Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
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Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
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Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Feb 18, 2022 22:12:49 GMT -5
Coatl side-smirked, made a soundless hmph with his nostrils, and reciprocated by putting his hand on top of hers for just a second, the slightest finger rub just before prying her off of him.
"Ain't no world can handle all of you."
Oddly, Cuate didn't make any smart aleck psionic intrusions. She was genuinely warmed by their little display of affection. Maybe, finally, Coatl could let go of his past, and Katiana of a past that was never hers to begin with.
With her question about rations, Katiana would feel the aura of a lip-tightening smirk coming from Cuate's spirit.
"Well, this is gonna be terribly ironic. Cuate this morning had a flashback from her past, one of the cultural practices of her tribe."
Yep. In dire straits there was one last food source you could usually count on, if you had the stomach for it. If nothing else it'll help us keep the furry bottomless pit alive.
She hovered over to an unassuming log which they had likely passed when they were searching for a camp spot.
"She's not gonna like it, especially with what she's just been through. Besides, we've got plenty of tree sap to live off of."
You can't live off of tree sap. You fleshy folks need protein. Especially you, muscles.
Coatl rolled his eyes slightly and left his pot of boiling sap to grab his ax. He had pretty much resolved himself, but he truly, truly believed Katiana was not going to like this. He strode over to the log. Cuate pointed out the log's weak spot. Coatl raised his ax above his head and brought down with such force as to split the entire massive log in one go. There was a loud thwack which reverberated through the treeline. The two halves rolled apart, releasing an earthy, but not entirely unpleasant scent.
Out spilled hundreds and hundreds of fat, golden yellow termites.
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
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Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Feb 20, 2022 3:11:59 GMT -5
Katiana felt a tremble run up her spine, more powerful than any fear she had while in the wasp nest. Oh, she knew something like this was going to come up eventually. It's why she went out so early to try and hunt! The hunter grit her teeth in horror but did her best to turn it into a smile. She couldn't let Coatl see her squirm!
"... mmm. Bugs. My favorite! Really. They're like the little critters of the ocean just... above ground!" she sing-songed, mimicking their crawling with her fingers across her lap. "And so fresh! So how are we cooking them? In the pan? With some of the sap, perhaps? Maybe the sweetness will combat some of the... um... other tastes we're going to encounter while eating those lovely things."
The woman stared at their wriggling little feet for several long seconds, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
"You know, I might be able to make another run, too! I think a nice, juicy bird would be worth more, mm?"
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Feb 21, 2022 1:23:03 GMT -5
Coatl looked at the wriggling mass, then at Cuate, then at Katiana, then at little Cabot, then at the wriggling mass again.
"You know what? You do that."
What he didn't tell Katiana is that, for the sake of their rations, he still planned on preparing the termites.
By the time Katiana returned with something a little more feathery, Cabot would be napping, his belly full of wriggly sustenance. Meanwhile, Coatl and Cuate had actually figured out how to combine the sap and the termites into something like peanut brittle (which he himself didn't mind). A large number of termites had also been roasted; these would be saved for Cabot. Fortunately for Katiana, the adventurous duo had the sense to candy some pure sap for her as thanks for bringing in some actual food. And finally, some of the resin had been turned into a medicinal paste for future cuts and scrapes.
All in all it had been a very productive morning. And this section of forest would surely receive a few special marks on the maps for back home.
Hmm, Slime Sap Keep. No. Slimy sappy land. No. Slug Spruce Citadel. No that's dumb. These aren't even spruces. Wait, are they? ... A slimy sticky forest. Footnote, beware the wasps. Eh, I'll keep working on it.
But alas, eventually they would have to move on if they were to continue their quest of the legendary flute.
*outro music* Tune in next week.
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
____________________________________________________
Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Jul 22, 2022 21:41:35 GMT -5
Katiana indeed came back, and though what she brought back was indeed feathery, it didn’t appear to have wings. Beneath all the feathers was something with two very small legs and an incredibly long neck, however. She held it up triumphantly. “This thing is quite plump and I am very proud. I found it at the entrance of a burrow! There were several more and they were rolling into it, tucking their necks in like a leather ball. Isn’t that strange?”
Though her injuries still tingled in pain, her spirits were undoubtedly lifted. She did have a munch of the candied sap, and soon found herself sneaking bits more before Coatl gave her a wise remark. Though the trials were stubborn, they still had a long journey ahead of them.
