New Isra
Committed
Roleplay posts: 71
Biography: This account represents the NPCs and locations associated with New Isra!
Allegiances: Isra
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:30:20 GMT -5
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Post by New Isra on Nov 4, 2021 19:42:10 GMT -5
Initially established by sinking a portion of a decommissioned Dawn Rider Carrier, the docks of Port Argentium have since been reinforced and expanded beyond the immediate needs of the bourgeoning settlement. Several piers near the mouth of the river just off the shoreline go fairly deep into the water, such that even ships with a fairly deep draft (such as those Imperial Navy warships) might dock. Further up on the shore, well beyond the reach of the tide, a few warehouses have been erected, and with them, a small Portmaster’s office. There’s no doubt that these docks will grow only larger and busier with time, but for now, this modest arrangement suits the needs of the settlement well.
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Julius Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 38
Appearance: A human of intimidating stature, broad shouldered with a powerful build. Julius dons simple yet sophisticated vestments of leather and cloth, perfectly tailored to his frame, and strapped to his chin is a forged metal guard.
Several visible, blackened veins run along the side of his bald head, which grow more pronounced when he uses magic. His eyes are the the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Julius carries little with him, relying on his magic to solve any and all problems that he may encounter.
Skills and Abilities: Julius is a sorcerer of terrible power, which has been nullified significantly since arriving in the Mists. The range of the magic he wields can vary, but his spellcasting of choice typically takes the form of wilting darkness.
He is learned in many disciplines typical of Komali nobility, and highly intelligent. He also commands the remnant of the Winterlight Estate with his twin sister, Eliza.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 20:52:25 GMT -5
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Post by Julius Winterlight on Nov 10, 2021 0:07:54 GMT -5
It had been an uneventful few days of sailing - though Julius supposed that every voyage hence would seem uneventful compared to the ordeal they had endured in the heart of the Mists. The sorcerer took some time to survey the areas that the cog passed on its journey, sketching a rudimentary map of the land's contours. Very interesting was the island they passed within the sea's presumed center, with a strange red hue leeching through the trees and into the water below.
But, there would be time to bother with all that later. There were more pressing matters to attend to.
Julius would admit his surprise at the scale of the settlement his cog arrived at. It was a work in progress, as one would expect any settlement born of a cataclysm, but for what it was it was practically sprawling. Real houses, tools, a pier, and far more to behold stretching inland - all resting beneath the shadow of a towering ship, bearing a standard of red and gold. The day was young - the sun had yet to appear over the horizon, and the settlement seemed to be largely asleep. Julius steered the cog into the harbor, disembarking alongside three magister attendants he had bid come with him. Even as fledgling as this island was, finding Nine here would be a difficult task. Best to bring along as many pairs of eyes as the Estate could afford.
After securing the vessel to the pier, Julius looked to Gaius, his acting second. "Comb this settlement, but do so discretely. We are guests here, and I expect the utmost courtesy should you find yourself speaking to the locals." Julius' eyes wandered past the man, to a spot elsewhere along the harbor. "And, speaking of which..."
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Nov 10, 2021 0:38:34 GMT -5
The colony, Roxanne decided, was going to starve to death.
It wasn't a difficult thing to see, and she wasn't sure how everyone else was just going about their lives as if they weren't facing a slow, painful demise from malnutrition. Surely they didn't think that she and the other hunters would be able to provide enough food to sustain them all? The signs of hunger were visible in all of them, herself included. She'd always been trim, and hadn't been happy to realize that she'd grown even thinner than before. Her neighbors were looking gaunt, people's clothes were fitting more loosely...the only person she knew who seemed to have gained weight was the gravedigger. That had to be a coincidence, though, the product of an overactive imagination. The alternative would be too horrible to consider, and not something anyone would dare accuse a fellow human being of. She shuddered, trying to put the thought out of her mind.
The second problem, Roxanne thought, was that the number of people kept going up. People washed up on the shore on a semi-regular basis, and not just lone castaways either. Entire ships were arriving, full of hungry mouths that never seemed to bring enough food of their own. To make matters worse, nobody seemed concerned about the consequences of a growing population. Roxanne's next-door neighbor, a seamstress by the name of Hazel, had gotten pregnant. As far as Roxanne knew, the father was a good-for-nothing ruffian she knew only as "Brisket Barnes". Why didn't anyone have even the slightest hint of self-preservation? How was it that only the dumbest portion of the population had survived the flood, leaving her as the sole resident of this miserable colony with even a modicum of intelligence?
Food was running out. Any attempts at farming were in their infancy, and she was dubious that the crops would be ready in time to help them (if they even grew in this accursed land). The few remaining stores from the ship had to be exhausted, or at least nearly there. That left the hunting and foraging parties, putting the survival of thousands in the increasingly exhausted hands of the few. The pressure was immense, and the stress had been getting to her as of late. She didn't remember the last time she'd had a good night's sleep, plagued as she'd been with nightmares of the most awful sort. Visions of starvation and cannibalism haunted her nights, along with dreams of worm-eaten bodies and long-forgotten monsters that she'd been afraid of as a child. They seemed to be getting worse every night, causing her to awaken screaming in the darkness. Nothing seemed to help, not even the kelp beer that she gulped by the mug every evening. The awful, vaguely salty concoction was apparently brewed from seaweed and was an unpleasant brownish color, but the harsh burn of the alcohol within was unmistakable. She never managed to get to sleep after a nightmare, and so she'd taken to taking long walks at night in an effort to calm her shaken nerves. Tonight's walk had brought here here, beneath the orange glow of the dockside braziers.
The clunk of a gangplank being lowered shook Roxanne from her gloomy reverie, and she realized that a boat had landed. That was odd, as the colony didn't send out fishing vessels at night. A new arrival, then? Clutching her cloak around her shoulders against the chilly ocean breeze, Roxanne stepped forward, squinting in the darkness at the newcomers.
"Who's there?" she asked, reluctant to step too far from the safety of the brazier's light. "You're not fishermen, are you? That doesn't much look like a fishing boat. Are you new arrivals?"
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Julius Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 38
Appearance: A human of intimidating stature, broad shouldered with a powerful build. Julius dons simple yet sophisticated vestments of leather and cloth, perfectly tailored to his frame, and strapped to his chin is a forged metal guard.
Several visible, blackened veins run along the side of his bald head, which grow more pronounced when he uses magic. His eyes are the the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Julius carries little with him, relying on his magic to solve any and all problems that he may encounter.
Skills and Abilities: Julius is a sorcerer of terrible power, which has been nullified significantly since arriving in the Mists. The range of the magic he wields can vary, but his spellcasting of choice typically takes the form of wilting darkness.
He is learned in many disciplines typical of Komali nobility, and highly intelligent. He also commands the remnant of the Winterlight Estate with his twin sister, Eliza.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 20:52:25 GMT -5
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Post by Julius Winterlight on Nov 10, 2021 1:45:17 GMT -5
"In a manner of speaking," Julius answered, taking a few steps forward and leaving his underlings to attend to the ship. "Julius Winterlight, of the Winterlight Estate. At your disposal." At this, Julius offered a bow - stately enough to assume confidence in the situation, but not pretentious enough to alienate himself from what he judged to be a member of the peasantry. She was certainly rail-thin enough to pass for one. The only thing that separated her from abject destitution was the hunting gear at her side.
