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
|
Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jan 23, 2022 13:54:56 GMT -5
The moon and stars, weary from their watch over the night, dipped below the land, making way for the sun to take their place for the day. The sun began to peek over the horizon, its rays shining through to drive away the morning dew as the forest, still quiet from the night, just began to stir. The early morning predators would begin their hunts. The plants would bask in the sunlight, praising the day as it fed them. Meanwhile, the people would continue to sleep until the sun peeked through their canopies and into their windows to rouse them for another day.
Before the golden light could hit the forest floor, however, Azaran had already awoken, gathering up the supplies needed for the journey and hauling them to the shore. Everything had been neatly packed, with a number of small pouches hanging from his belt, as well as two moderately sized packs that could be slung over the shoulder or back. He sat the two packs on the sands as he looked out at the sea, straining his eyes to see what he could view over the water in this early morning light. Not able to see much yet passed the fog and quickly waning darkness, he did another quick inventory of the items he planned to bring, triple-checking to make sure he forgot nothing.
Verifying that he had what he needed, he then looked at the boat in front of him. While he had originally planned on taking his own boat on this trip, the addition of a travel companion made that…difficult. His boat, if it could even be called that, didn’t even have enough room for him to stand up, let alone to ferry two people across the strait that separated them from the other island. While he had yet to ask Anathema about it, he figured it would be in the interest of both to instead take the ship that had carried her here. Speaking of Anathema, she seemed to be the only thing going on this voyage not accounted for. Turning back towards the forest, Azaran began to head back away from the water, finally going to wake his new traveling companion as they readied for the trip ahead of them.
|
|
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
|
Post by Anathema on Jan 27, 2022 22:47:41 GMT -5
The first light of dawn filtered through the trees, but that wasn't what woke Anathema - that credit went to a soft chorus of stifled giggling from several points in front of her. Despite her sheepish awakening, Anathema's body suddenly shot awake as she registered the voices. Her hand moved reflexively to her sword, drawing it halfway from its sheath in a panic before her eyes even had the chance to open. When her vision finally adjusted, she was met with the sight of...
A kid?
Anathema blinked twice, making eye contact with a young girl. She couldn't have been older than ten - assuming her lifespan was similar to that of a human's, at least. Small nub-like horns emerged from her hair, and her legs were those of a goat. She seemed unperturbed that the demon's hand had moved to her weapon, only tilting her head at the demon with that curiosity that only children could possess. Two more stood around her, flinching back in preparation for a potential attack. Smart.
They were each holding a handful of... what, flowers?
The faun took Anathema's hand, helping her up and leading her to a shallow pond nestled in the woods nearby. The fiend looked down to see her reflection in the still water. Her face stared back, weary and hollow... but then her eyes wandered up. Her horns... their ridges had been filled with white and yellow flowers, cresting neatly along their curving shape. She stared down with confusion at her reflection, looking to the young faun to explain herself.
She met the demon's eyes and simply shrugged. "We saw your horns. We thought they were pretty." The child smiled, offering Anathema one last small yellow flower.
Anathema blinked again, gingerly taking the flower from the child. She stood there for a quiet moment.
"Pretty," she repeated, the word feeling strange in her mouth. She met the child's eyes through her reflection in the pool, rather than meet her real face. For just a moment, her reflection smiled. "I like it. Thanks, kid."
The faun beamed, satisfied even at such a small token of approval. "Are you leaving with the purple man? We saw you go into his house." The girl smiled absent-mindedly, kneeling down to pick more flowers around the edge of the pond. "We like him. He's nice, and he talks funny."
Anathema's eyes widened slightly, remembering where she was. She was late. She muttered a curse in V'Saadi, pivoting to make her way towards the beach in a hurry. Her last glimpse of the village of Ma'ar was that of the child and her entourage, who giggled and waved as the demon disappeared into the woods.
