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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Nov 2, 2021 0:43:38 GMT -5
The Winterlight Estate has established a colony some distance inland of the island's coast. Within a woodland cradle overlooked by mountains to the north, several modest tents have been pitched as lodgings for the majority of the Estate's laborers and servants, with a number of more lavish tents intended to house the ranks of the Magisters. The Estate's laborers are currently collecting resources to begin the production of a Manor, along with other permanent lodgings.
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Moira Blaine
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Appearance: With her red hair, slender build, and big, doll-like eyes, Moira Blaine is pretty by anyone's standard. It's only upon very close inspection that one might notice that her left eye is made entirely of glass.
Biography: A former agent in the employ of Isra's most secret labs, Moira was charged with watching over the workings of the inner government and keeping watch over the government's inner workings.
Registered: Dec 4, 2021 0:31:13 GMT -5
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Post by Moira Blaine on Dec 5, 2021 2:32:11 GMT -5
Landing a ship alone, Moira had found, was no easy task. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to anchor The Taste of Sugar off the coast and lower the boat on her own, but she'd managed. One didn't become a masked agent of Isra's infamous Department of Anomaly Containment without being resourceful, after all. Once she'd managed to make landfall, she'd immediately spotted smoke rising off in the distance and began making her way inland. Friendly or not, it had been a while since she'd seen another living person. The thought that it might not be people that she met crossed her mind, but she decided that it would still be better than nothing.
After some walking, Moira found herself at the edge of some sort of camp. Skulking quietly at the edge of the treeline, she watched as laborers milled about between tents and cooking fires. The visible differences between the fancy and mundane tents told a tale of the command structure of this group, but it seemed organized enough. After assuring herself that they seemed like reasonable enough people (primarily making sure that they were not currently skinning and sacrificing any maidens to some apocalyptic god,) she decided to make herself known. Stepping out of the trees, she strolled into the camp, looking for any sort of authority figure who'd be able to offer some kind of information. Who knew, perhaps they'd have some food here. It had been a while since she'd eaten last, and longer still since she'd had anything good. Her glass eye was still bothering her, and she rubbed at it absently with a handkerchief. It tingled and blurred, but was still at least better than an empty socket. At least the enchantments hadn't completely worn off.
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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Dec 6, 2021 23:27:01 GMT -5
"Thats far enough."
The words were accompanied by the click of a handful of crossbows, pointed in the general direction of Moira's vitals. Two perimeter guards stationed nearby her point of entry barred further passage into the camp as the source of the voice had a chance to approach. The figure of a gruff woman bearing a scar across her left eye walked up leisurely to the newcomer, hands in her pockets and a twig between her teeth.
"Are you lost, little lady?" The woman narrowed her eyes at Moira, the fledgling signs of suspicion plain to observe across her face. "I know the names and faces of every wretch that made landfall here, and you sure as hell ain't one of 'em."
The woman had no reason not to trust this outsider, but she certainly had no reason to trust her either - especially not with both of the twins off playing explorer somewhere on this armpit of a demiplane. Hers was a reasonable amount of hostility, given the circumstances.
"What business do you have here, waltzing on into our little corner of paradise?"
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Moira Blaine
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Appearance: With her red hair, slender build, and big, doll-like eyes, Moira Blaine is pretty by anyone's standard. It's only upon very close inspection that one might notice that her left eye is made entirely of glass.
Biography: A former agent in the employ of Isra's most secret labs, Moira was charged with watching over the workings of the inner government and keeping watch over the government's inner workings.
Registered: Dec 4, 2021 0:31:13 GMT -5
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Post by Moira Blaine on Dec 11, 2021 17:41:21 GMT -5
The speed at which the guards noticed a newcomer told a tale of a small, likely close-knit community. Moira filed the tidbit away as she lifted her hands up in front of her, palms out in the universal sign of submission. If they'd been in the habit of shooting newcomers, they would have done so already. The fact that they'd stopped her instead suggested that she was unlikely to be killed if she played along, and so she saw no harm in surrendering to these people. The worst they could do was turn her away or imprison her, and she was fairly confident in her ability to escape any sort of makeshift incarceration they put her into. She gave the scarred woman a bright smile, one that she'd practiced for years to perfect. Innocent, pretty, and entirely fake.
