Usque
Committed
Roleplay posts: 82
Biography: This is the NPC account for the people of the Usque
Allegiances: Tana the Tongue Tied
Place of Residence: Trinity Island and Sindarin
Registered: Mar 24, 2021 9:55:43 GMT -5
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Post by Usque on Aug 9, 2021 12:45:46 GMT -5
A long stretch of beach on the coast of Trinity Island.
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Anathema
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: A tall, imposing demon woman with pale blue skin, yellow eyes, and curved horns that protrude backwards from her forehead. She wears her hair loose, reaching the base of her spine in length, and wears simple earth-toned vestments that suggest a modest lifestyle.
Equipment: Anathema's chief possession is her bastard sword, a heavy but otherwise unremarkable blade forged from good steel. Counted amongst the rest of of her belongings are a hunting knife and a pack containing various items useful for survival, as well as a small device of unknown origin.
Skills and Abilities: Anathema is adept both in martial combat and tactics. Her skill with a blade is bolstered by her demon strength, placing her physical ability above that of an average human.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 22:36:23 GMT -5
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Post by Anathema on Sept 12, 2021 19:43:50 GMT -5
With some effort, Anathema managed to push the skiff aground, cutting through a bed of seaweed to reach the shore. She had taken off her boots, rolling up her trousers up to the knee to stay as dry as she could manage. It took a moment before the dizziness wore off, and the fiend found herself propping herself up on the edge of the boat to keep from falling over. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing back nausea.
"This is no time for weakness," she hissed, scolding herself. "Get it together. This beach is probably crawling with who-knows-what."
Anathema hurriedly fished her belongings out of the skiff, taking up her sword last. She felt its weight in her hands, gripping the hilt tightly. It brought her some small comfort, but her body was still tense, running almost entirely on stress. She was exhausted, slightly delirious... and though she would never admit it, terrified.
Anathema surveyed her immediate surroundings, vigilant, but saw no immediate sign of danger. She closed her eyes, releasing a slow breath and turning to stare out at the endless sea. What have I gotten myself into?
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Sept 12, 2021 20:13:35 GMT -5
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Azaran stood there on the shore, hooked blade held in front of him. Taking a cross-step to his side, he slashes to that side with the hook, following it with a weak kick to the air and a yank towards him, as if using the hook to decapitate some invisible assailant. After his foot met the ground once more, he would twist around on it, bringing his other foot behind as he brought the weapon around his head, hitting with a slash in the opposite direction to his first. Then, he would follow with a step forwards, paired with another slash down and across the body.
He would continue his practice form, using it to clear his mind as well as to keep his skills with the weapon sharp. He could only assume the monks who taught him how to properly wield Deshimóh were all taken in the flood, so if he lost his skill there would be no one left to reteach it to him. On top of that, he had much on his mind. He had been helping to build up this new settlement ever since his arrival, and things were shaping up nicely. However, his heart itched for something. These people seemed to be getting set up fine, capable of fending for themselves especially now that their new home was becoming much more of a permanent place. For all he knew, they could be all that was left. However, there was this feeling in the back of his head that there had to be others out there, and it was his duty to find them and help them through that wilderness. Perhaps it was almost time for him to set out once again, wander the new land.
Azaran's thoughts were soon interrupted as his form pointed his view towards the shore, where he witnessed a lady blue as the sky with horns adorning her head like any number of beasts. Her visage reminded him of stories from his home: creatures born from the First Beast's rot, intent on ridding the land of humanity and taking it for themselves. Humanoid and yet other, blessed with strength and magics unknown to most men, led by the one who would be known as the Fallen King. The very things that his weapon, the God Hook, is said in mythos to be forged to defeat.
Demons.
Azaran was a relatively superstitious man, and the sight of such a figure set him on edge. However, as his amethyst eyes looked over the woman, she seemed much more...human, compared to the stories he had been told of the demonic. Much more personable. His superstition warned him against approaching, but his impulse to assist anyone who may need it drowned out those feelings quite soundly. As such, Deshimóh in hand, helmet on head, shield on back, Azaran approached the individual.
"Hello?" He called from a distance as he approached. "Are you feeling alright? I can only assume your voyage was as unappealing as mine."
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Anathema
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: A tall, imposing demon woman with pale blue skin, yellow eyes, and curved horns that protrude backwards from her forehead. She wears her hair loose, reaching the base of her spine in length, and wears simple earth-toned vestments that suggest a modest lifestyle.
Equipment: Anathema's chief possession is her bastard sword, a heavy but otherwise unremarkable blade forged from good steel. Counted amongst the rest of of her belongings are a hunting knife and a pack containing various items useful for survival, as well as a small device of unknown origin.
