Khepri Goldenfeather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Appearance: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings, lightening to ivory toward her spine, spread outward above her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame. Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features. The only interruption to an otherwise heavenly visage is a pair of feet with toes and a heel ending in talons.
_______________________________________________________
Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
|
Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on Jan 18, 2023 2:09:14 GMT -5
"Nomi!"
The duralam's cries could barely be heard over the winds, which buffeted at her wings and threatened to toss her into the nothingness surrounding them. Her talons curled inside of her boots, instinctively searching for purchase to keep her put. Alas.
With a bit of quick thinking, Khepri twisted her bag to her front and rummaged around until she found a blanket. She wrapped it around her wings and pulled and pulled, tight as she could, until her bones creaked and the muscles ached, keeping them as tight to her body as possible. She tied the rest at her chest, double knotting it for safety. She'd never known winds so fierce, even during the sandstorms of her homeland. She also never knew fear so palpable as when she saw Nomi collapse, only to have those winds pull her away from them. Thankfully, the golem was here. It was doing exactly what Valias promised.
At first, Khepri found it strange that she didn't have to summon the strength to keep one foot in front of the other. Be it her company or the sheer will to live, she found that every part of her body was willing her forward. She ran until she was beside 3-2.
"What happened? What's wrong!?" she cried out, reaching a mittened hand to cup the nomad's head.
|
|
Nomi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 64
Age: 24
Appearance: A young, diminutive human with pale white hair and soft yellow eyes, donning simple robes befitting the life of a nomad. The robe's left sleeve has been ripped off completely, exposing runic tattoos along the length of their arm, and a fresh gash made by the claws of a monster. Though much of the rest of their skin is covered by their robes, the ends of more tattoos can be seen creeping along their neck and wrists.
Equipment: Their possessions are few in number - A gnarled wooden staff, a dagger, a leather pouch containing divining equipment, and the clothes on their back.
Skills and Abilities: Nomi is a Seer of their people before arriving in the Mists, and has limited capabilities in ways of divination. However, these talents are known by them to be unreliable at best - they prefer to rely on their wits in order to get by in the new world.
Registered: Jun 11, 2021 0:33:43 GMT -5
|
Post by Nomi on Jan 19, 2023 18:28:55 GMT -5
At first, the only thing Nomi felt was the cold steel of metal limbs against them. Then voices. Their eyes fluttered open, weakly dusting the snow from their lashes. Khepri - Oh, the poor thing. Nomi felt disappointed at the thought of them scaring her like that. She should never have to feel scared.
They blinked again, and when they reopened their eyes, they were warm. They were in an open field, bodies strewn all around them. They looked up into the cold stare of an armored vizor atop an armored juggernaut, cradling them with strange intensity. They felt blood trickle from a wound that had pierced their lung.
They blinked again, and locked eyes with a breathtaking woman, beads of sweat on her face, long hair billowing down her shoulders, her hand on Nomi's cheek as she moved rhythmically against them.
Another blink, and she was gone. It was cold once again.
They weren't unconscious, but neither were they quite awake. Their sight was running circles around them like a decapitated bird, yet to realize it was already dead. The present, this reality... it wasn't fixed. Was it ever truly fixed?
Was any of this... real?
...
From Khepri and 3-2's perspective, they could only observe Nomi's external symptoms - an irregular flickering of white light in Nomi's half-shut eyes, flashing sporadically like a lantern's flame that refused to stay lit. Their body had begun to seize, back bending backward, their lithe muscles tightening by reflex against the arms of the automaton that held them. Then, suddenly, light beamed from Nomi's eyes like a signal fire. Their head lifted, swiveling in a direction like a needle on a compass. Shakily, they raised their arm, reaching out...
Towards an impossibility. A gap in the storm, where snow did not billow, where the clouds above could not reach. A mirage made manifest.
Three figures emerged at the epicenter of the anomaly. They donned hooded robes, and each one's face was obscured by a mask that seemed to be carved from driftwood. They stepped forward, directly towards the four of them, wholly disregarding the storm that swarmed not 10 feet from them on all sides. They spoke no words at first, studying the group with a nigh-inscrutable intent. The man in the center nodded. He was holding... something. Nomi couldn't make it out. They came closer still, stopping just before whatever command over the storm they wielded could envelop the travelers.
And the three figures, all at once, bowed their heads. The two on each end clasped their hands together as if in prayer. The third, at the center, outstretched both hands. His left extended with its palm out, beckoning the travelers forward. In his right, he allowed what he was holding to fall. It was snared by the chain it was affixed to until it hung, suspended aloft in the air. It was the last thing Nomi saw before they slipped wholly into unconsciousness, darkness pricking at the corner of their vision until it all faded to black. Smoke filtered steadily out of the metal sphere. Even through the storm, they could make out the faint, impossible scent of fragrant herbs.
