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 Jan 1, 2022 22:25:08 GMT -5
There is a fence around Sevintera, build long before the pervasive mist floated by, and before its new name. It is not very strong, but it keeps out the wolves. A guard sits at every entrance, though few of them are good at their job. They're there to warn the rest about incoming threats, rarely able to stop them themselves.
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Crown of Fingers
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 80+
Appearance: Around 9ft tall with a body visually composed of a red marbled fleshy substance and hard bony plates, three legs terminating in roughly spherical nubs, a tall spire of meat where a head is located on a human, near the top of this spire is a vaguely humanoid mask devoid of most facial features. At the top of the spire are eight fully functional fingers. No visible eyes, ears, nose or mouth.
Equipment: A 10ft pole comprised of tough wood with homunculus carapace on both ends
Skills and Abilities: Due to their alien biology their internal antenna allows them to perceive the world based entirely on waves, airwaves for shape and sound and lightwaves for colour as well as other wavelengths but I doubt anyone's going be using radios or microwaves, another trait shared by all faceless is their ability to learn voraciously, they are capable of learning by observation, mimicking activities, reading, hearing and eating things, furthermore they are capable of growing new body parts to solve problems though this needs time to analyse the problem, gather and consume organic material and then grow the part the process can take up to days depending on the size and complexity of the part. Their carapace plating is completely disposable and can be safely removed if damaged to a point where it is no longer useful. Faceless also struggle to feel pain which helps when they remove parts of themselves to upgrade or replace thus is due to their decentralised nervous system. Furthermore the faceless can safely eat and digest any organic matter even if it's horribly rotten as they are naturally immune to infections due to their tendency to simply devour whatever's infecting them. Crown of Fingers can expel a stream stream of corrosive acids a short distance and can of course grip things with it's decorative crown.
Biography: A former Slave unsure of it's place in the universe, Crown of Fingers is one of many faceless that was lost by in the mist, they acted as a general construction overseer before the mist however they lack any sense of aesthetics as they used to simply instruct others to instructions. At the time of the flood they and other faceless were in transit to a separate colony.
Allegiances: The Faceless Homunculi
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Crown of Fingers on Jan 1, 2022 22:28:35 GMT -5
From the outskirts a gaggle of creatures walked, each one a bizarre mass of nonsensical bodyparts, some walked like people, striding on two legs, such legs were often bent and shaped wrong, closer to insects or animals rather than that of a human. Limbs came out of these things with little regard for a traditional body plan, all were bizarrely proportioned and had strange carapace like masks depicting a blank vaguely human face.
Appearing to lead this pilgrimage of abominations was a tripedal thing, it had a large broad almost fan shaped head with finger-like growths forming a sinewy diadem of organic matter, in red fleshy hands it held a large staff of flame hardened wood, both ends tipped with the same pallid carapace that covered the creatures...all of them save for one.
It was a titanic lumbering beast, the others were tall but this one was different, there was no red marbled meat visible on it, nor any alabaster shell, just layers of dull pitted scales of some sort of metal, it only hand four limbs, two legs and two arms, but the arms hung down low. And the thing had it's mask like the others, covered in dark metal, laced with cracks. Cracks etched it's body like hieroglyphics with thick tar like scabs bulging out from the breaches.
The faceless had arrived.
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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 Jan 1, 2022 23:54:19 GMT -5
At the fences, an average fellow who looked like he led the life of a cobbler rather than a warrior stood guard. Tai was his name. He wore a loose blouse and breeches, drenched from the heavy fog that passed by hours before, and was leaned up against the fence with a makeshift spear at his side. There were a few swords left over from the great filter, but all the other guards had taken them or given them to a few other villagers! But no nice weapons for Tai, no. All Tai needed was a good set of lungs to use before he was all gobbled up!
The man mumbled bitterly to himself while he gazed out into the night, leaning against his long stick with a pointy rock tied at one end.
And that, well, that was when the creatures appeared. Tai wasn't sure what he was looking at, at first. Even at second, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that this was not a good day for the village.
Without a second thought, Tai's lungs went to work. He hollered and yelled, crying "monster!" out into the night. Other guards came rushing with their nicer weapons while poor Tai disappeared over the hills, toward the forest.
No more than twenty men and women stood at the entrance, trembling, hopeless, and on their last legs. They were like cornered, injured vipers; nearly worthless, but just desperate enough to put up a mean fight.
