Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28 
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Jan 19, 2023 18:44:09 GMT -5
 The Secluded ShorelineThroughout all his travels across all manner of strange lands, Foxgloves had always prided himself on staying busy. Having a purpose in life helped to pass the time, and he'd always considered his peddling to be an extremely worthwhile endeavor. He'd met all sorts of interesting characters as a result of his work, each filled with all manner of fascinating stories and secrets to tell. The buying and selling of his assorted wares brought with it a satisfaction that he rarely found elsewhere, and so he'd spent every moment that he could engaged in his work. Now, though, on this new and unfamiliar land, the buyers were few and far between. The island seemed to be largely uninhabited, and some of the new occupants that he'd met had had little interest in his wares. Indeed, he'd already had to flee from a group of armed ruffians led by a woman with a false eye (not of his own making) that had seemed intent on capturing him. He couldn't imagine why they wanted him so, but had decided that it would perhaps be best to stay away for a while.
And so it was that he'd found himself out on a quiet stretch of beach, sitting on the ledge of a cliff and dangling a fishing line in the water. He'd never tried fishing before, but it had seemed like an interesting pursuit. The man sitting slumped against a tree beside him enjoyed it, as far as Foxgloves could gather. Judging by the collection of hooks and lengths of line that he'd found lying about, his friend had been quite the enthusiast. Perhaps that was how he lived, sustaining himself off the bounty of the sea. In any case, Foxgloves had been unable to ask; the man had been cold and dead since he'd arrived some days earlier. If the half-eaten pufferfish on the ground was anything to go by, it seemed that the dead man had been a better fisherman than naturalist.
Still, the corpse had not tried to kidnap Foxgloves, and so was currently the best friend that he had in the area. He had also generously allowed Foxgloves the use of his fishing equipment (or at least, failed to protest when Foxglvoes had taken up the rod and cast his line over the cliff). Foxgloves, for his part, had left the dead man alone. Aside from placing a blanket over the man's stiff legs and shoving a small, polished ebony button down the man's cold throat, he hadn't disturbed the body. It had seemed rude to take both the man's fishing gear and his body parts, and he'd been rather skinny and malnourished besides. Foxgloves had always taken pride in the quality of his merchandise, and saw little point in taking on an inferior product.
Lacking a pastoral childhood spent fishing for frogs and minnows in brooks and streams, Foxgloves knew little of the craft. Despite the plethora of fishing equipment, he'd managed to catch only a strange, shelled creature with eighteen legs and no discernable head. When he'd pulled it out of the water, the creature had retracted its spindly limbs and clamped its shell shut tight, refusing to open back up again no matter how politely he'd asked. He'd cast the odd thing back into the sea, deciding that something so easily caught would likely have little market value.
As he fished, Foxgloves heard a sound behind him. The points of his hood swiveled around to point directly at the dead man, the rest of his head following a moment later. As he watched, the corpse twitched. Its chest rose slightly, as though drawing in breath. Slowly, the throat began to bulge, as though the man were swallowing in reverse. The lump moved up from the base of the throat, inching its way upwards with the slow, jerky movements of a newborn creature unfamiliar with its body. The man's head, slumped forward and slack-jawed, bobbed slightly as the thing climbed its way into the mouth. Finally, a dark form crawled out over the dried-out tongue and over the man's face, followed by another. As Foxgloves watched, nodding in satisfaction, the pair of black lace gloves clambered fully out of the man's body and scuttled off into the woods like a couple of oversized spiders. Foxgloves waved as they vanished, wondering how long it would be before he saw them again. They'd be back, he knew. Friends, like the dear dead fisherman, appeared and decayed away into nothing all the time like leaves on a tree. Family, however, was forever.
