Andrews
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 30
Appearance: With a hood and three different maks, this thief will Rob you without you even realising
Equipment: A long dagger and a second as an extra, lockpicks and extremely light and thing metal armour with padding so it doesn't make noise
Skills and Abilities: Sneaking, lockpicking, if it's a thief skill this guy will have it
Biography: At the age of 20 Andrew's daughter was born as his wife passed away. Withing a year he lost his job as the inn's bard stole gold from their work place and blame it on him. Andrews punch the guy so hard that the bard lost all of his front teeth "Try seducing women without teeth asshole," Andrews said after. For the next ten years, Andrews learned to sneak and to steal to get food on the table, he also helped anyone he could along the way.
Allegiances: Poor people that need help
Registered: Sept 19, 2021 19:33:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Andrews on Sept 30, 2021 11:02:47 GMT -5
"Oh really ?" Andrews step forward "I feel a bit challenged," he said, his voice had a tone of curiosity, he wondered about what type of skills the people in front of him had.
"I..." Andrews Sighed, it was hard for him to keep the "being fine" act, "I need help finding my daughter, this place is way too big for me to search all by myself, I am prepared to do anything in exchange for your help."
|
|
Darren Blackhand
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: Darren is twenty nine but due to a curse he was aged twenty years so his body is forty nine years old.
Appearance: Standing at just over six feet tall, Darren has the build of a swordsman and the look of a fighter. With reddish brown hair and beard dusted with silver, tanned skin, and stern features accented by dark emerald eyes and a vertical scar across his right eye.
Equipment: Darren is a man who takes the mottos of “be prepared” and “two is one, one is none” to an excessive degree.
With the now severely reduced capacity bags and saddle bags of holding he carried a small mountain of survival gear for most terrains, enough weaponry to arm a militia, and the many spoils of his days as an adventurer and dragon hunter, all amounting to a dragon’s hoard worth of treasure to call his own.
Skills and Abilities: His upbringing and carried life have left Darren an unrelenting survivor, deadly swordsman, a tireless tracker, and a silent killer.
Biography: Born in a village that survived off of the land and what coin they could earn from selling the excess to the nearby settlements Darren would have followed in his fathers footsteps to becoming a hunter of deer and wild plants. This was not to be as an ancient dragon awoke in a nearby cave system and laid waste to the town, leaving Darren and his sister Ailis as the only survivors.
Taken in by a traveling band of druids and rangers who had seen the dragon’s attack from afar, they took different paths. Darren learning from the rangers and Ailis from the druids.
That was the start of a long and bloody history of Darren being the sword and shield of those who could not defend themselves.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 12:35:42 GMT -5
|
Post by Darren Blackhand on Oct 11, 2021 15:57:29 GMT -5
Keeping his senses tuned towards the newcomer Darren made a decision. A quick series of movements popped the buckle on his sword belt and he hung it on the sled’s handles. Grabbing the lock of one of the larger chests on top of the pile he pricked his finger and squeezed a drop of blood into the keyhole, causing the lock to open without a sound. Grabbing the bundle off the top he shook out the armor which was a midpoint between a gambeson and a longcoat but was made of black leather and covered in black scales, each one rimmed with gold and faintly engraved with dwarven runes in a sequence of three scales. Protection, resistance, durability. Repeated over and over.
“I know you’re just trying to keep yourself confident. You’re in an unfamiliar place with unknown people and your daughter is missing.” He said as he pulled on the armor and began buckling it shut. “But your self reassurances are coming across as vaguely threatening. You need to pull yourself together or this isn’t going to end well.” He said as he picked up the sword belt and adjusted it before buckling it back on and pulling a Shortsword of a similar make to his dagger but with a star ruby and hung it from the hip opposite his longsword.
|
|
La Mademoiselle Noir
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 32
Appearance: 6'5" with a very thin frame. Her skin is so pale as to almost look unhealthy, with eyes a piercing mint green. Her pitch black hair is long and mostly straight, going all the way down her back, with the end of it seemingly burnt. She appears to wear a mostly black jacket and pants, accented with steel armor in key areas, as well as a pair of black boots.
Equipment: She carries a war-rapier in an ornate scabbard hung from her hip, as well as a cloth to clean and shine it and a waterskin.