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Crown of Fingers
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 80+
Appearance: Around 9ft tall with a body visually composed of a red marbled fleshy substance and hard bony plates, three legs terminating in roughly spherical nubs, a tall spire of meat where a head is located on a human, near the top of this spire is a vaguely humanoid mask devoid of most facial features. At the top of the spire are eight fully functional fingers. No visible eyes, ears, nose or mouth.
Equipment: A 10ft pole comprised of tough wood with homunculus carapace on both ends
Skills and Abilities: Due to their alien biology their internal antenna allows them to perceive the world based entirely on waves, airwaves for shape and sound and lightwaves for colour as well as other wavelengths but I doubt anyone's going be using radios or microwaves, another trait shared by all faceless is their ability to learn voraciously, they are capable of learning by observation, mimicking activities, reading, hearing and eating things, furthermore they are capable of growing new body parts to solve problems though this needs time to analyse the problem, gather and consume organic material and then grow the part the process can take up to days depending on the size and complexity of the part. Their carapace plating is completely disposable and can be safely removed if damaged to a point where it is no longer useful. Faceless also struggle to feel pain which helps when they remove parts of themselves to upgrade or replace thus is due to their decentralised nervous system. Furthermore the faceless can safely eat and digest any organic matter even if it's horribly rotten as they are naturally immune to infections due to their tendency to simply devour whatever's infecting them. Crown of Fingers can expel a stream stream of corrosive acids a short distance and can of course grip things with it's decorative crown.
Biography: A former Slave unsure of it's place in the universe, Crown of Fingers is one of many faceless that was lost by in the mist, they acted as a general construction overseer before the mist however they lack any sense of aesthetics as they used to simply instruct others to instructions. At the time of the flood they and other faceless were in transit to a separate colony.
Allegiances: The Faceless Homunculi
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Crown of Fingers on Jan 2, 2022 8:40:04 GMT -5
The troop of strange beings continued forward before stopping a good few paces before he crowd, there were only about seven of the things, from this small group two of them stepped forward, the staff carrying tripod that appeared to be leading the group, as well as a second one draped in a small robe of golden fibres, this one had an almost corpulent physique, two large barrel like legs supported a rounded torso bearing one of these masks, extruding above the mask belly was a long meaty neck-like protrusion with three large eyes emanating out as well as a pair of human-like arms, on the very tip of this thing's neck was a second mask. Trailing behind it were two long segmented chitinous arms, somewhat obscured by the things bulk.
The tripod made a bizarre sound akin to scraping of stone on stone before speaking in a voice that sounded more like the sounds of labour than any true voice of a person. "We greet trueborn." it began giving a sort of bow, followed by the rest of the congregation "We from island far away and home further. We bring food from tree, offer peace and acceptance?"
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Post by Huey and the Thralls on Jan 2, 2022 14:43:36 GMT -5
Though they had witnessed more than their fair share of oddities since coming to the isle, this was something else. Even if no one rushed forth for the first strike just yet, they kept poised all up until one of them decided to speak.
The guards exchanged bewildered glances.
"Wh-what?" stuttered one, staring at the tripod. Her sword shook in her hand. Another came forward on unsteady feet, each breath shallow and quick.
"Who are you? What... what are you?"
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Crown of Fingers
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 80+
Appearance: Around 9ft tall with a body visually composed of a red marbled fleshy substance and hard bony plates, three legs terminating in roughly spherical nubs, a tall spire of meat where a head is located on a human, near the top of this spire is a vaguely humanoid mask devoid of most facial features. At the top of the spire are eight fully functional fingers. No visible eyes, ears, nose or mouth.
Equipment: A 10ft pole comprised of tough wood with homunculus carapace on both ends
Skills and Abilities: Due to their alien biology their internal antenna allows them to perceive the world based entirely on waves, airwaves for shape and sound and lightwaves for colour as well as other wavelengths but I doubt anyone's going be using radios or microwaves, another trait shared by all faceless is their ability to learn voraciously, they are capable of learning by observation, mimicking activities, reading, hearing and eating things, furthermore they are capable of growing new body parts to solve problems though this needs time to analyse the problem, gather and consume organic material and then grow the part the process can take up to days depending on the size and complexity of the part. Their carapace plating is completely disposable and can be safely removed if damaged to a point where it is no longer useful. Faceless also struggle to feel pain which helps when they remove parts of themselves to upgrade or replace thus is due to their decentralised nervous system. Furthermore the faceless can safely eat and digest any organic matter even if it's horribly rotten as they are naturally immune to infections due to their tendency to simply devour whatever's infecting them. Crown of Fingers can expel a stream stream of corrosive acids a short distance and can of course grip things with it's decorative crown.
