New Isra
Committed
Roleplay posts: 71
Biography: This account represents the NPCs and locations associated with New Isra!
Allegiances: Isra
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:30:20 GMT -5
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Post by New Isra on May 13, 2021 23:21:18 GMT -5
Out beyond the outermost tents, there's an intermediate space. The treelines aren't for a ways off, and if you were in this space, you're not outside of Port Argentium per se, but you're right on the edge. At some point, the settlement will expand to fill this place, or perhaps they'll put a wall here. But for now, it's just space. The outskirts. |
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Faces in the Mist
Committed
Roleplay posts: 50
Appearance: The mist swirls and whirls, whispering its secrets to whoever may listen.
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:13:05 GMT -5
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Post by Faces in the Mist on May 13, 2021 23:47:11 GMT -5
Inside Port Argentium, an eldritch ritual was completed. A door between worlds was created, tearing a gap in the space between space that should have never been opened. The profound wrongness of the ritual sent ripples through the fabric of reality like a stone dropped in a still pond, disturbing the mists that circled and sheltered the island. It rang out like a silent scream, the alien, otherworldly energy causing the mist to twist and swirl as though it were a living thing. Something formed in the mist, beginning as a pinprick of darkness and slowly growing as the mist rejected the disturbance like a disease. It took shape slowly, pieces growing and stretching into perverse mockeries of flesh.
The corrupted energy coalesced, growing into a dark, twisted thing that thrashed like a poisoned eel. The creature, formed of the collected alien magics absorbed into the mist and spat out like a piece of rotten flesh, stretched its limbs and gazed out upon the settlement. There was movement there. Warmth. Noise. Food. Formed from an otherworldly call of hunger and need, it felt nothing but agonizing starvation. It needed to feed, needed to quell its ravenous hunger in any way it could. Soon it would hunt. For now, though, the thing sated itself the crustaceans and other creatures that roamed the beach at night before vanishing into the dunes. Any soul who came wandering across the outskirts of the town in the morning would find a grisly sight: dozens of seagull skins with nothing but skeletons inside, empty of flesh and organs. A number of empty crab shells were strewn across the beach as well, but no sign could be found as to what could have possibly done this to them.
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Post by Adrian von Heschburg on Jun 2, 2021 8:30:01 GMT -5
Adrian might have been born a noble, and might have served as a knight, but he was no stranger to labor. He had been assisting the Israns and other survivors in Port Argentium in their many projects. Felling trees, carving wooden flanks, and building homes was no less laborious than constructing forts and palisades in the forests of Eastwick. He felt he had something to prove - not just to himself or his wife, Cerri, but to Naoki and the Israns as well. On this day, however, he chose to work alone. He strolled along the coastline east of the camp seeking a location to place his makeshift lobster traps. He had brought with him common clothes, a dagger, and his longsword, as well as a fishing net. If there was an inlet somewhere nearby he would attempt to catch some fish to add to his bounty.
But as Adrian approached a satisfactory location he observed a peculiar sight. First a collection of crab shells, and then morbid piles of seagulls. He set his lobster traps down on the shore and investigated the discoveries closer. It was almost as if the seagulls' and crabs had their insides sucked out of their bodies. These were specific and unnatural kills, performed by someone or something he was not familiar with.
The Knight-Brother looked around warily; did the culprit come from the sea, or inland? More importantly, was it dangerous, and was it still nearby? Further examination revealed footprints that would direct Adrian towards the dunes. He did not know what he was up against, and would not risk his life trying to fight this creature - but he did take it upon himself to investigate and observe. If it was dangerous he would need to report it to Naoki.
"The hills have eyes, and the trees have ears." The Hochmeister's words echoed in his head. It was dangerous to travel the woods of Eastwick, for the Wickans seemed to be everywhere at once, laying in wait to ambush unlucky patrols. Some of the Knights had been trained to stalk the forests, however, using stealth and cunning to surprise their hidden foes. It was not honorable, but it was necessary.
Using his experience, the lightly-armed Adrian followed the unnerving footprints into the dunes, always keeping low, quiet, and keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. For added measure, he checked the direction of the wind.
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Rath'baal Tarku
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: 37
Appearance: Captain Tarku stands at an imposing 6'4 with a solid build of one who was much more muscular when he was a younger soldier. He has mid-length dark brown, almost black, hair and a full beard of the same color.
Equipment: He wears the standard issue armor of an Isran legionnaire, which includes a small Isran sigil on the breastplate. Red fabric and feathers found on his uniform, including the plumes of feathers on his helmet, are mixed with green fabrics and feathers. The green represents his Amrithian people, who submitted to Isran and had their own unit formed under the Fourth Legion. He carries a Legionnaire's shield with Isran iconography on it, a standard issue spear, and a falcata - the preferred sword of the Amrithians.
Skills and Abilities: Captain Tarku is battle hardened after a lifetime of being a soldier, both before and after becoming an Isran Legionnaire.
Biography: Tarku has been a soldier since he was a young teenager. He served in this Amrithian armies prior to their conquest by the Isran. When the Amrithians surrendered to the overwhelming and disciplined force of Isran, the Amrithian soldiers were offered their own unit in the Fourth Legion so long as they pledged their loyalty to Isran. Tarku was one of the Amrithians who accepted and has since fought in numerous battles and wars within the Fourth Legion, eventually rising to command the Amrithian Cohort.
Registered: Jun 1, 2021 17:52:52 GMT -5
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Post by Rath'baal Tarku on Jun 7, 2021 20:21:24 GMT -5
These morning solo scouting rides had quickly become a bore. After the "newness" of the Port Argentium's surrounding environment became familiar, there was not much to catch one's interest. This was primarily due to Captain Tarku not venturing too far from the settlement, knowing full well the Centurion did not want to risk losing a member of the legion, and a veteran at that, to some unknown enemy in this new realm. He knew the last few rides were already pushing those boundaries and would have expected a stern warning from Centurion Hael should she ever find out.