Skills and Abilities: Anathema is adept both in martial combat and tactics. Her skill with a blade is bolstered by her demon strength, placing her physical ability above that of an average human.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 22:36:23 GMT -5
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Post by Anathema on Sept 12, 2021 21:19:08 GMT -5
Almost as soon as the the words reached her ears, Anathema's bastard sword had been drawn and leveled in the man's direction.
"Stay back!" The demon roared. The man observed her drop to a defensive stance, one made imperfect by fatigue. "Try anything and I swear, by every fiber of strength I still hold, I will gut you where you stand."
Her narrowed golden eyes were those of a cornered animal, made feral and operating on instinct to survive. In the moment, she was not a soldier of discipline, no trained warrior. When the facade fell away, she was a beast of blind fury that would sooner die than be brought to kneel.
Anathema didn't recognize the craft of the man's armor, but he fit the role well enough. No doubt some type of crusader, taunting her weakness before moving in to cleanse this shore of her demonic presence. Her sword arm trembled, almost imperceptibly, both out of hatred and out of fear.
And that hook! Hellfrost, just looking at the thing made her skin crawl.
'Who are you. What do you want from me." She measured her words carefully, readying herself to lunge at the man at the first sign of trickery.
"And tell where I am."
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Sept 13, 2021 0:11:07 GMT -5
At the beastlike woman's first outburst, Azaran jumps back, his own blade held up defensively. However, as he watched her stance, fatigued and desperate, the beast he had momentarily seen faded away. What he saw was not a feral animal, but a hurt person, ready to fight for their life if they had to, as it seems they had so many times before.
Before any answer, Azaran took a deep breath, rising out of his defensive stance and into a more casual one. Holding the hooked blade out to his side, he simply dropped it to the ground, letting it fall flat on the sand. "I am Azaran. It is a pleasure to meet you." He tells her, responding to the first question. "And all I want from you is to know if you are alright. A journey on that Endless Sea is easy for no one. As for where you are...I believe the others who live here call it...Úsk? The nearby settlement is Mar, but I recall not the name of their old lands."
He attempts to smile at her, trying to rid himself of the dangerous air she seems to have attributed to him. He wanted to try and help her in this new land, not fight her.
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Tana the Tongue-Tied
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Appearance: ***********
Age: 19
Race: Human
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Light Brown
Build: Almost Athletic
Height: Average
Marks: A birthmark in the shape of a crescent, various freckles, a mole or two, and faint scars from life.
Equipment: ***********
Cloak
Light Robes
***********
Staff
Rucksack filled with: Extra clothes, cookware, other utensils and personal things.
Torch
Flute
Fishing Rod
Other things
Skills and Abilities: ***********
Class: Cleric
***********
Music: Plays the flute
Drawing
Elemental magics, specifically healing
***********
Healing: Healing can be done in four ways for her...
Depending on the strength of the magic, she will:
If no magic is necessary, she will make a tincture, potion, elixer, or salves of varying strength with herbs.
If the wounds are of a moderate state, she may use a combination of the prior stated, and magic of various strengths depending on severity.
If the wound is severe, i.e. life threatening, she relies only upon magic
Biography: ***********
Mute
Inquisitive
Intelligent but not genius
***********
Tana is a young, shy girl who has a voice but doesn't use her vocal chords to produce it. She was born deep in the usque, a tribe of Humans who had descended from fae of the Usque. She has such a stutter that she chooses not to speak for she was perpetually tongue tied, but instead does her best to communicate in her own version of sign language.
In the wake of the next cataclysm, she and a few of her people drifted through the mist... Not many people made it out alive, or in the same area.
Allegiances: Usqueans
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 10:50:44 GMT -5
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Post by Tana the Tongue-Tied on Sept 13, 2021 9:08:00 GMT -5
Tana was out and about for a quiet walk when she overheard the sound of the skirmish happening. She followed her ears and appeared quietly on the beach where she saw a man and a woman getting ready to have at it. The queen looked between the two and decided to stay back, but gestured to the two of them. "S-s-t-top." It was a singular command.
One could easily look at Tana and tell that she was unarmed at the moment, for her hands were holding an empty basket for the shellfish she was going to collect.
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Anathema
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: A tall, imposing demon woman with pale blue skin, yellow eyes, and curved horns that protrude backwards from her forehead. She wears her hair loose, reaching the base of her spine in length, and wears simple earth-toned vestments that suggest a modest lifestyle.
Equipment: Anathema's chief possession is her bastard sword, a heavy but otherwise unremarkable blade forged from good steel. Counted amongst the rest of of her belongings are a hunting knife and a pack containing various items useful for survival, as well as a small device of unknown origin.