Biography: A former Slave unsure of it's place in the universe, Crown of Fingers is one of many faceless that was lost by in the mist, they acted as a general construction overseer before the mist however they lack any sense of aesthetics as they used to simply instruct others to instructions. At the time of the flood they and other faceless were in transit to a separate colony.
Allegiances: The Faceless Homunculi
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Crown of Fingers on Jan 2, 2022 14:55:54 GMT -5
"Am Crown of Fingers, I overseer, builder." Crown began before gesturing at it's entourage "We are faceless. Lost, ship crash on sand, home is gone. We not wanting fights, no more fights. We bring food for Trueborn, Trueborn friend say that it good food, meat and plant."
The large almost spherical faceless had pulled out a small stone tablet as one of it's segmented limbs curled up to meet the stone it seemed to speak to Crown of Fingers in a voice of billowing paper, speaking in an unknown language.
"Turns Pages, is book keeper, wishes to know what name is this place." Roughly translated the tripedal creature while gesturing to it's rotund companion, it was clear it's grasp on language was difficult and yet despite that it had decided to risk communicating.
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Post by Huey and the Thralls on Jan 2, 2022 20:24:50 GMT -5
The guards exchanged worried glances for a second time. They proclaimed peace, but... after what happened earlier today, could they trust them? Could they afford not to, in fear of angering them? It was clear that none of them were fit to make the decision with their hesitation, which is why, when Tai returned, he brought someone who could.
Out of breath and just as confused as the rest, Tai was followed by a small child. Some came to know the child as Huey. He'd been more than helpful around the camp, though not a soul was comfortable around him.
With his hands behind his back and his chin up, Huey approached Crown of Fingers, eyebrows raising gently. "Hm. You proclaim peace," he started, looking them over. He put a hand on his chin, thinking. At some point, he'd overheard the conversation, and it wasn't apparent when. "I do believe that this place will be called Sevintera. Mother seems to like the name. I am Huey."
Turning on his heel, Huey walked past the guards, everyone speechless at the strange sequence of events. "Pleae come with me. We will speak over a proper dinner. Lots to go around."
Tai threw his hands out and squinted, mouthing to the other guards "Excuse me, what just happened?"
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Crown of Fingers
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 80+
Appearance: Around 9ft tall with a body visually composed of a red marbled fleshy substance and hard bony plates, three legs terminating in roughly spherical nubs, a tall spire of meat where a head is located on a human, near the top of this spire is a vaguely humanoid mask devoid of most facial features. At the top of the spire are eight fully functional fingers. No visible eyes, ears, nose or mouth.
Equipment: A 10ft pole comprised of tough wood with homunculus carapace on both ends
Skills and Abilities: Due to their alien biology their internal antenna allows them to perceive the world based entirely on waves, airwaves for shape and sound and lightwaves for colour as well as other wavelengths but I doubt anyone's going be using radios or microwaves, another trait shared by all faceless is their ability to learn voraciously, they are capable of learning by observation, mimicking activities, reading, hearing and eating things, furthermore they are capable of growing new body parts to solve problems though this needs time to analyse the problem, gather and consume organic material and then grow the part the process can take up to days depending on the size and complexity of the part. Their carapace plating is completely disposable and can be safely removed if damaged to a point where it is no longer useful. Faceless also struggle to feel pain which helps when they remove parts of themselves to upgrade or replace thus is due to their decentralised nervous system. Furthermore the faceless can safely eat and digest any organic matter even if it's horribly rotten as they are naturally immune to infections due to their tendency to simply devour whatever's infecting them. Crown of Fingers can expel a stream stream of corrosive acids a short distance and can of course grip things with it's decorative crown.
Biography: A former Slave unsure of it's place in the universe, Crown of Fingers is one of many faceless that was lost by in the mist, they acted as a general construction overseer before the mist however they lack any sense of aesthetics as they used to simply instruct others to instructions. At the time of the flood they and other faceless were in transit to a separate colony.