Skills and Abilities: She is very fast and quite strong, especially for her size. It isn't anything that might be considered quite superhuman, but when compared to her musculature it definitely seems not to match up.
Biography: Geneviève is quite quiet about her life. She grew up in the courts of Vérilia, learning all the necessary etiquette to navigate her way near the king, and as importantly to her, near the military leaders. She trained directly under the captain of the king's personal guard in the way of the sword, picking up the weapon's nuances very quickly and rising through the ranks to be one of the top swordsmen in the army, with her analytical, tactical mind helping her make her way into the generals' room and soon to the king's right hand, earning the title of "La Mademoiselle Noir." However, during her time in the army, rumors about her were abound, ranging from her being able to take on 30 men and win, to her impressive feats coming from an undead background, and these rumors followed her to her position. When putting down an uprising in the outskirts of the kingdom, she was jumped on by locals and her own soldiers, calling her a vampire and attempting to burn her to death. This scorched most of her hair off, leaving behind a charred mess. These people were dealt with quickly. She grows her hair as long as she can now, to keep the burnt ends as a reminder to herself and those around her of what happens to those who cross her.
When the flood happened, she loaded onto a ship with her king and many of her people, a seer having predicted what would happen so that they could escape. However, during a storm after the flood she was thrown overboard, separated from her people as she washed up on shore all by herself, with no knowledge on what happened to her king.
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:04:22 GMT -5
|
Post by La Mademoiselle Noir on Oct 13, 2021 15:54:11 GMT -5
"Not a challenge." Geneviève says to Andrews. "A warning. You are on thin ice, monsieur, and if you continue with those thinly veiled threats then there will be consequences. I would hate to see that come to pass. As for helping find your daughter..." She trails off for a moment, mulling it over.
"I will help for now, but know that my priorities are on finding my people first and foremost." She raises the tip of her blade once more, pointing it at Andrews as she glares at him, her eyes cold as death. "But know this, Andrús, I will not let my guard down, so think twice before trying anything...rash."
She lowers the tip of her blade once more, eyes darting over to Darren. "Monsieur Dáren, you said you had materials to start the fire?"
|
|
Andrews
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 30
Appearance: With a hood and three different maks, this thief will Rob you without you even realising
Equipment: A long dagger and a second as an extra, lockpicks and extremely light and thing metal armour with padding so it doesn't make noise
Skills and Abilities: Sneaking, lockpicking, if it's a thief skill this guy will have it
Biography: At the age of 20 Andrew's daughter was born as his wife passed away. Withing a year he lost his job as the inn's bard stole gold from their work place and blame it on him. Andrews punch the guy so hard that the bard lost all of his front teeth "Try seducing women without teeth asshole," Andrews said after. For the next ten years, Andrews learned to sneak and to steal to get food on the table, he also helped anyone he could along the way.
Allegiances: Poor people that need help
Registered: Sept 19, 2021 19:33:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Andrews on Oct 13, 2021 17:24:50 GMT -5
Unfortunately for Andrews his ears stopped working the second he saw a cool lock, he took off his mask, his mouth was wide open, his eyes glowing, "That is so cool !!! I assume it works with magic, I might be wrong though, you never know." Andrews looked like a child, while talking about the lock "How would you even get one of those ? Guess it's impossible now innit ? You gotta let me try to lo..., Huh, now that I think about it that would be a dumb question to make."
His ears began to work again when his daughter was mentioned "Thank you." His sounded very sincere when he thanked the two people in front of him, than he put the happy mask on, picked a large coin purse an looked inside "Oh, why is this here ?" It was a small wooden horse, Andrews picked up for a second than put it back in the purse, "Unfortunately I'm out of interesting items, so unless you guys want 10 silver, I can get something for you two eventually. Cool armour by the way."
Andrews slowly took his chest armour off, it looked too thin to provide any real defense, "You two seem like good people so I don't think I'll be needing this, he untied the belt holding his knifes an Theo fell. "Wait." Andrews got on his knee and looked inside on his boot, "Oh no," he pulled a thin and small knife "she does not have her knife." Andrews seemed concerned.
|
|
Darren Blackhand
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: Darren is twenty nine but due to a curse he was aged twenty years so his body is forty nine years old.
