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 24, 2021 2:21:21 GMT -5
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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 24, 2021 18:07:02 GMT -5
Within the village, all was well. The loggers logged, the tillers tilled, children played, and as the sun sank, people wound down for the evening. These new, strange lands were frightening at first, but it seemed all would be well under the guidance of their brave leaders. It'd been a long time since the word hope was behind them, as the peace and bounty they needed was dawning upon them at last. Fires were lit between family tents as they gathered for communal chatter and late meals. There was the laughter of children amid dramatic storytelling, couples holding hands as they shuffled closer together in their seats, and the dribble of soup as it was devoured by hungry mouths. The road here was rough and took many lives, but finally, there was a future to look forward to.
From the lake, a mist billowed up and rolled onto the bank. It spidered through the grass, hugged the walls, and then snaked around them to merge with the settlement. No one thought anything of it at first. The mist was common. Not only did it surround the isle, but it came up from the water on chilly days all the time.
It wasn’t until the substance began to fill the settlement like water in a bowl did concern rise. There was a fair bit of mumbling when it enveloped the legs of the villagers and came up to their waists, completely swallowing up any children short enough. Not long after that, parents began to call out their names, only to hear nothing in return. The calm of the evening soured, replaced by harried feet and worried shouts. Soon, the fog rose above the heads of the tallest villagers. People tried to stick close, held hands to lead the way as they tried to sort themselves through the grey veil. Alas, they would find themselves alone, clenching the empty air, before all fell silent once more.
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Hævys Bladesmith
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61 
Age: Nearing her mid-30s
Appearance: She has a dark brown, bordering on black head of hair, kept short, not reaching halfway down her neck. Her skin is a darker tan-ish shade, with grey eyes. Standing around 5'10", she has a rugged frame, used to heavy labor and working in the forge. She usually wears a pair of loose fitting pants, with a snug cloth wrap covering up her chest. While in the forge, she wears a black smith's apron as well. While her pants usually covers it, there is a large indent into her skin on her thigh, as if part of the skin had been sheared off of that area, a few layers deep.
Equipment: While a smith before she got here, most of her equipment couldn't be carried during the flood. She's lucky she got out with a few forging hammers and a pair of tongs for handling hot metal, as well as her trusty pata(a type of sword-gauntlet), for if someone attempts to cross her or steal her wares.
Skills and Abilities: A skilled blacksmith, focusing on weapons and armor, with some skill also with jewelry and building materials such as hinges or nails. As well as this, she is skilled in the magics of enchanting her wares while creating them, giving enchantments of durability, of good health, or other small enchantments to make using them easier. However, she could only do this for things she was forging, not finished works, and even then she currently refuses to enchant her works. As well as this, although she currently refuses to do it as well, she can give people permanent marks on their skin, that would not wash off no matter what, and even enchant those.
Biography: A skilled smith from a young age, Hævys loved to create. She would work with her father in his forge, learning his craft, even if many others said she couldn't, or that she shouldn't and she should be proper. Naturally, Hævys wanted to prove them wrong. After learning all she could from her father, she travelled her land, looking for the best smiths to teach her what her father could not. Eventually she'd stumble on a smith who taught her many other talents, including, most importantly, the art of enchanted forging. Upon returning home and beginning her own work, she was soon summoned to the capital, to work towards making equipment for the army. Here, she would gain the epithet of Magesmith.
As well as working for the army, she would open a small business on the side, giving people permanent marks on their skin in any design they chose, a skill she picked up on her travels. However, one day she would experiment(with a willing participant) on attempting to enchant her marks. It was a success, and word soon reached the king. Immediately, she was given a new position with the prison. She would use her marking ability to give prisoners permanent enchanted marks, ones that would seal any magical ability they possessed, as well as teaching others to do the same.
However, soon, it became apparent that many of these prisoners did not deserve their punishment, nor prison time at all. Many people were sentenced to this not only for crimes, but for things outside of their control and for speaking out against the war. Hævys could not take this, speaking out against it. As a result, she was branded a criminal and given one of the marks she taught others to make, sealing her magic as she was thrown in prison.
Eventually, she would escape, and cut the mark off of her body, barely surviving with the bloodloss and possible infection. Even though she was no longer sealed, she refused to make another mark for anybody, and refused to enchant anything anymore. She refused her old epithet and became simply Hævys Bladesmith, and opening a small, struggling smithy for a short time, before the flood hit.
Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by Hævys Bladesmith on Nov 25, 2021 16:17:48 GMT -5
Hævys sat outside as evening made its way through the settlement, her seat one pulled from inside of her tent. Earlier in the day she had bid her friend farewell for now, leaving her knowing few souls within the village. As such, she sat alone, simply listening to the calming sounds of people winding down into the night, watching as the fog rolled in.
