. It strengthened the sense of safety she had that allowed her to remain far more calm than she should be. Not that the Matriarch herself hadn't been polite thus far, but rather there was a natural sense of apprehension and dread. Was it her own? She wasn't sure, but the anxiety didn't compare to how whole she felt walking by her angel's side. Knowing they were oth safe and together meant they could face it all together no matter what.
In Maribel's tent, the seamstress didn't sit down quite yet. She hadn't been told to by either Vasco nor Lady Maribel. That didn't prevent her from answering the question from her end though. "I am Pannoan. I arrived along with the rest of the people in the camp; great ships. Most the the ships have been taken apart and used for construction of homes. As for where are we..." She looked over to Heavys. "I'm afraid I don't know much about where we are. since we've made landfall I wasn't able to take much of a look around beyond my tent, the camp, and the beach. I've also been kept out of most discussions concerning our people or the camp. I wish I had more to offer, I'm sorry."
She eyed the small child in the red dress. She seemed shorter than Huey though they were about the same age. They seemed pretty innocuous since they were just combing Maribel's hair.
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Hævys Bladesmith
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: Nearing her mid-30s
Appearance: She has a dark brown, bordering on black head of hair, kept short, not reaching halfway down her neck. Her skin is a darker tan-ish shade, with grey eyes. Standing around 5'10", she has a rugged frame, used to heavy labor and working in the forge. She usually wears a pair of loose fitting pants, with a snug cloth wrap covering up her chest. While in the forge, she wears a black smith's apron as well. While her pants usually covers it, there is a large indent into her skin on her thigh, as if part of the skin had been sheared off of that area, a few layers deep.
Equipment: While a smith before she got here, most of her equipment couldn't be carried during the flood. She's lucky she got out with a few forging hammers and a pair of tongs for handling hot metal, as well as her trusty pata(a type of sword-gauntlet), for if someone attempts to cross her or steal her wares.
Skills and Abilities: A skilled blacksmith, focusing on weapons and armor, with some skill also with jewelry and building materials such as hinges or nails. As well as this, she is skilled in the magics of enchanting her wares while creating them, giving enchantments of durability, of good health, or other small enchantments to make using them easier. However, she could only do this for things she was forging, not finished works, and even then she currently refuses to enchant her works. As well as this, although she currently refuses to do it as well, she can give people permanent marks on their skin, that would not wash off no matter what, and even enchant those.
Biography: A skilled smith from a young age, Hævys loved to create. She would work with her father in his forge, learning his craft, even if many others said she couldn't, or that she shouldn't and she should be proper. Naturally, Hævys wanted to prove them wrong. After learning all she could from her father, she travelled her land, looking for the best smiths to teach her what her father could not. Eventually she'd stumble on a smith who taught her many other talents, including, most importantly, the art of enchanted forging. Upon returning home and beginning her own work, she was soon summoned to the capital, to work towards making equipment for the army. Here, she would gain the epithet of Magesmith.
As well as working for the army, she would open a small business on the side, giving people permanent marks on their skin in any design they chose, a skill she picked up on her travels. However, one day she would experiment(with a willing participant) on attempting to enchant her marks. It was a success, and word soon reached the king. Immediately, she was given a new position with the prison. She would use her marking ability to give prisoners permanent enchanted marks, ones that would seal any magical ability they possessed, as well as teaching others to do the same.
However, soon, it became apparent that many of these prisoners did not deserve their punishment, nor prison time at all. Many people were sentenced to this not only for crimes, but for things outside of their control and for speaking out against the war. Hævys could not take this, speaking out against it. As a result, she was branded a criminal and given one of the marks she taught others to make, sealing her magic as she was thrown in prison.
Eventually, she would escape, and cut the mark off of her body, barely surviving with the bloodloss and possible infection. Even though she was no longer sealed, she refused to make another mark for anybody, and refused to enchant anything anymore. She refused her old epithet and became simply Hævys Bladesmith, and opening a small, struggling smithy for a short time, before the flood hit.
Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by Hævys Bladesmith on Jan 2, 2022 17:22:11 GMT -5
Hævys followed the group into the Correa camp, staying silent as she hobbled after the lady of the house and her sons. She watched as the children, seemingly in the same expressionless haze that Huey had been in, crowd around their mother as she began to laugh. The smith felt a pit grow in her stomach as she watched the scene. While on the surface it seemed innocent enough, the state these kids were in just made it unnerving. Maribel’s response, despite its seeming warmth, only helped to deepen this sense of unease. Either she was a very good actor, or she truly loved these children in her own twisted way. Hævys wasn’t sure which one of these would be worse.