Allegiances: The Faceless Homunculi
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Crown of Fingers on Jan 3, 2022 2:26:21 GMT -5
The three eyes of Turns Pages moved independently of one another, one focused on the tablet which it seemed to be using it chitinous hand to write with. Another eye tracked the strange small Trueborn with interest, the...dismissive nature of the child was certainly worthy of later note. The last eye of Turns Pages remained on the milita, they appeared tired, afraid, weak. If fighting was needed then they wouldn't last long the archivist thought to itself.
Crown of Fingers had stooped low to better relate to such a small Trueborn, it found this...Huey strange, reminiscent of the Kua trueborn but off in some way. Before following the child it turned back to the group of faceless and retrieved a sort of bizarre alien urn from a large six limbed one, as it followed Huey it offered the container to the guards who noticed that it seemed to be packed full of apples and some kind of meat that had been cooked on open fire.
"Gift, for See veen tera people, you eat yes?" Crown of Fingers asked a guard
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Post by Huey and the Thralls on Jan 4, 2022 10:05:24 GMT -5
Tai was the first one to take it, and he eyed the container with all the expectation that something would jump out of it and latch onto his face to lay eggs in his throat.
To his surprise, it did nothing of the sort.
"Ah... yes," Tai replied, brow furrowing. "We, ah, we eat. That does happen to be a thing we do." He frowned, suddenly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Do you...?" Immediately, he regretted his decision to ask.
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Crown of Fingers
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 80+
Appearance: Around 9ft tall with a body visually composed of a red marbled fleshy substance and hard bony plates, three legs terminating in roughly spherical nubs, a tall spire of meat where a head is located on a human, near the top of this spire is a vaguely humanoid mask devoid of most facial features. At the top of the spire are eight fully functional fingers. No visible eyes, ears, nose or mouth.
Equipment: A 10ft pole comprised of tough wood with homunculus carapace on both ends
Skills and Abilities: Due to their alien biology their internal antenna allows them to perceive the world based entirely on waves, airwaves for shape and sound and lightwaves for colour as well as other wavelengths but I doubt anyone's going be using radios or microwaves, another trait shared by all faceless is their ability to learn voraciously, they are capable of learning by observation, mimicking activities, reading, hearing and eating things, furthermore they are capable of growing new body parts to solve problems though this needs time to analyse the problem, gather and consume organic material and then grow the part the process can take up to days depending on the size and complexity of the part. Their carapace plating is completely disposable and can be safely removed if damaged to a point where it is no longer useful. Faceless also struggle to feel pain which helps when they remove parts of themselves to upgrade or replace thus is due to their decentralised nervous system. Furthermore the faceless can safely eat and digest any organic matter even if it's horribly rotten as they are naturally immune to infections due to their tendency to simply devour whatever's infecting them. Crown of Fingers can expel a stream stream of corrosive acids a short distance and can of course grip things with it's decorative crown.
Biography: A former Slave unsure of it's place in the universe, Crown of Fingers is one of many faceless that was lost by in the mist, they acted as a general construction overseer before the mist however they lack any sense of aesthetics as they used to simply instruct others to instructions. At the time of the flood they and other faceless were in transit to a separate colony.
Allegiances: The Faceless Homunculi
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:42:54 GMT -5
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Post by Crown of Fingers on Jan 4, 2022 15:06:22 GMT -5
"Yes eat many things!" Crown of Fingers chirpped almost proudly "Many green growths, this food yours now we not need." Crown of Fingers then turned to follow the small strange Trueborn, it had an oddness not unlike Kua to perhaps more...insidious. The foreman homunclus chittered in an alien language, cautioning the others to not accidentally step on anyone, for that nay prove disastrous for peace.
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Rainier Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Age: 42
Appearance: Rainier towers above most of his peers, standing at 6'7". His rather thin body, caused by years of abstinence, is hidden underneath the folds of his cassock.
His thin and angular face hides his true nature, making him appear stern with his roman nose, high and sharp cheek bones, thin lips, and prominent jaw. His green eyes twinkle with intelligence and humor known only to him. Like the other natural born members of the Fletcher clan, he was born with white hair, that would grow thick on his head if it wasn't tonsured.