It was a censer.
|
|
Vailas Steelhand
Committed
Roleplay posts: 67
Age: Somewhere between his mid 30s and mid 40s
Appearance: At first glance, not much about him would stand out to most people. Average height, average weight and build, black hair with a growing goatee, brown eyes, tan colored skin, generally nothing much to draw attention to his own physical form, except for the striking silver and bronze of his left hand, make completely of metal, with blue energy flowing throughout lines in the construction. His clothing is mostly fairly simple as well, with brown pants and a long leather overcoat, under which he wears a gray top. However, on his chest he also wears a brooch made of the same materials as his hand, a large blue gem set in the center.
Equipment: -An assortment of tools for building his magic-powered automatons, known as Magikróm
-5 Variation 1 Magikróm, which are shaped like spheres with a 1.5 foot diameter and eight extendable limbs, with no weaponry. Used only for sorting, transport, and limited help around a house or lab setting. Only two are operational. The other three are functionally scrap metal
-3 Variation 2 Magikróm, of which none are operational. Originally, they were defensive machines with limited movement, having two wheels on their lower half, one spear/horn like appendage, and two magic-energy firing devices on pivots.
-a simple knife.
Skills and Abilities: While he's unable to harness it himself in any meaningful way(except creating his Magikróm), Vailas is highly knowledgeable in the properties and abilities of magic energy and most things tangentially related to it. He is skilled at basic robotics and more or less knows how to work metal into the shapes he needs. Other than that, his only true skill comes from being a well-read individual.
Biography: Hailing from the relatively barren land of Sezæria, survival was often a struggle for Vailas. As such, he had to find a way to make himself useful quick. Having some magical aptitude, as well as quite the intellect, he took to learning the ways of magic. However, he could never learn enough to cast the more complex spells. To get around this, he learned how to impart his magic into robotic entities, to power them. While some thought of this as being genius, many also feared him for it, and one attempted to be rid of him in his sleep. He got away, but he lost his hand in the process, eventually replacing it with the same sort of magical technology he used in his machines. He soon became much more reclusive, after that happened, and rumors around the town said he turned to less morally sound ways of practicing his craft, though it was never specified how bad it got. Near the time of the flood, he had found his way to the shore where he acquired a decent sized vessel, manning it with himself and a number of his machinations, many of which did not survive the voyage once the waters hit.
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:04:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Vailas Steelhand on Jan 30, 2023 14:45:18 GMT -5
As Vailas approached the rest of the group, the sight he found sent his mind running. Nomi spasmed in his machine’s arms, but it was their eyes that truly held his interest. White light flickered in their gaze. The light of magic. A powerful magic.
Before he could continue his thoughts, the light in their eyes went from candle to flare, lighting a path ahead as they pointed towards a sight most unbelievable. What could only be described as a miracle.
He didn’t trust it. Instinctively, he stepped behind 3-2 as the mysterious figures approached, using it as a shield. He went to touch his gem, to command his machine to remain in place, to protect him, to stay on guard from these new arrivals.
|
|
Variant 3-2
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Less than 2 years of operation
Appearance: A very sleek, humanoid design, primarily silver in color with bronze accents at the joints as well as along the torso and head areas. Roughly 5'6" tall with a slim body. Blue energy seems to trace lines along the body, though they have slowed and dulled since arriving at the island, with the lines seeming to run outwards from the torso area and towards the extremities.
Equipment: A fully armored body, resulting in limited range of motion, yet high resilience to physical attacks. Two short, thin limbs that can come out of the back. Two tube-like attachments on the underside of its upper arms, with holes in them near the elbows.
Skills and Abilities: The ability to harness magical energy for weaponry, including two short magic blades coming out of the arms and forming above the hands, similar to kama, two quarter-sphere shaped shields that appear out of the limbs attached to the back, or the ability to shoot weak magic missiles from either arm-cannon. The only catch is that only one of these can be active at a time due to the deficiency of magic on the isles due to the mist. It is powered by magic, so any senses or physical traits it would have that might have been considered superior to those of humans are rendered moot, other than an ability to sense magical energy and its use in an area around it. It has an ability to synthesize human speech and can understand a wide variety of human languages.
Biography: The second model of Variation 3 Magikróm produced by Vailas Steelhand, creator of magic-powered robotic automatons. This is the only Variation 3 known to have survived the flood. A general purpose model able to adapt to most commands given. Variation 3 models are the first humanoid model to be crafted by Vailas. Despite its entirely metallic appearance, its movements are...surprisingly fluid and humanoid.
Allegiances: Vailas Steelhand
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:02:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Variant 3-2 on Jan 30, 2023 14:46:07 GMT -5
But she was already stepping forwards. She went only a few steps, just enough to get Nomi out of the storm, before stopping. She turned Nomi away from the masked individuals, intent on putting herself between them as best she could while still staring daggers at the newcomers.
“State your names.” She commanded, the subtlest hint of protective caution coloring her monotone. “As well as your business.”