She saw them wave because she had turned her head to look back. This was also the reason that Anathema barreled into Azaran at full speed as he returned to find her.
|
|
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
|
Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jan 30, 2022 17:50:58 GMT -5
Azaran trekked a short distance further into the woods, retracing his steps from his walk to the shore. As he walked he began to ponder what way they should go. Should they head north? He thought he’d seen the mouth of a river as he walked the shore one day, but he wasn’t sure. Perhaps west was better? He hadn’t seen much in that direction except some small hills, but an open area would be easy to traverse. Or perhaps they should sail along the coast? It may make a faster journey, after all…
However, the wandering warrior’s thoughts were quickly pulled elsewhere as he turned the corner, suddenly feeling a powerful force ram into him and knock him to the ground, causing his breath to leave him. He laid there for a moment, slightly dazed as he tried to regain his wind, before registering what or who had tackled him. He saw above him the form of the blue demon that had just recently become his traveling companion, fresh picked flowers adorning her horns. He smiles up at her. “Well hello, Anathema. I was just coming to wake you.” He says through stifled laughter of his own at the situation. “Yet it seems the children beat me to it! Wonderful little souls, are they not?”
|
|
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
|
Post by Anathema on Feb 3, 2022 21:52:29 GMT -5
"Ah... sorry." Another string of jagged syllables escaped Anathema's lips as she knelt down, offering her arm to help Azaran to his feet.
"They're something, alright," she mumbled, dusting herself off. "What gave it away?"
She quickly followed Azaran's eyes up towards her horns, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Ah. Right." She grumbled, but didn't make any motion to remove the vegetation. In truth, Anathema thought it rather endearing, though she would never dream of admitting it. She shrugged her head vaguely in the direction the man had come from, taking a few steps forward.
"C'mon. Wasted enough daylight as it is."
They made their way through the jungle, Anathema's mood greatly improved with a night of rest. This is not to say her demeanor was anything worthy of the word 'jubilant', but at the very least her eyes weren't glued to the ground. Plus, she hadn't entirely drawn her sword on a juvenile satyr! Progress.
"So, where are we headed? Better yet, where else is there? Can't help but wonder how the scope of this place compares to the old one." Anathema pulled aside a vine that dangled in front of them, holding it above her head for Azaran to pass underneath. "All I can tell so far is that the beaches are nicer."
She had been to a beach on Komali, once. Didn't much care for it. Call her old fashioned, but Anathema was of the opinion that otherworldly sludge did little to improve a place's scenery.
|
|
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
|
Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Feb 6, 2022 22:34:29 GMT -5
Azaran accepted Anathema’s arm, hoisting himself back onto his feet and dusting off his back the best he could. He could see her looking up towards her horns, mumbling about them as she did so. “I think they look nice.” He commented, following her for a short distance before taking back the lead to retrace his steps.
The Wanderer took note of the improvement in Anathema’s mood. Not joyous, definitely, but nowhere near as timid as she had been upon entrance to Ma’ar the night prior. He smiled. Perhaps this meant she was warming up to him.
As they approached the shore, evident by the thinning of the trees, Azaran considered what Anathema asked. “Well,” he started, scratching his chin. “I had borrowed a spyglass from one of the residents of the town, and with it I could see across the water to both the north and the west. From what I can tell, a bay separates us from some other land, and I believe they both are the same landmass. Northwards, I saw a mouth of a river, I believe, as well as trees. Westwards, however, I only saw what appeared to be foothills.” He fell back to walk beside her once more, turning to face her as he spoke. “I have a somewhat crude map at the shore amongst our supplies. We can refer to that as we plan a course. Does that seem fair to you?” He asked, turning back to face forwards as the bow of the ship started to be visible through the treeline. “Ah, speaking of nice beaches, it seems we’re almost there already! How fortunate.”
|
|
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
|
Post by Anathema on Feb 9, 2022 18:04:16 GMT -5
Interesting. So there was a lot more land than this jungle, it would seem. Good. It would make it all the easier to become lost in if the ever to arise. Anathema fell back into Azaran's lead, choosing to ignore his comment on her horns.
"Suits me fine. I don't care much for where we're headed, personally. So long as you don't lead us straight... into..." Anathema's eyes narrowed, the first sight of the black skiff beginning to peek its way through the trees. Panic didn't take her this time - she had grown familiar enough with the vessel at this point to know it couldn't hurt her - but she wasn't pleased, all the same.
"Ah." She paused as the two reached the ship at last. She cast a wary glance towards Azaran, the reality of the situation setting in. "You don't have a ship."
|
|
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
|
Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Feb 10, 2022 19:17:15 GMT -5
Azaran looked back at Anathema, a concerned look in his eyes. He had never considered that she would mind taking the ship she arrived on, but the look in her eye and the tone in her voice made him consider it heavily now. “My apologies. What I arrived in amounts to little more than a one person rowboat.” He explains. “I had not considered that this ship…may not be something you wished to travel on again. Perhaps we could think up an alternative?”