"I suppose I'm as lost as anyone could be," she said, eyes flicking between the armed guards. "I was lost at sea for who knows how long. It's a miracle that I found any land at all, much less an inhabited one. Do you have any better idea of where we are than I do? I'd love to hear it."
Judging by the condition of the camp, Moira was fairly certain that the group hadn't been here for much longer than she had. More new arrivals, then. Castaways or colonists? Had every land been consumed by the flooding, or just Isra?
"I just thought that my best chances would be to find other people," she said, gaze flicking up and down the scarred woman's body as she looked for her weapons. "I saw the smoke from your fires and headed towards it. Seemed a smarter idea than trying to wander through the wilderness on my own, don't you think?"
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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Dec 14, 2021 2:33:51 GMT -5
Moira's survey of her questioner revealed what appeared to be a shortsword resting in its sheath, and a dagger fixed to her right boot. Upon closer inspection, the interior of the woman's outfit appeared to be shaped from hardened leather, offering some degree of protection from potential attacks.
The woman huffed at the outsider's performance, her expression remaining as cold as stone. It wasn't her job to believe her story or not - her job was to keep the Estate secure. Her gut told her that she wasn't being told the whole truth, but this newcomer did look fresh from the mists - you could still smell the brine on her. She could keep an eye on her until Julius or Eliza could decide what to do with her. Besides, even if this woman meant the Estate harm, she wouldn't get very far before being made into a fleshy pincushion.
"I suppose I can hardly fault you there." The woman gestured at the guards, who lowered their weapons in unison. "Sorry for the hospitality, sweetheart. Name's Ava. Short version is, you're the newest clown in a cosmic island-shaped shit-circus. Welcome to the party."
Ava shifted her weight, returning the outsider's scrutiny, not quite inviting her to step forward. "Before we start getting chummy - I hope you'll understand if I ask you to give up any pieces that you might have on you. I'll keep 'em nice and safe 'til we sort all this out." She began scanning Moira for any trace of weaponry, both visible and hidden.
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Moira Blaine
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Appearance: With her red hair, slender build, and big, doll-like eyes, Moira Blaine is pretty by anyone's standard. It's only upon very close inspection that one might notice that her left eye is made entirely of glass.
Biography: A former agent in the employ of Isra's most secret labs, Moira was charged with watching over the workings of the inner government and keeping watch over the government's inner workings.
Registered: Dec 4, 2021 0:31:13 GMT -5
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Post by Moira Blaine on Dec 16, 2021 2:59:05 GMT -5
The level of caution spoke to some amount of threat to the camp, a fact that Moira made careful note of. Were there other settlements out there, perhaps? Or maybe there was some other less mundane danger out there, something that took the shape and face of a human. Regardless, Moira decided that this camp seemed safe enough (at least from outside threats). Whether these people would slit her throat as she slept was another matter entirely, but one she could deal with later. Whatever the danger was, Ava seemed to have a low opinion of the island. She gave her another perfectly rehearsed smile, pulling a short knife from her belt. Passing the knife from one hand to the other, she turned it around and held it out handle-first towards Ava. The motion was purposely clumsy, feigning unfamiliarity with blades. It never hurt to hide her skills around strangers, after all. She pulled a second knife from her boot, taking longer than she ordinarily would, and offered it up as well. She left her third knife concealed, the thin blade nestled vertically between her shoulderblades. The intricate sheath laid against her skin beneath her shirt, strapped carefully to her torso with the handle down. A hidden slit in the back of her shirt would allow her to draw the knife quickly if needed, but with any luck it wouldn't be necessary. Facing Ava as she was, the knife would be impossible to spot. Hopefully, the surrender of her "hidden" boot knife would keep the suspicion at bay. If they found that...well, she'd have to figure something out.