Appearance: Standing at just over six feet tall, Darren has the build of a swordsman and the look of a fighter. With reddish brown hair and beard dusted with silver, tanned skin, and stern features accented by dark emerald eyes and a vertical scar across his right eye.
Equipment: Darren is a man who takes the mottos of “be prepared” and “two is one, one is none” to an excessive degree.
With the now severely reduced capacity bags and saddle bags of holding he carried a small mountain of survival gear for most terrains, enough weaponry to arm a militia, and the many spoils of his days as an adventurer and dragon hunter, all amounting to a dragon’s hoard worth of treasure to call his own.
Skills and Abilities: His upbringing and carried life have left Darren an unrelenting survivor, deadly swordsman, a tireless tracker, and a silent killer.
Biography: Born in a village that survived off of the land and what coin they could earn from selling the excess to the nearby settlements Darren would have followed in his fathers footsteps to becoming a hunter of deer and wild plants. This was not to be as an ancient dragon awoke in a nearby cave system and laid waste to the town, leaving Darren and his sister Ailis as the only survivors.
Taken in by a traveling band of druids and rangers who had seen the dragon’s attack from afar, they took different paths. Darren learning from the rangers and Ailis from the druids.
That was the start of a long and bloody history of Darren being the sword and shield of those who could not defend themselves.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 12:35:42 GMT -5
|
Post by Darren Blackhand on Oct 15, 2021 14:17:12 GMT -5
Darren made a confirmational sound and locked the chest shut again, concealing the fact that it was in fact lined in almost as much adamantine as was shaped into armor and weapons inside of it. Snapping the lock back into place he picked up the firewood he'd set on the sled and moved to the fire pit, dropping to a knee and swiftly assembling a sturdy stack that would hopefully burn slow and long. Dropping a small bundle of birch bark into the heart of it he struck the flint and steel together to create sparks. Two tries was all it took for the bark to start to burn, soon followed by the handful of twigs.
Glancing towards Andrews, having collected himself mentally he pinned the man with a piercing look.
"As I said, I understand that you're off kilter. Your daughter is missing and in trouble, but you need to stop acting like a threat or we will start treating you like one, and I don't leave threats alone. Stay away from the sled unless told otherwise." He said firmly as he dusted off his hands. Cupping them together and bringing them to his lips he let out a four note bird call. Melody's ears perked and swiveled towards him, the order understood. Guard.
|
|
La Mademoiselle Noir
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 32
Appearance: 6'5" with a very thin frame. Her skin is so pale as to almost look unhealthy, with eyes a piercing mint green. Her pitch black hair is long and mostly straight, going all the way down her back, with the end of it seemingly burnt. She appears to wear a mostly black jacket and pants, accented with steel armor in key areas, as well as a pair of black boots.
Equipment: She carries a war-rapier in an ornate scabbard hung from her hip, as well as a cloth to clean and shine it and a waterskin.
Skills and Abilities: She is very fast and quite strong, especially for her size. It isn't anything that might be considered quite superhuman, but when compared to her musculature it definitely seems not to match up.
Biography: Geneviève is quite quiet about her life. She grew up in the courts of Vérilia, learning all the necessary etiquette to navigate her way near the king, and as importantly to her, near the military leaders. She trained directly under the captain of the king's personal guard in the way of the sword, picking up the weapon's nuances very quickly and rising through the ranks to be one of the top swordsmen in the army, with her analytical, tactical mind helping her make her way into the generals' room and soon to the king's right hand, earning the title of "La Mademoiselle Noir." However, during her time in the army, rumors about her were abound, ranging from her being able to take on 30 men and win, to her impressive feats coming from an undead background, and these rumors followed her to her position. When putting down an uprising in the outskirts of the kingdom, she was jumped on by locals and her own soldiers, calling her a vampire and attempting to burn her to death. This scorched most of her hair off, leaving behind a charred mess. These people were dealt with quickly. She grows her hair as long as she can now, to keep the burnt ends as a reminder to herself and those around her of what happens to those who cross her.
When the flood happened, she loaded onto a ship with her king and many of her people, a seer having predicted what would happen so that they could escape. However, during a storm after the flood she was thrown overboard, separated from her people as she washed up on shore all by herself, with no knowledge on what happened to her king.