Skills and Abilities: Anathema is adept both in martial combat and tactics. Her skill with a blade is bolstered by her demon strength, placing her physical ability above that of an average human.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 22:36:23 GMT -5
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Post by Anathema on Sept 13, 2021 11:28:31 GMT -5
She hesitated, then, watching the hook as it fell. The tremor in Anathema's hand grew worse, her eyes flitting back and forth between the weapon in the sand, and the man's amethyst eyes.
"I..."
His words had washed over her when he spoke. 'Usk?' 'Mar?' She thought to herself, squinting with confusion. Was he lying, trying to disorient her? Or perhaps, it was all an attempt to lure her into some false sense of safety? Her mind was racing, trying to discern the man's angle, seeing monsters in every shadow, but... no. That smile. She had known a smile like that once before, hadn't she?
And then the woman appeared, basket in hand. Anathema flinched at the sight of her, dreading the worst, until slowly she began to unravel. This was no soldier. After the woman spoke, a quiet moment passed between the three of them, tension hanging in the air.
...
"I'm sorry."
All at once, the fight left Anathema. Her shoulders slumped, the tip of her blade falling to the sand with a soft clink. Even on a good day, it was sometimes difficult to put aside the teachings of her savage upbringing. And as of late, good days had been few and far between.
"I don't have any reason to trust you. But you've also done nothing to earn my hostility." She wearily massaged her face with her free hand, slowly easing herself out of her paranoia. "I've been... it hasn't been easy. Out there, and before."
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Sept 14, 2021 21:07:05 GMT -5
Azaran, seeing the weary lady drop her stance and become much less hostile, lets out a sigh of relief. He removes his helmet, allowing his face to be seen in full, rather than half hidden behind a wall of steel. "You have nothing to be sorry about." Azaran assured her. "It is only natural to be on edge and untrusting after such a large shift in life. The end of the world is quite the stressful event, and I cannot even try to assume what you may have been through before."
His gaze then turns away from the woman, and to the source of the voice attempting to break apart their would-be brawl. To his surprise, it looked to be the young queen. He had not truly had the chance to interact with her much since the day she was sick with venom, but he was glad to see she seemed to make a full recovery. "Ah, what wonderful timing, your majesty." Azaran says, not fond of such royal titles in general, but able to recognize a good leader when he saw one. "Do not worry, I believe we have avoided a brawl today." He chuckles, turning back to their new arrival.
"I do not believe we got your name, though." He says to her. "Perhaps when we can refer to each other by name, it could be the start to a more friendly relation than we seem to have almost had." He chuckles again, if only slightly. This woman seemed like a very strong individual, in body and spirit, and he would be much happier staying on good terms with her if he could help it. In that vein, helping out and being friendly himself seemed like the best way to do that.
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Tana the Tongue-Tied
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Appearance: ***********
Age: 19
Race: Human
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Light Brown
Build: Almost Athletic
Height: Average
Marks: A birthmark in the shape of a crescent, various freckles, a mole or two, and faint scars from life.
Equipment: ***********
Cloak
Light Robes
***********
Staff
Rucksack filled with: Extra clothes, cookware, other utensils and personal things.
Torch
Flute
Fishing Rod
Other things
Skills and Abilities: ***********
Class: Cleric
***********
Music: Plays the flute
Drawing
Elemental magics, specifically healing
***********
Healing: Healing can be done in four ways for her...
Depending on the strength of the magic, she will:
If no magic is necessary, she will make a tincture, potion, elixer, or salves of varying strength with herbs.
If the wounds are of a moderate state, she may use a combination of the prior stated, and magic of various strengths depending on severity.
If the wound is severe, i.e. life threatening, she relies only upon magic
Biography: ***********
Mute
Inquisitive
Intelligent but not genius
***********
Tana is a young, shy girl who has a voice but doesn't use her vocal chords to produce it. She was born deep in the usque, a tribe of Humans who had descended from fae of the Usque. She has such a stutter that she chooses not to speak for she was perpetually tongue tied, but instead does her best to communicate in her own version of sign language.
In the wake of the next cataclysm, she and a few of her people drifted through the mist... Not many people made it out alive, or in the same area.
Allegiances: Usqueans
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 10:50:44 GMT -5
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Post by Tana the Tongue-Tied on Sept 17, 2021 11:07:12 GMT -5
She made a face at the title as well, seeming not to like it. She then knelt down in the sand and spelled her name out in common letters. T-a-n-a. She straightened her form. There were a few things different about her since the last time Azaran had been in contact with her. There was an ugly scar on her arm where she'd been scratched, but it looked to be healthy. The other thing was that she looked a little thicker around the waist as her child grew.