Most of the the legionnaire's rides had focused south and southeast of Port Argentium, typically along the Argentium River. In his campaigns with the Fourth Legion, Tarku had dealt with large bodies of water on very few occasions, mostly participating as just another number on a transport ship. The battles he fought in were usually in hill country, or the mountains, and the occasional flat plain. As such, he did not care much for the sea to the settlement's north.
However, in an effort to break up the monotony of these scouting missions, Captain Tarku decided to more or less hug the coast on today's ride. It was on this ride that he caught an incredibly foul, rancid scent on a weak breeze that almost made him gag. Curiosity peaked, he lightly kicked his heels into Shipwreck's sides to move toward the smell. The horse seemed to only pace forward, apprehensive after also having caught the putrid scent. Shipwreck had been assigned to the legionnaire when he arrived and the man found the horse much too timid to be a proper war horse.
"If you don't want your name to be 'Soup' when we get back to town, I suggest you heed my commands," he said as he dug his heels in as hard as he could into the beast's beautiful red coat. Shipwreck promptly started forward at a jogging pace. Shipwreck surely did not know whether his rider's threat was empty or not. After all, horse stew was a common dish among Amrithians like Tarku. It was only after the Amrithians lost the short but bloody war against Isra and joined their conquerors that they stopped eating horses as a delicacy. The Fourth Legion's commanders deemed that foreign legionnaires feasting on those equine beasts negatively impacted morale throughout the legion. They were right, for fist fights between the Amrithian Cohort and the other cohorts during encampments drastically reduced after horse meat was banned from the campfires.
The smell had become almost unbearable when he saw from a distance a cloud of flies buzzing down to an indistinguishable pile up ahead along the shoreline. Deciding to close the distance on foot, he dismounted and removed sheathed falcata from the side of the satchel, affixing the sheath to his belt. His helmet was removed from the satchel bag and placed on his head. The helmet was the standard legionary helmet: rounded cap with a point at the center, a neck guard that lowered along the back, and metal cheek guard flaps. Tarku used this helmet while on patrol and during small scale fighting, leaving his plumed and ornate captain's helmet back in his quarters.
He held his breath as he came across the pile of dead seagulls and crabs. "Not natural... curious," he commented as he examined the dead birds. Picked to the bone, but not like the work of any animal he had ever seen. Further examination yielded two sets of footprints leading away from the scene and towards the dunes. One set was fresh, very fresh, for the tide had not risen to yet fill them in. He proceeded, carefully, towards the dunes with his right hand firmly on the hilt of the falcata sheathed on his left side.
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Andromeda
Established
Spectre of the Celestial Sacrifice Star
Roleplay posts: 10 
Age: 15-20
Appearance: 5'8"
Her face is covered by a metal mask, Hair is long in the back braided and bound tight with a ribbon.
Equipment: Armor made from metal that is dark as night and shines like the moon. The armor comes with a set of chain weapons.
Skills and Abilities: Trained with the Sheng Biao Rope Dart and the Chain Whip.
Black Fang Nebula
Biography: The Spectre known only as Andromeda has little memory of her life besides the moments leading to her death and has endured torment in hell for a few years before her resurrection under an evil star.
Allegiances: The Ethereal King, The Phoenix
Registered: Sept 11, 2021 17:10:00 GMT -5
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Post by Andromeda on Nov 8, 2021 17:33:00 GMT -5
Andromeda wasn't trained at all medically and she wouldn't know what to do if his condition worsened out here, like if he gets sick. She dreaded the thought, but she needed to find a settlement to get him help for his injuries. "Damn, can you hear me Kid? Hold on, I'll be right back." She walks back to the pile of armor and finishes re-equipping everything, then squats down beside the demon boy to try putting him on her back. She puts his arms over her shoulders and crosses them in front of her chest and grunts as she stands up. Even though she struggled a bit, she seemed quite strong to carry all this weight. When she looked either way down the river, she wondered which way to go to find a settlement when the square-ended chain became animate again and pointed in a direction like a dowsing rod. She didn't totally trust this armor, but this time it didn't kill someone, she'd have to take the risk and go that way. Slowly she makes her way to Port Argentium with the boy on her back. She hoped that when she got there they would be accepted and she wouldn't be under suspicion. "I'll get you there, just don't die." Following the river and the direction of her square chain, Andromeda eventually sees the settlement up ahead. Now she just hoped they would let her in. The armor-clad spectre was still carrying the injured demon boy on her back. Slowly coming closer to the settlement she tries to talk to Sicaroth Hereschal to see if he's conscious. "Hey Kid, are you alright back there? I see a town. We'll get you help." |
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Post by Sicaroth Hereschal on Nov 9, 2021 14:13:03 GMT -5
Andromeda wasn't trained at all medically and she wouldn't know what to do if his condition worsened out here, like if he gets sick. She dreaded the thought, but she needed to find a settlement to get him help for his injuries. "Damn, can you hear me Kid? Hold on, I'll be right back." She walks back to the pile of armor and finishes re-equipping everything, then squats down beside the demon boy to try putting him on her back. She puts his arms over her shoulders and crosses them in front of her chest and grunts as she stands up. Even though she struggled a bit, she seemed quite strong to carry all this weight. When she looked either way down the river, she wondered which way to go to find a settlement when the square-ended chain became animate again and pointed in a direction like a dowsing rod. She didn't totally trust this armor, but this time it didn't kill someone, she'd have to take the risk and go that way. Slowly she makes her way to Port Argentium with the boy on her back. She hoped that when she got there they would be accepted and she wouldn't be under suspicion. "I'll get you there, just don't die." Following the river and the direction of her square chain, Andromeda eventually sees the settlement up ahead. Now she just hoped they would let her in. The armor-clad spectre was still carrying the injured demon boy on her back. Slowly coming closer to the settlement she tries to talk to Sicaroth Hereschal to see if he's conscious. "Hey Kid, are you alright back there? I see a town. We'll get you help." |
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Cosimo
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 23
Appearance: Cosimo is a young man, standing at about 5'5". He has a slim, graceful build, with only the slightest hint of muscle tone, akin to a dancer. He has dark blue, almost black hair, the tips of which seem to lighten to a brighter azure color, hinting at some sort of unnatural alteration, most likely magical in nature. His eyes are a striking cerulean blue. His skin is pale and unblemished.