"A clown's far from the worst thing I've been called," she said, holding the knives out for Ava to take. "But it seems that we've got a lot more to sort out than just one castaway. Where are we, anyways? And who are you people? I don't suppose you're from around here, are you? Are you the only ones left?"
Innocent and harmless, Moira decided, would be the way to go with these people. It was easier to hide things and reveal them later than accidentally tip her hand too much and try to come up with excuses. Who knew, perhaps they'd be useful to her. Maybe they'd have someone worth talking to who knew something about the whole situation. If not...well, two knives was an acceptable price to pay for the information she'd already gotten. She had plenty more on the ship.
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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Dec 19, 2021 17:57:12 GMT -5
"You ask a hell of a lot of questions, anyone ever tell you that?"
Ava unceremoniously took the blades from Moira, seemingly unconcerned with any further danger for the time being. She jerked her head in the direction of the camp's interior, bidding Moira to follow her inside. As they walked, Moira could easily observe various operations taking place within and around the encampment. A chorus of the sounds of progress permeated the bivouac - of axes splitting wood in a nearby lumber camp, of forward scouts relaying their findings and debating their next steps, and of the offloading of the most recent cargo dispatch from the Ebon Dream's hold.
"If you're asking about the island, well... truth is, none of us really know where we are. This rock doesn't show up on any map I or anyone else has ever seen, and all evidence seems to point to the idea that we're somewhere else entirely. The higher-ups have their theories, but at this point, that's really all they are - theories.
"We've been calling this camp and the forest around it Godslost Hollow." Ava turned her head to gauge Moira's reaction. "Might sound grim to some, but to our people its just a kind of wishful thinking."
Ava led Moira forward, passing under a suspended banner bearing the sigil of the Estate; An eight-pointed viridian star housing the visage of a single eye. With a degree of perception that rested well within her capabilities, Moira would easily be able to notice the colors present on the camp's tents, as well as adorning the survivor's vestments and armor.
"Us people are the Winterlight Estate. Before the flood, we were... stewards. One of the great noble houses of Fellhaven, and overseers of the practice of magic across the realm." Ava shrugged - not with indifference, but with a small degree of courtesy afforded to the Estate's reputation. "I'm not really the person to give you the whole spiel - I'm just here to make sure the clocks run on time. But, I'm sure one of the twins would be happy to catch you up to speed."
Once they're back, Ava thought to herself with no small amount of grumpiness. She knew where Julius had run off to - but where in blazes was Eliza?
"It seems that we aren't the only people that made it through. We haven't been operational here long enough to send out our long-range scouts, but we've already been able to pick up sings of other survivors. Smoke in the distance from what we assume to be firepits, strange wreckage washing ashore - that kind of thing."
Finally, the two arrived at unoccupied shelter housing a dimming firepit and a cache of basic supplies - a place of relative quiet amidst the commotion of the surrounding camp. Ava tossed a few chunks of wood into the fire, then fetched a canteen of water, offering it to Moira. A pair of magisters passed by the tent, one's gaze lingering just a moment too long on the camp's new arrival. Ava sneered at the onlooker, snapping her fingers at the woman to break her out of her ogling. The magister hurried away, leaving the two to themselves.
"Now, you talk. Who are you?" From Ava's mouth, the words emerged more as a statement than a question. "What land did you once call home, and how did you survive the mists?"
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Moira Blaine
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Appearance: With her red hair, slender build, and big, doll-like eyes, Moira Blaine is pretty by anyone's standard. It's only upon very close inspection that one might notice that her left eye is made entirely of glass.
Biography: A former agent in the employ of Isra's most secret labs, Moira was charged with watching over the workings of the inner government and keeping watch over the government's inner workings.
