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
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Post by Variant 3-2 on Jul 8, 2023 19:20:37 GMT -5
3-2 sat as a sentry while Nomi continued to rest, unperturbed even as Khepri came close to protect her companion. When they finally started stir, she adjusted how she was holding them, allowing them to better sit up while they awoke. After they became fully lucid, and once they finished their own survey of the room, she put a cold metal hand on their shoulder, attempting to help steady them. “Are you okay.” She asked, a strange amount of concern in her voice for a machine.
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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.
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Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
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Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on Jul 8, 2023 23:00:21 GMT -5
Khepri retreated her consciousness from the lights as fast as she'd reached out. She hid her flinch behind a facade of rubbing the frost from her cheeks. What in the world was that? The magic was more than foreign, more than strange. It wasn't empty, but she couldn't form her mind around it, and that made her uneasy. Thank Teunum, as Nomi stirred awake, taking her thoughts away from her grievances. Wordlessly, she reached out, brushing her fingers against their cheek. A sigh left her body, slumping her shoulders where she didn't realize they were tensed.
"You frightened me," she rasped softly. The duralam faced away from them and closed her eyes, ashamed to express so much emotion in front of strangers. Pausing to let Vailas speak, the woman found herself agreeing with them. Part of the story, she knew, but there was more to this than their normal visions. There had to be. "That was a lot of magic."
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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
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Post by Nomi on Aug 14, 2023 22:50:03 GMT -5
Nomi recoiled as though they had been struck. "I - I'm sorry," they answered, crestfallen. Their eyes fell from hers almost immediately. It wasn't enough that their magic had taken everything from them - now it had the nerve to go and upset their friends. Their hands began to fidget, kneading their thumb hard against their palm. Even Khepri couldn't stomach to look at them.
"Wait... a light show?" Nomi began as Valias' comment finally set in. They rubbed their temples, pain and worry bleeding into one another. "I wasn't - Do you mean - Shit. Shit! These people - zealots? What did they see? Did they - damn it all!"
Nomi only then became aware of the cold hand on their shoulder. Startled, they turned look at... at 3-2. 3-2? It was strange - it took them a short moment to remember its name. It was as though they meant to say another in its place, one that had only just tried to escape their lips instead. "I'm fine." Nomi shrugged away the hand, forcing themself to stand upright. For a moment, neither they nor their company were certain it would take. Their legs were still too weak to fully support them - Nomi eventually had to steady themselves against a nearby pew in order to remain vertical.
"See? Fine. Now, listen to me - none of you saw anything out there, do you understand? Not a thing." Nomi's voice had grown uncharacteristically agitated, even harsh. A genuine fear had taken hold in their breast. "We can't stay here. There's... there's something wrong about this place. We aren't - "
"You have naught to fear of this world any longer, child."
The voice that called from the doorway behind them felt like a salve on a burn. None of the four had detected the man's approach, as though he had materialized from the air itself. He stood tall above them - it was the same man who had met them out in the storm, the same mask of scrap and bone and driftwood. Even now, they could feel his saccharine smile bleeding through the mask that held it within. In spite of everything, in spite even of the dire trappings that adorned his body, the man seemed for all the world like a loving father, waiting to take them all into his arms.
Nomi resisted. They steeled, gripping the pew tight enough for their knuckles to turn white and glowering at the man with contempt. "Who are you." Less of a question, more of a command. "Where are we. What do you want from us."
"You are home, sister."
"I'm not a -" Nomi squinted. They elected, quietly, not to open that particular can of worms with this man. Yet. "What do you mean, 'home'?"
A soft sigh. "Has it truly been so long that the word has lost its meaning?" The man strode across the room, gingerly take a seat in one of the pews opposite the others. "You have been made to suffer well enough, my child. You have weathered a storm beyond the imagination of even your gravest dreams. In finding this sanctuary, you have found rest. Respite."
The man nodded, folding his hands in his lap. "I am called Acheron." He moved his hands to his face, gently unfastening the straps of his mask and removing it to reveal the kind face of a weathered man, one whose nose and cheeks were still frostbitten by the storm that raged outside. "I tell you now; the struggles that have led you here are now and forever at an end." Acheron smiled, and his voice cascaded over them like honey spilled over a table at suppertime.
"You are here, because you have been delivered here. Because he has delivered you here."
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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
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Post by Vailas Steelhand on Aug 22, 2023 23:41:13 GMT -5
Vailas went to speak, to respond to Nomi and their current condition.
Then Acheron made his presence known.