Once they reached the tent, Hævys took the chance to carefully lower herself to the ground. She sat at the table Maribel gestured to, her left leg kept underneath her while her right leg remained stretched out in front of her as she sat sideways, so that the leg did not hit Maribel under the table. As she lowered herself, she listened to the question, as well as Csilla’s response. “Carried on a piece of scrap wood.” She answered the first question, recounting her arrival. “Washed up on a beach a ways west’ve here. As for what this place is, your guess’s as good as mine, other than the end of the world. Only got here few days ago.”
She shrugged, eyes drifting to the child combing Maribel’s hair. “You? How’d you end up here’ve all places?” She asked in a polite way, as if simply attempting to continue the conversation rather than as a quest for information on this chilling family.
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Maribel Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Appearance: Maribel is a towering, broad-shouldered woman with skin as pale as polished ivory. Though she has a square jaw and sharp, piercing features, there is a way about her movements that retains a soft, delicate manner.
She has yellow eyes like a cat's with impressively large pupils, becoming pitch black in the absence of light or when she spots something particularly fascinating. Her hair is predominantly white with a few strands of black beneath the layers, similar to how hair changes as humans age.
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Equipment: A bladed whip is the last surviving weapon in Maribel's repertoire after the great flood. Other than that, she has the crystal ball, which is little more than a toy now in the mists.
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Skills and Abilities: Transformation:
Maribel's vampiric curse can allow her to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a humanoid bat creature, and an oily snake, none of which are smaller than Maribel's human form.
Her senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. She has excellent night vision that causes her to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. If in direct contact with sunlight, she burns.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite, and sired vampires are created with a bite that doesn't kill the victim, and then feeding the victim the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newly found disdain for it.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 14:42:37 GMT -5
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Post by Maribel Correa on Jan 3, 2022 11:32:53 GMT -5
When Theophania showed up to comb her hair, Maribel reached up behind her to pat her little arm, all the while keeping her piercing gaze on both women. To Vasco's relief, she did blink, and while such a thing seemed trivial to some, being stared down unwaveringly became rather unnerving after several long moments.
Maribel tapped her ling nails atop her knee. Hm. So it seemed everyone came here through the great waters surrounding them. The pieces were coming together, but there were still so many questions; ones that these two would not be able to answer.
Ah, and there it was. The rude village peasant was asking questions of her own. Realizing that she, herself, did not have the answer, Maribel switched her gaze to her son. Vasco's expression hardened.
"The castle flooded. Everyone that could make it gathered onto The Desmodus. Twenty-odd thralls in all."
The matriarch's eyes widened, just barely. Vasco hesitated before continuing. "We sailed for a long time. Long enough that we all nearly starved to death."
Another pause, this time with the two vampires staring at one another intently. The tension built until it was palpable until it grabbed their hearts with cold fingers and fluttered it into a panicked beat for them. Suddenly, Vasco's demeanor changed. His shoulders relaxed and a charming grin slid across his face. "And we just might have, if it weren't for your sacrifice, mother. As always, we have you to thank."
The smallest of smiles was reciprocated by the matriarch. She nodded, giving him her approval. Giving her attention back to both women she gestured outwardly, fingers splayed. "There you have it. It seems the journey wasn't easy for anyone. Poor souls, the lot of us, mm?"
She noted that Csilla was still standing, as did Vasco. Anxiously, he grabbed her hand to ease her down.
The kettle whistled.
"The mist seems dangerous. Is this the first time it has rolled through?" Maribel asked. "And what do you do? The both of you. What are your trades?"
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Post by Theophania Correa on Jan 3, 2022 12:05:42 GMT -5
Mother's acknowledgement had the child smiling contently as surprisingly deft fingers moved to section Maribel's hair. Taking hold of a lock of hair she began braiding, hoping to make mother even more beautiful, though really no one could compare no matter what.
The whistling of the kettle drew the child's attention to it. She saw the little mouth on the end of the spout like a lamprey screaming its little heart out as its metal body was roasted by the fire. Naturally the thrall disapproved of the little imp interrupting the adults and so she brought a finger over her mouth and began shushing the creature.
When that didn't work she looked to Huey, knowing that he'd know how to kill it quiet if need be. She wanted to listen to the funny way the tree woman spoke some more, and watch her big brother play with his new doll a funny sight considering he never wanted to play with her and *her* dolls. At least Dhalia was willing to play with her still.
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Csilla Kato
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Coming from humble beginnings, Csilla dresses simply in the fashion of the settlement of Pannoa. In spite of her ordinary upbringing, she carries herself with feminine grace while never being too dainty to carry out hard chores, at least normally. While not considered the most beautiful woman in the world, she is still noteworthy in terms of beauty.