Registered: Dec 4, 2021 0:31:13 GMT -5
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Post by Moira Blaine on Dec 28, 2021 18:24:31 GMT -5
"I'm told it's one of my weaknesses," replied Moira, still smiling placidly.
She followed Ava through the camp, glancing from side to side as she took in her surroundings. She counted people as she walked, keeping a mental tally of guards, mages, and anyone else who looked useful. It was a habit of hers, something to keep her occupied when she otherwise would have been idle. There was no such thing as having too much information, after all. There was always a chance that she'd find herself fighting against these people, and knowing so it paid to pay attention now. The words of her instructor rang in her ears, still as clear and crisp as when she'd first heard them years ago. People are like horses, the man had told her. Use them wisely and treat them kindly, but don't hesitate to put them down once their usefulness has ended. Licking her lips, she recalled her crewmates on The Taste of Sugar and smiled. Their usefulness had continued long after their lives had been extinguished.
As Ava explained what she knew about the island, Moira nodded along thoughtfully. Loyal vassals to a noble house...but how long would the loyalty last in this new, unfamiliar land? She wondered how long it would be before starvation drove the people to rebellion against their masters, realizing that any power they had once held was now merely imaginary...or was it? Did the mysterious twins possess some sort of artifact or magical ability? It was all rather intriguing, but none of it was especially relevant to her at the moment. It was interesting to note that Ava considered herself to be a member of the estate, which suggested that her loyalty ran deeper than a mere paycheck. The name of Godslost Hollow brought a smirk to her painted lips, and she chuckled. At least these people had a sense of humor.
The signs of other landings on the island were promising, and Moira wondered if anyone she knew had survived the flooding. Anybody in the underground laboratories of Ettinger's Asylum were sure to have drowned, but perhaps some field agents had made it. Their survival was their own problem, though. Right now, she had to focus on her own. As the magister ogled her, Moira winked back, sticking out her tongue at the woman before she was shooed away. They didn't get newcomers here often, it seemed.
"Who am I?" repeated Moira, turning back to Ava. "My name's Moira Blaine. I was...a secretary. To a government minister. I don't know anything about Fellhaven, so I don't suppose you would have heard of the Isran Empire. That's where I'm from, anyways. I managed to survive the floods and the mists by jumping onto a ship just before the floodwaters swept over the docks and snapped the mooring. Good thing I was near the docks, hmm? I guess it's just lucky chance that I survived and drifted here. Thankfully, the ship was stocked up for a journey. Lucky me, I suppose."
The lies slipped from her lips as easily as a favorite song, and she hoped that her innocent, wide-eyed act would lend credence to her tale. If she ended up meeting with someone important, perhaps she'd reveal some of her more useful skills...but she'd spent enough time pretending to be a secretary that a little longer wouldn't hurt. Ava would almost certainly wonder what kind of secretarial duties she actually performed, but that wasn't her problem. If it did become a problem...well, she'd just have to handle it. Moira was good at handling problems.
"How long have you been here?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to the camp around her. "It looks like you're set up pretty comfortably — as far as castaways go, at least."
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Lord Mykola Volkh
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Appearance: Six feet and some change, his skin is pallid, making the shadows cast over his gaunt face seem even darker. His ears taper to a point, whether through the Curse or from before his change is unknown. Black hair falls in a straight black waterfall down his back. His eyes, when sated, are red. The longer he goes without feeding, however, his eyes grow darker until completely black and soulless. Has sharp incisors.
Equipment: ----------
Typically wears a series of seven doublets he keeps in impeccable condition. Wears a mantle even indoors and when alone.
With his magical items effectively neutered, Volkh has been searching for a way to subvert the limitations imposed upon him by the Isles, yet finds no such luck. Thankfully his sword has maintained its barest level of enchantment, allowing him to use it with his supernatural strength without destroying it in the process, and preventing it from dulling with sustained use.
Skills and Abilities: --------
Volkh's use of magic has dampened in the presence of the isles, like many others. Yet his keen mind, his ability to withstand severe punishment coupled with an overwhelming strength borne from his vampiric nature makes him a deadly foe.