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:04:22 GMT -5
|
Post by La Mademoiselle Noir on Oct 15, 2021 20:15:32 GMT -5
As Andrews gawks at the lock, Geneviève puts her blade up between him and the sled, as a warning barrier of sorts, warning him not to take a step closer. She raises her eyebrow at the mention of the ten silver. "The offer is appreciated, mais worthless. There aren't exactly any shops to use it at." She points out, a condescending sneer in her voice.
Her eyes dart to the light of the flame as it is lit. She shoots Andrews one last warning glare before heading towards the fire. She takes a stick that had yet to be thrown on, thin enough to be held in the hand, and held the end into the fire until it began to heat and smolder. Once sufficient, she takes it and heads closer to the water and slightly away from the campfire. "Excuse-moi, s'il vous plaît." She says to the men. "There is something I must attend to. Don't kill each other while I am busy."
|
|
Andrews
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 30
Appearance: With a hood and three different maks, this thief will Rob you without you even realising
Equipment: A long dagger and a second as an extra, lockpicks and extremely light and thing metal armour with padding so it doesn't make noise
Skills and Abilities: Sneaking, lockpicking, if it's a thief skill this guy will have it
Biography: At the age of 20 Andrew's daughter was born as his wife passed away. Withing a year he lost his job as the inn's bard stole gold from their work place and blame it on him. Andrews punch the guy so hard that the bard lost all of his front teeth "Try seducing women without teeth asshole," Andrews said after. For the next ten years, Andrews learned to sneak and to steal to get food on the table, he also helped anyone he could along the way.
Allegiances: Poor people that need help
Registered: Sept 19, 2021 19:33:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Andrews on Oct 15, 2021 20:48:47 GMT -5
Andrews stared at the knife "Yeah, don't worry." He stood up, "I should've been more worried, she doesn't have her knife, that means she can't put most of what I thought her in use which means no fire, I can't wait, I'll be back before morning."
Andrews went into the trees for a second than pop his head out for a second "About the sled, the only thing interesting at all is the lock itself so don't worry." Than he left again, without his weapons or armour.
|
|
Darren Blackhand
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: Darren is twenty nine but due to a curse he was aged twenty years so his body is forty nine years old.
Appearance: Standing at just over six feet tall, Darren has the build of a swordsman and the look of a fighter. With reddish brown hair and beard dusted with silver, tanned skin, and stern features accented by dark emerald eyes and a vertical scar across his right eye.
Equipment: Darren is a man who takes the mottos of “be prepared” and “two is one, one is none” to an excessive degree.
With the now severely reduced capacity bags and saddle bags of holding he carried a small mountain of survival gear for most terrains, enough weaponry to arm a militia, and the many spoils of his days as an adventurer and dragon hunter, all amounting to a dragon’s hoard worth of treasure to call his own.
Skills and Abilities: His upbringing and carried life have left Darren an unrelenting survivor, deadly swordsman, a tireless tracker, and a silent killer.
Biography: Born in a village that survived off of the land and what coin they could earn from selling the excess to the nearby settlements Darren would have followed in his fathers footsteps to becoming a hunter of deer and wild plants. This was not to be as an ancient dragon awoke in a nearby cave system and laid waste to the town, leaving Darren and his sister Ailis as the only survivors.
Taken in by a traveling band of druids and rangers who had seen the dragon’s attack from afar, they took different paths. Darren learning from the rangers and Ailis from the druids.
That was the start of a long and bloody history of Darren being the sword and shield of those who could not defend themselves.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 12:35:42 GMT -5
|
Post by Darren Blackhand on Oct 18, 2021 17:40:40 GMT -5
Darren just stared after him for a few moments before shaking his head. There was no use shouting after the desperate and mad, and that man was either one, the other, or both. Stepping over to feed Melody some slices of dried apple he sighed and headed back to the fire. settling down on one of the rocks of the beach he settled onto the sand with a quiet grunt as his joints protested. Even with some of the treatments he received, his body was still approaching a physical age of nearly sixty, even if he was only two thirds that. Damned ghosts. Adjusting his weapons to a more comfortable angle he prepared for a long night.
|
|
La Mademoiselle Noir
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 32
Appearance: 6'5" with a very thin frame. Her skin is so pale as to almost look unhealthy, with eyes a piercing mint green. Her pitch black hair is long and mostly straight, going all the way down her back, with the end of it seemingly burnt. She appears to wear a mostly black jacket and pants, accented with steel armor in key areas, as well as a pair of black boots.