However, within moments, the mist had already reached her lap, too thick to even see her own legs through. As it rose further, the concerned smith rose to her feet, seeing and hearing the worried people around her. She walked unevenly towards the center of town, looking around to try and see if anyone knew what may be going on with the mist, however as the mist rose above her head, the panicked shouts seemed to cut out quickly, leaving her alone, blind and deaf to anything that may be happening around. She worriedly hobbled around, looking for even just a landmark to hold on to, so she knew something stable was still around.
“Hello?!” She called into the void. “Anybody there?!”
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Csilla Kato
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Coming from humble beginnings, Csilla dresses simply in the fashion of the settlement of Pannoa. In spite of her ordinary upbringing, she carries herself with feminine grace while never being too dainty to carry out hard chores, at least normally. While not considered the most beautiful woman in the world, she is still noteworthy in terms of beauty.
Due to illness, her skin has grown pale, her lips and around her eyes have a blueish tint, and she's become thinner. She still has plenty of awareness and intelligence in her eyes however.
Equipment: Embroidery hoop
Sewing needles
pins
Threads of multiple colors
Mint based medicine
Skills and Abilities: Thread Spinning
Weaving
Sewing/tailoring
Embroidery
Contagious: Though the chances of being infected with her illness are low for healthy individuals, those with compromised immune systems are more vulnerable.
Biography: Csilla's family had been among the lucky ones to get onto the boat that saved their lives from the flood, but among the unlucky ones that did not make it to landfall. After the strenuous months at sea, an illness claimed each family member one by one. With no medicine to cure the along with the harsh conditions of the ship, Csilla arrived to the Isles alone.
The illness that ravaged her family has taken root in her as well, and has weakened her considerably. With no cure among them all they can offer is sympathy and comfort, and all she can offer in return is quiet busywork. With the time she has left she has been spending it praying or mending clothes,sails and other cloth based necessities that have been torn. Whenever she is not overburdened by work or her illness, she will take a stroll along the coast.
Registered: Apr 10, 2021 9:23:26 GMT -5
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Post by Csilla Kato on Nov 26, 2021 22:33:22 GMT -5
Csilla had woken up that morning breathing far easier than the day previously. She'd felt an upswing in her energy, and consequently her mood. Today alone she'd been able to get through so much work compared to any day in the previous week. It used to feel like a weight had settled right on her very bones, but now this weight had finally lifted and with it came a sense of freedom.
The needle passed through the fabric, and pulled gently taut the shimmering yellow thread, the last finishing touch on this latest piece she'd created. The image in its entirety depicted a familiar landscape; a bright sun beaming down on churches, vast feats of architecture among rolling hills and bright fields of red poppies that were embroidered to be quite lifelike. Staring at it, one could practically see the breeze sway the flowers and the people bustling in the city. A last knot, a snip of the scissors, and finally it was complete.
The seamstress took a deep breath and nodded in satisfaction at her work. Surely, the recipient of this gift would be pleased to receive it the next day. she'd have to make a point to hunt them down where they may be.
By then Csilla had already lit a candle, if only because inside her tent there was very little light as it was. It took a few minutes to notice the mist's tendrils having snuck its way through the door of her tent. She didn't notice the way it hugged the walls nor the way it clung to her skirt like tormented souls trying to pull her down. It wasn't until the mist was at waist height that she found it strange if not alarming. Usually the mist didn't go inside the tents, much less this high.
That's when the frantic shouts began, she heard names she recognized first of children, then people calling out for each other. She Chaos outside had Csilla stay put in her tent, fearing getting in the way or worse- lost in the mist as well.
She paced her tent anxiously, hoping for the telltale call that everyone had found each other, but things only got quieter... and quieter... and quieter still. So quiet in fact she could heard the thumping of her own heart in her ears. Like a doe she stood still, wide eyed and listening, yet now there was nothing. At best the crackling logs of the fire sounded so far away. She moved the flap of the doorway aside to peer at the thickest fog she'd ever witnessed even here.
"A-anyone?" She asked in a hushed voice. Normally someone was nearby to help due to her long days in illness, yet those caregivers were nowhere to be seen nor heard.
That's when finally a voice did cut through.
"I hear you! I don't know what's happened, I can't see anything beyond my tent, please follow my voice!" she called out to the stranger. She wasn't sure her voice would carry far enough after living so long in frail tranquility, but she'd managed to find some gusto. "Let me know If you can hear me!