A tug on his line brought Foxgloves back to his fishing, and he peered over the cliff to see what he'd caught. Knowing little about the art of fishcraft, he'd set up all manner of lines just to see what he could catch. Everything from thin lengths of thread to boat anchor chains were secured to the trees, their other ends baited with whatever sort of things he could find and bristling with hooks. The line that had gone taut was a rather thick one, a climbing rope to which he'd attached dozens of thin barbs and a selection of fresh bones. He gave it a pull, finding it rather heavy and only managing to haul it in a few yards before it slipped from his gloves. Undeterred, he took a moment to remove his gloves and stitch a pair of strong, callused sailor's hands to the cuffs of his sleeves, giving them an experimental flex before taking hold of the rope once more. Planting his the heels of his pointed boots firmly in the ground, he began hauling the line in hand-over-hand, gradually dragging whatever it was that he'd caught up the cliff. After several minutes of effort, he managed to drag his prize up over the edge of the cliff. Cutting through the thread with a pair of tiny silver scissors, he discarded the sore hands in an unceremonious heap and donned his gloves once more before hurrying over to inspect his catch. To his surprise (and slight dismay) however, there was no massive, flopping sea creature waiting for him on the rocks. Instead, he found that he'd managed to catch a rather soggy, half-drowned human woman who'd gotten tangled painfully in the barbed hooks of his line. Stepping cautiously over the woman's body, Foxgloves prodded her with a long fingertip.
"Hello there," he said, his voice soft and dry. "What ever are you doing in my fishing line? You don't look very much like a fish, although I admit that my ichthyological knowledge is far from complete. Were you perhaps drawn to the bone marrow? I thought the seal brains would be a more popular bait, but you're the first thing that I've caught today. Who could have guessed that bones would make for such good lures?"
After a moment's pause, Foxgloves set about carefully removing the hooks from where they'd gotten caught in skin and clothing. He worked with the skill and precision of a tailor, expertly removing the barbed points with minimal damage. Hooks were little more than bent needles, after all, and Foxgloves was very familiar with needles.
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Avalon
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 25 years old
Appearance: Avalon is a slightly taller than average woman with long red hair, usually arranged in a side braid that falls midway through her back. She has multiple freckles adorning her brown skin throughout her body, though mostly in her back and in her face. Avalon's eyes are a deep shade of red that resembles blood if you stare at them for too long, but her kind smile makes her amicable, that is, unless you make her mad.
She sports a long red jacket that matches her hair and wears black pants and combat boots.
Equipment: Avalon's most notable equipment is her chain whip, which she hides in her jacket, and a dagger at her hip.
Skills and Abilities: She is a powerful sorcerer with a lot of raw magical power that she has trained for years to control. But, Avalon's magic is also corrupted, and she has always struggled to not get overtaken by her powers, sometimes losing control and becoming something monstrous.
However, interestingly enough, since arriving to the Isles Avalon has noticed that she is not battling the corruption nearly as much as she usually does. Though, if she is honest her magic feels odd overall, almost as if it is being greatly filtered and it takes a bigger effort to cast any spells.
Though mainly a caster and a goofball, Avalon is actually a good strategist and negotiator, having spent many years traveling through Komali and learning from a powerful pirate lord, and slowly uncovering memories of her education under a powerful noble group. Her time as a pirate has allowed her to become a formidable fighter, learning to imbue some of her magic into her weapons.
Registered: Dec 15, 2022 0:13:14 GMT -5
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Post by Avalon on Feb 24, 2023 22:18:58 GMT -5
As she slowly came to consciousness, there was only one word present in Avalon’s mind.
Ouch.
Actually, the first thought that came to her mind was something along the lines of "Blrrbgh" as she coughed some water. BUT, as soon as she could breathe, the first thing Avalon felt was uncomfortable pain. The redhead did not really know how it would feel to be hugged by thirteen porcupines, but she figured that it was a similar feeling to her current state. She felt as if there were millions of needles piercing her body, though strangely enough, she could feel some of those needles being removed. Strange.
Avalon figured she may need to open her eyes soon if she wanted to figure out what was going on, or how she got unconscious, or why there she coughed water. However, she honestly felt very tired. Her right eye also hurt a lot. Enough to stand apart from the overall piercing pain in her body. Thus, Avalon opted to continue laying down, for just a little bit more time. She figured that Diego would already be yelling at her if she was in any real danger.
Wait.
Diego.
Shit.