Equipment: She carries a war-rapier in an ornate scabbard hung from her hip, as well as a cloth to clean and shine it and a waterskin.
Skills and Abilities: She is very fast and quite strong, especially for her size. It isn't anything that might be considered quite superhuman, but when compared to her musculature it definitely seems not to match up.
Biography: Geneviève is quite quiet about her life. She grew up in the courts of Vérilia, learning all the necessary etiquette to navigate her way near the king, and as importantly to her, near the military leaders. She trained directly under the captain of the king's personal guard in the way of the sword, picking up the weapon's nuances very quickly and rising through the ranks to be one of the top swordsmen in the army, with her analytical, tactical mind helping her make her way into the generals' room and soon to the king's right hand, earning the title of "La Mademoiselle Noir." However, during her time in the army, rumors about her were abound, ranging from her being able to take on 30 men and win, to her impressive feats coming from an undead background, and these rumors followed her to her position. When putting down an uprising in the outskirts of the kingdom, she was jumped on by locals and her own soldiers, calling her a vampire and attempting to burn her to death. This scorched most of her hair off, leaving behind a charred mess. These people were dealt with quickly. She grows her hair as long as she can now, to keep the burnt ends as a reminder to herself and those around her of what happens to those who cross her.
When the flood happened, she loaded onto a ship with her king and many of her people, a seer having predicted what would happen so that they could escape. However, during a storm after the flood she was thrown overboard, separated from her people as she washed up on shore all by herself, with no knowledge on what happened to her king.
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:04:22 GMT -5
|
Post by La Mademoiselle Noir on Oct 19, 2021 14:17:10 GMT -5
The Mademoiselle rubbed the bridge of her nose as she heard Andrews venture inland, glad to be rid of him. However, she now turned her mind to other things. Approaching the water's edge, barely still within earshot of Darren, she settled down onto her knees, back facing the sea. She set the stick she was carrying down and took hold of her sword in one hand, and the end of her hair in the other. Quickly wrapping it around the blade, she takes a clean slice, taking a few inches off of the end. Then, she sets her blade back into its scabbard and grabs hold of the stick once more. She stares into the smoldering end for a moment, mind flooding with memories of the fire, and the rebellion, and of the person she became that day. Then, she held it to the end of her hair, waiting for it to smolder and catch alight. After a few seconds, she leans backwards, dunking the blazing hair into the seawater to put out the fire, before leaning back up and standing, casting the stick into the waters.
She gazed at the burnt end of her hair, pondering why, even after the world ends, she keeps up this ritual of hers. There was no one here to remind of that night, no one that she could cause to tremble with just the history that the image would conjure. Perhaps it was just for her, to make sure she would still be reminded every time it came into view, as if she could ever forget otherwise.
She sighs, heading back towards the fire, before seeing the things that Andrews left behind. "That man will be dead by morning." She says, shaking her head. She sits by the fire and just...looks into it. The night was going to be long, but she couldn't sleep just yet even if she wanted.
|
|
Darren Blackhand
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: Darren is twenty nine but due to a curse he was aged twenty years so his body is forty nine years old.
Appearance: Standing at just over six feet tall, Darren has the build of a swordsman and the look of a fighter. With reddish brown hair and beard dusted with silver, tanned skin, and stern features accented by dark emerald eyes and a vertical scar across his right eye.
Equipment: Darren is a man who takes the mottos of “be prepared” and “two is one, one is none” to an excessive degree.
With the now severely reduced capacity bags and saddle bags of holding he carried a small mountain of survival gear for most terrains, enough weaponry to arm a militia, and the many spoils of his days as an adventurer and dragon hunter, all amounting to a dragon’s hoard worth of treasure to call his own.
Skills and Abilities: His upbringing and carried life have left Darren an unrelenting survivor, deadly swordsman, a tireless tracker, and a silent killer.