Her eyes shifted between the two and she touched her hand to her chest, then slowly signed out the same letters before pointing to her name in the sand.
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Anathema
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: A tall, imposing demon woman with pale blue skin, yellow eyes, and curved horns that protrude backwards from her forehead. She wears her hair loose, reaching the base of her spine in length, and wears simple earth-toned vestments that suggest a modest lifestyle.
Equipment: Anathema's chief possession is her bastard sword, a heavy but otherwise unremarkable blade forged from good steel. Counted amongst the rest of of her belongings are a hunting knife and a pack containing various items useful for survival, as well as a small device of unknown origin.
Skills and Abilities: Anathema is adept both in martial combat and tactics. Her skill with a blade is bolstered by her demon strength, placing her physical ability above that of an average human.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 22:36:23 GMT -5
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Post by Anathema on Sept 19, 2021 14:02:02 GMT -5
The fiend exhaled, sheathing her sword into the scabbard slung over her back. "I am Anathema." With every word Azaran spoke, it was becoming harder and harder to believe that his intent was anything but genuine.
Your Majesty? Again, Anathema's eyes glanced over to rest on the woman, wearing a curious expression as she spelled out her name in the sand: Tana. It seemed as though the woman spoke only when she had to, for one reason or another. This was just as well for Anathema - she had never considered herself to be one for small talk. The demon didn't recognize Tana's hand gestures, but she could wager a guess as to their meaning. She lifted a pale blue hand, slowly mirroring back Tana's name in sign.
Tana didn't look like any queen Anathema had ever heard of - no monarch of the Dominion would ever squander their time walking barefoot in the sand, basket in tow. Then again, she thought to herself, these were strange times indeed.
"Tana. Azaran." Anathema repeated back at the pair, nodding to each respectively. "Tell me, if you will... what exactly have I gotten myself into? You speak of something called the Endless Sea, and this place... it reeks of magic." She weakly raised an eyebrow, still trying to discern just what to make of her situation.
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Sept 19, 2021 17:42:16 GMT -5
"Of course, Anathema." Azaran answers, picking up his own weapon and slinging it over his shoulder. "The waves you washed in on is what I referred to as The Endless Sea. Just as the world was borne from it..." He gestures broadly at the waters with a large, sweeping motion of the arm. "So too it has been returned. Everything that did not appear on these islands...they're gone." He said somberly, his head turning down slightly. "Swallowed by the waters that carried us. A shame, truly. And, as for the magic, something about this place seems to stifle magical ability. Those imbued with it became sick, those who wield it find themselves unable to at normal power. Even artifacts seem to be effected some." Azaran explains, gesturing to the hook on his back. "I believe it has something to do with this mist, it never seems to go away. But that is just conjecture, I cannot be sure."
Azaran begins to walk closer. "Allow me to help you with your things, the village the people here call home is not far. Perhaps there we can sit and talk. I found a local flower that tastes exquisite when brewed, if you would like some." He turns back to the reluctant queen. "And of course, you are welcome to come to. Perhaps you could explain better than I some of the things that happen around here."
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Tana the Tongue-Tied
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Appearance: ***********
Age: 19
Race: Human
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Light Brown
Build: Almost Athletic
Height: Average
Marks: A birthmark in the shape of a crescent, various freckles, a mole or two, and faint scars from life.
Equipment: ***********
Cloak
Light Robes
***********
Staff
Rucksack filled with: Extra clothes, cookware, other utensils and personal things.
Torch
Flute
Fishing Rod
Other things
Skills and Abilities: ***********
Class: Cleric
***********
Music: Plays the flute
Drawing
Elemental magics, specifically healing
***********
Healing: Healing can be done in four ways for her...
Depending on the strength of the magic, she will:
If no magic is necessary, she will make a tincture, potion, elixer, or salves of varying strength with herbs.
If the wounds are of a moderate state, she may use a combination of the prior stated, and magic of various strengths depending on severity.
If the wound is severe, i.e. life threatening, she relies only upon magic
Biography: ***********
Mute
Inquisitive
Intelligent but not genius
***********
Tana is a young, shy girl who has a voice but doesn't use her vocal chords to produce it. She was born deep in the usque, a tribe of Humans who had descended from fae of the Usque. She has such a stutter that she chooses not to speak for she was perpetually tongue tied, but instead does her best to communicate in her own version of sign language.
In the wake of the next cataclysm, she and a few of her people drifted through the mist... Not many people made it out alive, or in the same area.
