Hand of the Mist
Committed
Roleplay posts: 57
Registered: Mar 26, 2021 0:51:23 GMT -5
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Post by Hand of the Mist on Nov 23, 2021 21:31:58 GMT -5
Here, the fine sands wrap around a sheer cliff of limestone that has been carved away by the ocean for thousands of years. It runs miles down the coast before descending into rocky shore. Behind the cliff, there is a thick forest, and running through it, a river. |
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Kamaria Osei
New
Roleplay posts: 2 
Age: 23 years old
Equipment: Mercy: A knife made of bone and rock. Kamaria carved the hilt of this knife with her own hands. The bone made from that of a lion. Engraved in the handle are symbols and phrases meant to help a soul find peace after death. The blade itself is flint, sharpened and serrated.
Sacrifice: A long shepherding staff carved with runes and depictions of wildlife. Used in practice combat or in situations where Kamaria wishes to incapacitate, not harm.
Shield of Osei: Contrary to the name, this Osei family heirloom is not actually a shield, rather, it is a set of golden jewelry. Passed down from mother to daughter for generations, this set grants the wearer protection from harmful enchantments and minor physical attacks. ONLY when the entire set is worn.
Skills and Abilities: Survivalist: A set of talents taught to Kamaria from her family whilst living in the wilderness of her homeland. These skills are limited primarily to hunting, foraging, and the crafting of tools or various odds and ends.
Clairvoyance: Before being trapped on the isle, Kamaria was one of few from her homeland who were considered 'gifted'. She inherited the ability to see information about an object or person through physical touch. Usually, she can activate it at will, though she will occasionally seeing things at random. On the Isles, her ability has been weakened some, leaving her able to only see events near into the future or things that have only recently occurred.
Medium: Unlike her clairvoyance ability, Kamaria was taught how to commune with the deceased. It was a talent passed through the generations of her family. Usually, she would do this in a dream-like state. Unless, of course, a particularly powerful spirit could manifest in the waking world. However, on the Isles, it is near impossible to perform the rituals necessary to commune.
Biography: Before her arrival on the Isles, Kamaria was a nomad, like her mother, and many others from her homeland. She specified in the healing of physical ailments. Such as injuries or the occasional sickness. Her mother was a spiritual healer and much more adept at curing illness.
Kamaria would also help those in grief by helping them communicate with the recently departed. Or, she might act as a seer of sorts and help people see a glimpse of their future.
But now, on the Isles, she hasn't been able to find a way to commune with the dead and her gift as a clairvoyant is severely weakened. With magic going haywire, Kamaria settled for trading crafted wares and offering her skills as a healer instead.
Registered: Nov 22, 2021 18:49:49 GMT -5
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Post by Kamaria Osei on Nov 23, 2021 22:59:00 GMT -5
The gentle whisper of waves on the shore led the bass of a quiet melody. Shells rolled over each other with each wave coming in and out. Sandpipers flitted about in the sky and tittered on the ground as they searched for small crustaceans in the sand. Over it all, the wind whistled through sparsely leafed bushes which dotted a nearby cliff.
A gull cried out, a harsh noise amid the sweet symphony of sounds. The black and grey seagull tilted its wings and soared down to a dark shape on the beach. Black eyes peered at the prone form before it cautiously tapped it with its orange beak.
Kamaria awoke with a start, disturbed by harsh tapping on her cheek. She cracked open her eyes, blinded momentarily by the sun beating down on her and glinting off the sand.
With a wave of her gold-decorated hand, Kamaria shooed the gull away and sat up. Her dark hair was crusted with saltwater and sand, pasted uncomfortably to her shoulders and back. She pushed the offending hair away from her face and paused for a spell to look around.
Oddly enough, Kamaria didn't recognize this place. It only took a second for her to recall the events of the previous night. A storm had overtaken the Captain's ship in the night. Kamaria hadn't known anyone on the boat personally. She had been on a trip alone to answer a call from a lady whose son had been injured.