He scratched his chin as he started to pace, trying to find another solution. His boat was most definitely too small, he hadn’t even been able to stand up in it without risk of tipping. He didn’t want to take one from the people of Ma’ar, they would likely need them in the future. He stopped, unable to think of anything. Then he turned to Anathema. “Do you have any better ideas?” He asked genuinely. “Personally I am at a loss.”
|
|
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
|
Post by Anathema on Feb 12, 2022 23:58:59 GMT -5
She sighed, watching Azaran toil for a solution that had a better chance of appeasing her. Her own people would have reprimanded Anathema for taking issue with such a simple suggestion - after all, why should she be opposed? It was a perfectly serviceable craft. Nothing was inherently wrong with it, and it could easily carry the two of them to the next shore. What, was she scared of a boat? No - for Azaran, she would suffer this small indignity... after a few small adjustments.
Anathema said nothing in response to her companion's question at first, instead taking a long moment to stare at the ship. Wordlessly, the fiend wandered over to a rock resting in the sand, roughly the size of her own head. She hefted it in her hands, feeling the weight of it with an expression of cold satisfaction. The demon approached the side of the vessel, where a symbol had been painted skillfully onto the blackened wood. A pale green star, housing the visage of a single, watchful eye. It stared her down even as she lifted the rock high above her head, the muscles of her powerful arms contracting with destructive intent.
She brought the rock down onto the symbol. Hard. She brought it down again, and again, until all that remained of the accursed thing was a shallow crater indented savagely into the ship's hull. Anathema stood, panting, the rock dropping from her splintered hands as she admired her handiwork.
"It'll do."
|
|
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
|
Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Feb 14, 2022 23:00:15 GMT -5
Azaran went back into thought, trying to think up a solution. Swimming was most definitely out of the question, as was walking for some quite obvious reasons. He stopped for a moment, having just considered a question he should have asked: What was wrong with this vessel anyways? Why couldn’t they take it?
His attention was grabbed suddenly by the answer to that very question as he heard the sound of a rock bashing against wood, quickly turning to see a huge score marking the insignia on the side of the ship. And then another as Anathema brought the stone down again. And again. He watched as she destroyed the symbol, only so aware of just how unaware he was about what whoever it represented did to her. Perhaps he didn’t want to know.
Upon watching her finish her impromptu boat remodeling, he nodded decisively. “Alright then!” He said, taking a piece of paper out of his supply bag and unrolling it, showing off a very crude map of the shore they stood upon, as well as very rough estimates of what he could see beyond the bay, including the river mouth to the north and a messy approximation of hills to the west. “Now, I believe that going north would be our best bet. If we follow the river, at the very least we will have a reliable source of freshwater for the early part of the journey. What do you think?” He asks, turning back to Anathema, only to notice the splinters in her hands from her earlier display. “Oh my, does that hurt?” He asks, digging through his bag once more as he puts away the piece of paper that could generously be considered a map. “I believe I have something in here to bandage it, if you get the splinters out. At least enough to keep irritants like the salt water out of the wound.”
|
|
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
|
Post by Anathema on Feb 19, 2022 21:52:01 GMT -5
"Smart. Plus, you're looking for other survivors, right? If we stick to the river, we're twice as likely to find other settlements cropped up next to it." Anathema traced the map up the length of the river to the north, likely causing Azaran to first take notice of her splintered fingers. She looked up at him curiously as he voiced his concerns, taking a moment to realize what he was referring to.
"What? Oh, this is nothing." The demon raised a finger to her lips, biting out one of the splinters and sucking at a bead of cobalt blood that leaked from the wound. She was still getting used to how soft the man was - she was starting to think she never would. In truth, any pain she might have felt from the splinters was so minuscule compared to what she was used to, she hadn't even noticed the jagged pieces of wood until Azaran had pointed them out.
Anathema shrugged. "Don't waste the supplies. Plenty of people out there who could get a lot more use out of something like a bandage."