Allegiances: Usqueans
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 10:50:44 GMT -5
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Post by Tana the Tongue-Tied on Dec 26, 2021 10:06:26 GMT -5
Tana gave a nod and shifted, setting the basket down. No, she did not look like a queen but she was fairy like in the way she moved about. She uttered not another word as she moved to prepare to fish. She gave a light huff of exertion as she padded in the sand and waded into the water.
She glanced over to the other two and said, "F-f... Food." Then she gave a half smile.
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Anathema
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: A tall, imposing demon woman with pale blue skin, yellow eyes, and curved horns that protrude backwards from her forehead. She wears her hair loose, reaching the base of her spine in length, and wears simple earth-toned vestments that suggest a modest lifestyle.
Equipment: Anathema's chief possession is her bastard sword, a heavy but otherwise unremarkable blade forged from good steel. Counted amongst the rest of of her belongings are a hunting knife and a pack containing various items useful for survival, as well as a small device of unknown origin.
Skills and Abilities: Anathema is adept both in martial combat and tactics. Her skill with a blade is bolstered by her demon strength, placing her physical ability above that of an average human.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 22:36:23 GMT -5
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Post by Anathema on Dec 27, 2021 16:55:04 GMT -5
The fiend nodded along with Azaran's explanation, never breaking eye contact all the while. It was true, then - not just her own world, but countless others, lost beneath the rising tide. She felt something she couldn't place rise up in her chest, but she just as quickly pushed it back down again. Anathema handled unfamiliar emotions in much the same way she handled unfamiliar people.
She was glad to hear that magic had been made to kneel here - Anathema had seen more than enough of its abuse for one lifetime. Still - and perhaps it was just her paranoia talking - something about it unsettled her. How strange it was that this place smelled so strongly of magic, while at the same time draining its power... where was all that excess magic going?
The train of thought was interrupted by Azaran's approach. Anathema's muscles tightened, but only for a moment. Just a reflex.
"I... would like that." The words tasted wrong in her mouth. "I don't have much for you to help carry. Some rations you could make use of in the skiff's hold, and a cask of wine that you're welcome to, but that's about it. You can break down the boat for scrap for all I care."
The vessel, of course, was stolen. Anathema had guessed that at the time of her escape, it was only partly through the process of being supplied. Besides the food stores, the only other items of value were a small stack of books featuring poorly-written inter-species erotica. Anathema had wasted no time in throwing the books overboard.
She watched Tana move lightly towards the ocean, returning her half-smile with one of her own. What a curious woman she was, Anathema thought to herself. It was strange to see a person who commanded such grace here, at the end of the world.
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Dec 27, 2021 23:04:35 GMT -5
Azaran flinched when he saw Anathema tense up, pausing in his step. However, once he saw her relax, he continued on slower, listening to what she had to say. “I see. I am not one for wine myself, however I can carry it into town for you.” He said, heading onto the ship to go and retrieve it. “Perhaps a nice drink for you or any in town who wish for it.”
After a moment, Azaran walks back up and onto the sands, cask in his arms with his helmet sat atop it as he carries the drink away from shore, setting it down. He takes a moment to look over at Tana fishing in the shallow waters. “Ah, getting food for the village I see. If it were not for me helping our new arrival to the village I would love to help you. When you return though we would love to have you over as well. I am sure we will be easy to find.”
With that, he turns back to the demon on the shore. “Whenever you are ready, I can lead the way!” He assures her with a warm smile, leaning on the wine cask.
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Anathema
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: A tall, imposing demon woman with pale blue skin, yellow eyes, and curved horns that protrude backwards from her forehead. She wears her hair loose, reaching the base of her spine in length, and wears simple earth-toned vestments that suggest a modest lifestyle.
Equipment: Anathema's chief possession is her bastard sword, a heavy but otherwise unremarkable blade forged from good steel. Counted amongst the rest of of her belongings are a hunting knife and a pack containing various items useful for survival, as well as a small device of unknown origin.
Skills and Abilities: Anathema is adept both in martial combat and tactics. Her skill with a blade is bolstered by her demon strength, placing her physical ability above that of an average human.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 22:36:23 GMT -5
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Post by Anathema on Jan 1, 2022 21:45:01 GMT -5
He was strong, for a human. Most she had met would have had more trouble hefting the wine from the boat, and she would have offered to carry it herself if Azaran hadn't been so quick to the draw. She collected her small array of things, fishing an half-empty crate containing mostly hardtack and jerky from the skiff. Finally, the demon took a moment to kneel, pulling her boots over her feet, before rising to step towards Azaran.
Anathema only grunted in affirmation at Azaran's words, offering a small nod. She followed in his footsteps, stepping forth into the emerald glade and leaving the beach behind them.
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