Equipment: Rainier is a priest of the Church of Varafel by vocation, and thus is equipped like one. He has two cassocks, one white, and the other black, and he carries the spare in his satchel. He tries to keep his black leather shoes glossy for all occasions, but that often proves impossible as he walks everywhere. For rainy weather, he has a dark gray robe to go over his robes.
His personal belongings are stowed in a grey canvas bag slung across his body, and include: his prayer book, his ink and spare quills, a journal, a pen knife, and his gold wire rimmed spectacles for when he has to read.
He also has a quarter staff he uses as a walking stick, and if needs be, for self-defense.
Skills and Abilities: Rainier is a natural born preacher, able to draw great crowds with his fiery sermons about the wicked ways of man. That translates over to his writings on history and the cultures of people he meets in his journeys. He's a natural born tenor, and often leads choirs in his spare time from evangelizing.
Though he doesn't like to, he can use the quarterstaff in effective self-defense, though he is far from being a master with it.
Biography: Cousin to most of the Fletchers, Rainier doesn't quite know how exactly he is related to everyone, other than he simply is. His eldest sister is Regina Fletcher, and is the youngest of that brood of children. His vocation is the Priesthood of Varafel, and travels as an itinerant preacher and scholar, recording local histories and cultures.
Despite appearances to the contrary, Rainier is rather warm hearted, more willing to give a smile than a frown. He does look down upon his cousin's sinful ways, but will attempt to bring them back to the folds of the faithful through humorous chiding instead of pure fire and brimstone.
Registered: Sept 11, 2023 16:51:51 GMT -5
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Post by Rainier Fletcher on Sept 11, 2023 18:31:54 GMT -5
He hobbled several weeks along side an unknown river deeper and deeper inland, his bloodied feet wrapped in rags within his shoes. He leaned heavily on his staff, the last physical support he had in this world, since the only food he could find was what he could forage. There was some thanks to be had for the years of fasting and asceticism that had prepared him mentally to go hungry, though the occasional salmon or carp he caught surely strengthened him to continue on this journey.
Though his faith in The Mother was his true support. Everything She had foretold through him had been right, not that there had been any doubts but if there had been they certainly were washed away with the crashing waves. But there was a question always lingering on the back of his mind.
Why? Why did She find it necessary to do this? Why wash away Her children in one great act of infanticide? He knew the answers by rote that one did not truly understand the motives of the Gods:
"Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened? Or who laid its cornerstone, When the morning stars sang together, And all the sons and daughters of The Mother shouted for joy?"
But... why did he survive? Was he not worthy to be taken by the sea? Was his own selfishness in preserving his mortal life the downfall of his soul? These questions pained him with every debilitating step, kept him awake even when he was exhausted and laid in the misty nights with no fire. No light led him on his way in the days, confirming in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul that he was truly among the damned.
It was in the third week that he arrived outside the gate, following the river that turned into a lake. Starving, even more gaunt than usual, his face growing a beard and his tonsure filling with hair, he knelt as he saw the almost pitiful fence. But it was there that he saw salvation. No, it was not the promised golden walls of paradise, but it was his answer in its own way. His was a path of pilgrimage. And he had arrived at his path to absolution.
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Piotr Kemeny
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Age: 34
Appearance: Despite his very tall and hefty appearance, Piotr boasts soft facial features and a very clean, trimmed beard that is well taken care of. His hair, brown most times, blondes in the sun, and his bangs often grow over to mask his green eyes. He wears plain clothing, most made from rough linen.
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Equipment: Piotr carries a hefty leather pack that holds all the tools of an apothecary: vials and jars, a small cauldron, a mortar and pestle, scrolls of knowledge, sieves, oils, herbs- there is perhaps nothing worthy of note missing from the man's collection.
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Skills and Abilities: Piotr is not a fighting man, nor is he a mage. His skill in the knowledge of medicine is all he has, along with a few other typical, rudimentary trades he picked up over the years.
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Place of Residence: Sevintera
Registered: Nov 13, 2022 0:57:09 GMT -5
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Post by Piotr Kemeny on Oct 10, 2023 15:42:33 GMT -5
It was at this time that Tai was preparing for his shift at the fence. Trading his nights to the children- of which he had very little confidence in- for days was the best choice he could have made. It allowed him to cook breakfast for this side of the camp, and though it was hardly more than a humble stew, it raised spirits just enough to get people through the day. For now, that was enough.