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Post by Huey and the Thralls on Dec 1, 2021 23:05:20 GMT -5
The children were in their tents, waiting for another nightfall. Their previous foray into the woods had failed to heed Mother's location, and so they worked, trying to get everything as tidy as they could before they went out again. Some patched up their clothes, some began to make tannins for curing, while others tested foraged food. Many indoor tasks were being completed, and fires were lit for cooking as the sun sank. The children cast longing glances at the forest's edge, wondering when the young master would return to help find Mother. He had the strongest bond to her and would find her more quickly than the rest.
Despite their willingness to depart, a mist began to roll in. Huey, the lead thrall, clicked his tongue in annoyance. It was strange for the boy to show much emotion, but so many days without his dearest Mother was making him irritable. They needed to find her as soon as possible, and this blasted mist was not helping! Where was Master Vasco? Out stalking his new beloved, no doubt. This angered the boy more.
Stamping through the wet mud, he made his way through the small patch of woods that separated the coterie and the rest of the camp. The mist swallowed his knees before he was able to call out, and then, as he reached the tents of the sick, it covered his shoulders. Huey felt no panic, but he did feel a mild twinge of concern when it swallowed his head, and the screaming began. When he looked behind him, there was only the blanket of white. It was the same when he looked ahead, to his left, to his right... no exit in sight. With a sigh, he pushed forward and began yelling, himself.
"Vasco?" he called out. Someone rushed in from his right, bowling him over in an instant. The boy slid three feet in the dirt before coming to a stop. His brow furrowed. He pushed himself up and began to walk again, occasionally running into a tent, which he used for reference, but it hardly mattered. Every which way, he was getting batted and tackled. Sometimes the person would panic, grope through the air to find him, call out the name of someone he didn't know before wandering off or falling silent. This was terribly inconvenient, and he did not like it one bit. Eventually, he decided to find his way inside a tent. This one was warmer than the others.
It was here that he ran into the new smithy. He'd only heard of her thus far but kept note of the woman so they could ask for weapons at a later date. He blinked, having run into her legs, and looked up.
Then, behind him, he heard the familiar cry of the young lady, that polite little voice; Csilla.
"Excuse me," Huey said to the blacksmith. "Can you hold my hand and lead me over to that voice? People keep knocking me down."
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Hævys Bladesmith
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: Nearing her mid-30s
Appearance: She has a dark brown, bordering on black head of hair, kept short, not reaching halfway down her neck. Her skin is a darker tan-ish shade, with grey eyes. Standing around 5'10", she has a rugged frame, used to heavy labor and working in the forge. She usually wears a pair of loose fitting pants, with a snug cloth wrap covering up her chest. While in the forge, she wears a black smith's apron as well. While her pants usually covers it, there is a large indent into her skin on her thigh, as if part of the skin had been sheared off of that area, a few layers deep.
Equipment: While a smith before she got here, most of her equipment couldn't be carried during the flood. She's lucky she got out with a few forging hammers and a pair of tongs for handling hot metal, as well as her trusty pata(a type of sword-gauntlet), for if someone attempts to cross her or steal her wares.
Skills and Abilities: A skilled blacksmith, focusing on weapons and armor, with some skill also with jewelry and building materials such as hinges or nails. As well as this, she is skilled in the magics of enchanting her wares while creating them, giving enchantments of durability, of good health, or other small enchantments to make using them easier. However, she could only do this for things she was forging, not finished works, and even then she currently refuses to enchant her works. As well as this, although she currently refuses to do it as well, she can give people permanent marks on their skin, that would not wash off no matter what, and even enchant those.
Biography: A skilled smith from a young age, Hævys loved to create. She would work with her father in his forge, learning his craft, even if many others said she couldn't, or that she shouldn't and she should be proper. Naturally, Hævys wanted to prove them wrong. After learning all she could from her father, she travelled her land, looking for the best smiths to teach her what her father could not. Eventually she'd stumble on a smith who taught her many other talents, including, most importantly, the art of enchanted forging. Upon returning home and beginning her own work, she was soon summoned to the capital, to work towards making equipment for the army. Here, she would gain the epithet of Magesmith.
As well as working for the army, she would open a small business on the side, giving people permanent marks on their skin in any design they chose, a skill she picked up on her travels. However, one day she would experiment(with a willing participant) on attempting to enchant her marks. It was a success, and word soon reached the king. Immediately, she was given a new position with the prison. She would use her marking ability to give prisoners permanent enchanted marks, ones that would seal any magical ability they possessed, as well as teaching others to do the same.
However, soon, it became apparent that many of these prisoners did not deserve their punishment, nor prison time at all. Many people were sentenced to this not only for crimes, but for things outside of their control and for speaking out against the war. Hævys could not take this, speaking out against it. As a result, she was branded a criminal and given one of the marks she taught others to make, sealing her magic as she was thrown in prison.