She was poised on a hair trigger, clutching Nomi tightly while she watched the three strangers like a hawk. Nomi would not come to harm today.
She would not lose them as well.
|
|
Khepri Goldenfeather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Appearance: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings, lightening to ivory toward her spine, spread outward above her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame. Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features. The only interruption to an otherwise heavenly visage is a pair of feet with toes and a heel ending in talons.
_______________________________________________________
Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
|
Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on Feb 2, 2023 23:11:12 GMT -5
Khepri could feel the prickle of it dancing on her skin. It had been a long time since she knew it, but once it was extremely familiar. It was like static causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. Looking into Nomi's eyes, she knew it at once, making the same conclusions that Valias did.
"Nomi. Nomi!" she called out desperately, but she did not touch them again. Often, she was told not to wake sleepwalkers. Nomi's eyes were open, but the nomad wasn't all there. If she roused them now, what with all that magic swirling around, what would happen then? She didn't want an answer, because the answer could have been devastating. She didn't try even when Nomi turned around, reaching out toward the storm, in the direction of several figures. Khepri's feathers fluffed out, akin to a startled cat, and she bared her teeth. 3-2 took the words out of her mouth before she could rasp at them, and in a voice much less frightened than her own.
Slowly, she retreated over to Valias.
"I don't suppose you know what's going on?"
|
|
Nomi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 64
Age: 24
Appearance: A young, diminutive human with pale white hair and soft yellow eyes, donning simple robes befitting the life of a nomad. The robe's left sleeve has been ripped off completely, exposing runic tattoos along the length of their arm, and a fresh gash made by the claws of a monster. Though much of the rest of their skin is covered by their robes, the ends of more tattoos can be seen creeping along their neck and wrists.
Equipment: Their possessions are few in number - A gnarled wooden staff, a dagger, a leather pouch containing divining equipment, and the clothes on their back.
Skills and Abilities: Nomi is a Seer of their people before arriving in the Mists, and has limited capabilities in ways of divination. However, these talents are known by them to be unreliable at best - they prefer to rely on their wits in order to get by in the new world.
Registered: Jun 11, 2021 0:33:43 GMT -5
|
Post by Nomi on Feb 3, 2023 23:05:07 GMT -5
Nomi lay limp in 3-2's arms, eyes closed, taking in shallow breaths. Each group of newcomers faced each other with warranted caution, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
It was one of the robed figures that stepped forward first. He appraised them through the eyes of his driftwood mask, eventually extending his free hand in 3-2's direction. It beckoned her forward. His other hand still clutched the censer, smoke billowing ever out of its thin metal slits.
"Your friend needs shelter. Warmth," came a voice behind the mask - soft, dry, but... soothing. "As will the rest of you, given due time. Walk with us, travelers. Lest these hallowed winds make sculptures of your flesh."
Without so much as responding to 3-2, they promptly turned in the direction they had come. They began to walk, taking their vortex of impossible calm along with them. As little as the travelers knew about these figures, they were at least right about one thing - the four of them couldn't hold out much longer against the growing blizzard. So they followed.
It was... strange. Watching the folk navigate the mountains. It was as if they could see breaks in the cliffs and snow that were indistinguishable to the naked eye, slipping in and out of vision behind the next frozen shelf - and it wasn't long before shepherd and flock alike lay eyes on the final mirage. A valley - no, a plateau, right there in the middle of the mountains. And at its center...
A temple. It was the best word fit to describe it. What must be centuries old and half buried in ice, skewed to the left in haphazard reverence. But the make of it was clear, the design clear. Cut into the very shape of a censer, its base comprised of an enormous stone bowl, its snow-capped lid adorning it as a roof. In fact, they could even make out a few impossibly large links of a chain.
The robed figures descended towards the plateau towards a half-submerged door, as the storm raged furiously behind them. Not once did they look back on the journey to this place - and here, at what one would assume to be their final stop, did they make no exception.
|
|
Vailas Steelhand
Committed
Roleplay posts: 67
Age: Somewhere between his mid 30s and mid 40s
Appearance: At first glance, not much about him would stand out to most people. Average height, average weight and build, black hair with a growing goatee, brown eyes, tan colored skin, generally nothing much to draw attention to his own physical form, except for the striking silver and bronze of his left hand, make completely of metal, with blue energy flowing throughout lines in the construction. His clothing is mostly fairly simple as well, with brown pants and a long leather overcoat, under which he wears a gray top. However, on his chest he also wears a brooch made of the same materials as his hand, a large blue gem set in the center.
Equipment: -An assortment of tools for building his magic-powered automatons, known as Magikróm
-5 Variation 1 Magikróm, which are shaped like spheres with a 1.5 foot diameter and eight extendable limbs, with no weaponry. Used only for sorting, transport, and limited help around a house or lab setting. Only two are operational. The other three are functionally scrap metal
-3 Variation 2 Magikróm, of which none are operational. Originally, they were defensive machines with limited movement, having two wheels on their lower half, one spear/horn like appendage, and two magic-energy firing devices on pivots.