Though much of his magic was robbed from him, he has centuries of experience in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay at his disposal.
He is capable of transforming into a large bat or wolf, affording him flight or an increased speed.
Last of all is a strange, magnetic aura. An attraction that tends to alert people of his otherworldly qualities. It could manifest as fear, interest, or even desire. Anyone of power finds it resistible, though would potentially feel the attempt to sway them.
Biography: ---------
Aloof and distant. Pleasant company with those he considers friends or worthy of his time, cruel and merciless to those he considers his enemies. He has no clansmen, no surviving vampires that had passed on their curse and no Fledglings of his own.
Registered: Dec 31, 2021 20:09:53 GMT -5
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Post by Lord Mykola Volkh on Jan 1, 2022 16:46:00 GMT -5
How long?
How long had those dark waves swallowed him? That enveloping presence that tore him from his castle, his castle? He should have asked, first. It was, admittedly a miscalculation on his part. Yet when he had finally encroached upon the surface of those waters when he had found land, the first group of tents with their shipwrecked survivors lasted only a few moments. It had been so long since his sanguine appetite had been sated, so long did he rely on the darkness of the deep sea to keep him shrouded from the biting rays of the sun. It had been so long since he felt the beating hearts of those mortals that had hot, fresh blood. Not the silvery, rapid beats of schools of fish but the forceful, eager pulse of humanity. He never thought to ask questions. How could he? When a man lay dying of thirst and was offered a carafe of water, did he think to ask what stream it had originated? To ask how those who offered it came about it? No. That thirsting man would drink. Such was what Lord Mykola Volkh had reasoned, standing among the drained camp of humans. Now, he needed to know where he was. What had happened in his absence.
Lord Volkh had wandered for awhile, mending his clothes as best he could. His clothing, as enchanted as it had been, seemed to have at least avoided disintegrating in the deep sea. Yet the rest of its enchantment had been lost. It took weeks of wandering, of secreting himself into the hollows of trees or deep caves, scavenging like some sort of feral beast. Yet at last, he saw signs of life. Of civilization, as much as it could be called such. Yet even from a distance in his observation, he recognized this as more than the initial group of shipwrecked survivors he had stumbled upon. This was an operation. They even bore some semblance of a flag, although its symbology was lost on him. Part of him considered setting up nearby. Hiding out in some cave and picking off humans at his leisure to slake his thirst, but he was not some animal. Not some primal vampire, skulking through the darkness to pick off the sick and wounded, no he was Lord Volkh.
Straightening himself he seemed to regain his regal bearings. He seemed almost to materialize from the darkness as he approached the perimeter, not trying to hide his presence as the light mist swirled at his feet like eddying galaxies of water. His face was dark and angular, eyes nearly black, like those of a shark. Eyes that belonged more to the watery purgatory he had dwelled in after the floods than to the land of the living around him. His clothes were immaculate, impossibly so considering the obvious difficulties of any who would have arrived in otherwise imperfect circumstances.
Within, he could hear the beating of a hundred hearts, a staccato of uncertainty and fear that had settled upon these humans before he ever so much as stepped foot into their presence. He was thirsty...but he could wait.
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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Jan 1, 2022 20:41:46 GMT -5
"Isra." Ava repeated. "Can't say that I do."
Her eyes narrowed at Moira's account of her time here. It seemed harmless enough, sure, but there were enough 'lucky' happenstances strung together after one another to trigger Ava's distrust. It was all a bit too convenient, she thought. Ava was a naturally distrustful person, but it was her job to be. There were some that might equate her instincts to paranoia - but at the end of the day, it was paranoia that keeps people breathing.