Eventually, she would escape, and cut the mark off of her body, barely surviving with the bloodloss and possible infection. Even though she was no longer sealed, she refused to make another mark for anybody, and refused to enchant anything anymore. She refused her old epithet and became simply Hævys Bladesmith, and opening a small, struggling smithy for a short time, before the flood hit.
Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by Hævys Bladesmith on Dec 3, 2021 15:34:51 GMT -5
Hævys turned towards the voice she had heard, muffled by the mist to a point she almost missed it. She starts to head that way before she feels something bump into her bad leg, startling her and making her almost fall to the ground. Regaining her bearings, she looks down to see who or what it was.
There, she saw the faintest outline of what seemed to be a little boy, an assumption only further proven by his voice. She reached down to grab at the young one’s hand. “Come child. This way.”
She hobbled towards the sound of the young lady’s voice, going as fast as her injury would allow her. The strain of quick movement caused a searing pain in her leg, but she powered through it. “Over here!” She yelled in a pained voice, even her own echo absorbed by the mist. “I can hear you!”
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Csilla Kato
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Coming from humble beginnings, Csilla dresses simply in the fashion of the settlement of Pannoa. In spite of her ordinary upbringing, she carries herself with feminine grace while never being too dainty to carry out hard chores, at least normally. While not considered the most beautiful woman in the world, she is still noteworthy in terms of beauty.
Due to illness, her skin has grown pale, her lips and around her eyes have a blueish tint, and she's become thinner. She still has plenty of awareness and intelligence in her eyes however.
Equipment: Embroidery hoop
Sewing needles
pins
Threads of multiple colors
Mint based medicine
Skills and Abilities: Thread Spinning
Weaving
Sewing/tailoring
Embroidery
Contagious: Though the chances of being infected with her illness are low for healthy individuals, those with compromised immune systems are more vulnerable.
Biography: Csilla's family had been among the lucky ones to get onto the boat that saved their lives from the flood, but among the unlucky ones that did not make it to landfall. After the strenuous months at sea, an illness claimed each family member one by one. With no medicine to cure the along with the harsh conditions of the ship, Csilla arrived to the Isles alone.
The illness that ravaged her family has taken root in her as well, and has weakened her considerably. With no cure among them all they can offer is sympathy and comfort, and all she can offer in return is quiet busywork. With the time she has left she has been spending it praying or mending clothes,sails and other cloth based necessities that have been torn. Whenever she is not overburdened by work or her illness, she will take a stroll along the coast.
Registered: Apr 10, 2021 9:23:26 GMT -5
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Post by Csilla Kato on Dec 4, 2021 9:06:21 GMT -5
Csilla didn't hear anything back for what had seemed like an eternity, holding her breath so that she couldn't mistake other's voices for her own imagination. During the silence she worried that whoever it may be that they'd also been swallowed by the mist, as it seemed many were. Then, a spark of hope. That same voice replied to her! she smiled, relief etched on her face. She wasn't going to be alone in the thickness of the mist.
"I can hear you, but I can't see you yet!" She called out again so that they could follow the breadcrumb trail that was her voice. she didn't really know this other individual, so it was hard to keep conversation going.
Instead she began to sing. She chose one of the folk songs from her hometown, simple, easy to remember and not overly difficult to sing. Her voice was not worldly by any means, she definitely sang like someone who'd received zero formal training but she was decent enough to be on key. She hoped it would be enough to lead the woman to her unbeknownst of the additional charge the Smithy would be bringing with her.
She could repeat the song as many times as necessary until she could see vague silhouettes in the mist approaching.
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Post by Huey and the Thralls on Dec 5, 2021 19:03:05 GMT -5
A small emotion stuck somewhere between amusement and annoyance tickled the boy when the blacksmith called him "child." It did little more than tug at the end of his lip, but it was something to remember.
As the two women called out to one another, Huey tottered along, eyes aimed out at the mist. He saw shadows dodging in and out, but couldn't make out their faces. Now and again, they came uncomfortably close, but Hævys was an adequate warning for them to stay far enough away, saving him from being bowled into once more.
When the fog parted enough to reveal them to Csilla, they appeared like ghosts. Tendrils peeled away from their bodies as they would any phantom. The only difference was that Hævys had the color of life in her cheeks, whereas Huey did not. The first thing that came out of his mouth was:
"Ah, Lady Csilla. Where is Vasco?"
Not a trace of fear could be heard in his voice.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
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Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
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Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Dec 5, 2021 19:20:59 GMT -5
The rapscallion in question had also been on his way to find Csilla, though he decided to take the scenic route. Vasco knew the little demon spawn would be looking for him, so if he arrived at Csilla's tent first and didn't see him there, he would leave. That meant that he would get time with the woman himself without the scolding or that damnable evil eye of Huey's. Gods! What a pain he was.