Well, no. "Enough" for Tai would have been the ability to desert his post. He was no warrior, no guard, but so many of them got swallowed up in the mist that night...
Desperate times, as they say, and they called for a cantankerous, anxious cook to stand at the gate to watch for threats, exchanging his ladle for a spear. Thankfully, he was able to barter for a stool, and sometimes, in between the efforts to make the camp into a village, someone would stop by and entertain him. It wasn't the worst, but it could have been a whole hells of a lot better. Especially today.
"HELP!"
Before he'd even had the chance to take to his stool, Tai was holding his spear with trembling hands as a cadaver ambled its way over to the fence. "Name yourself! Or... or I'll attack! You best talk!"
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Rainier Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Age: 42
Appearance: Rainier towers above most of his peers, standing at 6'7". His rather thin body, caused by years of abstinence, is hidden underneath the folds of his cassock.
His thin and angular face hides his true nature, making him appear stern with his roman nose, high and sharp cheek bones, thin lips, and prominent jaw. His green eyes twinkle with intelligence and humor known only to him. Like the other natural born members of the Fletcher clan, he was born with white hair, that would grow thick on his head if it wasn't tonsured.
Equipment: Rainier is a priest of the Church of Varafel by vocation, and thus is equipped like one. He has two cassocks, one white, and the other black, and he carries the spare in his satchel. He tries to keep his black leather shoes glossy for all occasions, but that often proves impossible as he walks everywhere. For rainy weather, he has a dark gray robe to go over his robes.
His personal belongings are stowed in a grey canvas bag slung across his body, and include: his prayer book, his ink and spare quills, a journal, a pen knife, and his gold wire rimmed spectacles for when he has to read.
He also has a quarter staff he uses as a walking stick, and if needs be, for self-defense.
Skills and Abilities: Rainier is a natural born preacher, able to draw great crowds with his fiery sermons about the wicked ways of man. That translates over to his writings on history and the cultures of people he meets in his journeys. He's a natural born tenor, and often leads choirs in his spare time from evangelizing.
Though he doesn't like to, he can use the quarterstaff in effective self-defense, though he is far from being a master with it.
Biography: Cousin to most of the Fletchers, Rainier doesn't quite know how exactly he is related to everyone, other than he simply is. His eldest sister is Regina Fletcher, and is the youngest of that brood of children. His vocation is the Priesthood of Varafel, and travels as an itinerant preacher and scholar, recording local histories and cultures.
Despite appearances to the contrary, Rainier is rather warm hearted, more willing to give a smile than a frown. He does look down upon his cousin's sinful ways, but will attempt to bring them back to the folds of the faithful through humorous chiding instead of pure fire and brimstone.
Registered: Sept 11, 2023 16:51:51 GMT -5
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Post by Rainier Fletcher on Oct 19, 2023 20:23:57 GMT -5
The croaking, hoarse call for help took him by surprise. His throat was sore first from his time at sea, and it seemed the efforts of cold river water and the occasional pine needle tea he could stomach only made it ever more so. He had refrained from talking aloud for much of the journey, afraid that some beast of the forest would come wandering up and size up the meal it was being offered. Though most except the hungriest would walk from the pile of bones parading as a priest for lack of sustenance he imagined.
But the call was from him he realized after a moment, especially when there was an answer. The sweet, beautiful, harmonious sound of human voice that was not rattling from within almost brought tears to his eyes. Though given the circumstances as the fog lifted slightly and he could see the end of a spear that weeping was stifled as best he could.
He leaned onto his stick, his robes flowing even more so over the skeletal form as he croaked again, "Please my son. I am...", it took him for a moment to remember his own name "Father Rainier Fletcher. Of the Church of Varafel. I- I do not know if it remains in congregation but I remain its priest." He thought it best to not ask for much assistance while he was being held at spear point.
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Piotr Kemeny
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Age: 34
Appearance: Despite his very tall and hefty appearance, Piotr boasts soft facial features and a very clean, trimmed beard that is well taken care of. His hair, brown most times, blondes in the sun, and his bangs often grow over to mask his green eyes. He wears plain clothing, most made from rough linen.