His hands are that of a painter, with slim delicate fingers attuned to fine detailing and callus-free soft palms.
If one were to see him unclothed they would find peculiar light-blue runes tattooed across his chest, as well as his left leg, in patterns consisting of diamonds and triangles.
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Equipment: Cosimo often wears intricate, brightly colored clothing of various styles. He prefers colors ranging from blue to green and any color in-between.
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Skills and Abilities: Cosimo has a very diverse set of interests, which have led to him developing a diverse set of skills. He understands ideas and learns new topics at a genius level, allowing him to become somewhat of a polymath, even at such a young age.
Cosimo's first love, was painting - which allowed him to express to others a rich inner world of imagination and creativity in his own way.
However, he also has a mastery of skills such as metalworking, carpentry, leatherworking, runecrafting, drawing, and sculpting.
He has an inventive mind and uses his talent in drawing to create intricate designs of various inventions, often drafting them as a moment of inspiration reaches him, though rarely does he build these inventions. He has talent in envisioning and designing things, making him a very good architect and engineer as well. He also enjoys dissecting various creatures and studying their anatomy, creating many detailed sketches of them.
Cosimo's biggest weakness seems to be a direct result of his strengths. He is very poor at picking up any skills relating to accurately moving his own body. In general, he seems somewhat unaware of his immediate surroundings at times and clumsy. This has made it rather difficult for him to pick up skills such as dancing, or sword-fighting.
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Biography: Cosimo was born into a highly magical society as it entered its golden age, shortly before its downfall. He was of the noble class and grew up in luxury fit for royalty. He was the apprentice of the most famous artist of his time from a young age, and from him Cosimo learned much.
Too soon, however, the cataclysm befell Cosimo's society as it had all others, washing all away into the mists where he now finds himself.
Allegiances: None
Place of Residence: None
Registered: Aug 2, 2021 14:37:49 GMT -5
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Post by Cosimo on Nov 16, 2021 20:48:03 GMT -5
It had only been a short walk yet already the first sight of civilization could begin to be spotted - a soft orange glow seen faintly in the distance through the dim twilight of a full-mooned night. Just a bit farther and he could finally rest, he thought. Cosimo was eager to return to the comforts of civilization, however limited they may be - a simple warm fire after his struggle in the cold sea would do just fine, even if that was all he could receive. He felt quite cold, and somewhat light-headed, though he figured a warm fire and maybe a meal would solve both those problems.
His clothing, once among the finest and most beautiful garments he could find in his old land, were also in tatters, no doubt contributing to his shivering in the light breeze of that cool night by the sea - short length green trousers with silken white leggings, and a fine white blouse. These clothes seemed rather susceptible to tearing, as the blouse seemed completely shredded along the front, exposing much of Cosimo’s chest, which is what revealed his magical tattoos to Sylvanie previously, and his leggings and trousers faired hardly any better, with one of the trouser’s legs seemingly hanging by a thread and several tears in the leggings.
Much of this damage had been caused by Cosimo’s washing up upon the beach earlier that day. He had to drag himself through the surf while totally exhausted and and been tumbled around by several crashing waves - it was an exhausting experience and by the time he dragged himself onto the shore his clothes were shredded by a combination of the crashing waves, and broken shells and jagged rocks.
And then, a few steps later, the ground seemed to suddenly come up to meet Cosimo, his light-headedness seemingly growing worse as his vision narrowed. He scantly felt himself hit the ground as his consciousness ebbed considerably, yet he still maintained a dim awareness and inner calmness, enough to wonder what was happening. That was when he felt a faint warmness, and tingling pain right near where his trousers were torn.
Rolling over in his somewhat dazed state, his fingers reached towards his lower right thigh, fingers brushing ever so lightly with a rather deep gash previously overlooked as it was hidden under Cosimo’s torn trousers. It seems it had closed on its own previously after a rather substantial bleed that soaked the white stockings underneath Cosimo’s trousers before closing itself. Cosimo hadn’t noticed any pain from the wound himself until it reopened now and began bleeding again. It oozed blood now, as Cosimo found out much to his horror as he brought his hand up to his face and found crimson red upon his finger tips.
His head still swimming, he laid down looking up towards the starry sky which now appeared to him as a series of thin white lines spinning through his vision as each star’s light formed a circular after-image, as if he was looking towards the night sky and spinning around his whole body. In fact, he felt as if his whole body was spinning just as much as his vision despite his cureent lying position, leaving him wholly unable to move at that moment.
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Nov 18, 2021 21:55:37 GMT -5
Upon hearing a prominent thud on the ground behind her, Sylvanie quickly stopped, turning rapidly on her bare heel to see Cosimo had fallen down to hug the ground. With a worried pout on her face, she went back to him and stooped down to a crouch, balancing upon the balls of her feet with her dress's skirt of large leaves draping down to almost touch the sand. "Mr. Cosimo?" She asks, leaning down to look into his eyes. "What happened, are you okay?"