"We've only been holed up here a couple weeks. We're just getting our feet wet here, proverbially speaking." The Estate had a handful of irons in the fire, and the higher-ups were eager for their forces to become fully operational. Julius and Eliza could hardly be called slave-drivers - it was just as inconvenient for them to have an exhausted workforce, after all - but neither too did they tolerate inefficiency beyond a reasonable threshold. "I reckon it won't be long before we outgrow this little camp, but that's neither here nor there."
The woman shifted her weight, looking the trespasser up and down. "Well, Moira... Now that you're here, what do you propose we do with you?"
Following Moira's answer, Ava's attention was stolen by the signal of a magister, the footfalls of various members of the estate padding towards the front gate. Her eyes narrowed again, grunting softly before lifting herself up and glancing at the commotion.
"Aren't we popular today." The woman whistled, beckoning two guards over to the tent to watch over their visitor. "Stay put," she commanded with a cold glare in Moira's direction.
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The strange tower of a man was met with a near identical view as Moira did not long before - one brimming with a multitude of arrowpoints and blanket distrust. Ava approached lazily, taking a few steps forward but keeping her distance from the figure and the smoke billowing from his footsteps. This man was dressed to kill, as if he hadn't in fact been recently deposited on a hostile, unforgiving archipelago - and beyond that, that bleach-white skin gave her the impression that he had only just been dug up from the ground.
If Moira was the picture of innocence, then he was the exact opposite. She couldn't decide which of the two unsettled her more.
Ava spit out the now-stripped twig she had been rolling between her teeth. "And exactly who are you supposed to be?"
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Moira Blaine
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Appearance: With her red hair, slender build, and big, doll-like eyes, Moira Blaine is pretty by anyone's standard. It's only upon very close inspection that one might notice that her left eye is made entirely of glass.
Biography: A former agent in the employ of Isra's most secret labs, Moira was charged with watching over the workings of the inner government and keeping watch over the government's inner workings.
Registered: Dec 4, 2021 0:31:13 GMT -5
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Post by Moira Blaine on Jan 2, 2022 11:50:03 GMT -5
What would happen, Moira wondered, when the Winterlight Estate decided that the little camp was no longer sufficient? Would they expand out and build a town? Find and absorb other settlements? It was an interesting thought, but not one she needed to worry about right now. If there was to be conflict between the different groups on the island, Moira would have to get some more information before she decided which side to align herself with. There was no sense in hanging onto a losing hand, after all. For now, though, the Winterlights seemed alright. Watching Ava's expression, Moira noted the hint of suspicion and smiled. That was a good sign, suggesting that the Winterlights didn't employ suckers.
"What to do indeed," she mused. "I don't suppose I could get something to eat? I've come a very long way, and ship's biscuits get awfully tiring after a while. Afterwards, I guess I ought to help you with some sort of work. Is there any inventory work I could do, maybe? Supplies, personnel, that sort of thing. It's what I'm used to, at least. I would like to meet the people in charge of this place, when I can. To thank them for their hospitality."
A careful observer might have noticed that she seemed awfully healthy and well fed for someone who'd lived on ship's biscuits for any extended length of time, but some sort of ruckus at the gate called her host's attention away. The fact that they'd assigned her two guards made slipping away unnoticed a difficult prospect, and so she sat primly on a crate and wondered how long it would take for a missing person to be noticed. The camp was fairly large, but they seemed to be well-organized. Guards would likely be noticed when they didn't show up for duty, but perhaps others would take longer. It was difficult to tell, and she'd have to learn more about these people to figure it out.
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Lord Mykola Volkh
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Appearance: Six feet and some change, his skin is pallid, making the shadows cast over his gaunt face seem even darker. His ears taper to a point, whether through the Curse or from before his change is unknown. Black hair falls in a straight black waterfall down his back. His eyes, when sated, are red. The longer he goes without feeding, however, his eyes grow darker until completely black and soulless. Has sharp incisors.
Equipment: ----------
Typically wears a series of seven doublets he keeps in impeccable condition. Wears a mantle even indoors and when alone.