-a simple knife.
Skills and Abilities: While he's unable to harness it himself in any meaningful way(except creating his Magikróm), Vailas is highly knowledgeable in the properties and abilities of magic energy and most things tangentially related to it. He is skilled at basic robotics and more or less knows how to work metal into the shapes he needs. Other than that, his only true skill comes from being a well-read individual.
Biography: Hailing from the relatively barren land of Sezæria, survival was often a struggle for Vailas. As such, he had to find a way to make himself useful quick. Having some magical aptitude, as well as quite the intellect, he took to learning the ways of magic. However, he could never learn enough to cast the more complex spells. To get around this, he learned how to impart his magic into robotic entities, to power them. While some thought of this as being genius, many also feared him for it, and one attempted to be rid of him in his sleep. He got away, but he lost his hand in the process, eventually replacing it with the same sort of magical technology he used in his machines. He soon became much more reclusive, after that happened, and rumors around the town said he turned to less morally sound ways of practicing his craft, though it was never specified how bad it got. Near the time of the flood, he had found his way to the shore where he acquired a decent sized vessel, manning it with himself and a number of his machinations, many of which did not survive the voyage once the waters hit.
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:04:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Vailas Steelhand on Feb 28, 2023 19:34:25 GMT -5
“Not in the slightest.” Vailas growled in response to Khepri, not taking his eyes off of the three mysterious figures standing at the storm’s parting. “But you’d be a fool to take anything they say at face value. Tread carefully.”
At the figure’s direction to follow, Vailas hesitated. He knew nothing of these people, their intentions, or the threat they may pose. And yet, the bite of the storm’s winds reminded him of what awaited if they did not follow. If the worst arose, at the very least these individuals leading them seemed to be people. They could fight people. They couldn’t fight the weather.
While Vailas found the whole journey with these strangers odd, none of it compared with what he saw at the journey’s end. This strange temple, not a building but a giant’s tool. And to his displeasure, it seemed to be their destination.
“Of course.” He muttered, trying not to be heard by their guides. “We were rescued by a cult.”
Even still, with little other option, he followed. At least this was a cult with shelter.
|
|
Variant 3-2
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Less than 2 years of operation
Appearance: A very sleek, humanoid design, primarily silver in color with bronze accents at the joints as well as along the torso and head areas. Roughly 5'6" tall with a slim body. Blue energy seems to trace lines along the body, though they have slowed and dulled since arriving at the island, with the lines seeming to run outwards from the torso area and towards the extremities.
Equipment: A fully armored body, resulting in limited range of motion, yet high resilience to physical attacks. Two short, thin limbs that can come out of the back. Two tube-like attachments on the underside of its upper arms, with holes in them near the elbows.
Skills and Abilities: The ability to harness magical energy for weaponry, including two short magic blades coming out of the arms and forming above the hands, similar to kama, two quarter-sphere shaped shields that appear out of the limbs attached to the back, or the ability to shoot weak magic missiles from either arm-cannon. The only catch is that only one of these can be active at a time due to the deficiency of magic on the isles due to the mist. It is powered by magic, so any senses or physical traits it would have that might have been considered superior to those of humans are rendered moot, other than an ability to sense magical energy and its use in an area around it. It has an ability to synthesize human speech and can understand a wide variety of human languages.
Biography: The second model of Variation 3 Magikróm produced by Vailas Steelhand, creator of magic-powered robotic automatons. This is the only Variation 3 known to have survived the flood. A general purpose model able to adapt to most commands given. Variation 3 models are the first humanoid model to be crafted by Vailas. Despite its entirely metallic appearance, its movements are...surprisingly fluid and humanoid.
Allegiances: Vailas Steelhand
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:02:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Variant 3-2 on Feb 28, 2023 19:42:03 GMT -5
Yes, 3-2 silently agreed. They needed to get out of this wasteland. They needed warmth. She still didn’t trust them. Who could say where they were leading them? But truthfully, she knew the alternative was tantamount to suicide. So, holding Nomi close to try and keep them from losing too much body heat, she followed.
Even without the raging tempest in their eyes, the journey was treacherous. If not for their guides there were countless spots where one of them likely would have met their end, but the masked strangers wound around them with no issue. Sidestepping every crevasse, rounding every corner…
“Hurry up Z!” a voice called from around the corner, scaring away a nearby flock of birds.
3̵̸̡́-̕͠͡͏̨2̶̵̷̕ had stopped to sit on the grassy ground, out of breath from the climb. “Give me a minute, Nimi” a voice came from her own mouth to answer. “I haven’t climbed this much in forever! What’s even up here anyways?!”