The next two weeks were, for the most part, uneventful. There were discoveries to be had, surely, such as the discovery of a plant that Coatl called a banana, though he never knew a plant that grew a singular banana before. What's more, it was surrounded by barbed leaves that snapped shut should one reach for the fruit in the middle! It smelled of death, so they stayed away from it… for now. Cabot proved himself a ravenous eater, but luckily the forest was filled to the brim with insects and larvae to sate his hunger.
Most nights were filled with the songs of the forest. Sometimes Katiana wondered if Cuate was singing with it. It made the world joyful and eased her to sleep.
And then, one night, she woke up to dead silence.
With panic rising in her chest, the huntress sat up, peering out of the winding branches of the Dragon’s Blood tree they settled in. They were less than a day away from where she’d found the ruins, and so much of the forest changed; there were fewer birds now, and occasionally they found deer and swine sniffing at their tent before Cabot scared them away. Tonight, there was no such ruckus. Wondering where the small creature was, she looked around, only to see that the flap of the tent was pushed aside. She shook Coatl, trying to rouse him.
“Wake up. Wake up! Something’s wrong!” she rasped, grabbing her bow and quiver before shooting out of the tent.
There, between two branches at the edge of the tree nest they’d made, was Cuate hissing away at something, precariously swiping between the branches. Katiana rushed over, fussing. “Stop that! You’re going to fall, silly thing.” She reached out to grab it by the scruff.
Alas.
It was so fast, all Katiana saw was a dark blur, and before she knew it, both she and Cuate were swept down from the tree and into the dark.
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Aug 1, 2022 21:25:38 GMT -5
Perhaps the one weakness that Coatl had developed having partnered with Cuate was that he was a deep sleeper. After all, he had grown up surrounded by clan members who looked out for each other. And Cuate was a clan member who technically didn't need sleep, making her an excellent lookout.
But tonight something had gone wrong. Maybe it was something in the air. Maybe spirits did experience an ethereal fatigue that went beyond mana supply. But for whatever reason, Cuate had drifted away from the dragonblood tree, and had slipped into a day dream.
Well, it was nighttime, but she wasn't sleeping, so day dream was the more accurate term. She was lost in her thoughts, wondering, not for the first time, how she came to be, and if it had anything to do with being here in this world. Sometimes, she closed her metaphorical eyes and thought she saw thoughts that were hers but not hers, shapes and colors, like the black drifting clouds inside tightly shut eyelids.
She's alive. I know she is. But should I try to find her? Is it fate? Or should I focus on my own story instead? I'm not her. I'm me. But why is this even happening?
She looked up at the alien stars and wondered if they were real stars or providential eyes mocking her.
She sighed. This is no fun. I think I'll just go back to being a well of positivity. I better go back and check on Cab-
She heard Katiana struggling with Cabot.
Where are all the birds?
Her sprite form zoomed back towards their camp like a golden meteor, but it was too late. She'd arrive just in time to maybe, just maybe, shine a flash of ghost light on their assailant.
"Blast!" Coatl barked. He had arisen just in time to miss Katiana's hand by an inch.
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
____________________________________________________
Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Oct 7, 2022 18:30:18 GMT -5
One
Two
Three
Definitely more than three, which was the magic number of branches you can hit on the way down before you stopped giving a shit about counting. Katiana spat and cursed all the way down, until she stopped falling and started rolling. Twigs and brush scraped her skin while rocks and roots slammed against her bones. The world danced around her while she scrabbled for purchase with one hand, the other holding Cabot close. Eventually, they splashed into a creek at the bottom of the hill and smacked into the soft mud of the bank. Katiana tried to gasp, but the breath was knocked out of her. Cabot squirmed in her grasp so he could scrabble up the shore and curl up beneath a broad, drooping leaf.
Before she could recover, the huntress heard the hollow roar of the beast up the hill. She rocked in place, braced herself, and grunted and spit through her teeth as she got to her feet. She looked in her quiver.
Shit.
All but a few arrows had been lost or broken in the fall. How many did she have left? How-
______
In the distance, Katiana screamed.