With his magical items effectively neutered, Volkh has been searching for a way to subvert the limitations imposed upon him by the Isles, yet finds no such luck. Thankfully his sword has maintained its barest level of enchantment, allowing him to use it with his supernatural strength without destroying it in the process, and preventing it from dulling with sustained use.
Skills and Abilities: --------
Volkh's use of magic has dampened in the presence of the isles, like many others. Yet his keen mind, his ability to withstand severe punishment coupled with an overwhelming strength borne from his vampiric nature makes him a deadly foe.
Though much of his magic was robbed from him, he has centuries of experience in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay at his disposal.
He is capable of transforming into a large bat or wolf, affording him flight or an increased speed.
Last of all is a strange, magnetic aura. An attraction that tends to alert people of his otherworldly qualities. It could manifest as fear, interest, or even desire. Anyone of power finds it resistible, though would potentially feel the attempt to sway them.
Biography: ---------
Aloof and distant. Pleasant company with those he considers friends or worthy of his time, cruel and merciless to those he considers his enemies. He has no clansmen, no surviving vampires that had passed on their curse and no Fledglings of his own.
Registered: Dec 31, 2021 20:09:53 GMT -5
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Post by Lord Mykola Volkh on Jan 2, 2022 14:54:52 GMT -5
The woman that sauntered into his view bristled with hostility, and not just the literal variety of half a dozen bolts aimed for his person. Who was he supposed to be? Supposed to be? He was supposed to be in his castle, in his laboratory, seeing the faces of humans such as this only when he needed to feed. That was who he was supposed to be. At the moment, however... He bowed, slightly, including at his waist as he crossed an arm over his chest, grasping the velvet edge of his mantle. It wasn't a full, sweeping bow, but it did offer some modicum of respect. Straightening, he glanced over the archers, the movement of his eyes glacially slow, as if committing them each to memory before he settled upon the form of Ava.
"I am Lord Mykola Volkh." the vampire replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but clearly audible, even above the din of the camp and the distance between them. "I find myself in an unfamiliar land, and seek to regain my bearings. You will forgive me for intruding, but you seem to be the first sign of civilized life I've managed to come across." his voice almost had an edge on the world 'civilized' but it was a fleeting effect, difficult to notice as he pressed onwards.
"My situation is as such that we may be able to negotiate some kind of alliance, if I may speak with those above you." His glassy, dead eyes focused on the woman before him. A strong, fearless heartbeat. Impressive, in its own right. Not like the men that crowded around her. Yes, she was the one to speak to about such things.
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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Jan 2, 2022 17:11:02 GMT -5
The soldiers surrounding Volkh did not waver - their devotion to their cause was steadfast, and never questioned their orders - but all the same, they felt their hearts racing. It was almost as if the man (if one could even call him a man) brought with him his own personal aura of dread, sapping at their collective courage the longer they stood in his looming presence.
Ava was about to tell the man to try his luck elsewhere - one interloper alone had introduced too many unknown variables for her taste, especially one who wasn't actively leeching magic into the air around her. Besides, dealing with the needs of self-important nobles was explicitly what Ava hadn't sign up for. No sooner had she opened her mouth to tell him as much did her eyes wander past Volkh, at the two figures emerging from the treeline just beyond the camp.
Ava sighed with relief - not from fear, mind you. She was just getting well and tired of babysitting this lot.
"Looks like it's your lucky day, My Lord."
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Eliza Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 38
Appearance: Eliza is a striking woman of taller than average height. She owns a plethora of extravagant outfits, many of which she was able to take with her to the Mists before the flood, as well as a more practical set of survivalist's vestments.
She has long, wavy black hair, and eyes the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Elizabeth carries little with her, relying on her magic to solve most problems. She does, however, have many items hidden amongst her outfits, including daggers and poisons.
Skills and Abilities: Elizabeth is a fearsome sorcerer, though not many have witnessed her ability first-hand. Unlike her brother, she does not often flaunt her power, preferring to keep others in the dark about her capabilities. She is a skilled manipulator, negotiator, and a known socialite, having taken on many of the diplomatic responsibilities of the Winterlight Estate.