The demon knelt to remove her boots before positioning herself at the head of the boat, shoving it off the shore and into the sea. Knee-deep in the surf, the demon anchored the vessel in place, holding a hand out to Azaran to help him inside.
|
|
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
|
Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Feb 22, 2022 16:00:26 GMT -5
“If you insist.” Azaran conceded, tossing his bag back over his shoulder as he watched her push the boat into the water. He blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected demons to be so much stronger than the average human. Was that a demon trait, he wondered, or simply one Anathema held of her own ability? It didn’t matter, he concluded as he took her hand, getting in, before reaching down to help Anathema get up. “But if it starts to get irritated, let me know. I know a few ways to deal with that before it gets too bad.”
He turned his attention to the sea as he drew in a deep breath, the salt stinging his nose slightly. He didn’t mind, though. It was simply the smell of travel, and he was itching to smell it again. He turned his gaze northwards, eyes trained on the faint outline he could see of the distant shore. He looked back at Anathema. “Ready to set sail whenever you are!” He exclaimed. “A brand new world, full of so much to see. Who is to know what we might find?” He pondered aloud. “Personally, I am quite excited.”
|
|
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
|
Post by Anathema on Mar 8, 2022 15:58:42 GMT -5
Begrudgingly, the fiend nodded. Her people were slower to infection than most humans, but it was still possible - especially in a place like this. She wasn't too prideful to ignore the warning signs should they arise. Anathema clambered into the boat, the salty currents of the Mistborne sea stinging the miniature wounds in her hands as she hoisted herself upward.
She took a seat at the ship's rear, elbows propped up against her knees before smirking at the man, amused. He was like a puppy, this one - bright eyed and full of wonder. For now, Anathema made the choice not to rain on his parade. She started making the preparations to make the vessel seaworthy, binding the wind to their sails and pointing them in the direction of the mainland.
"A new world... a fresh start." Anathema ruminated, half to herself but loud enough for Azaran to hear. Again, she smiled slightly, golden eyes turning to face the surf that stretched out before them. "Alright, Purple Man. Lets see what's waiting for us on the other side."
|
|
Paragon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Appearance: The impressionable Paragon is the antithesis of his father where they hoped he would be his mirror. Fit, but wiry, he takes after his mother's frame. He dons a teal color that fades to white on his chest and face, like shallow waters in the sunlight. He has no scales and instead has the same thick skin as a moray eel, which can light up and change colors in certain areas around his eyes, neck, and shoulders. What seems to be hair on his head is a slippery cilium that is very much alive and does not absorb water or weigh him down. His teeth are quite human, albeit with a few more pointy ones, as his diet is widely carnivorous. In between his arms to his torso is a thin membrane that helps him swim. The same membrane can be seen between his fingers and toes. Between his shoulders, he has a large dorsal held up by a stiff spine with a clear membrane attaching it to his mid-back. His gills sit along his ribcage.
On land, he stands at 5'8".
________________________________________________________
Equipment: Paragon wields a spear that is more adept for fishing than it is for fighting, though it is made to hunt large, sometimes dangerous prey. The base is made from bone, while the head is made from the thorny tooth of the same prey. Though only a few inches in length, the tooth is ideal for piercing fish.
_________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not half as fast as his counterpart, Cutthroat, Paragon boasts a speed and agility that is still impressive among his peers. His strength and combat abilities are nothing to boast about, but his people are sure he will come into them one day to be the Paragon of his father, their great and fearless leader.
Unlike most of his people, he is amphibious and has a set of lungs alongside his gills. As long as he stays moist, he can spend long amounts of time on land.
Registered: Jun 10, 2021 0:18:17 GMT -5
|
Post by Paragon on Jan 9, 2024 0:41:26 GMT -5
He wasn't quite sure why he was here.
Of course, he'd been looking for Cutthroat, but he certainly didn't mean to go this far! He wasn't quite sure where he was anymore, and such a thing was quite concerning. Thankfully, he did see some people on this very beach not so long ago, and despite everything his father told him, he chose to try and trust the land-dwellers. Perhaps they could lead him back to his dwellings with the rest of the Tueima. Except...
Well, there wasn't anyone here anymore! There were footprints that lead deep into the woods, but Paragon was sure he couldn't make it so far on his own two feet, despite having them. Surely he'd shrivel up and die or get eaten somewhere in there the moment he set foot on a patch of grass!