Usually, Cuate had her tricks to be able to reach out, to travel, but something was wrong. Just like when they were in the mist, the world around them felt dead and detached. The air felt... thick and stygian, like moving through flood water. There was magic at work here, but not something magelike or whimsical. It was like a curse, feral and hungry and pervasive. A spider's web... or cave slime with a hungry worm moving through it. It also smelled, and oh gods, was it awful. Enough to put tears in Coatl's eyes and shrivel his nose without his permission.
There was a clear path that Katiana cleared in her fall, and also a clear set of footprints. It was strange, though. They were clearly hooves... with claws? Three pronged. They had sunk so, so deeply into the dirt and were wider than Coatl's hands with all the fingers spread out. The surrounding trees has slashed grooves and signs of rut on the sides, but there were no deer so tall that they'd seen on their travels. These were easily ten feet up, perhaps more.
Further down the way, where Katiana landed, there was no huntress, and there was no Cabot. But there was blood. It pooled in the stream and up the bank, running into the woods.
Faintly, in the woods, they would hear it, Coatl's name.
"... run... !"
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
-------
Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Oct 22, 2022 11:38:54 GMT -5
Coatl's mind churned with thoughts, even as his boots fought for purchase among the trees and bark. His knuckles shivered with lust for battle. If his military pitchfork hadn't been made of metal, he'd have snapped it in his grip. As he climbed down, the dragon blood tree left splinters and sticky sap on his free hand. Good, maybe it'll improve my grip as I stab the son of a bitch. That's how mad he was.
Cuate could sense it. She wanted to be the voice of reason. She wanted to tell her partner and chosen one to pause for a moment, that they needed a plan. But then she felt it, the claustrophobia of anti-magical forces, choking her.
It's suppressing my powers. So that smell ain't a forest fire. Good to know.
He had already made up his mind. Any information presented to him would be viewed in the context of rescue, combat, and if need be, vengeance.
And it was just as well, because Cuate's powers were being suppressed.
And that made her mad too.
Light a torch when you get to the bottom. Got it. Sidearm? Knife, fingernails, you. Dragon blood sap's poisonous right? Not sure. Might shove it up the bastard's nose. It didn't get us. Then there's only one of them. We might not be able to cast spells. Then it's scared of spells, which means it's killable.
Coatl's feet hit the ground with a thud. That was when they spotted the tracks, and the barest hint of reason fell upon the pair.
It's big. It's big.
Coatl quickly set to lighting his torch while Cuate tried to manifest as much power as she could, at least to make herself into a humanoid sylph. Stealth was a lost cause; the thing spotted them hiding in a tree in the middle of the night. They reasoned that command over light would be their best bet.
Cuate… Yah?
He lit the torch.
This could be it. And not just for me.
There wasn't time for this discussion now, but fortunately they had had it before. Not knowing much about Cuate's origins or how the Mist worked, they realized that whatever had kept Cuate in the mortal plane might not give her a second chance. It might not be able to.
Coatl, I hear Valhalla always has your favorite drink on tap.
The barest hint of a smirk flickered through Coatl's enraged visage.
They heard Katiana's call to run, and so they ran.
They just ran the wrong way.
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
____________________________________________________
Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Nov 11, 2022 0:02:42 GMT -5
It was far, far too silent as Coatl and Cuate descended the hill. Even the crunch of twigs and leaves beneath his boots was muted, as though he had wax plugging his ears. The further he went down the hill, the more it felt like they were being submerged underwater. For Coatl, the pressure built up in his nose and the top of his head; for Cuate, the invisible liquid around felt as though it was turning to mud. Katiana’s trail took them deeper into the wood, beneath brambled roots and trees so tall their canopies skimmed the clouds. The path was stained red and littered with debris, giving no easy path through the thicket.
Thunder thrummed through the sky above.
The trail was exhausting and terrifying and merciless. The forest clung to Coatl's jacket like desperate hands pleading "Don't go, don't go.” Every step was harder than the last, weighing on his limbs, making them creak as loud as the branches in the wind. It was picking up now, whistling through every twig in a harrowing chorus sung by tortured spirits. On and on the path went, as though it had no end. The miasma pulled down on the sorcerer’s knees and made them ache. A pain shot through his back and his hips as he tried to crest a hill, as though he’d aged thirty years in an hour. Sweat beaded from his neck and glued his hair to his skin.
When, alas, it felt as though he couldn’t take another step, the glumness of the woods fell away. Coatl found himself in a small clearing that surrounded a small pond.