He could plainly see that the girl was skittish, hiding within the lamplight as if the darkness would burn her skin. Julius offered the palms of his hands to the sky in an attempt to put her at ease, taking another tentative step forward. "We have no quarrel with you, or your settlement - quite the contrary. My family has established a colony to the North of here, and we have been eager to make contact with other survivors." The sorcerer smiled hospitably, tilting his head in her direction with a flourish of his hand. It was always an interesting dissonance with Julius - he had the build of a brute, the disfigurement of a madman, and the manners of an archduke. He had grown to appreciate the amalgamation of traits - in one way or another, it always served to keep others on their toes.
Julius gestured around him, acknowledging the array of construction contained further down. "This is quite the Metropolis you have here. Very impressive indeed." More importantly than impressive, a strong outpost could prove to be a valuable asset. Or a threat. Making the acquaintance of this settlement's leadership had shot to the top of Julius' to-do list, right beneath his present objective.
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Nov 10, 2021 2:18:26 GMT -5
As the hulking figure emerged from the darkness and stepped into Roxanne's bubble of light, she wondered if she'd really woken up at all. Was this all just another one of her horrible nightmares? The man before her certainly looked like a creature of her subconscious, sent to torment her out of yet another night's sleep. The bulky build, the dark veins rippling along his bald scalp, the yellowish, predatory eyes...was he even human? Surely this was another bad dream, one she'd wake from only after the man chased her through the town with all manner of torturous implements. However, when she took an inadvertent step back and her hand brushed against the hot metal basket of the brazier, the sharp sting of pain told her that this was no mere dream. Clutching her burned fingers to her chest, she eyed the man suspiciously, listening to his shockingly articulate speech. Another colony? She'd heard rumors of others, but hadn't ever met anyone from anyplace else. Still, despite his startling appearance, this man sounded like the civilized sort. Perhaps he'd just been born like that. When she spoke, she felt herself slipping into the smooth, proper diction of the upper class that she'd always used when speaking with her grandmother or other, wealthier members of her family. She'd always thought the clipped syllables and precise pronunciation felt false coming from her mouth, as though she were speaking lines in a play. She'd never been a part of that world, no matter how much she'd pretended.
"The Winterlight Estate," she said, nodding. "A...pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Winterlight. It's good to hear that there are others still out there. I'm Roxanne Fletcher, of Hou-"
She paused, shaking her head. There wasn't a House Fletcher anymore, was there? There likely wouldn't ever be one again. Her family was gone, leaving her alone on this miserable island populated by the most practiced of imbeciles. She would have given anything to see them again, any of them. Even her cousin Robert, as much as they'd quarreled, would have been better company than the people surrounding her now.
"Roxanne Fletcher," she repeated. "Just me. We do our best here with what we have. You've come at a rather unfortunate time, I'm afraid. Not many people to meet at this hour. I won't be around here long myself, as I'm about to head out on a hunt."
She looked past the man at the moon as it sank slowly towards the horizon, gauging how long it would be before the sun rose. She had a couple of hours yet, but would likely need to get going soon if she wanted to get an early start.
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Julius Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 38
Appearance: A human of intimidating stature, broad shouldered with a powerful build. Julius dons simple yet sophisticated vestments of leather and cloth, perfectly tailored to his frame, and strapped to his chin is a forged metal guard.
Several visible, blackened veins run along the side of his bald head, which grow more pronounced when he uses magic. His eyes are the the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Julius carries little with him, relying on his magic to solve any and all problems that he may encounter.
Skills and Abilities: Julius is a sorcerer of terrible power, which has been nullified significantly since arriving in the Mists. The range of the magic he wields can vary, but his spellcasting of choice typically takes the form of wilting darkness.
He is learned in many disciplines typical of Komali nobility, and highly intelligent. He also commands the remnant of the Winterlight Estate with his twin sister, Eliza.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 20:52:25 GMT -5
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Post by Julius Winterlight on Nov 10, 2021 20:33:13 GMT -5
Now, that was interesting. The voice that emerged from this Roxanne woman betrayed her otherwise mundane appearance, her words pockmarked with that performative air of privilege that Julius was all too familiar with. It was the voice his sister would use when she had cause to fraternize with the ranks of nobility outside the Estate. That... or she was mocking him.
Still, this could be an opportunity. It seemed that Roxanne was at least entertaining a base level of cordiality towards Julius, and it was likely that she may be able to shed some light on the goings-on of this place. The more knowledge he was able to equip himself with before the town awakened, the better prepared he would be to navigate its proverbial waters. Forewarned is Forearmed, and all of that.
Julius raised an eyebrow. "A hunt, you say? Perhaps you would find use for a second set of eyes." He followed Roxanne's gaze to the direction of the woods, taking note of its features as best he could in the light of the moon. "It is true that at this hour, there is scarce little I can do by means of introduction. And I do not intend to twiddle my thumbs until the sun rises."
The mage beckoned to one of the Magisters, the one equipped with a crossbow and a quiver of bolts. She nodded, readily removing the items and handing them off to Julius, who began fastening the quiver to his hip. He was a bit out of practice, admittedly, but he was taught to hunt just the same as any respectable adolescent of Komali nobility. Unless these wilds were completely barren of game, he was fairly confident that he wouldn't return empty handed.
"Besides - I wouldn't presume to impose on your little corner of the world without being able to properly pull my weight, now would I?"
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Nov 10, 2021 20:49:07 GMT -5
The strange man's sudden offer to come along on the hunt was startling, to say the least. People didn't often offer to go tramping around in the woods right away with strangers, and Roxanne wondered if the man had some more devious ulterior motives in mind. She opened her mouth to refuse, to turn him away...but where would that put her? Alone in the woods again, trying to keep a colony of idiots alive despite their best efforts? Perhaps she was too quick to judge. Despite his appearance, the man seemed to be the polite, educated sort. Maybe he'd be useful to have around, if for no other reason than to help carry any game they might find. Besides...her mind tended to wander these days when she was alone. Having someone else around would keep her from jumping at shadows...at least, so she hoped.
"A willingness to do one's part and dirty your hands is a welcome trait," she said, still reluctant to venture far from the brazier. "I'd be grateful for any sort of help you could offer, Lord Winterlight. I'll be setting out in just a bit, towards the east. I've heard there's some...interesting creatures up there."
In truth, the stories of the game in the northern woods had been fanciful at best and downright ludicrous at worst. She'd heard tales of massive boars the size of longboats, tiny snakes that burrowed into skin, vicious rodents intent on ending the lineages of the male hunters, and more. She took all of these tales with a generous grain of salt, but the fact remained that there were certainly animals out there. Animals, hopefully, that would turn out to be at least somewhat edible.
"Are you much of a hunter?" she asked, noting the casual ease with which he hefted the crossbow. "I've been in the woods with far too many people who fancy themselves to be outdoorsmen but couldn't spot their game if it was painted red. I would hope that you've done this before."
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Julius Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 38
Appearance: A human of intimidating stature, broad shouldered with a powerful build. Julius dons simple yet sophisticated vestments of leather and cloth, perfectly tailored to his frame, and strapped to his chin is a forged metal guard.
Several visible, blackened veins run along the side of his bald head, which grow more pronounced when he uses magic. His eyes are the the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Julius carries little with him, relying on his magic to solve any and all problems that he may encounter.
Skills and Abilities: Julius is a sorcerer of terrible power, which has been nullified significantly since arriving in the Mists. The range of the magic he wields can vary, but his spellcasting of choice typically takes the form of wilting darkness.