Of course, that was when the fog rolled in. At first, Vasco didn't mind. It was just more cover for him and all the things he had planned for the evening! But then it just got thicker... and thicker... and-
"Fuck," he spat. "Where am I?"
This had to be the way to Csilla's tents, right? Two rights, a left, and he should have been there! But because of this cursed mist, he couldn't see. No matter what direction he looked, he was lost. With a grunt, he marched ahead, stubbornly dictating that this direction would get him where he needed to be. He could hear the screaming and the panic, the soft sighs of the mist as people went silent, but he certainly didn't listen to them. The only voice that mattered at this point was Csilla's. And, by some miracle, there it was.
The vampire whipped around, hearing the delicate voice somewhere in the distance. "Csilla," he rasped, silently at first. His feet paced, then began to trot. Soon enough, he broke into a sprint toward the voice. "Csilla!" he cried, arms wide. It felt like belly flopping into still water when he broke out of the fog, arms wide, but it wasn't just because of the change of scenery.
It was because he was face to face with his mother.
"Hello, Vasco!" she exclaimed, her body wrapped in her long tresses, yellow eyes narrowing at him dangerously. "Who's Csilla?"
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Hævys Bladesmith
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: Nearing her mid-30s
Appearance: She has a dark brown, bordering on black head of hair, kept short, not reaching halfway down her neck. Her skin is a darker tan-ish shade, with grey eyes. Standing around 5'10", she has a rugged frame, used to heavy labor and working in the forge. She usually wears a pair of loose fitting pants, with a snug cloth wrap covering up her chest. While in the forge, she wears a black smith's apron as well. While her pants usually covers it, there is a large indent into her skin on her thigh, as if part of the skin had been sheared off of that area, a few layers deep.
Equipment: While a smith before she got here, most of her equipment couldn't be carried during the flood. She's lucky she got out with a few forging hammers and a pair of tongs for handling hot metal, as well as her trusty pata(a type of sword-gauntlet), for if someone attempts to cross her or steal her wares.
Skills and Abilities: A skilled blacksmith, focusing on weapons and armor, with some skill also with jewelry and building materials such as hinges or nails. As well as this, she is skilled in the magics of enchanting her wares while creating them, giving enchantments of durability, of good health, or other small enchantments to make using them easier. However, she could only do this for things she was forging, not finished works, and even then she currently refuses to enchant her works. As well as this, although she currently refuses to do it as well, she can give people permanent marks on their skin, that would not wash off no matter what, and even enchant those.
Biography: A skilled smith from a young age, Hævys loved to create. She would work with her father in his forge, learning his craft, even if many others said she couldn't, or that she shouldn't and she should be proper. Naturally, Hævys wanted to prove them wrong. After learning all she could from her father, she travelled her land, looking for the best smiths to teach her what her father could not. Eventually she'd stumble on a smith who taught her many other talents, including, most importantly, the art of enchanted forging. Upon returning home and beginning her own work, she was soon summoned to the capital, to work towards making equipment for the army. Here, she would gain the epithet of Magesmith.
As well as working for the army, she would open a small business on the side, giving people permanent marks on their skin in any design they chose, a skill she picked up on her travels. However, one day she would experiment(with a willing participant) on attempting to enchant her marks. It was a success, and word soon reached the king. Immediately, she was given a new position with the prison. She would use her marking ability to give prisoners permanent enchanted marks, ones that would seal any magical ability they possessed, as well as teaching others to do the same.
However, soon, it became apparent that many of these prisoners did not deserve their punishment, nor prison time at all. Many people were sentenced to this not only for crimes, but for things outside of their control and for speaking out against the war. Hævys could not take this, speaking out against it. As a result, she was branded a criminal and given one of the marks she taught others to make, sealing her magic as she was thrown in prison.
Eventually, she would escape, and cut the mark off of her body, barely surviving with the bloodloss and possible infection. Even though she was no longer sealed, she refused to make another mark for anybody, and refused to enchant anything anymore. She refused her old epithet and became simply Hævys Bladesmith, and opening a small, struggling smithy for a short time, before the flood hit.
Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by Hævys Bladesmith on Dec 10, 2021 21:53:22 GMT -5
Hævys pressed onwards towards the voice of the lady they had heard, following the sounds of her vocal melody cutting through the mist. She shoved through the unnerving haze, occasionally shouldering a panicked individual out of the way so as to prevent the child from being trampled, while her more muscular form was warning enough for others.
Finally, she came close enough to see the silhouette of this singing seamstress, her form seeming to emerge from the mist’s eerie embrace. Hævys inspected her, no doubt in her mind this was who she was yelling to through the mist. She was obviously recovering from some sort of illness, almost but not quite out of the thicket in that regard. Once the boy confirmed that this was indeed the woman they were after, she nodded in greeting. “Hello miss, he yours?”