But oh, but oh that smell, so much worse than before, threatening to fill his lungs and fill them with bile until he choked-
“Coatl!”
Her voice was clear as day and came from the other side of the clearing. There was a gasp at the end… was she trying to be quiet?
“Coa-coatl?”
And there it was, but this time to his right. This time there was a raspiness to it; a bubbling in the back of her throat.
Behind the sorcerer, a pair of trees shifted.
“Coatl.”
This time, it was a whisper, right next to his ear, so close the hot air curled around his cheek. This one was like creaking floorboards, or a far-off scream in the woods.
Behind Coatl, staring straight into his eyes, was a pale, white ox skull patched with rotting, matted fur. It was perched at the end of a long neck and a gaunt, willowy body that was little more than a film of skin stretched over the skeleton of something deformed and wrong. Something nature intended to kill long ago and couldn’t. Atop its head lay twisted antlers, upon which shrunken heads hung, and in its mouth, something soft and dripping. Dangling from a long tooth- there it was-
Katiana’s arm guard, swinging back and forth, falling to the ground as the thing’s skull split in four, exposing a fleshy, purple inside colored like viscera and squealed.
Several sensations hit Coatl and Cuate all at once: dizziness, like a rock hitting him in the face; the urge to violently expel every ounce of food from his body; and a terrible tremor that threatened to clear his feet from under him.
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
-------
Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Nov 17, 2022 23:51:44 GMT -5
At first, it was easy. The adrenaline, the icy night air, visions of Katiana splayed red on brown earth, they pushed him on. He was less a man, more an angry wave beating against rock. Something about being a hot-blooded mortal rooted to the earth helped him resist the effects of the mist.
Ironically, it was Cuate who struggled to get through. The more Coatl's mind sank into abyssal, autonomous perseverance, the weaker her connection to him became. She was his source of magical power, but he was her anchor to the mortal realm. Her consciousness reached out to him, hoping for a compassionate hand to help pull her forward. But the warmth she received was musky and twisted, like acrid fire. It was better than nothing, but it wasn't the Coatl she knew. Not that she could blame him at the moment.
Bits of golden light flecked off Cuate's slender sylph body, trailed behind her, and disappeared, consumed by the mist. But she knew she had to keep pushing forward. Coatl's rage was naught but mundane alchemy running through animal blood. It would soon wear off. And the creature would come upon them and finish them handily if they weren't at their best. Of course, they had already signed their waivers to the gods when they pursued Katiana's screams. But the proud march towards the underworld was losing its appeal. Their current underworld they were dealing with around them was bad enough as it is.
Coatl hissed as he tripped on some roots. A rumble in the distant skies threatened rain.
She felt empathy. She had been alive once. She knew his suffering. In fact, she remembered once upon a time when she had to fight against deadly ice and thin air. It was an unforgiving mountain where a dragon's lessons in holy magic awaited and-
What the hell?
She hadn't recalled that memory in decades, maybe a century. Why did it suddenly visit her now? Was it the ghostly equivalent of a near death experience? Was her life about to flash right before her eyes? Like when the archer of the evil Set let loose an explosive arrow right on top of her, causing the sewer she was hiding in to collapse and-
Fuck you, Sloth! I mean... what?
----
Coatl's rage wore off just as he broke through into the clearing. He huffed and puffed, taking in the cool, clean, mist-free air. He coughed. It smelled like a swamp's ass. He was done. The isle's presence had robbed him of his strength, and he was about to meet an ignominious end in the middle of a place which he would gladly labeled Devil's Latrine in one of Katiana's maps. Here lay the Guardian of the Imilla Clan. He lived as a protector of the downtrodden, a paragon of justice. He died as food.
Like Cuate, memories started to creep into his mind. But these were of Katiana and their final days together with Cabot.
He shook his head and took in his surroundings. Da hell am I doing? He smacked his cheek with his torch hand and narrowly missed setting his hat on fire. "Where are you you over-sized son of a bitch?"
When he heard his name, his body whirled around. "Katiana!"
He heard it again. "Katiana! Fight back! I'll find you!" He kept scanning the dark clearing, annoyed by the hissing of his torch as drops of rain began to fall onto their future battlefield.
He saw the arm guard hit the ground before he saw the creature. And there he stared, into the ugliest, meanest undead motherfucker he had ever seen in his whole life. His instinct was to immediate grip his pitchfork and channel Cuate. He was going to tear that thing's stomach apart and drag what was left of Katiana out of hell itself. Cuate would tear reality apart to heal her as best she could, mists be damned.