Dread started rising within Avalon as she started recalling the events before she lost consciousness. She remembered trying to hold onto Diego for as long as she could, but the water was so violent and she was drowning. She let go of him. He was lost, and he couldn’t swim. With extreme panic, Avalon quickly opened her eyes and got up. Or at least she tried before realizing that she was tangled in something sharp and lost her balance. Avalon only managed to yell “Fuck!” before she fell back down.
“That. Could have gone better.” Avalon thought to herself as she groaned, her body was not happy with her. She opted to try something simpler and look at her surroundings, if she wanted to get to Diego, she needed to at least know where she was. Trying her best to ignore the pain in her right eye, Avalon opened her eyes and took in her current state. She seemed to be tangled in multiple … hooks?
Strange. But at least that explained why she felt like she was in the middle of a porcupine orgy. Avalon also noticed that there were a few bloodied hooks laying by her side, which confirmed that someone was tending to her wounds. Avalon started scanning around to see if she could find her nurse. It didn’t take long. As soon as she lifted her gaze from herself, Avalon found herself face to face with a hooded person that was wearing a rather intriguing mask.
Now, this was certainly not the time to be thinking this. She was quite literally full of holes and she needed to find Diego fast. But, Avalon couldn’t help but blush a little as she looked into the deep darkness behind the mask’s eyes, enthralled by said shadows, they actually reminded her of her magic.
“Oh Fuck.” the redhead whispered, definitely not blushing. “I-I mean- Hi! I’m Avalon and I’m single! WAIT. I shouldn’t have led with that, shit. What I mean is, you’re hot! Like, attractive, not like you’re on fire. Ah, I shouldn’t have said that out loud. SHIT!” Avalon was sure she was breaking some kind of personal record in regards to bad first impressions, so she decided to switch to evasive maneuvers.
“You know what? Forget I said anything or even woke up, sound like a good plan?” Without waiting for a response, Avalon turned her gaze away from the handsome stranger, closed her eyes and laid back down. She was starting to think that Diego was the luckier of the two at this very moment.
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Feb 24, 2023 23:40:52 GMT -5
As his new catch sputtered and coughed into life, Foxgloves wondered exactly what sort of creature he'd managed to snare. It probably wasn't a fish, nor a squid or a clam. A siren, perhaps? Some sort of mermaid? He'd met a mermaid once, although it had been years ago. When he'd approached the siren to inquire about purchasing its voice, it had grabbed him and held him beneath the water until he was quite soggy. When he'd finally washed up ashore, it had taken days to dry out properly again. Unpleasant creatures, mermaids were.
The being lying on the ground before him didn't look quite like a mermaid, however. It wore more clothes, and had legs besides. A human, he supposed. Her limbs and body seemed decent enough, although he wondered if the hooks and near-drowning would effect their resale value. Before he could try to make a proper assessment of the damage, however, the drowned woman spoke. Foxgloves stopped midway through the extraction of a particularly pointy hook from the woman's thigh as she stumbled over her words, tilting his head to the side like a curious pigeon. The points of his hood perked up, pointing towards the woman as he listened.
"Hello there, Single Avalon," he said, sliding the hook out and placing it carefully beside the others. "I'm glad you think so. I try my best to seem presentable. It's important to look one's best, you know. Good fabrics are key to making good first impressions. It seems that you're made of rather fine material yourself, Single Avalon."
He punctuated this point with a brush of a gloved fingertip against her cheek, his silken gloves smooth and dry on her skin. What would it be like, he wondered, to have the sensation of touch? His gloves were dexterous and clever, but felt little in the way of fine details. His borrowed hands were little better, feeling the world with largely numb fingers.
"I usually try not to forget things," he said, giving the woman another prod as she laid back down and played dead once more. "There's so many things to see in the world and so little time to see it that forgetting seems such a waste. Besides, why would I want to forget about you? Tell me though, Single Avalon. Are you a mermaid? If you are, I'll have to throw you back. I suppose you don't look like one, but I've only ever seen one before. If you're not a mermaid, though, I must ask: what ever were you doing in the ocean? It's a silly place for a human to be, especially where one might get caught in a fishing line."
