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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Nov 13, 2022 14:48:24 GMT -5
A modest wing of the Winterlight Estate, equipped with a plethora of reagents and confections utilized by estate Fleshbinders to prolong and alter the efficacy of human life. Several beds line the walls of this room, divided by curtains dappled with dried red stains.
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Julius Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 38
Appearance: A human of intimidating stature, broad shouldered with a powerful build. Julius dons simple yet sophisticated vestments of leather and cloth, perfectly tailored to his frame, and strapped to his chin is a forged metal guard.
Several visible, blackened veins run along the side of his bald head, which grow more pronounced when he uses magic. His eyes are the the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Julius carries little with him, relying on his magic to solve any and all problems that he may encounter.
Skills and Abilities: Julius is a sorcerer of terrible power, which has been nullified significantly since arriving in the Mists. The range of the magic he wields can vary, but his spellcasting of choice typically takes the form of wilting darkness.
He is learned in many disciplines typical of Komali nobility, and highly intelligent. He also commands the remnant of the Winterlight Estate with his twin sister, Eliza.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 20:52:25 GMT -5
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Post by Julius Winterlight on Nov 16, 2022 14:29:08 GMT -5
Julius entered the infirmary with measured steps, the weight of the still-unconscious Nine draped heavy across his arms. He advanced to one of the few remaining private rooms, past the varying wounded that decorated the main hall, before gently resting her on the empty cot at the end of the space. Sighing, the sorcerer picked up a nearby rag and began to wipe the considerable amount of blood from his hands.
“Somebody fetch me Quine." Julius called out to the staff after taking a moment to collect himself. "And a Binder. This one’s been losing blood.”
“Quine? You wound me, brother. Sending for that old curmudgeon before even your dear sister.”
Eliza Winterlight strutted into the room, casting a discerning glare at the whole of the scene before her. “And where in blazes have you been?”
Julius returned the glare with one of his own. “I could ask the same of yourself. By the looks of it, you’ve been picking up strays like it was going out of style. I almost tripped over that blonde charlatan on the way in here. I would compare his odor to that of a wet dog - if such a comparison weren’t too severe of an insult to the dog."
“I’m not certain you’re in quite the position to lecture me about picking up strays.” Eliza chided, raising an eyebrow at the still form laid out on the hospital bed. “Glass houses, brother.”
There was a moment of quiet tension that hung in the air like a pendulum. Contrary to the reasonable assumption that Julius and Eliza might have been a hair’s breadth away from a shouting match, the reality was that such an exchange between the two was fairly typical. Relatively speaking, this was among the Winterlight siblings’ tamer reunions
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Eliza Winterlight
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 38
Appearance: Eliza is a striking woman of taller than average height. She owns a plethora of extravagant outfits, many of which she was able to take with her to the Mists before the flood, as well as a more practical set of survivalist's vestments.
She has long, wavy black hair, and eyes the color of a lantern's glow.
Equipment: Elizabeth carries little with her, relying on her magic to solve most problems. She does, however, have many items hidden amongst her outfits, including daggers and poisons.
Skills and Abilities: Elizabeth is a fearsome sorcerer, though not many have witnessed her ability first-hand. Unlike her brother, she does not often flaunt her power, preferring to keep others in the dark about her capabilities. She is a skilled manipulator, negotiator, and a known socialite, having taken on many of the diplomatic responsibilities of the Winterlight Estate.
She is learned in many studies typical of Komali nobility, and is highly intelligent, despite her frivolous nature.
Allegiances: The Winterlight Estate
Registered: Oct 17, 2021 21:21:25 GMT -5
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Post by Eliza Winterlight on Nov 16, 2022 14:32:25 GMT -5
Eliza broke the quiet with a smirk, approaching the bed to get a closer look at Julius’ quarry. “So you found her then. This makes for quite the game changer.”
She pressed a hand firmly against one of Nine’s graver wounds. Crimson light danced from Eliza’s heart to her fingertips, illuminating her gnarled veins as it flowed outward. The magic leached into the wound in arcane transfusion. She was stable, for now.
“Indeed. Hiding out in another settlement, across the sea to the south. Survivors of a distant empire - Isra. Not on any of our maps.” Julius took a moment to reflect on the journey, and the various people he encountered along the way. Roxanne. Grandma. Vulpin. “They posture like nobility. But their heart matches ours closer than their gentry would care to admit. I’ve negotiated the admission to one such specialist into our ranks, in exchange for Quine.”
“Who will then serve as our eyes and ears in this little upstart nation. Clever.” Eliza remarked. “Seems we’ve both been busy after all. In your absence, I have made contact with a party I believe to be a suitable replacement for the Bellevue Estate. That ‘Blonde Charlatan’ is the black sheep of the Correa family. And a very pliable sheep at that.”
Julius cast a glance at his sister, quiet approval glowing in his eyes.
“It does feel good to get back into the swing of things, doesn’t it.” “Funny - I was just thinking the very same thing.”
Eliza waved a hand at Julius, turning to leave. “Quine is already on his way. I’ll instruct him to go easy on the leeches. Just this once.”
“And where are you off to now?”
“Brother, dear - do you know me at all?” The sorceress smiled, a calculating, excited look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
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Dr. Indys Vulpin
Established
Roleplay posts: 43
Appearance: Few have seen Dr. Vulpin's face, which he generally keeps hidden behind a plain white mask. He alleges that it's for cleanliness purposes, but rumors abound that he uses it to hide a horribly scarred visage. His rather thin and lanky body is typically hidden by his voluminous dark red robes, colored strategically to hide the bloodstains from his work.
Skills and Abilities: Dr. Vulpin is known for his medical prowess: few can amputate a leg with such speed and enthusiasm. He's skilled with bonesaws, stitches, and scalpels and possesses a vast knowledge of ailments and medicines.