A young girl, no older than twelve, came back around the corner to find Z҉͏̢͟͞-̡̧͘͡2̷́. Her face was indistinct. Looking at it made her head hurt…
“You can see the whole valley from up there!” She exclaimed excitedly, pulling 3҉̷̵̀͟-̨̨̧͞é̢͠͡a͏̨̡͘ to her feet. She stood just barely taller than the girl. “Vale showed it to me. Now come on! Before mom and dad come looking for us!”
3҉̸̴͟a̢͜n̷͡2͏̴́ sighed. She’d never understand where Nimet got all of this energy from. “Alright. Let’s go.” With that, the girl ran off. Slowly, still tired, 3̵̸̡́-̕͠͡͏̨2̶̵̷̕ followed her around the corner, only to be greeted by the sight of the giant censer, sitting silent against the stark white background of the storm.
She felt disoriented. The sudden shift in scenery was jarring, causing no small amount of discomfort for her. Where was that? Who was that? And where were they now? And…who was…
The weight of Nomi in her arms reminded 3-2 of the task at hand. Her many questions could wait. First, they needed out of this storm.
|
|
Khepri Goldenfeather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Appearance: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings, lightening to ivory toward her spine, spread outward above her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame. Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features. The only interruption to an otherwise heavenly visage is a pair of feet with toes and a heel ending in talons.
_______________________________________________________
Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
|
Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on Mar 3, 2023 4:33:13 GMT -5
Khepri felt herself agreeing with Valias instantly. She also- briefly- found herself annoyed by his warning. Who in Teunum's name did he think she was? Some scared, stupid little girl?
Frowning, she realized too soon that he probably did think that. She'd been playing dumb the entire time and she was frightened. Defeated with her own reasoning, she gave Valias a nod, and with her wits about her, continued on to the temple. Cultists. So long as they were out of the cold and didn't have to battle anyone, this is where her own skills would shine. Religious fanatics weren't anything new to her, even if they tried to pull the same tricks. Thank the gods for dear mother in all the evilness that she was, preparing her for the worst without even meaning to.
Thank goodness for mother, kicking her out of the roost to die. Now she had the freedom to go where she wanted: right into the arms of more danger than ever before.
|
|
Nomi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 64
Age: 24
Appearance: A young, diminutive human with pale white hair and soft yellow eyes, donning simple robes befitting the life of a nomad. The robe's left sleeve has been ripped off completely, exposing runic tattoos along the length of their arm, and a fresh gash made by the claws of a monster. Though much of the rest of their skin is covered by their robes, the ends of more tattoos can be seen creeping along their neck and wrists.
Equipment: Their possessions are few in number - A gnarled wooden staff, a dagger, a leather pouch containing divining equipment, and the clothes on their back.
Skills and Abilities: Nomi is a Seer of their people before arriving in the Mists, and has limited capabilities in ways of divination. However, these talents are known by them to be unreliable at best - they prefer to rely on their wits in order to get by in the new world.
Registered: Jun 11, 2021 0:33:43 GMT -5
|
Post by Nomi on Mar 3, 2023 21:03:19 GMT -5
The four were shepherded forward towards the temple. Positioned at the entryway were two more masked figures holding crude spears, each of whom bowed their heads at the group's approach. Whether in greeting or in reverence, it was difficult to say. In either case, the two parted at their advance. They were led inside.
The temple immediately opened itself unto a grand atrium. From a riser atop which they now stood, they could observe the space in its entirety. And echoing through the vast chamber - the sound of community. Voices rang out from below, refugees of the mists from all walks of life, of different backgrounds, congregating just below. The basin of the chamber had been decorated with makeshift shelters and structures constructed from wreckage and salvage, driftwood and metal scrap juxtaposed against the detailed, heavy stone of the temple floor. The refugees were gaunt, sheepish - they had been struggling in these cold wilds as much as anyone would have expected. But the way they spoke to one another, the sound of a stray laugh reverberating across the room. These people... they were happy.
When the four entered, those on the ground four looked upon them with expectant expressions. The ambient din of the conversations dwindled to hushed whispers, and it became clear that all conversation in the room had shifted to a single topic.
Suspended off-kilter from the ceiling hung a great chandelier styled (predictably) as a censer. But instead of the orange light one might expect from a roaring flame, the brazier lit the room in a faint teal, all while a thin layer of black smoke billowed gently and evenly outward. It was made of stone, and black iron, and... was that glass? A closer glance about the room would reveal several smaller of the lanterns hanging on the walls at regular intervals to provide additional light to the chamber. Each cast the same teal light from its glass housing, but no matter how hard they may try, the newcomers would observe no flame.
Nestled in the back of the central chamber was a large, ornately carved stone archway, leading only to darkness beyond and below. Heavy stone steps led up and down the edges of the atrium, presumably to additional wings of the temple. It was up one such stairway that the four were led. Not, however, by the man who held the censer at their first meeting. The remaining two led them away from the chamber, just in time for anyone paying attention to notice the man turn his back to them in order to address another person donning similar robes- removing his mask of salvage to do so.