She is learned in many studies typical of Komali nobility, and is highly intelligent, despite her frivolous nature.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 21:21:25 GMT -5
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Post by Eliza Winterlight on Jan 2, 2022 17:54:03 GMT -5
Though Volkh held the power to sense the rhythm of one's heart, the dissonance of the pair emerging from the forest behind him may have proven to be... quite puzzling. The man stood there with no heartbeat at all, and as for the woman... it was wrong, somehow. Her heartbeat was far too slow, abnormal in some way, as if its pipes and valves were twisted several times over one another. And the blood flowing through her veins was... it was loud.
She stood before him, her clothes cut in several places to reveal a dozen nicks and cuts of various sizes - claw marks, bites, and lacerations of all kinds. Despite the wounds, she stood tall, seemingly unbothered, and with an undisputed air of regality that was felt across each and every guard that stood in formation at the gate of the colony. She looked upon Volkh, and greeted him with a warm smile.
"My Lord Volkh, it is an honor and a pleasure. I can say with complete honesty that I look forward to making your acquaintance - just as soon as I am able to rid myself of these vestments. This island has not been kind, as I am sure you will understand." The sorceress bowed deeply, drawing upon every social grace in her arsenal in the presence of the vampire lord.
"I am Lady Eliza Winterlight, Exemplar of the Winterlight Estate of Lychcroft. Please, accept my invitation to accompany me within our encampment." She beckoned forward with a wave of her hand, turning next to her disheveled companion. "And that goes for you as well, dear," Eliza said plainly with a quick wink.
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Alvaro Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 31
Age: 67
Appearance: Like most Correas, Alvaro boasts sharp features and long, wavy, flaxen hair. Though he has a strapping figure, it's easily hidden behind layered blouses, doublets, and embroidered capes. Alvar trims and oils his beard often, keeping a well-groomed appearance where he can. Just below a pair of long lashes, he has a couple of blue eyes that fade to black.
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Equipment: Alvaro is a political man and prefers not to fight if ever he has the chance to avoid it, but he knows his way around a few bladed weapons. This time, however, he has found himself with a singular dagger.
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Skills and Abilities: The baron's vampiric curse can allow him to change his form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a vulture, and a centipede no smaller than his human form.
Alvaro's senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded entirely in the presence of the sun. If in direct contact with sunlight, he burns.
The Correa family's shared ability is to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are made with a bite that doesn't kill the victim; instead, using the blood that pours from it, they create a sigil that binds them to the vampire. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it.
Registered: Nov 3, 2021 16:50:55 GMT -5
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Post by Alvaro Correa on Jan 3, 2022 12:29:54 GMT -5
Now, Alvaro was already rather displaced.
He was on a mystery island, abandoned by his family, sailed on a living boat until they got caught in a storm, crash-landed onto a beach, where he immediately tried to devour a beautiful woman, was then shocked into submission, went on a hunt to sate his hunger, and upon returning was then made to understand an entirely new definition of the phrase. Right when he thought that would be the end to complete madness, he found himself surrounded by yet another whirlwind of oddities.
No sooner did they enter the camp did Eliza begin to take charge. It was just as quickly did Alvaro realize something was very wrong. Walking at the woman's side, the first thing he saw was a tall, dark shadow. Of course, he was accustomed to dark shadows; he was one. But this? In front of him? This was frightening.
Alvaro struggled to hide it. Though his heart did not flutter, he felt the affliction within him curl up and spit like a viper. It made his muscles tense and a nerve in his neck pop, which was hopefully concealed by his long hair. This was another vampire and a stronger one at that. Looking up to him, the smaller vampire smirked, then gave a bow.
"Alvaro Correa. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
His voice was smooth, honeylike. He knew the deal here. He'd kept himself alive at Maribel's side this long. Would this be any different?
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