But, there was no Cuate. He turned towards where he had come from, the wall of evil smoke. He was hoping to see his partner in battle tearing through the mist with furious determination. But what he saw instead robbed him of the last bit of hope he had left.
It was a skeleton, emitting an ethereal, silvery glow, floating through the cursed fog. There was emaciated skin stretched tight over it, and a paper thin hand stretched out towards him. Silvery hair floated about its skull, defying gravity as it always did. She was so close. If she had just held on a couple more meters, or maybe if he had paid closer attention-
The creature picked a poetic time to roar. He turned back towards it, mournful, listless, but steadfast, ready to face his doom.
---
Cuate was too distracted to feel abandoned.
Like shooting stars, they sailed by her. The time she nearly blew off her arm trying to master an impossible spell. The first time she fell off her flying raven. Or was it a crow? It was hard to tell. The time she used her cousin as bait to try to capture a bear. Oh dear, that was a bad idea. Journals, trinkets, kobolds, kings, artifacts... Dark magic? Demon magic? Necromancy?! The hell was wrong with me?
The skeletal spirit shuddered.
Was I always good? Was I sometimes evil? Are these all memories of my past?
She saw a version of herself with greatly weakened magic, facing a giant moss-covered bull.
Or are they shadows of me from different timelines?
She was trying to master the use of a strange weapon she had never even practiced before. Aaaaaand she accidentally hit herself in the- Ugh, yah, that tracks.
The skull's eyes flickered to life. Faded light became bright.
I don’t know what these visions are, or why this is happening. But I think I see a pattern.
Like a drowning man’s flailing limb, her fingertips clawed into the open air. The lack of mist seemed to paint them with ethereal flesh the more they broke through.
Of all the visions, of all the memories, of all the timelines, there is no version of me-
Mist flew apart like a curtain as Cuate’s weakened, battered form broke into the clearing to leap onto the monster’s head.
-THAT KNOWS HOW TO GIVE UP!
Free of the mist, her pale ectoplasmic body suddenly exploded with sunrise gold. A pulse of heat briefly silenced the rain around them (and with it, a wave of forgiveness meant for Coatl). She weighed nothing. She was an enervated husk. But she was bright. And for a creature that was used to seeing in darkness, her fists would be like staring at the sun. Shaking her off would be trying to shake off a large, sticky cloud. Good luck.
COATL! FIGHT!
An overwhelming tension in his nearly broken heart snapped, and courage and rage launched him forward. He leaped towards the beast, his metal pitchfork twirling around him. His foot landed. His body twisted. Thousands of pounds of inertia gathered into the metal prongs of his weapon. His eyes locked on. His arms wrenched the polearm through the air. It sang for a split second.
CRACK!!
---
It was unpleasant knowledge, but Coatl knew from his experience on farms that the cruelest thing you could do to a horse was to break its leg. Of course, he would never do such a thing. But he’d seen accidents happen.
Fortunately this wasn’t no goddamn horse.
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
____________________________________________________
Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Dec 8, 2022 22:11:41 GMT -5
Assaulted from above and below, the monster roared in pain and indignation. It dropped to one knee when the cap shattered from the force of Coatl's pitchfork piercing it through, then grabbed at its back as Cuate pummeled away from behind. Finding no purchase, it instead reared its head back to scream once more. This one made the air ripple, just like a droplet of water into a pond... but perhaps this one was a waterfall, sending static to their consciousness in a blast aimed to overstimulate every sense they had to interact with the world.
An ooze seeped from the wound, dark rusty brown like old blood, but twice as thick. The splintered pieces of kneecap- which looked much like the amalgam of tree bark and bits of skin and fur- stuck to the ooze instead of falling to the ground. Slowly, very slowly, the gunk began to patch it back up.
A hand shot out, as big as Coatl, to try and swallow him up in its grasp. It leaned forward onto the crown of its head, barreling its weight in a somersault to throw off both Cuate and built up the momentum to toss Coatl into the distance.
All the while, the beast echoed Katiana's voice:
"Run, Coatl! Get away!"
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
-------
Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Dec 18, 2022 16:29:06 GMT -5
Coatl was a split second away from knocking out a second leg, but the abomination's screech stopped him in his tracks. His bones rattled and stomach churned. His mind fogged up and he struggled to regain focus.