Something seemed off about Huey, Hævys thought. He was so…calm, especially for a child. It was so counter to how kids his age act in these sorts of situations, separated from family in crisis. It was off-putting, to say the least.
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Csilla Kato
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Coming from humble beginnings, Csilla dresses simply in the fashion of the settlement of Pannoa. In spite of her ordinary upbringing, she carries herself with feminine grace while never being too dainty to carry out hard chores, at least normally. While not considered the most beautiful woman in the world, she is still noteworthy in terms of beauty.
Due to illness, her skin has grown pale, her lips and around her eyes have a blueish tint, and she's become thinner. She still has plenty of awareness and intelligence in her eyes however.
Equipment: Embroidery hoop
Sewing needles
pins
Threads of multiple colors
Mint based medicine
Skills and Abilities: Thread Spinning
Weaving
Sewing/tailoring
Embroidery
Contagious: Though the chances of being infected with her illness are low for healthy individuals, those with compromised immune systems are more vulnerable.
Biography: Csilla's family had been among the lucky ones to get onto the boat that saved their lives from the flood, but among the unlucky ones that did not make it to landfall. After the strenuous months at sea, an illness claimed each family member one by one. With no medicine to cure the along with the harsh conditions of the ship, Csilla arrived to the Isles alone.
The illness that ravaged her family has taken root in her as well, and has weakened her considerably. With no cure among them all they can offer is sympathy and comfort, and all she can offer in return is quiet busywork. With the time she has left she has been spending it praying or mending clothes,sails and other cloth based necessities that have been torn. Whenever she is not overburdened by work or her illness, she will take a stroll along the coast.
Registered: Apr 10, 2021 9:23:26 GMT -5
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Post by Csilla Kato on Dec 15, 2021 11:52:23 GMT -5
Csilla stopped singing once the pair was revealed from the mist. Out of relief that she wasn't here alone, she approached the pair openly. She smiled to the two, though she was surprised the woman had brought with her a child. Good thing, she supposed, as it seemed many of the children were disappearing, faster than the adults looking for them. This woman was lucky to be able to keep her son-
"Mine?" she muttered confused. Huey then addressed her by name, as if they were common neighbors, something that had the woman furrow her brow. "N-no, we've never met..." She admitted and then lowered down more to the boy's height to speak him more personally. "Did Vasco tell you about me?" It was the most reasonable explanation that he'd know her by name. As unsettling as his calmness in the chaos was, part of her was thankful that she had no need to calm down a panicking child. "I haven't seen Vasco yet. I was about to set off to find him. Are you two family?" He hadn't mentioned whether he had a child or not.
She looked up to the blacksmith that she'd never seen till that moment. "Miss- I wouldn't want to burden you with this but I don't have much else to rely on at the moment. Do you mind helping me find him? My health is still too weak to do this on my own, and should anything happen I'm not sure if I'll be enough to protect a child."
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Post by Huey and the Thralls on Dec 27, 2021 14:12:15 GMT -5
Huey disregarded the conversation about whose child he was entirely. Instead, he focused on the fact that Vasco was not there and had not yet been seen. Though his expression did not change, a distinct air of annoyance swept through the already tense situation.
"Brothers," the child answered Csilla. "We need to find Vasco. He is our best chance at finding our mother." He beckoned to them, turning toward the mist. "No time to waste. You should be able to feel his presence by now." With both hands up, he reached to grab the hands of both women. "Staying here is no good, I'm afraid."
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Maribel Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Appearance: Maribel is a towering, broad-shouldered woman with skin as pale as polished ivory. Though she has a square jaw and sharp, piercing features, there is a way about her movements that retains a soft, delicate manner.
She has yellow eyes like a cat's with impressively large pupils, becoming pitch black in the absence of light or when she spots something particularly fascinating. Her hair is predominantly white with a few strands of black beneath the layers, similar to how hair changes as humans age.
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Equipment: A bladed whip is the last surviving weapon in Maribel's repertoire after the great flood. Other than that, she has the crystal ball, which is little more than a toy now in the mists.
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Skills and Abilities: Transformation:
Maribel's vampiric curse can allow her to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a humanoid bat creature, and an oily snake, none of which are smaller than Maribel's human form.