Vailas sat back as Nomi took the lead in questioning, each half-answer making him more and more irritated. This man was warm, inviting. Everything you’d want a man in his position to be. To put it another way, Vailas did not trust him. He knew the type, the kindly, accepting faith leader. The kind that would happily lead a mob to cut off your hand in an attempt to kill you if they found you unsavory.
“Acheron.” Vailas started, standing up and leaning his hands onto the back of the pew ahead of him. “As a start, none of us are your siblings. Especially not them.” He said, gesturing to the seer and putting an emphasis on the word.
Vailas did not particularly care for Nomi. In truth, he didn’t like people in general. The one thing he disliked more than people, however, was falsehoods. And those(among other things) seemed to be something this Acheron was full of. Not a sister, not a home, not rest, not an end. Not yet.
“And before I start on your other points, I must ask. Tell me who, pray tell, is this “he” you speak about?”
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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.
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Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
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Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on Sept 4, 2023 21:45:55 GMT -5
As Nomi fussed, apologizing far more than they needed to (even if it was just once), Khepri felt hopelessly drawn to reach out and comfort them. Three times she tried, once when the seer's fingers were digging into one another. She opened her mouth to speak, to comfort them, but Valias spoke instead and caused Nomi to get up in a panic. This was when Khepri rose from her place on the floor to meet them, raising her hands. "Nomi, yo-"
Then it was 3-2, inquiring about the nomad's health. Shuffling in her boot-wraps, Khepri approached them, worry etched on her face. "I know, we-"
And then... it was him.
His voice was so soft, yet so vigorous; every word infallible. The duralam felt the ruffle of her feathers smooth against her body and felt the shivers steady. The voice was not only calming but strangely familiar. The tenor took her back to her days as a nestling, scraggly wings flapping wildly as two strong arms threw her into the air again and again. She heard his laughter in her head as she whipped around-
The world froze over again, became grounded and dark. Her grey eyes rested on the man before them. She rested her arms at her sides, her stance as neutral as she could manage.
"Home. Do you mean this temple or these lands?"
Her tone was airy and inquiring, with just a hint of nervousness dashed in. Unlike Valias and Nomi, it didn't carry the tone of an antagonist, but that of someone curious about this savior.
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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
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Post by Nomi on Sept 11, 2023 21:05:48 GMT -5
Nomi hit Valias with a quizzical side-eye. Frankly, Nomi didn’t think the man had even bothered to learn their name, let alone their gender. Up until this point, they had assumed that if they talked about it in front of Valias, he would have just offered to... they didn't know, ‘fix’ them or something (likely with the aid of some terrifying metal contraption). Perhaps they had misjudged him after all?
Still kind of a prick, though.
Acheron raised a discerning eyebrow at Valias’ refutal. His warm smile twinged for just a moment as confusion crept into his mind, but it passed just as quickly. Acheron held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “My apologies. We have not seen new faces amongst our humble flock in quite some time. How easily we forget those same words that bring us comfort have spelled suffering to the ears of another. It is a deep sorrow that such a thing may fall to corruption. I hope, in time, that you may come to know the love behind such words again.”
Nomi tapped a finger anxiously against their arm. They were never quite sure how best to respond to this manner of drivel. Perhaps the best response was none at all.
“And to answer your question - surely you yourself have looked upon Him? The Keeper. Each of us has beheld His glory in turn, at the end of our pilgrimage. Glorious arms outstretched, blessed Mist spilling forth from His censer most holy.”
Acheron paused, eyes growing misty themselves as he spoke his praises. “Have you never seen such beauty in all your life?”
“We're just going to decide the giant disembodied set of hands is a he, are we?” Nomi grumbled under their breath. If Acheron heard them, he did not show it.
Nomi had only seen Khepri, really seen her, in the moment right before Acheron appeared. It was the only sound that had managed to cut through the clouding of their mind. The only sound that ever seemed to make things feel like… like despite it all, things might be okay.
Sometimes they wished Khepri was the only other person on this island.
“Both, I suppose." Acheron answered. "But in my welcome, I do indeed refer to these holy grounds where you now sit.” Acheron regarded the temple with a wave of his hand, using his mask as an extension of his arm.
“This place… it is very special, my -” To Acheron’s credit, he caught himself. “My friends. I would imagine your travels have revealed unto you many facets of the Keeper’s blessing. I tell you now that here, in this place… His protection, his gift, is more powerful than anywhere on these Isles. At the least, more than I or any of my flock has seen thus.”
“His… protection?” Nomi asked. They had a sinking feeling where all of this was going. “Against what?”
“What else?” Acheron answered with a warm chuckle. “The Old Gods have failed us, time and time again. Allowed us to stoke our ambitions, to strive to become like them. To hold their fire in our hands. But not here. All who walk in the Keeper’s domain are judged not as Gods, but as men. His glory protects us, will protect us, now and forever against mortal-kind’s oldest evil.”