Biography: Nobody's quite sure where (or if) Dr. Vulpin actually studied medicine, but none can argue with the results. Most of his patients end up surviving, although they are frequently left with fewer limbs than they came in with. His medical skills have been invaluable on the long voyage, although his eccentricities and odd hobbies have made him rather unpopular among the crew and passengers.
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 16:43:45 GMT -5
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Post by Dr. Indys Vulpin on Sept 23, 2023 23:52:22 GMT -5
An artist's work was never done, and Dr. Indys Vulpin was certainly no exception to the rule. For the entire time he'd been under the employ of the Winterlight family, he'd hardly seen a glimmer of sunlight outside of the laboratory that they'd so thoughtfully built for him. It wasn't as though he was a prisoner, either. No, he'd been in prisons before and could tell the difference. He could go outside whenever he wanted, if he so chose. Heading out for a walk across the grounds or a wander out to the woods were both well within his right, should they ever strike his fancy. The urge to leave had never caught him, however. Why ever would he go outside when all of his work was in here? What did the world at large have to offer that his little wonderland of medical tools and biological specimens did not? His quarters were here, far more comfortable than anything he'd ever had when working under the cat. Anything he needed, from food to tools to samples of flesh, would be brought to him by his small squadron of assistants. Better yet, he was not forced to waste his time with anything so mundane as doctoring. No injured bodies stepped through his door, whining to be mended. Never was he torn away from his work to set a shattered bone or remove a questionable growth. Here, in this wonderland of scalpels and stitches, he was free to do as he pleased. His benefactors were quite generous indeed, and he did not intend to disappoint them.
In the corner of the laboratory stood the tall, elegant figure of Louisa Wren, resplendent in her striking crimson gown. Her lips, painted red to match the silk, were forever pursed in an appealing pout. She watched the doctor work with bright blue glass eyes, her golden hair meticulously styled as though she were headed to a ball. Not a hair on her head was out of place, nor would it ever be. The woman, after all, was made almost entirely of wood. Her face was sculpted in wax and lovingly painted, with every effort paid to ensuring that her makeup was nothing short of flawless. She wore no ring on her finger, nor would she ever. That honor would forever be reserved for the lovely Miss Lucianne Starling, from whom Dr. Vulpin had been forever separated by the cruelty of the cat. He held no illusions that he would ever see his beloved again, but knew that she would forever hold a special place in his heart. Miss Wren was little more than a fling, although the doctor had to admit that he'd been growing rather fond of her as of late. Her presence offered a brightness that was otherwise lacking in the Sanitarium, despite the strange looks she drew from the assistants.
His personal life aside, Vulpin had been very busy indeed. When he'd first arrived, he'd spent three weeks straight writing down all the mental notes that he'd made during his unjust incarceration. He'd barely eaten or slept during this time, spending almost 20 hours a day feverishly filling notebook after notebook with the plans and diagrams that he'd concocted. Once finished, he'd gotten immediately to work and begun stitching together prototypes. The work was never easy, but he relished it all the more for its challenge. He'd created creatures that could see in the dark, impossibly thin abominations that could slip into the cracks of doors and windows, and all manner of hulking beasts of burden. Recently, however, he'd set his sights on something greater. He'd theorized of its possibility before, but had never dared to build a prototype. Too much could go wrong, especially when he wasn't able to devote his full attention to the great work. Now, though, he could really put his mind to the task. It had been hard going, at first. Growing the skeleton was difficult enough, but getting the flesh and skin to stretch across the bones just how he wanted it to proved almost impossible. It wasn't impossible, though. Nothing was impossible, not for him. He'd sacrificed too much for anything to be impossible, and a quick glance into a mirror was always enough to remind himself of that fact. He hadn't always worn a mask, nor had he always worn long sleeves at all times. He'd paid quite a price for his abilities, and he intended to get his money's worth.
Today, he knew, was going to be a momentous occasion. The prototype was almost complete. Stepping up to the center of the laboratory, he paused for a moment before a curtain and listened. The soft, wet sound of breathing greeted him, and he nodded with satisfaction. It had survived the night. That was a good sign, at least. Gripping the curtain in his hand, he paused briefly to savor the moment. This, he knew, was going to be his masterwork. Throwing the curtain aside, he was struck by the sheer might of his genius. Before him stood a monstrosity of flesh and bone, shaped roughly into the form of a small sailing skiff. The keel of the ship was a long, slender spinal column, its ends lifted to form the prow and stern. From it sprouted perfectly curved ribs, forming the ship's hull. Thick, membranous skin stretched between the ribs, fed by a tapestry of veins and arteries that pulsated with life. At the front of the ship was a figurehead of sorts, shaped a bit like a small humanoid's head and limbless torso. It was entirely covered in skin, lacking eyes, nose, and mouth. A series of ventricles running down either side of the "neck" allowed it to breath, and a series of thick, artery-like "roots" extended from its body. The end of each was placed in a bucket of blood and pulped meat, which they greedily pumped into the body. This "food" was what the ship-creature was built of, allowing it to grow and essentially build itself. Placing a hand on the side of the ship's head, Vulpin felt its warm, clammy skin twitch under his touch. It wriggled like a beetle pupa, thrashing back and forth as he stroked its neck like a horse. Yes, this prototype was working very well indeed. Unfortunately, this was about as big as he would be able to make it within the confines of his lab. To grow larger ships, he'd need a shipyard like no other. He was confident, however, that his benefactors would provide him with whatever he needed. After all, this prototype was an undeniable success. If they were able to give him the resources, he would be able to provide them with a service that no surgeon had ever even dreamed of before.
He, Dr. Indys Vulpin, would be able to grow them a fleet.
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