She looked him over, trying to find what may have caused him to fall. Did he get hurt again? Maybe an old wound had opened back up? Maybe he was just really really tired? Truly, with her low medical knowledge she didn't really know what it could be, but she did know that her newest friend seemed hurt and not entirely here at the moment, which was probably bad. Hopefully he could at least try to tell her.
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Cosimo
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 23
Appearance: Cosimo is a young man, standing at about 5'5". He has a slim, graceful build, with only the slightest hint of muscle tone, akin to a dancer. He has dark blue, almost black hair, the tips of which seem to lighten to a brighter azure color, hinting at some sort of unnatural alteration, most likely magical in nature. His eyes are a striking cerulean blue. His skin is pale and unblemished.
His hands are that of a painter, with slim delicate fingers attuned to fine detailing and callus-free soft palms.
If one were to see him unclothed they would find peculiar light-blue runes tattooed across his chest, as well as his left leg, in patterns consisting of diamonds and triangles.
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Equipment: Cosimo often wears intricate, brightly colored clothing of various styles. He prefers colors ranging from blue to green and any color in-between.
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Skills and Abilities: Cosimo has a very diverse set of interests, which have led to him developing a diverse set of skills. He understands ideas and learns new topics at a genius level, allowing him to become somewhat of a polymath, even at such a young age.
Cosimo's first love, was painting - which allowed him to express to others a rich inner world of imagination and creativity in his own way.
However, he also has a mastery of skills such as metalworking, carpentry, leatherworking, runecrafting, drawing, and sculpting.
He has an inventive mind and uses his talent in drawing to create intricate designs of various inventions, often drafting them as a moment of inspiration reaches him, though rarely does he build these inventions. He has talent in envisioning and designing things, making him a very good architect and engineer as well. He also enjoys dissecting various creatures and studying their anatomy, creating many detailed sketches of them.
Cosimo's biggest weakness seems to be a direct result of his strengths. He is very poor at picking up any skills relating to accurately moving his own body. In general, he seems somewhat unaware of his immediate surroundings at times and clumsy. This has made it rather difficult for him to pick up skills such as dancing, or sword-fighting.
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Biography: Cosimo was born into a highly magical society as it entered its golden age, shortly before its downfall. He was of the noble class and grew up in luxury fit for royalty. He was the apprentice of the most famous artist of his time from a young age, and from him Cosimo learned much.
Too soon, however, the cataclysm befell Cosimo's society as it had all others, washing all away into the mists where he now finds himself.
Allegiances: None
Place of Residence: None
Registered: Aug 2, 2021 14:37:49 GMT -5
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Post by Cosimo on Nov 20, 2021 18:45:23 GMT -5
Cosimo could still hear fine enough, though Sylvanie's words seemed a bit distant to him. He pressed at the wound on his leg with one of his hands, gripping it desperately to stem the flow of blood. It seemed to work somewhat well. Cosimo pointed towards his leg where the wound was, "I-I think it reopened," he said in a slightly unsteady voice between shallow breaths, "I-Is it bad?"
Cosimo's voice seemed to carry genuine worry, and in truth he was quite scared. He did not like uncertainty at all, and his compromised state didn't let him accurately identify exactly what the state of the wound was currently. Of course, Cosimo's mind had immediately jumped to the worst case scenarios and these would dominate his psyche immediately. In truth, however, it seemed the wound's slow oozing of blood had begun to slow once again, which was definitely a good sign. In fact, he might even be able to walk the rest of the way to Port Argentium with a bit of help.
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Nov 21, 2021 14:19:38 GMT -5
Sylvanie looked down at the wound, absolute horror filling her face. While the wound wasn't bad, all things considered, and the flow of blood was slowing, the sight of the gash and the blood was still awful to the very squeamish faeschild. She looked up at Cosimo, attempting a happy smile, though her eyes would give away immediately what she thought of the situation. "You'll be fine!" She says shakily. "Um...here, I have an idea!"
Sylvanie scooted somewhat closer to the wound and knelt down onto her knees, positioning her hands over it while she closed here eyes. Then, speaking in the language of the fae, she began to recite something. "Nature's bounty, Forest's wealth, help this creature find good health." Her hands would glow with a slight amber hue, before...nothing much seemed to happen. The wound that had already been closing may seem to close slightly faster, but in the end her magic did little to help, still exhausted from helping with the lumber trees earlier that day. Sylvanie saw this, still worried, but put on her best attempt at a brave face. "Here, let me help you up!" She said, going to try and help lift Cosimo by his shoulder. "Let's get you to my tree so you can rest somewhere a bit more comfortable than sand!"
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Cosimo
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 23
Appearance: Cosimo is a young man, standing at about 5'5". He has a slim, graceful build, with only the slightest hint of muscle tone, akin to a dancer. He has dark blue, almost black hair, the tips of which seem to lighten to a brighter azure color, hinting at some sort of unnatural alteration, most likely magical in nature. His eyes are a striking cerulean blue. His skin is pale and unblemished.
His hands are that of a painter, with slim delicate fingers attuned to fine detailing and callus-free soft palms.
If one were to see him unclothed they would find peculiar light-blue runes tattooed across his chest, as well as his left leg, in patterns consisting of diamonds and triangles.
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Equipment: Cosimo often wears intricate, brightly colored clothing of various styles. He prefers colors ranging from blue to green and any color in-between.
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Skills and Abilities: Cosimo has a very diverse set of interests, which have led to him developing a diverse set of skills. He understands ideas and learns new topics at a genius level, allowing him to become somewhat of a polymath, even at such a young age.