He is learned in many disciplines typical of Komali nobility, and highly intelligent. He also commands the remnant of the Winterlight Estate with his twin sister, Eliza.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 20:52:25 GMT -5
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Post by Julius Winterlight on Nov 11, 2021 1:02:35 GMT -5
Julius chuckled at her questioning - her concern was well warranted. In a hunt it was often a wiser choice to stake out on one's own, rather than risk the company of a fool who could just as easily jeopardize the operation. And Roxanne had no real reason to trust him.
"If its any reassurance to you, I hold no delusion of being some illustrious hunter. I know my strengths, and my specializations lie... elsewhere." An understatement if ever Julius had heard one. "But just as well, I am no stranger to the hunt, nor its dangers. The wild places of my homeland were unforgiving ones, and it takes more than a child with a slingshot to have survived its expanse unscathed." Julius casually examined the the catch of the crossbow, confirming that it was in working order. "You have my word that I will not slow you down, Roxanne Fletcher. Interesting creatures, or otherwise."
Julius was quite curious as to what exactly designated an animal as 'interesting' on this island. Strange seemed to be the new normal in regards to the land's fauna. A week ago, he had observed what appeared to be a wolf, only with two sets of jaws, stacked on top of each other like a child's bunk bed. It would take a lifetime to fully catalogue this island's curiosities.
"Ah, but how rude of me. I haven't even bothered to ask for your settlement's name." Julius gestured to his surroundings, glancing back towards the emblazoned sails of the ship behind him. "What may I call this place?"
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Nov 11, 2021 1:35:41 GMT -5
The man's reassurance was a welcome one, and Roxanne noticed with some relief that he hadn't made himself out to be a master of the craft. The ones that bragged the most, she'd found, were the first ones to falter and stumble when things got serious. This strange man seemed to have a realistic view of his own skillsets, and that was good enough for her. If he turned out to be a murderer or a total incompetent...well, she'd been a monster hunter before the floodwaters came. Surely she'd be able to handle herself. Besides, he couldn't be nearly as bad as the monsters that plagued her dreams every night. The thought of her most recent nightmare brought an inadvertent shudder, and she clutched her cloak more tightly around herself. Even now, wide awake and beside a burning brazier, she could still hear the high, childlike voice of the massive wolf that had chased her whenever she'd managed to close her eyes. Roxy-rox, it had called, the voice a stark contradiction from the mouth that had produced it. Roxy-rox, I'm going to find you!
The man's question, thankfully, reminded Roxanne of where she was. Shaking her head, she waved vaguely at the town. She was glad for the distraction, and decided that perhaps she'd made the right decision in agreeing to let the man come along. Someone to talk to would be good for her, she figured. Perhaps it would help with the stress.
"Port Argentium," she said. "After the Argentium River...or did they name the river after landing here and starting the colony? I don't remember. Anyways, that's what it's called. A civilized name for a barely-civilized place, but it's home to all of us. Come now, we'd best get moving. I'd like to get an early start before the sun comes up, there's never enough hours in the day to find enough game for everyone. That's why I'm up so early. Mm-hmm."
The last little assurance was more to herself than anyone else, but even she didn't seem entirely convinced. Still, she steeled herself and stepped away from the brazier, heading off into the darkness towards the outskirts of town. Perhaps she'd find something decent out there today, something larger and tastier than the two-tailed lizards she'd been seeing in other parts of the forest. One never knew what one would find out in the woods, after all.
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Julius Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 38
Appearance: A human of intimidating stature, broad shouldered with a powerful build. Julius dons simple yet sophisticated vestments of leather and cloth, perfectly tailored to his frame, and strapped to his chin is a forged metal guard.
Several visible, blackened veins run along the side of his bald head, which grow more pronounced when he uses magic. His eyes are the the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Julius carries little with him, relying on his magic to solve any and all problems that he may encounter.
Skills and Abilities: Julius is a sorcerer of terrible power, which has been nullified significantly since arriving in the Mists. The range of the magic he wields can vary, but his spellcasting of choice typically takes the form of wilting darkness.
He is learned in many disciplines typical of Komali nobility, and highly intelligent. He also commands the remnant of the Winterlight Estate with his twin sister, Eliza.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 20:52:25 GMT -5
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Post by Julius Winterlight on Nov 11, 2021 12:51:54 GMT -5
Julius simply nodded, stepping to Roxanne's side as she led him to the settlement's border. No need to take up more of the woman's time with idle chit-chat. It was becoming apparent that Roxanne's anxieties extended some degree beyond the amount that was typical of stumbling across a strange man in one's home. She certainly was in quite the hurry.
As Roxanne took the lead, Julius slipped a silver disc from his pocket, as if checking the time with a stopwatch. The crimson stone embedded in its center glowed faintly - much brighter than it had from across the central sea. It was difficult to pinpoint an exact location, what with the Mist's infernal null-magic interference, but he could definitively say that he was getting closer. It was likely that Nine had caught wind of his arrival when he had re-established the resonance of the binding stone, and he had half expected her to have fled her location anyway. But that was the beauty of it, wasn't it - this was not the vast expanse of Komali. This was an island, untamed and wild, and she could not run from him forever. Perhaps he would even get lucky, and run into his quarry out in the wilderness. Then the true hunt would begin.
One never knew what one would find out in the woods, after all.
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Grandma
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 144
Age: Appears to be in her 80's
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Appearance: An elderly woman with a wiry frame who most notably possesses unnatural height, standing at well over seven feet tall even when hunched over her cane. Her hair is grayish-white and normally done up in a bun and her eyes are also gray in color. Her skin is very pale and has an almost grayish hue to it. Her nails are long, black, and sharpened at the tip.
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Equipment: She wears a deep purple robe that has sleeves that extend far beyond her hands. Her hands are covered with fine gloves of black silk and she wears one ring on each, one having a purple stone set in it and the other a piece of onyx. Carrying an ornate cane of orellium, Grandma can use it to increase her magical channeling as well as assist in deflecting others' spells with it. The cane itself is black and covered in numerous ornate, but tiny runes. The cap on the cane is a purplish-colored gem. On her wrist is a silver bracelet with a ruby in it that Grandma uses for communication with others who own similar bracelets.
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Skills and Abilities: Skilled at knitting!
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Biography: While the details of Grandma's past are shrouded in mystery, since first meeting Naoki she has served essentially one role, that of advisor. While her titles have varied as Naoki moved up the social ladder of Isra, her continued support, and assistance she offered to Naoki have never wavered.
Even following the destruction of Isra, Grandma continues to follow and offer guidance to Lady Naoki as they attempt to rebuild from the wreckage.
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Allegiances: Naoki
Place of Residence: Port Argentium
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 19:51:53 GMT -5
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Post by Grandma on Nov 24, 2021 15:23:31 GMT -5
The rhythmic smacking of oars against the water was almost a pleasant sound, but this rowboat left a lot to be desired when it came to comfort. Granted, Grandma was a bit larger than its average passenger, but that didn’t do anything to lessen her annoyance. It also wasn’t really this cramped boat that was the root cause of her irritation. No, it was the experience she had just had trying to get the rest of her things off the Depravity.