Due to illness, her skin has grown pale, her lips and around her eyes have a blueish tint, and she's become thinner. She still has plenty of awareness and intelligence in her eyes however.
Equipment: Embroidery hoop
Sewing needles
pins
Threads of multiple colors
Mint based medicine
Skills and Abilities: Thread Spinning
Weaving
Sewing/tailoring
Embroidery
Contagious: Though the chances of being infected with her illness are low for healthy individuals, those with compromised immune systems are more vulnerable.
Biography: Csilla's family had been among the lucky ones to get onto the boat that saved their lives from the flood, but among the unlucky ones that did not make it to landfall. After the strenuous months at sea, an illness claimed each family member one by one. With no medicine to cure the along with the harsh conditions of the ship, Csilla arrived to the Isles alone.
The illness that ravaged her family has taken root in her as well, and has weakened her considerably. With no cure among them all they can offer is sympathy and comfort, and all she can offer in return is quiet busywork. With the time she has left she has been spending it praying or mending clothes,sails and other cloth based necessities that have been torn. Whenever she is not overburdened by work or her illness, she will take a stroll along the coast.
Registered: Apr 10, 2021 9:23:26 GMT -5
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Post by Csilla Kato on Jan 3, 2022 12:30:18 GMT -5
On Vasco's silent insistence, Csilla lowered down to sit at the low table.
"The mist rolls through often enough, but never to this degree nor this effect. It was quite chaotic until it was moreso quiet than chaotic. It was a first." Csilla answered as factually as she could though she didn't exactly have much of a picture herself.
"I am a seamstress." She paused before finally addressing an elephant in the room. "You're wearing the dear Reverend's robes. You should think about changing it as its not appropriate to my people." She lowered her eyes to the table. "Mind you, the Reverend would willingly given the clothes on his back as long as it helped. I assume he hasn't been found?" There was sadness that flashed through Csilla's eyes. She looked over to Vasco as the sight of him numbed the emptiness that threatened to take root in her chest.
"What of his daughter? Certainly the mist could not have taken both."
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Hævys Bladesmith
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: Nearing her mid-30s
Appearance: She has a dark brown, bordering on black head of hair, kept short, not reaching halfway down her neck. Her skin is a darker tan-ish shade, with grey eyes. Standing around 5'10", she has a rugged frame, used to heavy labor and working in the forge. She usually wears a pair of loose fitting pants, with a snug cloth wrap covering up her chest. While in the forge, she wears a black smith's apron as well. While her pants usually covers it, there is a large indent into her skin on her thigh, as if part of the skin had been sheared off of that area, a few layers deep.
Equipment: While a smith before she got here, most of her equipment couldn't be carried during the flood. She's lucky she got out with a few forging hammers and a pair of tongs for handling hot metal, as well as her trusty pata(a type of sword-gauntlet), for if someone attempts to cross her or steal her wares.
Skills and Abilities: A skilled blacksmith, focusing on weapons and armor, with some skill also with jewelry and building materials such as hinges or nails. As well as this, she is skilled in the magics of enchanting her wares while creating them, giving enchantments of durability, of good health, or other small enchantments to make using them easier. However, she could only do this for things she was forging, not finished works, and even then she currently refuses to enchant her works. As well as this, although she currently refuses to do it as well, she can give people permanent marks on their skin, that would not wash off no matter what, and even enchant those.
Biography: A skilled smith from a young age, Hævys loved to create. She would work with her father in his forge, learning his craft, even if many others said she couldn't, or that she shouldn't and she should be proper. Naturally, Hævys wanted to prove them wrong. After learning all she could from her father, she travelled her land, looking for the best smiths to teach her what her father could not. Eventually she'd stumble on a smith who taught her many other talents, including, most importantly, the art of enchanted forging. Upon returning home and beginning her own work, she was soon summoned to the capital, to work towards making equipment for the army. Here, she would gain the epithet of Magesmith.
As well as working for the army, she would open a small business on the side, giving people permanent marks on their skin in any design they chose, a skill she picked up on her travels. However, one day she would experiment(with a willing participant) on attempting to enchant her marks. It was a success, and word soon reached the king. Immediately, she was given a new position with the prison. She would use her marking ability to give prisoners permanent enchanted marks, ones that would seal any magical ability they possessed, as well as teaching others to do the same.
However, soon, it became apparent that many of these prisoners did not deserve their punishment, nor prison time at all. Many people were sentenced to this not only for crimes, but for things outside of their control and for speaking out against the war. Hævys could not take this, speaking out against it. As a result, she was branded a criminal and given one of the marks she taught others to make, sealing her magic as she was thrown in prison.