Cosimo's first love, was painting - which allowed him to express to others a rich inner world of imagination and creativity in his own way.
However, he also has a mastery of skills such as metalworking, carpentry, leatherworking, runecrafting, drawing, and sculpting.
He has an inventive mind and uses his talent in drawing to create intricate designs of various inventions, often drafting them as a moment of inspiration reaches him, though rarely does he build these inventions. He has talent in envisioning and designing things, making him a very good architect and engineer as well. He also enjoys dissecting various creatures and studying their anatomy, creating many detailed sketches of them.
Cosimo's biggest weakness seems to be a direct result of his strengths. He is very poor at picking up any skills relating to accurately moving his own body. In general, he seems somewhat unaware of his immediate surroundings at times and clumsy. This has made it rather difficult for him to pick up skills such as dancing, or sword-fighting.
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Biography: Cosimo was born into a highly magical society as it entered its golden age, shortly before its downfall. He was of the noble class and grew up in luxury fit for royalty. He was the apprentice of the most famous artist of his time from a young age, and from him Cosimo learned much.
Too soon, however, the cataclysm befell Cosimo's society as it had all others, washing all away into the mists where he now finds himself.
Allegiances: None
Place of Residence: None
Registered: Aug 2, 2021 14:37:49 GMT -5
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Post by Cosimo on Nov 22, 2021 21:14:33 GMT -5
Cosimo seemed a bit reassured by Sylvanie's words, as he was visibly slightly more calm as his eyes weren't so wide open in panic but returned to their normal expression slightly. He continued holding his wound though, if he let go now the wound might start bleeding all over again. That was the case, at least, until after Sylvanie recited her incantation.
During the short healing, Cosimo lifted his head, trying to get a better look at what Sylvanie was doing. He didn't really understand the words, but he figured she must be helping him in some way as he could feel a bit of the pain in his leg dissipate now.
When she offered to help him up, he nodded, giving his best effort to get up as well as she helped him up. Once on his feet, he leaned on Sylvanie favoring his uninjured leg as he felt the now re-aggravated wound shot small lances of pain into him. It would have probably been much more painful if not for Sylvanie's fae-magic. Thankfully, Cosimo was only one inch taller than Sylvanie, and had a rather thin build, so it wouldn't be too hard to help him back to the tree.
"Thank you for helping me so much, I wouldn't have made it without you," he said sincerely. He seemed very exhausted with a slightly pale face, yet still he managed to give a thankful smile in appreciation.
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Nov 25, 2021 16:19:40 GMT -5
Sylvanie smiles back at Cosimo, her normal jovial grin replaced by a more genuine, warm smile. “It’s no problem.” She says to him, using her one arm to hold Cosimo to her shoulder. “I’m sure you would’ve done the same!”
Her brief moment of calm sincerity soon passes, her normal, somewhat childish demeanor retaking its place. “Come on, it’s right this way!” She says, starting off towards the city, where the top of a decent sized tree could just be seen within Port Argentium’s housing district hovering barely above a few of the rooftops. “It isn’t much further now!”
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Yaz-Ra
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Age: 42
Appearance: A woman with the impressive height of 6'10 and a muscular physique. A true Orc of her tribe who has the multitudes of scars and tribal tattoos to prove her worth. Born with unnaturally grey skin, white hair, and red eyes she was once considered an ill omen amongst her people. Now her appearance sparks joy and prosperity. At least to those who know of the ways. To others her appearance is intimidating, two tusks, one broken and chipped protruding from her ashen lips. One red eye piercing, black pupil small. The other a milky white from blindness caused by a cut across her eye, a nasty scar in its place to tell of the deep wound.
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Equipment: Ceremonial dagger, two huge hand axes, tattoo ink set, few days worth of rations.
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Skills and Abilities: Yaz-Ra only knows one magical spell, the rest of her skills is a testament to her training since she was young. She's strong, but not agile. Think of her more as a boar charging her opponents than out maneuvering them. She knows how to work a net, daggers, spears, axes, etc. Though she prides herself on her ability to make anything a weapon.
Her rage and Orc heritage: Big Orc Strong, Orc have big Constitution, etc. Though one skill that has always almost appeared as magic would be when Yaz-Ra gives into her rage. Her strength seems to increase, but this is only because she lets all inhabitations leave her in pursuit of one thing. To win. To destroy. Ripping apart wood with her bare hands is no trouble.
The Blood Bond: An ancient magic passed down through the clans before. Through the sharing of blood between two individuals they can create a Blood Bond. This bond will connect the two so closely that they will feel a second heartbeat in their chests. Their blood brother or sister’s pain is their pain, their emotions a constant simmer in the back of their minds. Luckily, the death of one is not the death of another, but that does not stop it from being undeniably painful to experience the loss of someone so close.
Hunting: Her own special brand of skilled hunting. She may not fire bows or set too many traps, but she will wrestle a REAL boar to the ground. She even knows how to properly tend to the game she catches.
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Biography: Champion of Ta'kra Socresh, widow of Vakash and Zakii, mother of four, and blood sister to Mresh'Tra. Yaz-Ra is a warrior who has proved her metal countless times throughout her dangerous life. Her homeland housed dangerous beasts and even more dangerous sister tribes that once viewed each other as enemies. She is no stranger to war, but the past 5 years of peace in her homeland has made her softer than she likes to think. So much so, that when strange outsiders came upon their lands uninvited she agreed with her people's shamans that peace with them was the best decision. In order to establish themselves as likely allies, she volunteered herself as this "diplomat" that they called for. Her blood brother, Mresh'Tra agreed to accompany her upon their vessel to their "holy land". Where they would "show them a better life". She had already begun to regret her decision of peace the more they talked, but she kept her head clear and went aboard their boat. Half a month into their journey, her and her blood brother were drugged during their dinner and tied down in the brig as prisoners. The outsiders had never intended peace and were bringing the pair as examples and as "hostages". Proving very clearly they did not understand her people's ways and even further proving their cowardice and disgrace. It was no surprise to her that when she cursed them and asked her Gods to punish the spineless lot that a vicious storm battled their boat, threatening to sink the vessel. But every prayer and ask of the Gods comes with a dark price. One she believes she pays when she washes upon the Isles.
