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 Feb 29, 2024 0:21:40 GMT -5
"Yes, that seems to be the typical story," mumbled Piotr, remembering their arrival to the isles. It was the same story with every newcomer. "Varafel... sounds familiar, but I cannot say I truly know it. I'm afraid our gods have also been taken by the mist, Father. Come, I'm going to try and get you to my tent. Can you walk a few more steps?"
Before they even started walking, Piotr pulled a pouch of powder and offered it with water. "Drink this for the pain. It will help."
Tai was standing nearby, feeling helpless but willing to fulfill any task that needed be, even if the man scared him half to death. Occasionally, he peered into the woods, eyes wide with suspicion and fear.
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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 Mar 4, 2024 18:56:57 GMT -5
The Gods... taken? For a second he felt the world start swimming up underneath him to try and drag him back into the depths. Though this time it would be clay and not sea foam, which felt a small comfort but one nonetheless. Though the strong hands of Piotr keeping him up to provide him with some powdered water kept him from his grave for now at least.
Taking a sip slightly cleared his head, and being picked up and half carried, half dragged by the larger man gave him a second to breath... and try and consider what he had been told. Not that the man seemed to be a priest, but that did not necessarily mean he was wrong either. The Gods of the past were active, to greater or lesser extents, proving their existence with their works and signs. A miraculous healing, a warrior gaining a religious boon, a priest driving out a demon (his personal experience) and the warmth that came from The Mother's embrace...
One that he would never feel again? A sinking deep in his gut as he was continued to be pulled into an increasingly numb and cold world. A pain he had escaped years ago by running from the arms of his mortal to the embrace of his immortal Mother. One that surely would never retreat from grief, one that would always comfort and carry the burdens that seemed too heavy to bear.
He was alone.
Twenty more years seemed to be added to his frame, wrinkles that had only been hinted deepened at the corner of his eyes and mouth. The priest lay limp as the larger man laid him onto a cot and stared with empty eyes into an empty sky, being greeted by only the fabric of the tent he was in and the gray clouds he knew lingered beyond.
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