Spotting a small, many-segmented benthic creature crawling around in Avalon's hair, Foxgloves deftly plucked it away and held it up to the light. Its chitinous body glistened in the sunlight as it squirmed in his grasp, its tiny heart visible within its translucent form. A long, eel-like tongue snaked out from beneath his mask and wrapped around the unfortunate creature, pulling it back behind his placid, painted visage with a slimy slither. It vanished without a sound into the void behind his mask, and Foxgloves nodded to himself. It was largely salty, as sea creatures were wont to be. Would a human who'd been half-drowned in the ocean taste the same, he wondered? The question intrigued him, and he promised himself to investigate it further sometime. What was life for, after all, if not finding answers to such questions? He pitied those dull-eyed somnambulists who seemed to bumble through life without ever so much as asking a question, much less answering one.
"Oh, but where are my manners?" he continued, pulling a particularly deep copper fishhook from Avalon's body. "My name is Foxgloves. I am many things...or perhaps I am nothing at all. It all depends on who you ask, doesn't it? To most people, I'm a salesman. To others, a...curiosity, one might say. To someone who's never met me, why, I may as well not be anything or anyone. To you, though...well, that's yet to be seen. Lie still, now. This will just take a moment."
Foxgloves' hands patted up and down Avalon's soggy form, feeling for any remaining hooks left still embedded in her skin. Finding one last hook stuck in the right side of her abdomen, he pulled it out and placed it beside the others. They were still sharp, he noticed. It was either a testament to their craftsmanship or the softness of human bodies that they hadn't been dulled after use. Whichever it was, Foxgloves was grateful. He'd be able to reuse them, now freshly baited with this Single Avalon's blood.
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Avalon
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 25 years old
Appearance: Avalon is a slightly taller than average woman with long red hair, usually arranged in a side braid that falls midway through her back. She has multiple freckles adorning her brown skin throughout her body, though mostly in her back and in her face. Avalon's eyes are a deep shade of red that resembles blood if you stare at them for too long, but her kind smile makes her amicable, that is, unless you make her mad.
She sports a long red jacket that matches her hair and wears black pants and combat boots.
Equipment: Avalon's most notable equipment is her chain whip, which she hides in her jacket, and a dagger at her hip.
Skills and Abilities: She is a powerful sorcerer with a lot of raw magical power that she has trained for years to control. But, Avalon's magic is also corrupted, and she has always struggled to not get overtaken by her powers, sometimes losing control and becoming something monstrous.
However, interestingly enough, since arriving to the Isles Avalon has noticed that she is not battling the corruption nearly as much as she usually does. Though, if she is honest her magic feels odd overall, almost as if it is being greatly filtered and it takes a bigger effort to cast any spells.
Though mainly a caster and a goofball, Avalon is actually a good strategist and negotiator, having spent many years traveling through Komali and learning from a powerful pirate lord, and slowly uncovering memories of her education under a powerful noble group. Her time as a pirate has allowed her to become a formidable fighter, learning to imbue some of her magic into her weapons.
Registered: Dec 15, 2022 0:13:14 GMT -5
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Post by Avalon on Mar 27, 2023 15:17:15 GMT -5
Single Avalon?
Oh Xeria, that was something she’d need to clarify once she finished dying of embarrassment. The fact that the stranger touched her cheek only served to make her heart beat faster. She wondered how his actual skin would feel on her face.
Wait, wait, wait. Avalon really needed to focus on the many things she needed to do, starting with opening her eyes and getting some information. She could hear the stranger talking; for her sanity, she chose to ignore his comment about not wanting to forget her and opened her eyes. Well, he still looked pretty in a mysterious way, the moving tips from his hood were also very cute.
As she took deep breaths and finished waking up, Avalon realized that her mind felt much more clear than it had been in a long time. Having come to terms years ago that she was … unusual to say the least, she had gotten used to the shadow-like feeling that accompanied her magic every time she sensed it running through her being. But, that feeling seemed muted this time. Her magic felt quieter as a whole and honestly, that felt wrong in a way. On top of that, her right eye kept bugging her in a different way than the hooks had, and that also felt quite odd. However, she decided to unpack all of that after she got a better idea of her situation, and maybe make some conversation with the handsome stranger.