Biography: Born in a village that survived off of the land and what coin they could earn from selling the excess to the nearby settlements Darren would have followed in his fathers footsteps to becoming a hunter of deer and wild plants. This was not to be as an ancient dragon awoke in a nearby cave system and laid waste to the town, leaving Darren and his sister Ailis as the only survivors.
Taken in by a traveling band of druids and rangers who had seen the dragon’s attack from afar, they took different paths. Darren learning from the rangers and Ailis from the druids.
That was the start of a long and bloody history of Darren being the sword and shield of those who could not defend themselves.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 12:35:42 GMT -5
|
Post by Darren Blackhand on Nov 3, 2021 23:02:29 GMT -5
Darren sat still, staring into the flames as the gears slowly, methodically, spun. He was no great philosopher or wizard. He was just a man who'd seen too much of the world. His thoughts were either lightning quick and reflexive when life hung in the balance measured in microseconds and millimeters, or measured, considered, inexorably ticking towards a solution when it wasn't. The current moment was in between the two. He was stranded on foreign soil with people he didn't know from lands he'd never heard of. The last time this had happened he had almost been killed by reanimated corpses controlled like puppets by the will of dark things from between the stars as the native inhabitants fought a bloody civil war and awoke slumbering powers that could have leveled kingdoms. Click, click, click, click.
He could all but hear it as his thoughts ground inexorably towards the bygone conclusion. Logic stated he should have stayed by the fire, let the fool die alone in the dark night, suicide by good intentions and adrenaline. Fuck. He rose from his crouch all but silently and sighed.
"Stay here, guard the camp. If I don't come back, Melody can help you get into the necessary supplies." He said to Guinevere before heading after the retreating form of Andrews at a loping but easy sprint. There was something off about the scene, and anyone paying close attention would notice. His armor, covered in matte scales didn't jingle. His steps were utterly silent, the only sound marking them the spraying sand. It had taken long years of training but one of the most useful tricks a man can have is to move like ghost in the night, making only as much sound as a stiff breeze and vanishing like a face in the crowd.
|
|
La Mademoiselle Noir
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 32
Appearance: 6'5" with a very thin frame. Her skin is so pale as to almost look unhealthy, with eyes a piercing mint green. Her pitch black hair is long and mostly straight, going all the way down her back, with the end of it seemingly burnt. She appears to wear a mostly black jacket and pants, accented with steel armor in key areas, as well as a pair of black boots.
Equipment: She carries a war-rapier in an ornate scabbard hung from her hip, as well as a cloth to clean and shine it and a waterskin.
Skills and Abilities: She is very fast and quite strong, especially for her size. It isn't anything that might be considered quite superhuman, but when compared to her musculature it definitely seems not to match up.
Biography: Geneviève is quite quiet about her life. She grew up in the courts of Vérilia, learning all the necessary etiquette to navigate her way near the king, and as importantly to her, near the military leaders. She trained directly under the captain of the king's personal guard in the way of the sword, picking up the weapon's nuances very quickly and rising through the ranks to be one of the top swordsmen in the army, with her analytical, tactical mind helping her make her way into the generals' room and soon to the king's right hand, earning the title of "La Mademoiselle Noir." However, during her time in the army, rumors about her were abound, ranging from her being able to take on 30 men and win, to her impressive feats coming from an undead background, and these rumors followed her to her position. When putting down an uprising in the outskirts of the kingdom, she was jumped on by locals and her own soldiers, calling her a vampire and attempting to burn her to death. This scorched most of her hair off, leaving behind a charred mess. These people were dealt with quickly. She grows her hair as long as she can now, to keep the burnt ends as a reminder to herself and those around her of what happens to those who cross her.
When the flood happened, she loaded onto a ship with her king and many of her people, a seer having predicted what would happen so that they could escape. However, during a storm after the flood she was thrown overboard, separated from her people as she washed up on shore all by herself, with no knowledge on what happened to her king.
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:04:22 GMT -5
|
Post by La Mademoiselle Noir on Nov 4, 2021 19:15:03 GMT -5
Slightly offput by the noiseless retreat, Geneviève watched Darren leave. "Take the things he left behind." She yells after him. "So he is better than dead weight." She stops for a second, cut off by the crackling of the fire. "And if you are not back by morning I am leaving without you."