Before too long, the attendants had led the refugees to a room reminiscent of a small chapel. The ceilings were taller than would be expected given the geometry of the temple. Benches resembling pews decorated the room, a podium at the end of the space where one might give a sermon. Blankets of various makes were draped over several of the pews, and at one point there rested a cracked cup filled with what appeared to be cold tea.
One attendant nodded a bow at Khepri and Valias, indicating that they had reached their destination. "Please, wait here and warm yourselves." Came a woman's voice behind the mask - the first words any of them had spoken aloud to them. "Brother Acheron will attend to you shortly."
|
|
Vailas Steelhand
Committed
Roleplay posts: 67
Age: Somewhere between his mid 30s and mid 40s
Appearance: At first glance, not much about him would stand out to most people. Average height, average weight and build, black hair with a growing goatee, brown eyes, tan colored skin, generally nothing much to draw attention to his own physical form, except for the striking silver and bronze of his left hand, make completely of metal, with blue energy flowing throughout lines in the construction. His clothing is mostly fairly simple as well, with brown pants and a long leather overcoat, under which he wears a gray top. However, on his chest he also wears a brooch made of the same materials as his hand, a large blue gem set in the center.
Equipment: -An assortment of tools for building his magic-powered automatons, known as Magikróm
-5 Variation 1 Magikróm, which are shaped like spheres with a 1.5 foot diameter and eight extendable limbs, with no weaponry. Used only for sorting, transport, and limited help around a house or lab setting. Only two are operational. The other three are functionally scrap metal
-3 Variation 2 Magikróm, of which none are operational. Originally, they were defensive machines with limited movement, having two wheels on their lower half, one spear/horn like appendage, and two magic-energy firing devices on pivots.
-a simple knife.
Skills and Abilities: While he's unable to harness it himself in any meaningful way(except creating his Magikróm), Vailas is highly knowledgeable in the properties and abilities of magic energy and most things tangentially related to it. He is skilled at basic robotics and more or less knows how to work metal into the shapes he needs. Other than that, his only true skill comes from being a well-read individual.
Biography: Hailing from the relatively barren land of Sezæria, survival was often a struggle for Vailas. As such, he had to find a way to make himself useful quick. Having some magical aptitude, as well as quite the intellect, he took to learning the ways of magic. However, he could never learn enough to cast the more complex spells. To get around this, he learned how to impart his magic into robotic entities, to power them. While some thought of this as being genius, many also feared him for it, and one attempted to be rid of him in his sleep. He got away, but he lost his hand in the process, eventually replacing it with the same sort of magical technology he used in his machines. He soon became much more reclusive, after that happened, and rumors around the town said he turned to less morally sound ways of practicing his craft, though it was never specified how bad it got. Near the time of the flood, he had found his way to the shore where he acquired a decent sized vessel, manning it with himself and a number of his machinations, many of which did not survive the voyage once the waters hit.
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:04:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Vailas Steelhand on Apr 23, 2023 17:43:49 GMT -5
As Vailas entered the large open room, his eyes scanned across the crowd below. Obviously they weren’t a part of this strange order, he could tell by their clothes. Prisoners then? Unlikely. Prisoners wouldn’t be this happy. His best guess was that they were other wanderers, lost in the mountains. Perhaps the people here meant to make initiates out of them, who could know.
He noticed some were staring at them. He stared back.
As they began moving deeper, his attention was immediately drawn to the strange lights lining the room. As he watched the smoke lead from them, noting the lack of a flickering in the pale teal light, he couldn’t help but be unnerved…and yet, so fascinated. Whatever fueled these lights seemed quite interesting. His attention momentarily went back to 3-2, clutching Nomi’s unconscious form close to its own. Interesting, yes. Perhaps even useful.
Upon being led out of the main chamber and up the stairs to the chapel, Vailas’ suspicions of the group only grew. The inconsistencies in the temple’s geometry were slightly disorienting, and the churchlike room put him on edge. He clenched his metal fist. He’d rarely had good experiences with churches.
“Yes. Thank you.” Vailas responded almost dismissively to the masked woman, running his hand along the back of one of the pews. “This is quite the interesting place you all have here.” He continued. “It begs the question of how you all came to find it. But I trust this Brother Acheron would be willing to talk about that once he’s arrived?”
|
|
Variant 3-2
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Less than 2 years of operation
Appearance: A very sleek, humanoid design, primarily silver in color with bronze accents at the joints as well as along the torso and head areas. Roughly 5'6" tall with a slim body. Blue energy seems to trace lines along the body, though they have slowed and dulled since arriving at the island, with the lines seeming to run outwards from the torso area and towards the extremities.