Eventually, she would escape, and cut the mark off of her body, barely surviving with the bloodloss and possible infection. Even though she was no longer sealed, she refused to make another mark for anybody, and refused to enchant anything anymore. She refused her old epithet and became simply Hævys Bladesmith, and opening a small, struggling smithy for a short time, before the flood hit.
Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by Hævys Bladesmith on Jan 3, 2022 19:46:42 GMT -5
‘Twenty odd thralls in all’
The word fell sour on Hævys’ ear, the slightest twitch of her lip the only indication of such to the world outside her mind. She had heard stories of people being enthralled by others, their minds held captive by artifacts bound to their captor. People held at the whims of whoever held it, with no way to fight. The view she had of Maribel showed no artifact with which she might control them though, leading Hævys to believe they were somehow linked to her directly. It explained so much, though, as to why they seemed so odd. It seemed very few here were completely of their own mind.
“Smith.” She answered when Maribel asked the question. “Copper, gold, silver, can shape pretty much any metal, but steel’s what I work best with.” She repositioned herself slightly, to face more towards Maribel. “Best from my homeland. Could make weapons, armor…” Her gaze travels around the tent. A large tent for sure, good enough against the elements, but still just a tent. “Hinges, nails, handles. S’all things I can make.“
The blacksmith’s eyes turned towards Csilla as she spoke, empathizing with her sadness. It was obvious this Reverend was much beloved by his people, and his disappearance must have been tragic, not to mention the loss of the personality that was his daughter. She could only hope that perhaps the mist had not taken them forever, if it had taken them at all. Her gaze glances back to Maribel.
For the sake of the people they left behind.
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Maribel Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Appearance: Maribel is a towering, broad-shouldered woman with skin as pale as polished ivory. Though she has a square jaw and sharp, piercing features, there is a way about her movements that retains a soft, delicate manner.
She has yellow eyes like a cat's with impressively large pupils, becoming pitch black in the absence of light or when she spots something particularly fascinating. Her hair is predominantly white with a few strands of black beneath the layers, similar to how hair changes as humans age.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: A bladed whip is the last surviving weapon in Maribel's repertoire after the great flood. Other than that, she has the crystal ball, which is little more than a toy now in the mists.
_______________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Transformation:
Maribel's vampiric curse can allow her to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a humanoid bat creature, and an oily snake, none of which are smaller than Maribel's human form.
Her senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. She has excellent night vision that causes her to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. If in direct contact with sunlight, she burns.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite, and sired vampires are created with a bite that doesn't kill the victim, and then feeding the victim the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newly found disdain for it.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 14:42:37 GMT -5
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Post by Maribel Correa on Jan 4, 2022 22:26:08 GMT -5
Just as Theo began to shush the kettle, Huey rushed over to silence it. The dried tea mixture was dropped into the hot water. Leaves, seeds, petals... and something else: a little black ball that looked like allspice. He set the kettle on the table and then placed earthware cups.
Maribel stewed on the information presented to her, pinching the knee of the frock she wore all the while. The subject of her apparel was brought up a second time, along with the possibility that this Reverend and his daughter may be gone. Maribel's brows lifted, but the rest of her face stayed still as stone. "So I've heard. A tragedy, if it is true. A tragedy that so many are lost." Her eyes steeled themselves onto Csilla. "You have my apologies. There aren't many garments befitting someone of my stature. Or my preference." Her eyes slid over to Huey, who nodded and disappeared into another section of the tent. A metal clasp clanked through the air.
Before they could continue, another thrall poked her head into the tent. This one was Astrid, one of the triplets. Because she was mute, she was always sent to give urgent news when Maribel was already in a meeting, as it was always done quietly. Interpreting the hand signals with acute knowledge of the strange language the triplets developed, Maribel sighed.
"Huey. We have guests," she demanded, eying the boy. Without skipping a beat, Huey retreated from the corner and sped out the entrance, switching places with Astrid. Just as skillfully, she began to pour the tea. It was a vibrant red and smelled of cinnamon, flowers, and iron. Or was that just the pot? "I do feel sorry for you, dear." She rose a hand to place it on top of Csilla's hand. "Do let me know if there is anything I can do."
If Vasco could have turned a shade paler, then he did.
"As for your trades? You will both thrive in the days to come. The children and I will search for your loved ones. If there is no sign of them... well, we shall discuss that at a later date. Do not despair." She smiled warmly, then motioned to the tea. "Have some. Hisbiscus tea does wonders for the nerves."
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