"Katiana..." He groaned. He cursed himself for his failing body and mind.
Cuate didn't have bones to rattle, nor a stomach to churn, but she felt empathic pain. Moreover, her own soul was suffering in a way unique to her. Memories flashed, thoughts leaped around, and sensations dulled and overwhelmed. The mist had weakened her grip on the mortal plane. And the gruesome howl of the death horse seemed bent on finishing the job and banishing her, leaving Coatl and Katiana on their own.
Her fists kept pounding, flashing sunlight, extinguishing rain in radial bursts. But her attacks had little true weight. And her sylph form's light was flickering.
"Cuate, what the devil?" Coatl whispered as he refocused his grip on his pitchfork.
Cuate's form wasn't just flickering. It was morphing. With one strike of her fists, she was herself. With another, she became that emaciated skeleton from before. But then with another she was an old, but feisty woman. And with another she was a child. And it kept going.
Things like this, make me so angry, that I can't even die. Cuate said. Then it is unworthy of granting us a warrior's death. An old woman chimed in. This evil is tearing our soul into a thousand shards. A middle aged sorceress remarked. Then let's give it a death by a thousand cuts! A teenage girl cried out.
Coatl could hear all the voices. It was a bit headache inducing. It was also horrifying. Cuate was being spiritually torn to bits. But, then again, every single fragment still wanted to kill the thing. That was... kinda cool.
A massive hand came for Coatl. "Blast!" He struggled to dodge, still reeling from the effects of the nightmare scream.
"No you don't!" Cuate released the beast's head and whizzed through the air, outrunning the hand. Her body disappeared into Coatl's polearm, as if she had possessed it. For a brief moment Coatl felt an intense presence of someone who was Cuate, but also not Cuate. She was younger, stronger, and extremely ornery.
"Psionic Art: Force Mine!"
Cuate, did you just call out the name of your spell-
CRACK!
As soon as the hand made contact with Coatl, a flash of violet light would erupt from the spear, with all the intensity of a lightning strike, blasting the limb to smithereens.
Well, you did ask for a blast, right?
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
____________________________________________________
Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Jan 18, 2023 1:29:59 GMT -5
The blast showered them in organic debris, from tree bark to lumps of meat. It happened so fast that it took a moment for the creature to realize what happened and for the pain to rack its body. A third cry erupted through the night, moving the earth. Something made of that same rust red hung limp from the stump of what was once the creature's arm, like a strip of flesh swinging from a hook. With a final cry, the thing plummeted to the ground, nearly crushing Coatl in the process. The darkness that was inside the skull, even in the dead of the night, became less sinister. The patchwork body, all for the skull and the antlers on its head, deflated.
For the moment, all seemed quiet. But nothing yet seemed right.
After such a brief respite, without warning, without so much as a rumble of the ground, a rusty spike would shoot up through the dirt, right below Coatl's shoe, aiming to pierce his foot. From behind, another began to crack the earth, aiming for his heart.
Fwip!
Just as it began to peak, an arrow pierced it and pinned it to the earth. There was a screech before it bisected itself, freeing the tendril from the arrow, and disappeared once more. This time, as the seconds ticked by, the feeling of sickness and dread faded. It wasn't until the frogs began to chirp that Katiana let out a wet cough.
High up in a mess of twigs and within the heart of a tree, the huntress curled up. Her leg was pierced by a branch that was too long to walk out of, and from the shape she was in, there was no snapping it, either. It was bent at an angle, straining against the muscle and skin in her calf. Blood spilled from her lips. Her hair hung around her in tatters. Bite marks racked through her arm- the same one missing her guard.
And yet all the same, she smiled. She didn't speak, but oh, Gods, they were alive. All of them!
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
-------
Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Jan 25, 2023 14:13:46 GMT -5
At first, Coatl traipsed through the mud reluctantly, fearing an illusion, a trap, something. But as soon as the creature's malevolent aura dissipated, he hurdled towards the tree.
You know... Cuate's voice rasped through the air. Reduced to a barely hovering wisp, she bobbed alongside him. Coatl briefly gave her a regretful glance; he had never seen her so drained before. But he was still focused on getting up the tree.
... I'll bet we could have taken that thing without magic.
Coatl didn't reply as he clawed his way up the bark, but he was listening.