Equipment: A fully armored body, resulting in limited range of motion, yet high resilience to physical attacks. Two short, thin limbs that can come out of the back. Two tube-like attachments on the underside of its upper arms, with holes in them near the elbows.
Skills and Abilities: The ability to harness magical energy for weaponry, including two short magic blades coming out of the arms and forming above the hands, similar to kama, two quarter-sphere shaped shields that appear out of the limbs attached to the back, or the ability to shoot weak magic missiles from either arm-cannon. The only catch is that only one of these can be active at a time due to the deficiency of magic on the isles due to the mist. It is powered by magic, so any senses or physical traits it would have that might have been considered superior to those of humans are rendered moot, other than an ability to sense magical energy and its use in an area around it. It has an ability to synthesize human speech and can understand a wide variety of human languages.
Biography: The second model of Variation 3 Magikróm produced by Vailas Steelhand, creator of magic-powered robotic automatons. This is the only Variation 3 known to have survived the flood. A general purpose model able to adapt to most commands given. Variation 3 models are the first humanoid model to be crafted by Vailas. Despite its entirely metallic appearance, its movements are...surprisingly fluid and humanoid.
Allegiances: Vailas Steelhand
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:02:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Variant 3-2 on Apr 23, 2023 17:54:26 GMT -5
Few of the details of this place would elicit a reaction from the distracted 3-2. The armed guards caused her to shield Nomi away from them; the blue lights caught her attention for a brief moment; the woman’s voice registered to her, and she gave a small nod in recognition. Otherwise though, her mind was distracted by her primary directive of the moment: keeping them safe.
…But who were they? Was it Nomi, here in her arms? Or was it someone else? Someone she couldn’t remember…
She put the thought away. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change what needed done, here and now.
|
|
Khepri Goldenfeather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Appearance: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings, lightening to ivory toward her spine, spread outward above her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame. Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features. The only interruption to an otherwise heavenly visage is a pair of feet with toes and a heel ending in talons.
_______________________________________________________
Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
|
Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on May 24, 2023 19:01:08 GMT -5
The moment they entered the temple, Khepri's expression became neutral. Her eyes shifted around the room, first taking in the strange architecture. The teal light had to be some type of magic. Gently, she reached her presence outward, attempting to make sure her suspicions were right. It could have been alchemy or something from the natural world that was new to her.
Next, the duralai took her gaze to the people. They were happy and she couldn't blame them; even she was relieved to be out of the cold, she didn't have the luxury of showing it. Not yet. She did check to see if all of them were human, or at the very least adjacent. Her wings, wrapped as they were, would have easily been mistaken as an overstuffed pack. She would not reveal her wings until she knew it wouldn't put them in danger.
Khepri found herself inching a bit close to the fire once they entered the chapel. She didn't want to leave Nomi's side, but the promise of heat ebbed away at any self-control she was trying to exert. She pulled down her cowl just enough to reveal her face and bangs, then removed her gloves. Like Valias, she thanked the woman, but with a silent nod.
She let Valias talk while she curled up next to 3-2 and Nomi... for now. He was asking the right questions.
|
|
Nomi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 64
Age: 24
Appearance: A young, diminutive human with pale white hair and soft yellow eyes, donning simple robes befitting the life of a nomad. The robe's left sleeve has been ripped off completely, exposing runic tattoos along the length of their arm, and a fresh gash made by the claws of a monster. Though much of the rest of their skin is covered by their robes, the ends of more tattoos can be seen creeping along their neck and wrists.
Equipment: Their possessions are few in number - A gnarled wooden staff, a dagger, a leather pouch containing divining equipment, and the clothes on their back.
Skills and Abilities: Nomi is a Seer of their people before arriving in the Mists, and has limited capabilities in ways of divination. However, these talents are known by them to be unreliable at best - they prefer to rely on their wits in order to get by in the new world.
Registered: Jun 11, 2021 0:33:43 GMT -5
|
Post by Nomi on Jun 2, 2023 19:27:08 GMT -5
A once-over of the residents of the temple would show them to be of variable race and lineage. Though it seemed that humans made up the majority of their number, Khepri could still pick out a smattering of fey-blooded beings, dwarves, beast-folk - even a few orcs. She could even observe one of the masked attendants grip his weapon with scaled hands. Whatever strange ideals this community aligned itself to, it did not appear they held humanity above other folk. Despite this, she didn't spy any other Duralai counted amongst them.
Khepri's suspicions regarding the lights were correct - in a way, at least. She reached out to brush her will against the shape of the magic, but found the feeling different from anything she had sensed before. The lights were indeed magical, resonating with an aura that Khepri could identify as magical in nature, but... well, it's quite difficult to describe it, exactly.
I will try anyway.
---
Imagine a grave.
You've dug it yourself, the shovel still held in hands caked with fresh soil and the sweat of an honest day's work.
Now, a man approaches you. He looks upon the pit and asks, "What color is this grave?"