While the pride of the Isran navy looked just perfectly fine on the outside, the interior was decidedly… lacking. Especially the lower decks. Rotten wood and structural damage plagued the vessel. There was no doubt some type of creature was inhabiting the lower decks. A creature that had turned several members of the crew into mindless beasts. Shaking her head with a scowl, the crone inspected her cane. It wasn’t physically damaged of course, but the streaks of crimson that coated its top… that simply wouldn’t do.
Gripping it tightly with her wizened fingers, Grandma submerged the top of it into the ocean. It was almost imperceptible, but she saw the faint trails of red in the water as it was washed clean. She would need to speak to Naoki about this, for if the Depravity was simply left to its own devices, it would simply continue falling into deeper disrepair. They needed to destroy the source of the blight… perhaps Alden would be up for the task. Regardless of who did it — it was something that needed doing and sooner rather than later.
Finally having reached the docks, Grandma reached out and grabbed one of the wooden pilings, pulling herself up and out of the rowboat and onto the pier. Turning back to the two burly sailors who’d accompanied her, she pointed to the cargo they’d brought with them from the Depravity.
“Have it carted off to my cottage. I expect it to be there waiting for me when I return tonight.” The crone’s steely gaze lingered uncomfortably long on each sailor, her cold gray eyes meeting the sailor’s own till they looked away. While unspoken, the “or else” hung heavily in the air and the sailors spent no time dallying as they began unloading the cargo. Satisfied that her orders would be heeded, Grandma turned and began strolling down the pier, accompanied by that ever-present click click click of her cane.
However, she didn’t move towards land. Instead walking down to the very end of the pier. Wind buffeting her robes, Grandma planted her cane firmly on the pier as she observed the vastness of the ocean before her.
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Ivoron
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: -----------------------------------------------------------
Appears to be in his late twenties. But what is age to an elf?
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Appearance: With wild coppery red hair tied tight into a bun, tanned skin, and brilliant green eyes, the wood elf looks to be as standard as they come. He is of average height for his people, standing around 5'10. Ivoron is garbed in simple yet fine earth-toned attire, with a small leather pack upon his back. Thin light geometric tattoos trace his face and arms while a variety of piercings mark his ear, including a large crystal on his left side. The elf typically bears a neutral expression. His figure is lithe but trim, thin for a Rustwood elf. His face falls on the line between angular and soft. And if one does have a keen eye, it can be noted that the elf walks with a limp hailing from his left side.
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Full image of him casting found here:
https://imgur.com/a/YjTv2LZ
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Equipment: > Backpack:
In Ivoron's pack, a variety of carved steel and wood tools for survival in the wooded and swampy regions lay. Such objects for hunting small game to flint and steel to light fire to charcoal to a lightweight rope can all be found. There is a smaller leather pack of metal and glass tools for specimen collection and various vials of labeled herbs utilized in cooking, healing and magical rituals. Some bigger containers have salves, oils, and tonics used for cleaning wounds, different fragrances, and keeping skin soft. And at the bottom of the bag, four tomes weigh it down, one being a leather-wrapped journal.
> His Person:
Ivoron has a small coin purse that sits in his hip bag. This smaller bag contains a roll of linen bandages, and supplies for writing such as rolled parchment, inks, and quills. A small clear quartz crystal on a brown leather cord hangs around his neck and as always a gnarled wooden staff rests in his left hand.
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Skills and Abilities: > Skills:
- Herbalist: Ivoron spent decades working with plants as his sole company. He knows how to identify, care for, grow and cultivate many different species of plants and fungi. He also knows how to dry herbs, create essential oils, and make a variety of products from various flora.
- Wild Man: Ivoron fended for himself as a hermit in the woods for multiple decades, not including the skills he learned from his mentor Jeram. He knows how to hunt, forage, fell trees, tend to wounds, sail, and take shelter in wooded and swampy climates. This includes a variety of survival skills such as knotwork, reading the skies, creating crude watercrafts like rafts/cannons, and purifying water.
- Magical Theory: Ivoron studied to become an archmage, with some results. He has a keen mind and is quite knowledgable on magical theory and how to carry out rituals, however, his own powers are limited at best.
- Prince: Ivoron was born with high privilege, hailing from a small wood elf kingdom in his homeland. He knows how to read, speak and write in the languages of man, elf, and dwarf. He has had manners classes thus knows many different courtly rituals and behaviors.
- Wood Elf: The Rustwood Elves are a strong people. Physically, they have a heartier constitution than their slight cousins. They are able to live in a variety of tough terrain, and can easily take to a nomadic lifestyle. However, a full-blooded Rustwood elf has to work on honing the art of dexterity, due to their heavier frames. Meaning that they have a human level of clumsiness at times. Like others in their elven family, they possess keen eyesight and excellent hearing above the average human.
> Abilities:
Since coming to the Mistborne Isles, Ivoron's small abilities have waned even more. He has the following ability currently:
- The Speaker of the Land: Ivoron's magic primarily focuses on speaking to the earth and its creatures. All of his magic requires 'connection' meaning he must physically touch the ground he wants to 'communicate' with. Once touching the ground, Ivoron can talk to the land in a five-foot by five-foot region This ability does not gain him instant insight but allows him to have a conversation if there is one there. This ability can be focused on a singular plant or animal, such as a tree or fox, by placing his hand upon the bark or fur. His hand must remain in place in order for the conversation to continue, if it is broken the connection is severed.
((OOC Note: Consent always asked for before using this ability.))
This is not a taxing ability, but repeated use can cause Ivoron to feel drained and sluggish, unable to keep up with much physical activity.
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Biography: Prince Ivoron Otheron of the Rustwoods was born to Queen Alloralia and King Kythrel. The second son of three, Ivoron had little true responsibility with his life. Merely settle down with another royal, expand the kingdom and continue the bloodline; that was all that was asked of him.
However, this was not what Ivoron wanted.
As a child, he was quiet. Often found hidden behind vellum and page in the royal study. The young elf, who adored epic and bard song, dreamed of the day when his destiny was revealed like in the heroic tales.
That day never came.
Ivoron grew older, and the pressures of his privilege weighed down upon him like a heavy stone. He was… not socially graceful. His shyness barred him the ability to speak well, sometimes silencing him entirely, typically around foreign dignitaries or potential spouses. The court’s rumors did not treat Ivoron kindly due to this lack of natural charisma plus his fetish for reading rather than participating in sport, hunt, or other more ‘normal’ wood elf pursuits.
These problematic behaviors drew concern from his parents, and after a series of consultations with various advisors… the decision was made to enroll Ivoron in magical tutelage. His people were not the most gifted in the magical arts, but it was not entirely unheard of.
He’d made a fine Archmage and Lord Rothnor was getting up in centuries… thus the Prince was sent away.
A private human tutor on a remote island in the Starlit Sea by the name of Jeram attempted to teach Ivoron the wizarding arts. He spent ten long years teaching his eager pupil magic… with some results. Ivoron’s mind was an eager sponge, able to grasp the concepts and theories with ease and could easily debate many a magical principle. However, replicating the effects of magic on his own was far more challenging.
The time spent with Jeram was not at all a loss, Ivoron learned many a skill from the old human. He learned the art of sailing and fishing. He learned how to fend in the wilds of the nearby archipelago, and how to forage. He learned plant identification and general wound care.
And he learned what companionship was like for the first time.
However, ten years is a long time for a human and Jeram knew that their time together was growing short. Jeram, one day over stew, told Ivoron that he had no more to teach him and that he must now let the world guide his study. Ivoron protested vehemently, but after weeks of convincing, he finally set sail from the only home he knew.