Registered: Dec 1, 2021 18:26:18 GMT -5
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Post by Yaz-Ra on Dec 3, 2021 1:43:24 GMT -5
A large woman pulls her weary body forward as a quiet hiss escapes between her lips; her tusks flaring in her grimace. Her hand grips tightly onto her left side where a large, dark purple bruise marks her grey skin. Water that has been quickly drying drips from her wild braids and down her face. The saltiness of the ocean teases her as she wipes the stray droplets from her mouth. She had survived. Her Gods had not taken her life. Instead, they left a challenge for her to conquer. Only one question plagued her mind now, why?
Yaz-Ra's tireless trudge across the beach and land finally slows as she lets herself catch her breath. Throwing her head back, she feels her injuries. Her mind swirls as she takes the necessary slow, deep breaths to assess herself. She feels the shallow cuts across her body caused by the splintering of wood from the sinking ship. Their sting from the exposure to salt water makes them irritations across the skin. The smaller bruises peppering across her muscular body from hitting the deck as the waves had crashed on top of her. Flashes of the painful memory of a flying crate having hit her side cause her to suck in another deep breath. Yaz-Ra holds the breath, waiting for more pain. Then releases the air in relief as she mumbles to herself in orcish, "The Gods were merciful...Nothing broken."
While her side was heavily bruised, she felt nothing from her ribs that suggested a fracture. It was a gift. One she'd happily accept for the tenderness and weakness she felt from the thrashing of the sea. And yet she had refused to let herself rest and had immediately started her journey along these uncharted lands the moment she awoke. A deep, wheezing laugh bubbles from her as a thought crosses her mind, "Perhaps Mresh'Tra was right... Perhaps I do have a streak of foolishness."
A deep pain digs its way into her chest, one that she almost mistakes for the grief of the lost bond between her and her now former blood brother. But that emotional pain is quickly accompanied by the very real stabbing pain that has her coughing violently. Blood spills from behind her gritted teeth, dying her lips, tusks, and chin in thin strips of red. A dissatisfied grunt rumbles in Yaz-Ra's throat as she uses the back of her free hand to haphazardly smudge the blood off her lips and chin. "A place to rest soon...A tribe to convince to house me is needed."
A click of her tongue and glare to the sky gives her pause as she considers her future actions before continuing to speak to herself, "The champion of Ta'kra Socresh owing favors...Needing help. Oh, how my brethren would taunt me."
With that thought on her mind, Yaz-Ra continues forward, eyes finally returning in front of her as she hardly considers to look where she is going. Anything smaller than her practically invisible until made known.
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Shyv'Ahna
Committed
Roleplay posts: 50
Appearance: Shyv'ahna, or Ahna for short, is an Av' nomad woman, standing at 180cm (6ft) tall. Though tall for a woman, she is in fact the average for most Av' women. She has light lavender skin, intersected by feint tattoos that glow while using magic, her eyes are golden, and her hair a very dark purple. Though mostly humanoid, she possesses a set of bowed legs, not unlike other Av’, and a pair of horns that curl around her ears.
She adorns herself with jewellery, specifically gold caps to her horns, silver and golden rings, two on the right side of her eyebrow, four in her right ear, and one through her septum.
Her body type is strong and toned, forged through years of patient training, fighting, and more travel than most would do in a single life time. It is covered, much like her face, in tattoos, jewelry and the occasional scar, from top to bottom, though most would never know considering her rather conservative wardrobe.
Equipment: Ahna uses medium armour. Leather, light scaled metal, and chainmail make up the most of her regular outfit, but all under a dark blue poncho, adorned with golden stitching and traditional Av'rae patterns that dance across its light blue trim.
Her travelling armour consists of a chain vest and a scaled skirt that reaches her knees around the back and sides, leaving the front open, starting at her belt and fanning out. Over the chain vest, she usually wears a leather corset to keep it in place.
In a trunk inside her vardo, however, sits a much more elegant set of armour, one she hadn’t worn in quite some time, her Elder Guard armour. Forged from the finest metals in dwarven-supervised forges, her Elder Guard armour has both the toughness valued by dwarves, but the mobility favoured by the Av’rae. It’s an elegant suit, tailored and forged to fit Ahna’s form, with its cuirass, graves, skirt, bracers, and boot plating made from the finest mithril, a light but extremely sturdy metal. The trim and under suit are made of a soft, breathable cotton, as is the cape that covers one shoulder.
The helmet of her Elder Guard Armour is ornate, to say the very least. It’s a closed design from back to front, but with openings to slide up around her horns, and a T-shaped visor for her stunning golden eyes to peer out of. The front of the opening is often covered by a thin chain mail for protection, as is her neck guard.
The armour’s colour matches her standard pallet, with the mithril painted mostly in a purple, with its trim painted a fine, reflective gold. The cotton of her armour, such as her undersuit and cape, are a fine dark purple with golden stitching that matches her regular shawl.
Her weapons are just as expertly forged, her primary weapon being a two handed pole weapon most would consider a fauchard, a long pole with an ornate, curved blade attached to the top, the blade on one side of the weapon’s top while a hook sat on the other, giving her the option to slash, stab, and pull as necessary. Though most Av’rae prefer to fight with two handed weapons, Shyv’Ahna also carries an ornate dagger with a similarly curved blade, just in case.