Her senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. She has excellent night vision that causes her to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. If in direct contact with sunlight, she burns.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite, and sired vampires are created with a bite that doesn't kill the victim, and then feeding the victim the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newly found disdain for it.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 14:42:37 GMT -5
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Post by Maribel Correa on Dec 27, 2021 14:46:40 GMT -5
Vasco was beside himself in grief. He knew they would come upon mother eventually, but he didn't think it would be so soon. For Gods' sake, he just created his first thrall the night before! It's as if she knew and stampeded straight for him the moment she realized it. The most terrifying part was that he didn't doubt that to be the truth. Now, he was rummaging through tents trying to find the woman some clothes so that she could further interrogate him and sniff out Csilla. In a fit of desperation, he searched for the Reverend and Zasha, only to find that they were gone. By now, the mist was thinning, and it was easier to navigate, so surely they would have found one another by now, but no... he could not hear their booming voices, just soft weeping through a white veil.
In the Reverend's trunk, he found a folded stack of pale robes. Both had large, boorish figures, so these would do. Once secured, he rushed back to the woman in the woods, looking around for Csilla all the while. Oh, if only he could warn her!
As he moved through the maze of tents, he noticed that the mist wasn't the only thing that had thinned. Usually, there were a lot of people at this hour, though not as much as the midday rush. This time, it felt as though he'd walked into a pilfered village, emptied of more than half its people. His brow wrinkled.
"... was this your doing?" Vasco asked the vampiress as she pulled on the robes behind a tree. She peeked out from behind the trunk, mouth pulled into a tight frown.
"My dear. In what world would I take such action without provocation? Do you take me for a brute?"
Vasco gulped, turning a shade so pale he was translucent. "Of course not. It just seemed... convenient."
Maribel huffed. "I woke up in a field flooded with murder. None of you were there."
"I know, mother. We searched, I-"
"Were fraternizing with women while I was missing. What was that for? Tactically increasing numbers to cover more ground, mm?"
The amount of venom in her sweet words made Vasco nauseous. His eyes pasted to the ground as she swept by him, her new white robes billowing with every step. Her hand placed itself onto his shoulder. "No matter, darling. I'm here now, see? And everything will be alright. Come, at my heel."
Like a dog, he followed Maribel through the camp. Now and again, someone would come up to her, mistaking her for the Reverend before faltering and apologizing. Each time, she would reach out to them, speaking to each in turn with words of reassurance and guidance. "We will find the root of this evil," she would say. "We will chase it away."
And so it seemed to be truth, for as the vampiress traveled, the mist would part. This was not purposeful, but as fate would have it, the serendipity aided in making her seem like the replacement and the savior the people needed at the time. As she and Vasco marched, they gathered more and more lost souls, until eventually, they came to a clearing with a roaring bonfire in the middle. She took a few very long moments to survey the situation and took others aside to speak about what happened. It was here that she began to spread her name, Maribel Correa.
While she was busy, Vasco saw a chance to part from the crowd to look for his beloved.
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Hævys Bladesmith
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: Nearing her mid-30s
Appearance: She has a dark brown, bordering on black head of hair, kept short, not reaching halfway down her neck. Her skin is a darker tan-ish shade, with grey eyes. Standing around 5'10", she has a rugged frame, used to heavy labor and working in the forge. She usually wears a pair of loose fitting pants, with a snug cloth wrap covering up her chest. While in the forge, she wears a black smith's apron as well. While her pants usually covers it, there is a large indent into her skin on her thigh, as if part of the skin had been sheared off of that area, a few layers deep.
Equipment: While a smith before she got here, most of her equipment couldn't be carried during the flood. She's lucky she got out with a few forging hammers and a pair of tongs for handling hot metal, as well as her trusty pata(a type of sword-gauntlet), for if someone attempts to cross her or steal her wares.
Skills and Abilities: A skilled blacksmith, focusing on weapons and armor, with some skill also with jewelry and building materials such as hinges or nails. As well as this, she is skilled in the magics of enchanting her wares while creating them, giving enchantments of durability, of good health, or other small enchantments to make using them easier. However, she could only do this for things she was forging, not finished works, and even then she currently refuses to enchant her works. As well as this, although she currently refuses to do it as well, she can give people permanent marks on their skin, that would not wash off no matter what, and even enchant those.
Biography: A skilled smith from a young age, Hævys loved to create. She would work with her father in his forge, learning his craft, even if many others said she couldn't, or that she shouldn't and she should be proper. Naturally, Hævys wanted to prove them wrong. After learning all she could from her father, she travelled her land, looking for the best smiths to teach her what her father could not. Eventually she'd stumble on a smith who taught her many other talents, including, most importantly, the art of enchanted forging. Upon returning home and beginning her own work, she was soon summoned to the capital, to work towards making equipment for the army. Here, she would gain the epithet of Magesmith.