She casts her gaze back to the fire, sighing. No matter what, it seemed, be she in the royal courts of Verilia or in the untamed wilderness of the end of the world, she was cursed to be surrounded by idiots and fools. At least back home she had her king, a voice of reason that could rise up above the squabble. But here? She was alone. For all she knew, she could be the last person from her home alive, everyone else swallowed by the waves or stranded at sea until they starved to death. She dropped her gaze to the ornate scabbard in which her blade sat, one word emblazoned in the metal detailing adorning the base: Noir.
Her.
She looks out over the water, towards the faint red glow she could see only barely through the fog. Right now that beacon was her only hope for finding where her countrymen could be. Then, she turns her eyes back to the woods where the two fools had ran off to. Where that little lady may still be wandering as well. While she would never admit to caring, she hoped they would find her. No young woman deserves to face the world without support.
|
|
Andrews
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 30
Appearance: With a hood and three different maks, this thief will Rob you without you even realising
Equipment: A long dagger and a second as an extra, lockpicks and extremely light and thing metal armour with padding so it doesn't make noise
Skills and Abilities: Sneaking, lockpicking, if it's a thief skill this guy will have it
Biography: At the age of 20 Andrew's daughter was born as his wife passed away. Withing a year he lost his job as the inn's bard stole gold from their work place and blame it on him. Andrews punch the guy so hard that the bard lost all of his front teeth "Try seducing women without teeth asshole," Andrews said after. For the next ten years, Andrews learned to sneak and to steal to get food on the table, he also helped anyone he could along the way.
Allegiances: Poor people that need help
Registered: Sept 19, 2021 19:33:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Andrews on Nov 9, 2021 15:44:39 GMT -5
Andrews had went through so many dark places that it was like second nature for him by now, his eyes adapted quickly and he moved fast. Every now and than he would stop and listen, only the noises of the forest would reach his ears.
Eventually Darren would catch up to him, when he did, Andrews would be looking at ground, trying to find anything that would lead his daughter "you're very silent," Andrews said after noticing the man "I'm sorry if I said anything weird earlier, I don't exactly know how to talk with people." Andrews sighed.
|
|
Darren Blackhand
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: Darren is twenty nine but due to a curse he was aged twenty years so his body is forty nine years old.
Appearance: Standing at just over six feet tall, Darren has the build of a swordsman and the look of a fighter. With reddish brown hair and beard dusted with silver, tanned skin, and stern features accented by dark emerald eyes and a vertical scar across his right eye.
Equipment: Darren is a man who takes the mottos of “be prepared” and “two is one, one is none” to an excessive degree.
With the now severely reduced capacity bags and saddle bags of holding he carried a small mountain of survival gear for most terrains, enough weaponry to arm a militia, and the many spoils of his days as an adventurer and dragon hunter, all amounting to a dragon’s hoard worth of treasure to call his own.
Skills and Abilities: His upbringing and carried life have left Darren an unrelenting survivor, deadly swordsman, a tireless tracker, and a silent killer.
Biography: Born in a village that survived off of the land and what coin they could earn from selling the excess to the nearby settlements Darren would have followed in his fathers footsteps to becoming a hunter of deer and wild plants. This was not to be as an ancient dragon awoke in a nearby cave system and laid waste to the town, leaving Darren and his sister Ailis as the only survivors.
Taken in by a traveling band of druids and rangers who had seen the dragon’s attack from afar, they took different paths. Darren learning from the rangers and Ailis from the druids.
That was the start of a long and bloody history of Darren being the sword and shield of those who could not defend themselves.
Registered: Sept 9, 2021 12:35:42 GMT -5
|
Post by Darren Blackhand on Nov 11, 2021 22:26:11 GMT -5
"Bow or blade." Darren said with a grim smile. "And I get that. I'm not exactly the most sociable of people either. But I can kill with the best of them and carry around the armaments to do it. Being unarmed out here is a death sentence without the fancy political wording they put in the execution proclamations. So, bow or blade?" He said, pulling the two options out of his belt without any pomp or flourishes.
|
|
Andrews
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 30
Appearance: With a hood and three different maks, this thief will Rob you without you even realising
Equipment: A long dagger and a second as an extra, lockpicks and extremely light and thing metal armour with padding so it doesn't make noise
Skills and Abilities: Sneaking, lockpicking, if it's a thief skill this guy will have it
Biography: At the age of 20 Andrew's daughter was born as his wife passed away. Withing a year he lost his job as the inn's bard stole gold from their work place and blame it on him. Andrews punch the guy so hard that the bard lost all of his front teeth "Try seducing women without teeth asshole," Andrews said after. For the next ten years, Andrews learned to sneak and to steal to get food on the table, he also helped anyone he could along the way.