Finally, she is also an adept with a crossbow, though she prefers to fight with her melee prowess.
For transport, Shyv’Ahna has a vardo, a caravan of sorts, that she uses to transport her things as well as live inside with comfort. Being of the nomadic sort, Shyv’Ahna has no desire to a standard home, one that doesn’t move, so a Vardo, pulled by her beast of burden Bahsel, does the trick perfectly.
Bahsel, her beast of burden, is a creature rarely seen without an Av’ companion. Nobody can understand why or how, but the Av’rae are one of the few people to find these creatures’ native land and tame them for both work and protection. Bahsel could be described as a large, muscular porcupine, with thigh legs, built perfectly for work, a thick hide to protect from predators, a pair of large front teeth, perfect for chewing on its usual diet of roots and plants, and finally a back covered in quills that not only stop melee attackers, but can also be shot outwards like a series of javelins, that grow back quicker than most would expect.
Together, Ahna and Bahsel travel the lands, always ready for the next adventure.
Skills and Abilities: Ahna has spent years training and being trained in combat, and she has become an expert fighter with two handed pole weapons, daggers, and hand to hand combat, making her a fierce enemy to face, or one hell of a good sparring partner if you don’t mind a few bruises. She also carries a crossbow, but she mostly uses it for hunting. She’s a great shot, but her preference is found in melee.
Before the end times and the escape from the destroyed lands, Ahna was a strong, and sometimes scary mage. The Av’rae are some of the more magically-tuned folk in the old world, and Ahna was no exception, but after travelling away she can feel her powers weaken, as if stopped by something. Normally she could conjured lightning and electricity in the palm of her hand, powering her attacks while also zapping her enemies as needed, and on the rare occasion, under a cloudy sky and with great inner rage, she could even conjure storms, but no longer. Now, she can barely use her magic at all. Perhaps she just needs to find new ways to channel it…
Being a nomad, Ahna is an expert traveller and guide, able to traverse most terrain and survive in some of the more harsh environments, making her an exceptional pathfinder, if asked nicely and presented with enough gold.
Allegiances: The Av'rae people.
Registered: Mar 23, 2021 0:17:47 GMT -5
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Post by Shyv'Ahna on Dec 3, 2021 3:50:38 GMT -5
The deliveries to the outer parts of the settlement were often Ahna’s favourites. She didn’t have to go too far into the mostly human settlement, for starters, and more often than not she could get the job done much quicker without having to navigate through the quickly forming streets of Port Argentum, and it was especially easier for Bahsel, her large, porcupine-like beast of burden, who wasn’t overly fond of the tightening spaces. Couple onto that the logs he would sometimes have to pull, it had started making for an uncomfortable experience.
Thankfully that day wasn’t logs, but instead just a dining table and two chairs that had been commissioned of her. While she was quite the expert woodcrafter, the small lumberjack’s cottage didn’t have any need for anything fancy, and Ahna was happy to oblige for a nice little fee. In fact, she had been glad to pick up such a basic piece after spending so much time on her more complicated pieces, and it was to be delivered along a route she quite enjoyed, as it let her taken in the sea air on her way home, riding atop her beast as he cooled his large, round feet with each step through the surf.
Ahna, however, was quick to learn that the walk home wouldn’t quite be as pleasantly uneventful as she had hoped. In the distance, crawling up the beach, she spotted something, or more accurately someone. A big someone. She hefted her wood splitting axe from its sheath on Bahsel’s saddle as the beast plodded along, more interested in the waves breaking against his legs than the creature ahead.
As Ahna got closer, the figure got clearer. She remained wary at first, not recognising such a starkly white creature as it pulled itself up to full height, and its build, while impressive, put her on edge. Most people who washed up were pleasant enough, if they lived, but she knew better to assume it would happen every time. Then she heard it, she couldn’t make it out at first, but it sounded familiar enough from afar that it quickly became recognisable.
Orcish.
Her grip on the axe loosened a little as she shouldered it. Unlike humans, Orcs had always been allies of her kind, the Av’rae nomads. She had spent many a night in their camps and villages, sampling local cuisine and generally rabble rousing with their fighters. She even had her first concussion, joining in on one of their friendly fights, which she ended up winning of course. As the orc continued to speak, the more Ahna understood, which suited her perfectly.
“A streak of foolishness often comes with one equal of luck,” Ahna called out before slipping off the beast’s back and onto the sand. She spoke in fluent orcish, and in an accent not too unlike that of the one who had washed up. Perhaps she had learned it in a similar province? She would need to find out. “And to wash up here? You will have plenty of both.”
The Av’ stood before the orc, axe resting on bare shoulders. Usually, the nomad wore her traditional shawl and poncho, choosing to cover herself up, but after a day of cutting and working wood, she had shed most of her usual garb, and instead chose to go with only a pair of deep purple work-pants, her boots, belt, and a wrap that bound her chest. This left her muscular, toned physique uncovered, one she was quite proud of. She even left her long, thin tail unbound behind her, which she had left resting on the sand, save for the occasional flick.
She smiled warmly as her golden eyes locked with the orc’s and she quickly noted that she would likely be blind in one. If she needed to fight, which wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility with orcs, she could use that to her advantage. “There are no tribes here,” she then spoke, shifting the axe on her shoulder. “Just settlers. Mostly human, as far as I know I am the only one of my kind, and now you yours.” She nodded at the orc, letting the golden trinkets that decorated her horn jingle a little.