As well as working for the army, she would open a small business on the side, giving people permanent marks on their skin in any design they chose, a skill she picked up on her travels. However, one day she would experiment(with a willing participant) on attempting to enchant her marks. It was a success, and word soon reached the king. Immediately, she was given a new position with the prison. She would use her marking ability to give prisoners permanent enchanted marks, ones that would seal any magical ability they possessed, as well as teaching others to do the same.
However, soon, it became apparent that many of these prisoners did not deserve their punishment, nor prison time at all. Many people were sentenced to this not only for crimes, but for things outside of their control and for speaking out against the war. Hævys could not take this, speaking out against it. As a result, she was branded a criminal and given one of the marks she taught others to make, sealing her magic as she was thrown in prison.
Eventually, she would escape, and cut the mark off of her body, barely surviving with the bloodloss and possible infection. Even though she was no longer sealed, she refused to make another mark for anybody, and refused to enchant anything anymore. She refused her old epithet and became simply Hævys Bladesmith, and opening a small, struggling smithy for a short time, before the flood hit.
Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by Hævys Bladesmith on Dec 27, 2021 22:44:03 GMT -5
Hævys paused for a moment. This child was not hers? Then why had he asked her to take him to her? He obviously knew this Csilla, and yet she didn’t know him. And this Vasco person wasn’t someone she was acquainted with, though he was obviously what connected the two.
However, Csilla’s question was enough to raise her out of her thoughts. “S’no burden. Can’t promise I can do much, but I’ll help look for this Vazcó, miss…Zéla, the boy said?”
Hævys was then caught off-guard by Huey attempting to command the situation and by the strange things he said. What did he mean by “feel his presence?” This kid raised so many questions, and yet she wasn’t so sure she would like the answers if she went looking for them. Something here was unsettling beyond any reasonable doubt, and this child and his family seemed to be at the center of it. She looked over at Csilla, slightly concerned about how she fit into it all, but took Huey’s hand anyways. “Lead the way.” She said to Huey and Csilla, who seemed to be the compass Huey planned to follow. “I’ll try to keep up.”
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Csilla Kato
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Coming from humble beginnings, Csilla dresses simply in the fashion of the settlement of Pannoa. In spite of her ordinary upbringing, she carries herself with feminine grace while never being too dainty to carry out hard chores, at least normally. While not considered the most beautiful woman in the world, she is still noteworthy in terms of beauty.
Due to illness, her skin has grown pale, her lips and around her eyes have a blueish tint, and she's become thinner. She still has plenty of awareness and intelligence in her eyes however.
Equipment: Embroidery hoop
Sewing needles
pins
Threads of multiple colors
Mint based medicine
Skills and Abilities: Thread Spinning
Weaving
Sewing/tailoring
Embroidery
Contagious: Though the chances of being infected with her illness are low for healthy individuals, those with compromised immune systems are more vulnerable.
Biography: Csilla's family had been among the lucky ones to get onto the boat that saved their lives from the flood, but among the unlucky ones that did not make it to landfall. After the strenuous months at sea, an illness claimed each family member one by one. With no medicine to cure the along with the harsh conditions of the ship, Csilla arrived to the Isles alone.
The illness that ravaged her family has taken root in her as well, and has weakened her considerably. With no cure among them all they can offer is sympathy and comfort, and all she can offer in return is quiet busywork. With the time she has left she has been spending it praying or mending clothes,sails and other cloth based necessities that have been torn. Whenever she is not overburdened by work or her illness, she will take a stroll along the coast.
Registered: Apr 10, 2021 9:23:26 GMT -5
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Post by Csilla Kato on Dec 28, 2021 10:24:29 GMT -5
"Brothers, right." Csilla acknowledged, but the child made her uneasy all the same. He behaved more like a shorter adult and something about that seemed wrong, but she couldn't place her finger on why.
When Huey mentioned she should be ale to sense his presence by now, he.. wasn't entirely wrong, but she was caught so off guard that he knew that she didn't know what to answer him right away.
"I-I do sense his presence, yes, but I can't tell where it points me to. I just know he is nearby." she looked over to Heavys, having no answers to offer her. Being so thrown off, she instinctively held on to Huey's hand.
"I'll do what I can to guide us, but forgive me if I don't do a good job of it. We won't move too quickly." the seamstress assured the blacksmith and gently pulled on Huey's hand to guide him along with them.
She could feel Vasco was around here somewhere, but that wasn't the only thing she was feeling. A sense of dread? Distress? Was he in trouble? The unease in the pit of her stomach compelled her to find him, she couldn't rest until she did so and calmed both their nerves. It was still so hard to see in the thick mist, but all they had to guide them forward was a gut feeling. A strong gut feeling, but a gut feeling. It was like a little bell ringing every time she went too far the wrong way, and it wouldn't stop ringing until she course corrected.
"Do you sense him as well? What about your Mother?"
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