The years that followed he does not speak of. But it took two decades for the Otheron family to notice he hadn’t returned yet and another three decades to locate him.
When they found him he was dirty, his fiery red hair dyed a boring brown, wearing commoner's garb. He had become a hollow-eyed recluse in a shack, hiding out in the Shamblebrook Forest. His left leg was gone, cut off below the knee, and replaced with a wooden appendage.
They had to use force to drag him back to the Rustwoods under the cover of night, no one could see the second son in such a state. He was reclothed and his hair returned to its proper red shade as he was brought home.
In the meanwhile, his parents scrambled. How would they spin this tale? Their awkward strange son, who mysteriously disappeared to train to become an archmage, was now… this dirty herbalist?
Then they realized there was someone that could make any song sing.
There was an elvish bard named Lyrielle the Talespinner who was rotting in a spire. She needed to clear her name after writing a play about the royal family which landed her in said spire.
That was how Ivoron, unfortunately, ended up traveling with the 'Jewel of the Rustwoods', sailing the Bent Reed across the gentle Starlit sea. Until the mists came.
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Allegiances: None Presently
Place of Residence: None Presently
Registered: Nov 20, 2021 21:34:21 GMT -5
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Post by Ivoron on Nov 24, 2021 19:57:27 GMT -5
The sea came alive under the Bent Reed, the revitalized waves pushing the small craft towards the horizon. Gusts of wind filled the pale mint green sails of the sloop as she broke free from her foggy prison.
Ivoron was focused, trying to make quick assumptions about the depth of the waters and what possibly ran under them. This was hard work since he had no map, nor really any idea where in the Five’s name they were.
As Lyrielle was no help, fussing about being saved and proper meals. Ivoron grimaced as he let the Talespinner squawk at the winds.
“That storm was a terror, Talespinner. I do not know if the King’s Lark survived.” He said honestly to Lyrielle as he guided the vessel towards the unknown land. In the distance there appeared to be some sort of jut of forested land… Ivoron took a moment to peer off.
His eyes were better than a human’s but it was no spyglass, from what he could tell that was no place to try and moor. By the Five, should they even drop anchor? An unknown isle was not necessarily a blessing, after all. “And this is not Stoneport, I’ve never seen an isle like this.” He spoke aloud, perhaps to Lyrielle or maybe more to himself.
They moved past this area and Ivoron kept looking for signs of civilization or at least the remains of such. He did not have to look too hard for once the Bent Reed swung around this peninsula, Ivoron saw the telltale signs of smoke, tents, boats, and some crude buildings. It was hard to discern details of what or who lived here, or if they’d be friendly to the two-some but he saw nothing that made him consider docking elsewhere.
“It appears there is some form of people here.” He remarked to Lyrielle, motioning in the distance. As the Bent Reed glided towards the settlement.
The pale green sails of the Bent Reed billowed as strong winds brought the ship towards the recently constructed piers, obscuring a view of the vastness of the seas. As the ship arrived, it didn’t stick out too much. Surely, the sails were pale mint green and the wood of the ship shimmered with a copper hue; but it was not something too out of place in the Mistborne Isles where folk washed ashore from many a different land.
The vessel was a smaller one, a sloop around forty feet long, and even from a distance, it was certain there were two humanoid figures upon the deck. One, which had orange on top was moving about, handling the sail and rudder while the other one with white on top was shaking their arms about. It was hard to tell if the figure was excitedly waving down the shore or yelling at the orange top on the boat.
As the Bent Reed skipped across the water, it was obvious this ship had seen better days. It was battered a little, some repairs made in the sails by how they pinched funny, and part of the mast was askew.
It was still far out. At least three hundred feet but making steady progress towards where the robed figure stood, completely unaware of the presence for now.
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Lyrielle
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: Appears to be in her early thirties. But what is age to an elf?
Appearance: Lyrielle is average height for her people, standing around 5ft 8inches tall. Her eyes are a gleaming emerald green, and her hair stands out against her olive skin. The silvery hue of it is certainly unnatural, but contrasts well with her natural features. She is sveldt, as are most elves, her more feminine qualities not overstated, but plainly present. Her body sports several nasty scars from her childhood, and are interspersed with the geometric tattoos of the Rustwood Elves. She is beautiful by most objective standards, but nothing that would be too remarkable on its own. Her facial features usually sport a smirk or an amused expression. Her clothes are fine silk, velvet and leather. Expertly tooled and in a tunic style with long boots that provide the optimum amount of mobility to allow her to dance, should the need arise.
Full image can be found here: https://i.pinimg.com/474x/45/a8/af/45a8afc9155da4da118cabe83a2a8d6e.jpg
Equipment: Hip bag:
In Lyrielle’s pack, a variety of consumable intoxicants can be found. Everything from psychedelic mushrooms to the all too potent pipeweed, among various alchemic powders for various recreational purposes. A flask of potent liquor and various smoking accessories can also be found, among a pair of dice. Additionally there is a small collection of exotic cosmetics she utilizes for performances and daily use respectively.
> Her Person:
Lyrielle has a small coin purse that sits in her hip bag. This smaller bag contains supplies for writing such as rolled parchment, inks, and quills. A leather bound notebook is attached to her hip, and it is positively jammed full with all sorts of things ranging from play ideas to poems.
She has usually two or more instruments on her, flute, drum and harp are not uncommon choices. An assemblage of rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings and other precious jewelry adorn her features, nothing too gaudy. She carries an ornate bejeweled shortsword at her hip, yet this is more for artistic flair than actual use. It is suitable for combat, having been a gift from a lovelorn princess but...that’s a story for another time.
Skills and Abilities: > Skills:
- Musician: Lyrielle knows a host of musical instruments and is deft in their operation and maintenance. She sings, and has the uncanny ability to learn new instruments in excessively short amounts of time.
- Writer: Lyrielle is a renowned poet, having works celebrated throughout the world she came from. Though her writing isn’t limited to poetry alone, she’s written several books that have gained acclaim as well.
- Actress: Lyrielle studied theatre under the illustrious Felzoco Rambugnes, and as such has learned the art of acting to a point where she can convincingly immerse herself in a role and play characters. She’s done so in nearly every opera she’s composed, barring the more advanced once that require her direct attention to conduct.
- Composer: You don’t get the title of songweaver without having some serious abilities in composition. Lyrielle was, in her own world, renown as one of the greatest living composers. Her works were celebrated and would draw attendance from some of the most powerful figures in civilized politics. She’s dabbled in many different forms of composition, and is always eager to learn new ways of bringing stories and music together.
-Martial training: Due to the various roles she’s portrayed in the theatre, She’s gained training from various martial orders in swordplay and the basics of combat. Though these were more for the purposes of choreography rather than practical application. It’s been many decades since she’s had to wield a blade in earnest. Most of her knowledge is academic rather than practical.
- Wood Elf: The Rustwood Elves are a strong people. Physically, they have a heartier constitution than their slight cousins. They are able to live in a variety of tough terrain, and can easily take to a nomadic lifestyle. However, a full-blooded Rustwood elf has to work on honing the art of dexterity, due to their heavier frames. Meaning that they have a human level of clumsiness at times. Like others in their elven family, they possess keen eyesight and excellent hearing above the average human.