Though, needless to say, she had not arrived at her destination. This beach was lovely, though. It was a stretch of sand and grassy dunes, edged closely by a steep, shrub-covered cliff.
The poor woman would have to find another healer to help her boy now, for Kamaria was nowhere she had ever seen before.
For now, Kamaria settled to find a way off of this beach. She slowly endeavored to get up, sore from whatever events had tumbled her onto this shore. Eyes slit against the bright sand, Kamaria scanned the area, hoping to see another person or perhaps something else from the ship.
Oddly enough, upon further inspection, she found her staff still strapped tightly to her back. That would be the cause of the stiffness in her spine. And, thank the stars, her knife was also still securely in its sheath.
Kamaria examined her body, searching for the various golden jewelry which adorned her body. Considering just how many she wore, Kamaria was thoroughly surprised to see everything in its place. It was very odd indeed to see that not a single thing she had brought was missing.
Brushing sand from her white silk clothes, Kamaria walked until she was a decent distance from the water. Now on dry, albeit hot, sand, Kamaria could look for a way off the enclosed beach. It would be best to find a village or town of sorts. Though all of her coin was lost under the waves, it would be good to get directions at least.
How she would get off the beach, Kamaria wasn't sure. It appeared to be completely closed off, sheer cliffs barring access to the rest of the land above. It looked as if the cliffs continued for several klicks further down the beach in each direction. She might have to climb up if these cliffs didn't taper out eventually.
This was a poor situation, now wasn't it?
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Tybalt Colt
New
Roleplay posts: 7 
Age: Mid-20s
Appearance: Tybalt has an athletic build, with messy black hair and beautiful brown eyes. He dresses in luxurious-seeming, yet comfortable, attire.
Equipment: Tybalt holds a myriad of trinkets and gadgets, but his favorite tools are his specially-crafted chakrams, Prominence, and Glory.
Skills and Abilities: Tybalt is a social butterfly, with a particular charm that makes him easy to talk to, and draws lost souls in.
Biography: Recently freed from a tomb of stone by the mists, Tybalt has appeared upon the mistborne isles, and is looking to recover what was stolen from him, allowing nothing to come in between him and his love.
Registered: Nov 23, 2021 13:24:45 GMT -5
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Post by Tybalt Colt on Dec 18, 2021 1:48:56 GMT -5
Tybalt hummed softly as he kicked his legs against the rock he was sitting upon. The sand was far too hot for his tastes, but the water was too cold. Still, the sound of the waves lapping at the floor created a steady rhythm that Tybalt enjoyed. It had been a couple days since Grandma and May had freed him from his stony prison, and he was struggling to adjust more than he anticipated. Sure, when he was interacting with the peasantry it was easy to pretend, but Tybalt craved more... He craved what he lost.
He understood why the others could not be released, but it did not make it easy. May was one of his closest friends, but she was so, so.. Cold. It was never an issue back in the day, when Tybalt could simply bug Helyssent, cuddle with Maucolyn or Lucan, or even just read with Gweyn. But being stuck with just May? Tybalt wouldn't say it was torture, but it felt awfully close. He was always too loud for her, too clingy and needy for attention. She was too distant, too focused and too harsh with him, and it was stressing the young knight out quite a bit.
Even ignoring that, his damned magic was weaker than usual. May had said it was due to the mist, but it was ridiculous. His magical senses were so dulled, Tybalt found himself wondering if they were even still present. He sighed, flopping against the back of the rock and closed his eyes, taking a few deep, calming breathes.
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Kamaria Osei
New
Roleplay posts: 2
Age: 23 years old
Equipment: Mercy: A knife made of bone and rock. Kamaria carved the hilt of this knife with her own hands. The bone made from that of a lion. Engraved in the handle are symbols and phrases meant to help a soul find peace after death. The blade itself is flint, sharpened and serrated.
Sacrifice: A long shepherding staff carved with runes and depictions of wildlife. Used in practice combat or in situations where Kamaria wishes to incapacitate, not harm.