Acheron met Nomi’s eyes. They felt as if he could see straight through them.
“Magic.”
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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
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Post by Vailas Steelhand on Oct 30, 2023 19:20:06 GMT -5
As Acheron’s speech continued, Vailas narrowed his eyes. He had to admit, this man put on a good face. Even with the pushback he and Nomi were giving, he easily kept his composure. It was concerning. He didn’t respond to Acheron’s empty words. Such things deserved no response.
What did, however, was what he said next. Vailas raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Hands. When he’d first witnessed them, he had assumed he was simply hallucinating after so long at sea. Now though, he couldn’t be too sure. “I hesitate on beauty, but it was undoubtedly a sight.”
The rest of the speech went on, causing Vailas to return to his perpetually annoyed neutral expression. That is, until the cult leader began to answer Nomi’s question. It didn’t take long for Vailas to catch that same sinking feeling. He knew where this was going.
His blood ran cold as Acheron confirmed what he’d suspected. What he’d feared.
“Magic?” Vailas repeated, a twinge of…something barely perceptible in his voice. Was that panic? He’d heard it before. Magic was evil, immoral, against the will of whatever god. Anything they had to say to justify fear and hate of what they couldn’t understand, couldn’t control. They were words he was intimately familiar with. Words that let the kind mask slip.
Vailas’ mind raced, even if his eyes didn’t show it. He thought back, trying to remember where he saw guards. Trying to think of easy escape routes. Trying to gauge how long he could survive in the cold. Trying to determine how long 3-2-
His eyes quickly glanced at the machine, just for a moment letting the calm and collected look in his eyes falter before returning to true. If what Acheron said was true, that magic here was at its weakest…
He feared he was in an indescribable amount of trouble.
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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
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Post by Variant 3-2 on Oct 30, 2023 19:23:47 GMT -5
3-2 stood, walking up to be nearer to the front of the group. She spoke no words, but she kept an arm up in a defensive position. This cult leader, he made her feel…uneasy, for some reason. Nervous. He-
He made her feel. Such a thing should be foreign to her, and yet, it was so…familiar. Both of these feelings were so familiar to her, outshone only by the one thing she felt more strongly.
The need to protect, to defend those she cared about. She looked back at…she paused.
Where was her crew? These people behind her, they weren’t the other A̸̰͔̥̳͠r̷̗̫͈͓̐͘ĉ̴̛̛͓̯͇̝̆̕ḫ̷̢̳̣͈͈́͝ͅḍ̶̖̺̎r̵̡̨̞̗͔̐́̅͋̔͜ȧ̶͖̝̆̉k̸̢͈̙͎͈͂̓̀̅̿͘͝ȇ̷͕͓̪̖̞͇̔́̇̕͝͠s̶̡̮̤͎͙̦̬͋̈́̋͋͌͂. In fact, where was she? Last she remembered, she was in the desert, not-
Something was wrong. She could feel it. That pressure in the back of her head reaffirmed it. It’s like it was stopping her from thinking about it too much. But at this moment, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t get lost in thought right now. She had to be prepared. She glared at Acheron as she held her defensive stance. Though, the helmet she seemed to be wearing might stop him from seeing that.
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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.
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Registered: Mar 23, 2021 19:54:50 GMT -5
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Post by Khepri Goldenfeather on Dec 18, 2023 0:57:22 GMT -5
Khepri stilled as the rest of her party did. Of course, that statement would, for if one were to look from Nomi, a sage; Valias, the puppeteer; 3-2, the puppet; and then Khepri... she, who was half born of magic and danced in its essence before the end of all worlds. Her wings tightened closer to her back. Her mind raced.
The woman's eyes widened in... bewilderment. Yes, she had witnessed the hands upon the Hi Ko Yanu as they sailed in from the mists. Half the time, she felt as though it were a hallucination, and yet here it was, mentioned by a stranger. Slowly, with shaking hands, she folded a blanket from her pack and wrapped it around 3-2's shoulders. She knelt down before them and pulled it tight to their chest. "I know you say you have layered furs in there, but it's still quite cold," she told them, giving the golem a warm, caring smile. Khepri then stood up and pat the golem's cheek as she departed, her steps hesitating as she approached Acheron. She stopped before she was even ten steps away, fingers twiddling with one another, chin pointed toward her chest. Her eyes flickered from the floor to him once, twice, uneasily.
"How would you know?" asked the poor refugee of a woman, unsure of all around her, eyes flickering with the barest flame of hope. "Did it... did He speak to you?"
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