> Abilities:
- Artistic Savant: Lyrielle is beyond gifted when it comes to music, poetry, writing and other expressive forms of creation. Her perspective of the world is far different than the average persons, and as a result she is able to capture feelings and moments in time and translate them into words and notes. Of course, this isn’t due to any inherent magical ability, but rather her own altered perception of the world.
Of course, more conventional things such as survival or practical skills are sorely lacking, and she has over the decades come to rely on servants for her more basic needs. The idea of mundane tasks is immeasurably stifling to her, and she’ll do whatever she can to avoid such dreary activity..
-Mark of starlight: It’s said that those touched by the mark manifest some sort of sign on their bodies. In Lyrielle’s case, it was the silver hue of her hair, which changed in her infancy. It’s said that those who carry the mark are harbingers of change, and while not inherently good or evil, they tend to be the eye of the storm during upheaval or turmoil. How much of this is the superstition of the Rustwoods or reality is anyone's guess, though the manifestation of the mark is undeniable.
Biography: Lyrielle the Talespinner had not always been so famous, or infamous, depending on whom you spoke to. She had begun her life in very different circumstances than the glamour and accolades that came with being a genius songsmith. Music, Poetry, Writing and composition came to her easily, but this did not mean she had always been thusly capable. Her origins were, in a word; Humble.
She began her life as Velatha Sarphyra, The third daughter of a simple orchard farmer in the southern Rustwoods. Her childhood, however, was far from idyllic. From a young age it was clear that Velatha was different. She had little patience or interest in the things a young she-elf ought to have been interested in. Nor did she have much interest in obeying her parents in their efforts to help mold her into a “proper” elf.
Beyond this was the glaring mark of starlight that had manifested at the age of four years. Amongst the elves of the Rustwoods, the touch of starlight was said to manifest in a mark upon exceptionally potent agents of change. Neither inherently blessed or cursed, these individuals would undergo strange changes in their appearance. For Velatha, it was her hair. From a deep brown to a striking silver hue, this change brought with it an added level of scrutiny that was difficult for the Sarphyra family to shoulder.
Her father and mother were simple folk, content to live simple lives. Their star-touched daughter was more a burden than a blessing on the family. Those who were star-touched were different, and different things represented danger to the simple folk of the southern forests. Theirs was a life marked by tradition, the changes of the seasons, and above all else harmony.
Velatha was certainly not an agent of harmony.
What was clear, even at an extremely young age, was that she was beyond talented when it came to the creative arts. She sang beautifully, and seemed innately keyed into communicating herself though the medium of music, writing, and creative expression. These talents would have normally endeared her to her family, were they not so prone to calling unwanted attention upon them.
It’s said that the star-touched were agents of chaos, never truly able to know lasting peace. They would almost certainly be the eye of the storm, and while their talents might buoy their families to riches and fame, they could easily lead them to death and ruin. Velatha had always had a contentious relationship with her family. Never quite fitting in. It’s small wonder why her father decided that it was better to rid himself and the Saphyra family from the burden of their star-touched child before true calamity could befall them.
It was undoubtedly cruel, the decision to take her as a child into the southern mountains and leave her at the crossroads that marked the border with the human kingdom known as the Belum Empire. While she knew her father was not keen on her behavior, she never thought he would willingly abandon her.
It’s why when they made camp she was so confused, awakening the next day, only to find her father and their wagon gone. She had paid little attention to the route there, and in the thick fog of that early morning she found herself terrified and lost, heading down the path that led deeper into the human kingdom. This terror would lead to heartbreak as she grasped the reality of the situation.
The road was not kind to a penniless elven child, but orphans of all types ended up on the streets of the empire’s capital, Greymoor. Here she found herself forced to survive as best she could, using both her innate natural talents and proclivity for theft in order to eek out a living. More often than not she was able to avoid the more savage aspects of life on the streets, but she knew the touch of true cruelty more than once, and her body and soul became marked with scars carried by those who tread the lowest rungs of society.
However, it was on those streets, caked in filth and infested by lice that she caught the attention of the acclaimed playwright and thespian Felzoco Rambugnes. She had been singing on the street, and such was the poignancy of her song that Felzoco felt compelled to enlist her into his artist’s troupe, the Company of Lady Martingale.
It was also here that she took on the mantle of Lyrielle. The troupe proved to be the crucible that forged her from a starving performer into a true artist. Here, travelling from land to land, performing for commoner and nobility alike, she was able to find herself. Being so young, (Comparable to an elf, at least), her talents were unheard of.
As was the rate in which she developed those talents. From novice to master in a mere handful of years, her compositions and writings began to filter throughout the civilized lands, inspiring and thrilling folk from the lowlands to the highest courts with equal force. Before long her name and works were celebrated even back in the Rustwoods, where the kingdom revered their wayward daughter.
Of course, the truth of why she had left the woods was unknown. Despite the pain of being abandoned, she did not seek revenge on her father, or her family. Instead she simply never acknowledged having been theirs in the first place. She was Lyrielle now, Velatha the starving orphan of Greymoor no longer existed.
The Rustwoods called to her however, her ancestral home had always held a place in her heart, and the decision to settle back in the kingdom’s capital brought with it a level of prestige the small wood elf kingdom had not known for many centuries. Such was the level of prestige that her works and name brought, that before long the king’s court began hosting visitors from nations far oustripping the kingdom’s own power. The performances and works of Lyrielle acting as a foundation on which a new source of political power moved to elevate the kingdom to a status previously unknown.
However, Lyrielle was not the image of credulity, nor were her works exactly predictable when it came to their political messages. She often questioned societal norms, either in the Rustwoods or elsewhere in the civilized world. Her stories often causing an uproar for the poignancy or audacity of the tales that they spun. The quality of the world was undeniable, but she was unafraid to defy convention, and this earned her the ire of the more traditional conservative elements of Rustwood society.
Her work titled “The Velvetine Hand” or “The Queen’s Diversion.” earned her the ire of the royal family. Though not outright portraying the king and queen, the allegory to their more private lives, and the insinuation of the queen’s own...atypical tastes, drew sharp censure from the royal family. Though the story was beloved by the people, this earned Lyrielle the unenviable position of becoming the “Royal Songweaver”. A title that required she relocate to a tower in the kingdom’s palace.
Of course, such was this honor that she had no ability to refuse it. Effectively becoming a “guest” of the royal family and gaining the “honor” of representing the Kingdom of the Rustwoods as its official playwright, composer, and songweaver. This forced her to carry an official royal guard, and of course, submit her works to the royal family directly and privately, before they appeared before the general masses.
Being effectively imprisoned, Lyrielle found herself writing works that were summarily rejected by the royal family. The deafening silence that resonated from her was felt throughout the kingdom, and the greater world beyond. It threatened to put the political future of the kingdom in jeopardy, yet she refused to produce works that were “subpar” or sterilized versions of her original compositions.
Finally, an agreement was struck between the royal family and the Talespinner. She would produce a work immortalizing the exploits of the newly returned middle prince, this would be the medium by which he was returned to Rustwood society as a returned beloved son, rather than filthy vagrant.
In return, she would be released from her station as Royal Songweaver, and able to return to writing works she chose. Provided they did not disparage the royal family. Begrudgingly she agreed to this, and was then introduced to Ivoron Otheron of the Rustwoods.
She was not impressed. She’d found better muses in scenery, and the uncooperative prince was, in a word, boring.
She then found herself placed aboard a sailing vessel with the young prince, attempting to wring from him a tale worthy of her creative genius just as a mist began to envelop their ship.