Shield of Osei: Contrary to the name, this Osei family heirloom is not actually a shield, rather, it is a set of golden jewelry. Passed down from mother to daughter for generations, this set grants the wearer protection from harmful enchantments and minor physical attacks. ONLY when the entire set is worn.
Skills and Abilities: Survivalist: A set of talents taught to Kamaria from her family whilst living in the wilderness of her homeland. These skills are limited primarily to hunting, foraging, and the crafting of tools or various odds and ends.
Clairvoyance: Before being trapped on the isle, Kamaria was one of few from her homeland who were considered 'gifted'. She inherited the ability to see information about an object or person through physical touch. Usually, she can activate it at will, though she will occasionally seeing things at random. On the Isles, her ability has been weakened some, leaving her able to only see events near into the future or things that have only recently occurred.
Medium: Unlike her clairvoyance ability, Kamaria was taught how to commune with the deceased. It was a talent passed through the generations of her family. Usually, she would do this in a dream-like state. Unless, of course, a particularly powerful spirit could manifest in the waking world. However, on the Isles, it is near impossible to perform the rituals necessary to commune.
Biography: Before her arrival on the Isles, Kamaria was a nomad, like her mother, and many others from her homeland. She specified in the healing of physical ailments. Such as injuries or the occasional sickness. Her mother was a spiritual healer and much more adept at curing illness.
Kamaria would also help those in grief by helping them communicate with the recently departed. Or, she might act as a seer of sorts and help people see a glimpse of their future.
But now, on the Isles, she hasn't been able to find a way to commune with the dead and her gift as a clairvoyant is severely weakened. With magic going haywire, Kamaria settled for trading crafted wares and offering her skills as a healer instead.
Registered: Nov 22, 2021 18:49:49 GMT -5
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Post by Kamaria Osei on Dec 21, 2021 1:58:42 GMT -5
Kamaria made her way further down the beach, scanning the steep cliffs as she went. Several places looked climbable at first. However, upon further inspection, she found them nearly impossible to scale safely. The hot sand on her feet was starting to wear on her nerves too. There was only so much the light sandals could do against the grit.
What felt like at least thirty minutes of walking later led to Kamaria finally reaching a point where the cliffs were beginning to slope downward. She eyed the rock walls for a while, waiting to see a proper place where she could get up.
Ahead, maybe a few hundred feet away, Kamaria spotted a part of the cliffs that looked pretty easy to scale. It almost looked as if there was a footpath worn into the rock. It reminded her somewhat of the cliffs she had climbed with her mother several months ago at a temple in the mountains. The climb then had been arduous, but Kamaria would give anything to be there instead of on this strange coast.
It didn't take much longer for Kamaria to notice the young man sprawled comfortably across the face of a rock. He was so still that if Kamaria hadn't happened to look directly at him, she might never have noticed him.
Humming curiously, Kamaria approached the man, albeit cautiously. She did not know if the people here were dangerous. This particular fellow appeared friendly enough, but it was impossible to tell until she spoke to him.
Gods, if only her mother were here. The older woman certainly had a way with words. She could charm a king from his crown if she really wanted to. Kamaria just didn't have the same talent. She was harsh and abrasive, whereas her mother was gentle and smooth. Not unlike silk in that manner.
Kamaria stopped a safe distance from the man. Far enough so that she had to raise her voice to be heard over the waves; and raised her hand in greeting. "Hello there." She kept her greeting simple, saving other formalities until after she grasped the man's attention.
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Tybalt Colt
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Mid-20s
Appearance: Tybalt has an athletic build, with messy black hair and beautiful brown eyes. He dresses in luxurious-seeming, yet comfortable, attire.
Equipment: Tybalt holds a myriad of trinkets and gadgets, but his favorite tools are his specially-crafted chakrams, Prominence, and Glory.
Skills and Abilities: Tybalt is a social butterfly, with a particular charm that makes him easy to talk to, and draws lost souls in.