Ahna finally hefted the axe from her shoulder and planted the head in the sand. “You had better rest before you continue in-land. You seem tough, but you look like you have fought five Kurgh Rock Mountain moose and lost..” She reached over to Bahsel’s saddle and plucked a water skin from an attached satchel, then tossed it towards the orc.
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Yaz-Ra
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Age: 42
Appearance: A woman with the impressive height of 6'10 and a muscular physique. A true Orc of her tribe who has the multitudes of scars and tribal tattoos to prove her worth. Born with unnaturally grey skin, white hair, and red eyes she was once considered an ill omen amongst her people. Now her appearance sparks joy and prosperity. At least to those who know of the ways. To others her appearance is intimidating, two tusks, one broken and chipped protruding from her ashen lips. One red eye piercing, black pupil small. The other a milky white from blindness caused by a cut across her eye, a nasty scar in its place to tell of the deep wound.
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Equipment: Ceremonial dagger, two huge hand axes, tattoo ink set, few days worth of rations.
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Skills and Abilities: Yaz-Ra only knows one magical spell, the rest of her skills is a testament to her training since she was young. She's strong, but not agile. Think of her more as a boar charging her opponents than out maneuvering them. She knows how to work a net, daggers, spears, axes, etc. Though she prides herself on her ability to make anything a weapon.
Her rage and Orc heritage: Big Orc Strong, Orc have big Constitution, etc. Though one skill that has always almost appeared as magic would be when Yaz-Ra gives into her rage. Her strength seems to increase, but this is only because she lets all inhabitations leave her in pursuit of one thing. To win. To destroy. Ripping apart wood with her bare hands is no trouble.
The Blood Bond: An ancient magic passed down through the clans before. Through the sharing of blood between two individuals they can create a Blood Bond. This bond will connect the two so closely that they will feel a second heartbeat in their chests. Their blood brother or sister’s pain is their pain, their emotions a constant simmer in the back of their minds. Luckily, the death of one is not the death of another, but that does not stop it from being undeniably painful to experience the loss of someone so close.
Hunting: Her own special brand of skilled hunting. She may not fire bows or set too many traps, but she will wrestle a REAL boar to the ground. She even knows how to properly tend to the game she catches.
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Biography: Champion of Ta'kra Socresh, widow of Vakash and Zakii, mother of four, and blood sister to Mresh'Tra. Yaz-Ra is a warrior who has proved her metal countless times throughout her dangerous life. Her homeland housed dangerous beasts and even more dangerous sister tribes that once viewed each other as enemies. She is no stranger to war, but the past 5 years of peace in her homeland has made her softer than she likes to think. So much so, that when strange outsiders came upon their lands uninvited she agreed with her people's shamans that peace with them was the best decision. In order to establish themselves as likely allies, she volunteered herself as this "diplomat" that they called for. Her blood brother, Mresh'Tra agreed to accompany her upon their vessel to their "holy land". Where they would "show them a better life". She had already begun to regret her decision of peace the more they talked, but she kept her head clear and went aboard their boat. Half a month into their journey, her and her blood brother were drugged during their dinner and tied down in the brig as prisoners. The outsiders had never intended peace and were bringing the pair as examples and as "hostages". Proving very clearly they did not understand her people's ways and even further proving their cowardice and disgrace. It was no surprise to her that when she cursed them and asked her Gods to punish the spineless lot that a vicious storm battled their boat, threatening to sink the vessel. But every prayer and ask of the Gods comes with a dark price. One she believes she pays when she washes upon the Isles.
Registered: Dec 1, 2021 18:26:18 GMT -5
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Post by Yaz-Ra on Dec 3, 2021 15:36:32 GMT -5
At the sound of a feminine voice, Yaz-Ra stopped in her tracks. Her one good eye flicked to the stranger's face in a mix of cautious study and curiosity. The horned one made it clear that she had heard Yaz-Ra speak long enough to answer all her questions and it amused her that she hadn't even heard the woman approach. A boon she comes with good tidings then.
The orcish that came from the stranger surprised her further. The fact that even her accent found similarities with her own brought about a certain level of trust that would normally never be given to strangers. Especially strangers who had snuck up on an injured warrior.
Reflexively, her hand covering her bruising snapped up to catch the water skin that had been thrown to her. But she did not drink from it. Not yet. Instead, she straightened her spine and let her head slowly roll to the side, showing a clear demonstration of assessing and observing the Av'rae. With her movement, her own deep green piercings and decorations glinted from the light cast upon them. The soft chiming of the metal clicking along her throat brings attention to the interweaving of the jewelry in her own dark chest wrappings. The furs decorating her pants sagged with the heavy weight of water, but from orcish culture it was easy to assume this was a beast the orc had slain in the past and skinned.
Seeing something she must have liked, a look of acceptance passes over Yaz-Ra's face. A rumbling chuckle bubbling from her chest as she stalks closer to the woman before her. Her movements are brash, but one filled with ease. A tell-tale sign of an orc's missing aggression. Her free hand reaches out, seeking to grab the Av's forearm in display of an arm lock of appreciation, " Then it appears you are my streak of luck."
A big, twisted orc smile splays across her face, displaying the lingering blood in her teeth. And yet it is a smile that the horned one would know as genuine. "If only it were the tale of losing to the likes of moose...I am Yaz-Ra, champion of Ta'kra Socresh, given the title of Heart-Taker for my deeds in battle. And you are an ally of my people. One my generation has only heard tales of throughout our time of our wars. One that I thank the Gods for allowing me to see once in my lifetime. You know of this land and you know of the...settlements. I see this as a sign after what I have experienced upon the waves."
The orc took a slow intake of breath, swallowing down the pride that threatened to have her make demands instead of requests. "I ask that you help me long enough to gain my own bearings in this new land. Will you grant me this...?"
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