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 12, 2024 1:07:51 GMT -5
Normally Coatl would have been a lot more cautious. But he smelled the barn scent before they even entered the next room.
Traveling, working land, working farms, Coatl had been intimately familiar with that scent since he was a little boy.
With uncharacteristic bravery he decided go ahead and grab a staff. It just seemed like the right thing to do, and he didn't wanna be left behind by Katiana. It was almost a protective reflex, a sort of ride-together-die-together spirit that made him feel braver. And as soon as they entered the next room, he began twirling. And twirling and twirling. Coatl had a knack for it. He was used to wielding a metal pitchfork in battle, and had only gotten stronger since their adventure started (despite all the near death experiences).
In fact, he found he could twirl it at incredible speeds, almost as if the instrument was made for him.
As for Cuate, she'd noticed the change, and was actually a little embarrassed, not for Coatl, but for herself. An adventurous spirit had awakened in her protege and here she was bogged down by nostalgia for a world she could barely remember. But then again, maybe that was normal. Didn't parents and grandparents feel visions of the past when they watched the next generation grow up?
... Uh, no, they watch to make sure they don't hurt themselves. She said to herself.
She metaphorically slapped her cheeks and came up between the two, ready to defend them in case whatever they were summoning wasn't as nostalgic about their scent as Coatl was of barns.
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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.
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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 19, 2024 21:53:41 GMT -5
The more Coatl spun the stave, the more it whistled, low here, high there, a jumping tune elsewhere. When he shifted his grip even an inch or changed directions of the spin, he would find a new sound greeting their ears. Katiana, though fascinated by the sheer amount of noises that these things could make, was transfixed by the thing that was mimicking them. With every hoot and fife came a warble and a trill echoing from above.
Following it, there was a massive thump.
Standing before Coatl was a beast. Taller than him by at least a head, the monstrosity of feathers gazed into his eyes, of which its own sat atop a dangerously curved beak. It had a powerful pair of legs with spurs as long as the man's hand. Its brows furrowed deeply atop its golden irises, but only one at a time.
Katiana held in a long breath, sweat beading her neck as she held her stave ready, the only weapon she had now. She gazed at Cuate expectantly... and perhaps a little too reliantly.
After a heavy pause, the best tilted its head, then... chirped. At Coatl. Its eyes began to follow the stave he spun, and for every new tune, it resumed a new action. First it sat, then stood again, then ran in a circle around the arena before coming back. Finally, it cawed crankily at the man, flapping its wings, but it never once attacked.
"Wh... what?"
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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 22, 2024 2:19:04 GMT -5
Coatl did his best to mentally match the different sounds he made with the reactions of the creature. It was tense work, because he frankly still had to decide if the creature was a threat or not. He wasn't sure if he should offer his scent through his hand, or if the creature could even smell.
Don't overthink it. Just follow your instincts.
Coatl held his staff up and made light shaking noises... as he got a little closer. He then tried to make the tone which caused the over-sized chicken to sit down the first time. And it really did strike him as an oversized chicken. To be honest, he sort of liked the beast. It reminded him of the chickens he'd spent time playing with as a kid
"Well, if it's anything like a rooster," Coatl said in a slightly soft tone, "you wanna show a bit of dominance. Not too much you don't wanna fight. Just don't turn your back, and keep making noise. Gently. No indecisive actions, no hesitation. Just steady, even movement."
This didn't work on every rooster when he was a kid, but it worked on most of them. Usually the overly aggressive ones were the first in the cooking pot anyways. Though, that solution probably wouldn't work in this case.
If anything happens I can try to control it with my mag-
"Nah."
He came along to its side, gently shaking the staff rhythmically, cooing gently. "That's it. Get a good look at me. Got nothing to hide."
Yah, he was gonna try to ride it, on the very first try.
For some reason, this brought Cuate a sense of nostalgia. She couldn't quite pin it to a solid memory, but it was buried deep within her somewhere.
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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 Mar 2, 2024 17:52:51 GMT -5
The beast cocked its head to the side. Katiana did the same. When Coatl spun the staff in a singular circle, specifically when the hole nearest to the foot made a steady whistle, the creature sat. It looked at him expectantly once more, stared, and turned its head in a half-moon as Coatl walked around it.
There was a divot on its back, a down of shorter feathers, that looked comfortable enough to sit on. From the way its wings were positioned, there seemed to be a good spot right behind them to hook and brace their legs.
If Coatl tried to hop on, the beast would stand up before he could, then flap its wings at him again.
It was at this time that another one of the bird creatures showed up, slamming down right in front of Katiana. She leaped back with a yelp, nearly falling onto her backside from the fright. When the dust settled once more, they would find themselves in the presence of a creature that was taller, but much more slim than the chicken harassing Coatl. The closest thing Katiana could think of was a heron, but its beak was longer and slightly more gnarled, like a branch. Just like Coatl's new friend, this one had claws on its wings, which it used to steady itself on the ground on all fours.
Once her heart decided to stop exploding out of her chest, the hunter decided to spin the stave the exact way Coatl did.
The beast sat.
Much unlike the chicken, the heron waited patiently for Katiana, not even making a peep.
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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 Mar 16, 2024 15:59:48 GMT -5
Coatl backed off slightly, and chuckled. "Alright alright alright, big guy. Easy, easy." He didn't go silent, but he wasn't nasty either. True pack leaders distinguished themselves from young upstarts by their confidence, which wasn't manifested through aggression, but through steadfastness and competence.
He moved his staff to get him to bow down again. The beast was probably just nervous.
"Go ahead Katiana, you two be a good example for this fellow."
He was empathetic. He wouldn't wanna be ridden by a random stranger either. But he'd keep trying, and he'd never lose his calm. This was far from the only difficult animal he'd dealt with in the past.
Cuate hated taking a backseat, but her sense of honor didn't allow her to interfere with magic. It was just, they just grow up so fast!
She hadn't interacted much with Blackbean. She couldn't exactly ride him as a spirit. She also could sense that Blackbean had not given up on finding a living Jun out there somewhere...
You know guys, this'll be good practice for when Cabot inevitably grows up.
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