Allegiances: Poor people that need help
Registered: Sept 19, 2021 19:33:37 GMT -5
|
Post by Andrews on Dec 20, 2021 11:21:04 GMT -5
"I rather not kill if I can, or fight at all, of I approach someone ready for a fight, you can bet that cool lock on ya chest that they deserve it somehow. Blade" Andrews answered, "Oh, by the way, you don't need to worry about me going through you're stuff, I don't really need any of it neither you gave me a reason to think you're an asshole, I just think that the lock I'd cool, it's the first time I saw something like that."
Andrews' voice seemed a little shaky, perhaps he was feeling anxious, which would be normal, given the fact that his Daughter was lost somewhere "Well, if you're coming with me than help me find any tracks that might lead to a small child." Andrews started looking again but then turned to Darren "Please," he said "almost forgot to say please, that would not be polite would it. Now we search !"
|
|
Nina
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 289 
Registered: Apr 4, 2021 10:46:08 GMT -5
|
Post by Nina on Aug 8, 2023 15:10:17 GMT -5
The Clocktower was pulling her onward.
She could feel it like the swing of a pendulum past her ear, never quite reaching its highest point, never quite stopping, making her start every time the minute shifts in its soundlessness hinted at tilt or at a twisting round the axis. Nina could not grasp it, for she processed it not with her mind, but with the gear-wire inside her, and that was bad. And it was getting louder.
At first, it had been simply there. Suddenly, as she was fifty paces under the sea, hunting, she had felt a new fragment of the Clocktower fit into place. That was all that she needed to tell Gray. While she lay splattered on the shore, gasping for breath, the man was already preparing rations for her journey. Not much needed to be said. They could not allow the story that had nearly unraveled their old world to be spun anew.
And so Nina sailed. Onto a leaf barely larger than herself, that she'd once gotten from the Overgrowth, now brown and dry with age yet somehow still floating. Her oars were the wings of a maple seed. The wind was at her back; the coast was at her side. A proper ship in the same direction wouldn't leave for another quarter-month. She knew not for how long she would have to travel. If her boat would hold in open sea. If the new fragment was powerful enough to be sensed from great distance, then all the more reason to get an early start. Yet, this fragment was strange. Nina had spent many a moment tilting her head. Unless it was somehow messing with her mind...
It was moving.
When the sensation grew again until it felt like just another part of her breath, until she felt compelled towards it by more than will, she saw the red sails – and understood. And hid, waiting for the cover of darkness while the pain in her arms, from rowing, faded, and she could lift them again. For even though fiends from hell had gifted her the Clocktower Key in an act of kindness, Nina could not trust this time would be as easy. Those sails were a signal. What for? Who for? Her heart clenched. Leper colony?
...Pirates?
“Take care,” Gray had said, putting his fine dark cloak on her shoulders.
The leaf boat was quiet against the smattering of waves. The moon was full, but shadowed by a thin veil of clouds and intermittent rain. Nina's hand pressed against the hull. The red-sailed ship towered above her. She found her way almost by hearing, by touch. By the feeling of the waves under her. By the sense of a swinging pendulum just out of reach. Shivering, the girl tied her wet cloak tighter against herself. Would that be enough to protect her? Magic.
A strange magic, the cloak had. Strange enough that Nina couldn't even see it. It didn't exactly make one invisible but...how did Gray describe it?...'makes one the least interesting thing in one's field of awareness'. That explained how the assassin could seem to pop out of nowhere. It might not be enough. If she died...Nina swallowed . Her hand slipped past wood, into nothingness, before her knuckles struck the ladder she'd seen earlier that evening, when she'd sneaked along the shore to investigate. She wondered if anyone had spotted her then. She tied her boat.
She climbed up.
As the rain stopped, she crossed the deck, leaving faint puddles behind.
|
|