You know the grave is there - and no one would disagree that it is, definitively, a grave. But that is not the question the man chose to ask.
The question, in and of itself, is a fallacy. To tell the man the color of the soil would be dishonest - he's asked for the color of the grave, not the walls that surround it. Describing the color of the coffin that has now been lowered into the grave is dishonest in much the same way.
You have asked to quantify a grave. To assign value to a thing that is defined by its absence of that same value.
Do you catch my meaning, Khepri? Perhaps you will soon, if not now.
---
At Valias' speculation and inquiry, the woman only nodded by way of an answer. If his flippant tone had affected her in any way, she did not make any sign of it. Following this, she promptly excused herself from the chamber, leaving the four alone to themselves for the first time since their arrival.
It was some time after that Nomi finally stirred, interrupting the period of quiet anticipation with a groan. Their eyes squinted open as they propped themself up, realizing slowly that they were still held in the arms of 3-2.
"Ugh... by the gods, what happened? I feel worse than that night I drank a bottle of Ebonsong spirits on a dare." They muttered groggily, massaging their temples. They squinted up at Khepri, adjusting to the light of the room. "Did I get drunk? I suppose I'm still wearing all my clothes, so probably not."
Nomi's consciousness returned in full in that moment, just in time for them to remember how to feel embarrassment. They blushed deeply, turning their eyes away from Khepri. It was just as well, as the feeling quickly gave way to the memory of the storm. It came rushing back all at once, in addition to the new fear of waking up in an unknown, potentially unsafe environment.
"Where are we? Is everybody okay?" Nomi asked - they were still weak, but a look of concern had replaced the glazed over look in their pale golden eyes. Eyes that now flitted about the room with a vigilance earned from a lifetime as a nomad. "How long was I gone?"
|
|
Vailas Steelhand
Committed
Roleplay posts: 67
Age: Somewhere between his mid 30s and mid 40s
Appearance: At first glance, not much about him would stand out to most people. Average height, average weight and build, black hair with a growing goatee, brown eyes, tan colored skin, generally nothing much to draw attention to his own physical form, except for the striking silver and bronze of his left hand, make completely of metal, with blue energy flowing throughout lines in the construction. His clothing is mostly fairly simple as well, with brown pants and a long leather overcoat, under which he wears a gray top. However, on his chest he also wears a brooch made of the same materials as his hand, a large blue gem set in the center.
Equipment: -An assortment of tools for building his magic-powered automatons, known as Magikróm
-5 Variation 1 Magikróm, which are shaped like spheres with a 1.5 foot diameter and eight extendable limbs, with no weaponry. Used only for sorting, transport, and limited help around a house or lab setting. Only two are operational. The other three are functionally scrap metal
-3 Variation 2 Magikróm, of which none are operational. Originally, they were defensive machines with limited movement, having two wheels on their lower half, one spear/horn like appendage, and two magic-energy firing devices on pivots.
-a simple knife.
Skills and Abilities: While he's unable to harness it himself in any meaningful way(except creating his Magikróm), Vailas is highly knowledgeable in the properties and abilities of magic energy and most things tangentially related to it. He is skilled at basic robotics and more or less knows how to work metal into the shapes he needs. Other than that, his only true skill comes from being a well-read individual.
Biography: Hailing from the relatively barren land of Sezæria, survival was often a struggle for Vailas. As such, he had to find a way to make himself useful quick. Having some magical aptitude, as well as quite the intellect, he took to learning the ways of magic. However, he could never learn enough to cast the more complex spells. To get around this, he learned how to impart his magic into robotic entities, to power them. While some thought of this as being genius, many also feared him for it, and one attempted to be rid of him in his sleep. He got away, but he lost his hand in the process, eventually replacing it with the same sort of magical technology he used in his machines. He soon became much more reclusive, after that happened, and rumors around the town said he turned to less morally sound ways of practicing his craft, though it was never specified how bad it got. Near the time of the flood, he had found his way to the shore where he acquired a decent sized vessel, manning it with himself and a number of his machinations, many of which did not survive the voyage once the waters hit.
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:04:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Vailas Steelhand on Jul 8, 2023 19:20:03 GMT -5
“At least a few hours.” Vailas responded, not turning to face them as he systematically surveyed the room for any oddities. “You gave us quite the lightshow, then passed out while whatever zealots you pointed us towards led us here. We only arrived quite recently.”
After finishing his search, Vailas took a seat in one of the nearby pews, turned so as to keep an eye on the door. “They’re bringing someone they call ‘Brother Acheron’ to speak with us. I can only assume he’s the one who leads them. Perhaps the one we met in the storm.”
Not long after, though, Vailas turned his gaze back to Nomi, still in his automaton’s arms. “Now I must ask, what was that, out in the storm? At least I assume there was more to it that we couldn’t see. You don’t seem like someone who would knock themself out just to be a glorified torch. Unless I’m mistaken?”
|
|