I've got some ideas... Stuff with fire and arrows, dragon tree sap, your polearm.
He was half way up towards Katiana.
You know what... we should do?
He shimmied over the loamy bark and made it into the tree's heart. There he paused upon making eye contact with Katiana.
We should go find another one and test them out. What do you say?
Once Coatl’s mind finished processing Cuate’s joke, and the fact that Katiana was still alive, his face broke. And he laughed.
And then he stopped laughing and got down to the delicate work of cutting through the branches and freeing Katiana. Her condition was a mess. They still had a bit of resin and alcohol for use as ointment, but there was a good chance she would be in for a nasty, feverish few days, if not weeks, due to infection. And she’d be reduced to a limp for a while as well.
Cuate was weak and couldn’t really help at the moment, but she did her best to remain as good company.
“I can scarcely believe we got out of that alive.” Coatl said to both of them.
You know what helps me in situations like that? Some words my grandmother told me. At least I think it was my grandmother. Or maybe it was something I came up with when I was old. Whatever. Anyways, she or I said, don’t fight because you’re willing to die. Fight because you might actually win. And then later I shortened it into a mantra of sorts. I say, don’t give up. You might win, stupid. And then just, you might win, stupid. It… it helps.
Katiana and Coatl wouldn’t see a face on Cuate, as she was just a wisp. But they’d feel a sheepish grin coming from her.
"Did Cabot survive?" Coatl asked Katiana.
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
____________________________________________________
Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
____________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Jan 28, 2023 0:43:52 GMT -5
Katiana didn't take her eyes off him, not once. She listened to Cuate's ramblings and found herself cracking a smile, all up until Coatl was in front of her and she was looking down on him, and they laughed together. Blood stained her teeth red, and if they were paying attention, they would have seen that Katiana's tongue was raw. She bit it. She bit it so bad she could hardly speak.
While Coatl cut away the branch shoved through her leg, the huntress reached up to grab onto the cuffs of his coat, hanging on with what little strength she had. When he was done, she didn't allow him to patch her up, not yet. She just drew him in and held him close, burying her head in his neck. Her body shuddered. It could have been an answer to Cuate's speech, but it might also have been a sob. Either way, the woman nodded her head. They did win. They did!
Katiana scooted up using her grip on Coatl's neck, revealing the little bat-cat creature cowering in a ball behind her. Now revealed, Cabot squealed and squirmed over to sit between Coatl and Katiana.
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
-------
Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Feb 10, 2023 1:21:47 GMT -5
It had been ages since he'd held anyone close, let alone someone so vulnerable. Katiana was a tough woman, but for some reason she felt like fine china in Coatl's rough hands. The situation felt more serene than it had any right to be. Sure, they'd won. But they almost didn't. They were safe, but it was a thin veil of respite before more tasks and troubles would threaten their peace.
But sitting there, under the fresh, miasma-free canopy, with Cabot nestled between them, it stirred something in his heart. Maybe the eye of the storm was something to be savored, even if it couldn't be taken for granted.
Coatl reciprocated and held Katiana tightly, for a minute at least.
----
... I'm sorry. Cuate's voice whispered.
"For what?" Coatl replied softly.
... No reason.
"I'll patch her up best I can. Magic or not. Rest."
Cuate released the impression of a smile, a tinge of pride. But for once, she kept her true thoughts to her self. She could do that if she really wanted to. She didn't want Coatl to know she was sorry for choosing him as an apprentice, condemning him (and now possibly Katiana) to a lifetime of... this. Bravery and battle were contagious. And it came with a high mortality rate. But then again, knowing these two, maybe it was better to pass on the torch to them willingly. Some people are just naturally inclined to grab it themselves without fear of getting burnt.
Because a part of Coatl really did want to go find another zombie deer and wreck its shit, in no small part out of vengeance for what it did to Katiana.
But fortunately he was wiser than Cuate had been at that age, at least as far as she could remember. The more pertinent thing to do was survive, and inform the Imilla Clan and Port Argentium at large of everything they had learned. That knowledge would save lives. This wasn't just an adventure; it was a mission.
Cuate's sprite form drifted on top of Cabot, giving him a little halo to play with.
Maybe I'm being too arrogant. I've forgotten the four circles. I didn't just choose them. They also chose me.
Cabot wasn't able to respond. But that was alright. He was still good company.
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