Allegiances: None currently
Place of Residence: None currently
Registered: Nov 22, 2021 14:51:21 GMT -5
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Post by Lyrielle on Nov 24, 2021 22:02:37 GMT -5
The excitement of being out of the mist had re energized the maestro, and she turned her back against the railing on the bow, a frown tugging at her lips as she pushed away and closed the distance on the ship back in the direction of Ivoron. She avoided meeting his eyes, her arms crossing one over the other as she closed the distance. “No, you’re right, I saw it flounder.”
She had sense enough not to openly lament the loss of her instruments. There were people on board, after-all, and it was generally bad taste to lament the loss of an instrument over someone. Even if those instruments had been exceedingly rare, and would have been a significant boon to her efforts in composing the work she’d be commissioned to complete by the Prince’s parents.
It was curious that she hadn’t mentioned that earlier, but as if anticipating the question she spoke smoothly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to trouble your mind with such dark tidings when you were so busy seeing to our own safety. I was going to wait until we’d cleared the danger to mention it.” She didn't linger on the subject though, choosing instead to press on to the matter at hand directly.
She turned her attention then to the approaching landmass and its features. “Stoneport or not, they are bound to have something in the way of provisions, this land doesn’t appear barren. I could definitely go for a bath. You could too, by the by.” She teased, her emerald eyes settling on Ivoron with only a touch of mischief in their hues. She did so enjoy teasing him. If only to see his pretty features scrunch up in the adorable fashion they did when she pushed the right button or two. She'd determined she actually liked the princeling, even if he had the social graces of a wet rag, and was frustratingly secretive with his past.
She grasped the edge of a nearby railing, leaning against it as she watched the scenery get closer. Those emerald hues of hers flitting from spot to spot rapidly as she quickly assessed the scenery. “I’ve been all across the civilized world, and I can tell you that I don’t recognize any of the banners or insignia those vessels are displaying. The heraldry is entirely unknown to me. “
She watched as the docks began to creep closer, a thought occurring to her then. “ You know, assuming this is a strange land full of danger and excitement, it would be wise to keep your royal lineage under wraps for the time being, seeing as how we’re without your guard. Fortunate for you that you have The Talespinner in your company. With your leave your highness I propose leaving the talking to me until we can gain a better understanding of this island and its people. Yes?”
Her eyes flit back to the prince for the briefest of moments, before they slid back to the docks, focusing on the absolutely fascinating figure that stood at their edge. The details of which were rapidly becoming clearer the more the vessel gained on its place of landing.
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Grandma
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 144
Age: Appears to be in her 80's
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Appearance: An elderly woman with a wiry frame who most notably possesses unnatural height, standing at well over seven feet tall even when hunched over her cane. Her hair is grayish-white and normally done up in a bun and her eyes are also gray in color. Her skin is very pale and has an almost grayish hue to it. Her nails are long, black, and sharpened at the tip.
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Equipment: She wears a deep purple robe that has sleeves that extend far beyond her hands. Her hands are covered with fine gloves of black silk and she wears one ring on each, one having a purple stone set in it and the other a piece of onyx. Carrying an ornate cane of orellium, Grandma can use it to increase her magical channeling as well as assist in deflecting others' spells with it. The cane itself is black and covered in numerous ornate, but tiny runes. The cap on the cane is a purplish-colored gem. On her wrist is a silver bracelet with a ruby in it that Grandma uses for communication with others who own similar bracelets.
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Skills and Abilities: Skilled at knitting!
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Biography: While the details of Grandma's past are shrouded in mystery, since first meeting Naoki she has served essentially one role, that of advisor. While her titles have varied as Naoki moved up the social ladder of Isra, her continued support, and assistance she offered to Naoki have never wavered.
Even following the destruction of Isra, Grandma continues to follow and offer guidance to Lady Naoki as they attempt to rebuild from the wreckage.
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Allegiances: Naoki
Place of Residence: Port Argentium
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 19:51:53 GMT -5
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Post by Grandma on Nov 26, 2021 0:47:08 GMT -5
Grandma hadn’t been planning on staying out long at the pier, but as she went to turn and leave the pier, something caught her eye. At first she thought it was a trick of the light, but after taking a closer look, she could faintly make out the silhouette of a ship on the horizon. As it came closer, she was able to make out more details on it, most notably that it didn’t look like one of Isra’s vessels. While primarily given away by the color of its sail, she also knew Naoki hadn’t authorized any expeditions recently.
It wasn’t a particularly large vessel, but it was still a vessel nonetheless — and not a shoddy one either by the looks of it. Given most new arrivals showed up on a piece of driftwood or clinging to some crates, this alone was enough to pique the crone’s interest. As the ship came even closer still, she could make out what appeared to be two humanoid figures on its deck. One of them seemed to be looking in her direction but it was still hard to tell at such a distance.
While greeting newcomers wasn’t something Grandma frequently did, she was already out on the pier… Nor were there any pressing matters for her to attend to, what’d she have to lose? Not much more than a few minutes by her estimation.
Changing her stance slightly, Grandma raised a wrinkled hand to wave in greeting as she tried to make eye contact with the figure who’d been looking at her. There was room enough for the newcomer's vessel to pull up to the pier she stood on, so for now, she simply waited.
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Ivoron
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: -----------------------------------------------------------
Appears to be in his late twenties. But what is age to an elf?
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Appearance: With wild coppery red hair tied tight into a bun, tanned skin, and brilliant green eyes, the wood elf looks to be as standard as they come. He is of average height for his people, standing around 5'10. Ivoron is garbed in simple yet fine earth-toned attire, with a small leather pack upon his back. Thin light geometric tattoos trace his face and arms while a variety of piercings mark his ear, including a large crystal on his left side. The elf typically bears a neutral expression. His figure is lithe but trim, thin for a Rustwood elf. His face falls on the line between angular and soft. And if one does have a keen eye, it can be noted that the elf walks with a limp hailing from his left side.
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Full image of him casting found here:
https://imgur.com/a/YjTv2LZ
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Equipment: > Backpack:
In Ivoron's pack, a variety of carved steel and wood tools for survival in the wooded and swampy regions lay. Such objects for hunting small game to flint and steel to light fire to charcoal to a lightweight rope can all be found. There is a smaller leather pack of metal and glass tools for specimen collection and various vials of labeled herbs utilized in cooking, healing and magical rituals. Some bigger containers have salves, oils, and tonics used for cleaning wounds, different fragrances, and keeping skin soft. And at the bottom of the bag, four tomes weigh it down, one being a leather-wrapped journal.
> His Person:
Ivoron has a small coin purse that sits in his hip bag. This smaller bag contains a roll of linen bandages, and supplies for writing such as rolled parchment, inks, and quills. A small clear quartz crystal on a brown leather cord hangs around his neck and as always a gnarled wooden staff rests in his left hand.
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Skills and Abilities: > Skills:
- Herbalist: Ivoron spent decades working with plants as his sole company. He knows how to identify, care for, grow and cultivate many different species of plants and fungi. He also knows how to dry herbs, create essential oils, and make a variety of products from various flora.
- Wild Man: Ivoron fended for himself as a hermit in the woods for multiple decades, not including the skills he learned from his mentor Jeram. He knows how to hunt, forage, fell trees, tend to wounds, sail, and take shelter in wooded and swampy climates. This includes a variety of survival skills such as knotwork, reading the skies, creating crude watercrafts like rafts/cannons, and purifying water.