_________________________________________________________
Equipment: Piotr carries a hefty leather pack that holds all the tools of an apothecary: vials and jars, a small cauldron, a mortar and pestle, scrolls of knowledge, sieves, oils, herbs- there is perhaps nothing worthy of note missing from the man's collection.
______________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Piotr is not a fighting man, nor is he a mage. His skill in the knowledge of medicine is all he has, along with a few other typical, rudimentary trades he picked up over the years.
_______________________________________________________
Place of Residence: Sevintera
Registered: Nov 13, 2022 0:57:09 GMT -5
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Post by Piotr Kemeny on Dec 18, 2023 0:55:20 GMT -5
All of Tai's fear drained as Rainier stated his name and position. Perhaps he was a fool- no, of course he was a fool- but something about his desperation spoke to the border guard. He reached down beside the priest, unclipping his waterskin from his belt. "Blast, Father, come! Drink before you are spent. There are people on their way. Our apothecary will help you. Do not worry for your people now, worry for yourself. If you are new to these lands... there is a lot you will learn."
He looked behind him, at the many people gathering toward the gate. Thank the Gods it was daytime and none of the children were around to greet him first.
It was not so long after that a large man wearing brown robes and a white chaperon came barrelling through the camp and toward Tai and the priest. A pack accompanied him, filled with so many pouches and bottles and tools brimming with the scent of herbs and medicine.
"By the Gods, what happened?!" he boomed, kneeling next to Rainier. "Are you alright? I'm Piotr."
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Rainier Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Age: 42
Appearance: Rainier towers above most of his peers, standing at 6'7". His rather thin body, caused by years of abstinence, is hidden underneath the folds of his cassock.
His thin and angular face hides his true nature, making him appear stern with his roman nose, high and sharp cheek bones, thin lips, and prominent jaw. His green eyes twinkle with intelligence and humor known only to him. Like the other natural born members of the Fletcher clan, he was born with white hair, that would grow thick on his head if it wasn't tonsured.
Equipment: Rainier is a priest of the Church of Varafel by vocation, and thus is equipped like one. He has two cassocks, one white, and the other black, and he carries the spare in his satchel. He tries to keep his black leather shoes glossy for all occasions, but that often proves impossible as he walks everywhere. For rainy weather, he has a dark gray robe to go over his robes.
His personal belongings are stowed in a grey canvas bag slung across his body, and include: his prayer book, his ink and spare quills, a journal, a pen knife, and his gold wire rimmed spectacles for when he has to read.
He also has a quarter staff he uses as a walking stick, and if needs be, for self-defense.
Skills and Abilities: Rainier is a natural born preacher, able to draw great crowds with his fiery sermons about the wicked ways of man. That translates over to his writings on history and the cultures of people he meets in his journeys. He's a natural born tenor, and often leads choirs in his spare time from evangelizing.
Though he doesn't like to, he can use the quarterstaff in effective self-defense, though he is far from being a master with it.
Biography: Cousin to most of the Fletchers, Rainier doesn't quite know how exactly he is related to everyone, other than he simply is. His eldest sister is Regina Fletcher, and is the youngest of that brood of children. His vocation is the Priesthood of Varafel, and travels as an itinerant preacher and scholar, recording local histories and cultures.
Despite appearances to the contrary, Rainier is rather warm hearted, more willing to give a smile than a frown. He does look down upon his cousin's sinful ways, but will attempt to bring them back to the folds of the faithful through humorous chiding instead of pure fire and brimstone.
Registered: Sept 11, 2023 16:51:51 GMT -5
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Post by Rainier Fletcher on Dec 19, 2023 20:41:09 GMT -5
The priest forgot his composure for several moments to drink deeply of the waterskin. The cool, refreshing water was finer than any vintage of wine he had ever tasted, carrying with it the assurance of salvation on this mortal plain for at least a little while longer. He knew that he was in need of an apothecary of great talent, the glimpses he had of his feet on the journey as he washed his bandages spoke of a probable infection with how red and angry the cuts were healing.
He looked up to the large man kneeling over him, saying a silent prayer of thanks as he answered him, "I washed ashore some weeks ago and cut my feet on the rocks. It is only with the Mother's intercession I have made it to here to be delivered into your hands."
As a way of introduction as he slowly and gingerly peeled off his leather shoes to reveal the bloodied bandages he grimaced out, "I am Father Rainier Fletcher. Lately of the Church of Varafel."
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