With all these thoughts stirring in his head, the fishboy stood paralyzed by choice and paranoia, holding his spear more like a shield than a weapon.
|
|
Roona Lovelock
Established
Roleplay posts: 42
Age: 22
Appearance: With auburn longish hair that's often in a braid. Build is on the leaner side with abs and a sturdy sleeper build but in turn wears bulky clothing. Freckles dot her face with a dragon eye tattoo on the back of her neck. She stands around 6'2 with the poise and gait of an artic wolf.
Equipment: Two cutlasses with a holster to fit both. Seafarer gear for voyages. A long reinforced flowing coat that's a tad large for her. She also wears a perfect ring almost scared of ever taking it off.
Skills and Abilities: Has been taught a bit on the forbidden side two sword fighting style. The style includes lots of spins and deceiving the enemy when in the heat of combat. She has skills as a captain and leader as well as a star watcher.
Biography: Hailing from a richer society she was well schooled to be a merchant. But after her home city being destroyed she turned to more dishonorable roles. She is now the new ruler/ring of Rorkia.
Allegiances: Rorkia, her people, the historia
Place of Residence: Rorkia
Registered: Jan 7, 2024 23:49:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Roona Lovelock on Jan 9, 2024 1:17:33 GMT -5
Roona was tired of this place already, after skimming the shore for awhile and getting dust everywhere this was a semi nice change. Some of her more motivated crew decided to more serious scouting, Roona herself decided to do more casual scouting. She had her boots off as she trampled through the floor with a half grace. She was taking in every smell and feeling in her feet and toes of the area around her, it was freeing after being on a ship for far too long.
Just then up ahead she noticed a person up ahead and instantly took a look at everything about them. With swift eye movement turning to swift foot movement she slowly made her way closer with one hand carrying boots and the other on a hidden dagger on her corset. "Hey fish boy, whats your deal dont you know your in the lands of the historias sight" she called from about 20 meters away before stopping and staring. Her stare was as cold as steel and as unreadable as a burnt page of old poetry.
None of her crew was at her side as she insisted so it was just her and this strange person.
|
|
Paragon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Appearance: The impressionable Paragon is the antithesis of his father where they hoped he would be his mirror. Fit, but wiry, he takes after his mother's frame. He dons a teal color that fades to white on his chest and face, like shallow waters in the sunlight. He has no scales and instead has the same thick skin as a moray eel, which can light up and change colors in certain areas around his eyes, neck, and shoulders. What seems to be hair on his head is a slippery cilium that is very much alive and does not absorb water or weigh him down. His teeth are quite human, albeit with a few more pointy ones, as his diet is widely carnivorous. In between his arms to his torso is a thin membrane that helps him swim. The same membrane can be seen between his fingers and toes. Between his shoulders, he has a large dorsal held up by a stiff spine with a clear membrane attaching it to his mid-back. His gills sit along his ribcage.
On land, he stands at 5'8".
________________________________________________________
Equipment: Paragon wields a spear that is more adept for fishing than it is for fighting, though it is made to hunt large, sometimes dangerous prey. The base is made from bone, while the head is made from the thorny tooth of the same prey. Though only a few inches in length, the tooth is ideal for piercing fish.
_________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not half as fast as his counterpart, Cutthroat, Paragon boasts a speed and agility that is still impressive among his peers. His strength and combat abilities are nothing to boast about, but his people are sure he will come into them one day to be the Paragon of his father, their great and fearless leader.
Unlike most of his people, he is amphibious and has a set of lungs alongside his gills. As long as he stays moist, he can spend long amounts of time on land.
Registered: Jun 10, 2021 0:18:17 GMT -5
|
Post by Paragon on Jan 11, 2024 1:19:21 GMT -5
Two webbed flaps of skin that were previously hidden suddenly snapped taut from Paragon's neck when he heard a voice call out to him. His eyes grew wide as he turned, the trident held closer to his chest than ever before.
There, he laid eyes on a landlubber. She wasn't quite like the others he'd come to expect, no; in some ways she was a lot more like his folk than her own. Green hair and standing at a height well beyond those of her normal stature? Well, that was... unheard of, for young Paragon. He stood still, as though doing so would render him invisible to her eyes.
But... he did quirk a brow.
"His... Historias?" He asked curiously. This was the first time he'd run into anyone claiming this land as their own.
|
|