- Magical Theory: Ivoron studied to become an archmage, with some results. He has a keen mind and is quite knowledgable on magical theory and how to carry out rituals, however, his own powers are limited at best.
- Prince: Ivoron was born with high privilege, hailing from a small wood elf kingdom in his homeland. He knows how to read, speak and write in the languages of man, elf, and dwarf. He has had manners classes thus knows many different courtly rituals and behaviors.
- Wood Elf: The Rustwood Elves are a strong people. Physically, they have a heartier constitution than their slight cousins. They are able to live in a variety of tough terrain, and can easily take to a nomadic lifestyle. However, a full-blooded Rustwood elf has to work on honing the art of dexterity, due to their heavier frames. Meaning that they have a human level of clumsiness at times. Like others in their elven family, they possess keen eyesight and excellent hearing above the average human.
> Abilities:
Since coming to the Mistborne Isles, Ivoron's small abilities have waned even more. He has the following ability currently:
- The Speaker of the Land: Ivoron's magic primarily focuses on speaking to the earth and its creatures. All of his magic requires 'connection' meaning he must physically touch the ground he wants to 'communicate' with. Once touching the ground, Ivoron can talk to the land in a five-foot by five-foot region This ability does not gain him instant insight but allows him to have a conversation if there is one there. This ability can be focused on a singular plant or animal, such as a tree or fox, by placing his hand upon the bark or fur. His hand must remain in place in order for the conversation to continue, if it is broken the connection is severed.
((OOC Note: Consent always asked for before using this ability.))
This is not a taxing ability, but repeated use can cause Ivoron to feel drained and sluggish, unable to keep up with much physical activity.
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Biography: Prince Ivoron Otheron of the Rustwoods was born to Queen Alloralia and King Kythrel. The second son of three, Ivoron had little true responsibility with his life. Merely settle down with another royal, expand the kingdom and continue the bloodline; that was all that was asked of him.
However, this was not what Ivoron wanted.
As a child, he was quiet. Often found hidden behind vellum and page in the royal study. The young elf, who adored epic and bard song, dreamed of the day when his destiny was revealed like in the heroic tales.
That day never came.
Ivoron grew older, and the pressures of his privilege weighed down upon him like a heavy stone. He was… not socially graceful. His shyness barred him the ability to speak well, sometimes silencing him entirely, typically around foreign dignitaries or potential spouses. The court’s rumors did not treat Ivoron kindly due to this lack of natural charisma plus his fetish for reading rather than participating in sport, hunt, or other more ‘normal’ wood elf pursuits.
These problematic behaviors drew concern from his parents, and after a series of consultations with various advisors… the decision was made to enroll Ivoron in magical tutelage. His people were not the most gifted in the magical arts, but it was not entirely unheard of.
He’d made a fine Archmage and Lord Rothnor was getting up in centuries… thus the Prince was sent away.
A private human tutor on a remote island in the Starlit Sea by the name of Jeram attempted to teach Ivoron the wizarding arts. He spent ten long years teaching his eager pupil magic… with some results. Ivoron’s mind was an eager sponge, able to grasp the concepts and theories with ease and could easily debate many a magical principle. However, replicating the effects of magic on his own was far more challenging.
The time spent with Jeram was not at all a loss, Ivoron learned many a skill from the old human. He learned the art of sailing and fishing. He learned how to fend in the wilds of the nearby archipelago, and how to forage. He learned plant identification and general wound care.
And he learned what companionship was like for the first time.
However, ten years is a long time for a human and Jeram knew that their time together was growing short. Jeram, one day over stew, told Ivoron that he had no more to teach him and that he must now let the world guide his study. Ivoron protested vehemently, but after weeks of convincing, he finally set sail from the only home he knew.
The years that followed he does not speak of. But it took two decades for the Otheron family to notice he hadn’t returned yet and another three decades to locate him.
When they found him he was dirty, his fiery red hair dyed a boring brown, wearing commoner's garb. He had become a hollow-eyed recluse in a shack, hiding out in the Shamblebrook Forest. His left leg was gone, cut off below the knee, and replaced with a wooden appendage.
They had to use force to drag him back to the Rustwoods under the cover of night, no one could see the second son in such a state. He was reclothed and his hair returned to its proper red shade as he was brought home.
In the meanwhile, his parents scrambled. How would they spin this tale? Their awkward strange son, who mysteriously disappeared to train to become an archmage, was now… this dirty herbalist?
Then they realized there was someone that could make any song sing.
There was an elvish bard named Lyrielle the Talespinner who was rotting in a spire. She needed to clear her name after writing a play about the royal family which landed her in said spire.
That was how Ivoron, unfortunately, ended up traveling with the 'Jewel of the Rustwoods', sailing the Bent Reed across the gentle Starlit sea. Until the mists came.
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Allegiances: None Presently
Place of Residence: None Presently
Registered: Nov 20, 2021 21:34:21 GMT -5
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Post by Ivoron on Nov 26, 2021 18:00:40 GMT -5
Ivoron’s ears perked at the mention that she *saw* the King’s Lark go down. He had been focused on trying to steer them through that storm than keep his eyes behind on the slower vessel.
His shoulders dipped downwards, lips drawing down into a frown. There had been servants Ivoron had known since his childhood on that boat. *More loss, more death.* He mourned for their untimely ends and his part in them.
Before the prince brooded more, Lyrielle’s words caught his attention. A spark of anger formed in his chest, the clear deception apparent to Ivoron. People, this is what they did, never an ounce of honesty.
As he brewed these ill feelings, Ivoron then was chastised for being smelly. Which… she wasn’t wrong about, he was rather ripe. Ivoron did not reply to the tease with many words, but his green eyes held an ice to them while the corners of his lips scrunched as predicted.
“Noted.”
Ivoron went back to the tasks at hand, slowing the vessel as they drew closer to the pier.
The vessel was closing in allowing the crone a full look at the dual figures. Indeed, they were humanoids with tanned complexions.
The orange haired one had frizzy wavy hair that sprung out in far too many directions thanks to the days exposed to salt and sea. His attire that had seen much better days, thanks to manning the sails and winds they looked salt-caked and well-worn. He was moving around a far amount, and it was clear by how he moved that the young elf favored his right side.
The other white haired one looked far more put together, as if she had gone on a morning jaunt out at sea, her hair barely out of place. Her attire was quite fine, a collection of rich velvets and fine silks. She was certainly someone with expensive taste.
Ivoron soured as Lyrielle informed him about his bloodline and then stated boldly that *she* should do the talking. Ivoron lifted one eyebrow at the Talespinner, taking his eyes away from his surroundings for a few moments.
“Lyrielle, I have blended in with commoners before. I do understand how cloak my heritage as long as no one can read my skin.” He gestured vaguely at the ink along his arms which sang of his lineage.
Seconds of silence followed before he spoke again. “I do, however, agree that you should do the speaking since you are gifted with such.”
And with that Ivoron’s gaze flitted to the lines, sails and rudder, the ship slowing down even more.
The non-Isran vessel was much closer now, at least thirty feet away from the pier from the dark-clad figure at the end of the pier. It was close enough that she could clearly hear in the elvish tongue.
“That’s close enough, the mooring line is on the port side.” Ivoron said, gesturing at the aforementioned rope and giving Lyrielle an expectant look.
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