Biography: Recently freed from a tomb of stone by the mists, Tybalt has appeared upon the mistborne isles, and is looking to recover what was stolen from him, allowing nothing to come in between him and his love.
Registered: Nov 23, 2021 13:24:45 GMT -5
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Post by Tybalt Colt on Dec 21, 2021 22:13:24 GMT -5
Tybalt shot up, turning around to look at Kamaria. "Hey," he called out in response, waving a hand at her. He looked at her in confusion, tilting his head. "What'cha doing out here? Mostly nobody comes out here." He smiled, moving over on the rock to make space. He patted the rock.
"My name is Tybalt," he introduced with a theatrical drawl. "What might yours be, mon cheri?"
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Clik'Ree
Established
Roleplay posts: 21
Age: 13 years of age, although the average lifespan of a Thri-Kreen is 30.
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Appearance: At 7'03", the Thri-kreen is a towering creature of chiton. Broad, with four arms that only add to the overall impression of size, Clik'ree (or Clik, as many prefer to refer to him as) is an intimidating and alien sight. Largely insectoid in form, with a Mantodea leaning it can be difficult for the average person not to feel unnerved in his presence.
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Equipment: Carrying a heavy battle-axe of mediocre make, the blade of the weapon is not regularly sharpened. Yet, with the sheer weight and the strength of the creature, one could easily discover that it doesn't have to be.
He has a bow made from the bone of a large animal, coupled with a quiver of crude but fierce arrows of barbed wood and bone. Wears a loin cloth made from the hide of a leopard.
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Skills and Abilities: Sheer strength is Clik'Ree's most pointed brutal ability. Strong even for his massive size, one might find it difficult to simply block one of his blows.
He is equipped with a natural armor called chiton, an exoskeleton that protects his inner viscera. It's strong, flexible, and silent, with the drawback that damage to it takes time to heal not unlike human flesh.
Thri-Kreen don't require sleep per se, but must still rest to regain their strength. Instead, they enter a state of torpor.
Last of all, he is quick and capable of leaping great distances.
Registered: Nov 11, 2021 16:31:32 GMT -5
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Post by Clik'Ree on Feb 18, 2022 19:34:03 GMT -5
These coasts weren't a destination. Really, they hadn't even been a consideration. Clik's wanderings were dispassionate. Driven as much by instinct and primal, unseen drive as a need to be anywhere. He had found the area much by accident, and due to the human's need to be settled around water he found it as good a place as any to wait. Having set up a "camp" (which largely consisted on him simply remembering locations most shrouded from sight and the weather) he decided to remain there a few days before pushing onwards. So close were his hiding places to a nearby town that he had, unbeknownst to him, become something of a mythical creature. On occasion hunters would find animals dismembered or carved up, eaten from by inhuman means. A few times people whispered of seeing a monster of towering proportion in the trees, or walking through the shadows. A few boisterous young lads had even taken to hunting him. It had been interesting to watch from above, as they fumbled around, searching for the quarry they didn't realize simply perched above. Humans were so good at seeing that they were bad at noticing.
Today, Clik'ree found himself at the edge of the ocean. Standing atop the rocky shore as he gazed at the waters. Tide had only just rolled out, and it was here he occasionally came to pluck a few leftover creatures from their tiny, glassy pools and devour them. He had left his axe at the treeline, unneeded for now. If a situation arose he could be to it in a flash, but for the moment he needed speed to snag the little crabs that darted too and fro, shoving them into his mandibles as he crunched, exoskeleton and all into his mouth. He noticed then: the glint of a glass bottle. Rising to his feet he approached, lifting it and turning it over in his many hands. He had seen humans use these, but only for liquid. This was parchment.
Uncorking it he emptied out the roll of paper in his hands, unfurling it. Upon it, a beautifully rendered map with an X. Across the top, in large, calligraphed writing:
'After extensive research I fear I may not survive. But it must be known: The secret of the isles is-'
He tossed the useless parchment aside into the water, placing the bottle into his pouch as it swelled and disintegrated, the beachcombing bug on the move yet again.
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