Speaking of which, Avalon noticed him pulling a creature from her hair, and - oh - that was a nice-looking tongue he had. While many others would have been off-put by the way he ate a raw sea creature, frankly, she had seen her friend Höurig do much stranger things back in her early adventuring days so Avalon was quite unfazed. Besides, that was a nice tongue.
Alas, she needed to focus. She cleared her throat and spoke to … Foxgloves, it seemed.
“Foxgloves, huh? That’s quite a nice name you’ve got” Avalon smiled at him. “My name is Avalon, there is no ‘single’ attached to it. And luckily for both of us, it seems, I’m not a mermaid. Not really a human though. I guess some would also consider me a curiosity.”
She did her best to stay still as Foxgloves pulled the final hook from her right abdomen. The sharp pain was actually grounding in how ephemeral it was compared to the unsettling feelings of her eye and inner magic. Avalon was quite impressed with how efficient Foxgloves was with his hands. She turned to speak to him again.
“You know, I’ve only seen medics be that fast with their hands.” Avalon paused for a second as another thought came to her. “Actually, medics and assassins. Say, you’re not one of the latter are you? I’d have to beat you up in that case.” She smirked at Foxgloves. “That’d be a pity though, I’d rather get to know you more. Oh, and also maybe get a tour of this place.”
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on May 11, 2023 19:05:15 GMT -5
Foxgloves contemplated his suddenly-talkative new friend, placing the bloodied hooks in a small black pouch as she spoke. It never paid to throw things away, after all. His mother had taught him that...or at least, she would have, had she been in the habit of teaching him things. It was the sort of thing that mothers typically taught, he was sure. As it was, she hadn't taught him very much at all, but he had no doubt that she would have educated him in the virtue of thriftiness had she been inclined to do such things. Giving the bag of hooks soft jingle, he wondered when he'd next see her. His family didn't meet often, preferring instead to appear at unusual and often inconvenient intervals. At least one relative, he knew, would be making an appearance soon...but his mother seldom visited. How long had it been since the last time? He couldn't recall.
"Why, thank you," he said, slipping a fingertip beneath his mask to lick a droplet of blood from his glove. "I'm quite fond of my name as well, in fact. It was a gift from my parents, although I was only ever given one. I've come to learn that most tend to give their offspring more names than that, but one has always been enough for me. And I suppose that makes two of us, for people tend to consider me quite the curiosity as well. It's lucky for the both of us that I'm quite fond of curiosities, don't you think? Curiosities tend to be so full of secrets, and secrets are one of my favorite things. Have you any secrets you'd care to share, Avalon?"
He reached deep within one of the pockets of his coat, bending nearly in half as his arm sank to the shoulder in what seemed to be a perfectly ordinary coat pocket. After some rummaging, he produced a multicolored quilt that seemed to be assembled from the skins of all manner of colorful creatures. A rat hung by its teeth from one corner, and Foxgloves plucked it off before draping the feathered, furred, and nude-patched quilt around Avalon's shoulders. It was strangely warm to the touch, the patches of skin seeming to pulse and twitch with life as it wrapped itself snugly around her. After a moment's contemplation, he handed her the fat white rat as well, placing it gingerly in her hands.
"An assassin?" he repeated, letting out a soft sound reminiscent of the rustling of leaves. "Oh no, I could never be an assassin. Why would I kill off a potential customer? I'm not much of a doctor either, although I suppose some could consider me to as such. No, certainly not. I am, Avalon dear, a mere merchant. A peddler, really. I sell...well, anything one could ever hope to purchase. Sapling trees, body parts, missing puzzle pieces, memories and forget-me-nots...I'm in the business of business, and it just so happens to be booming. What about you, if I may ask? What do you do for a living? People tend to work for a living...although if you're a curiosity and not quite a person, perhaps you need not work so hard."
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Avalon
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 25 years old
Appearance: Avalon is a slightly taller than average woman with long red hair, usually arranged in a side braid that falls midway through her back. She has multiple freckles adorning her brown skin throughout her body, though mostly in her back and in her face. Avalon's eyes are a deep shade of red that resembles blood if you stare at them for too long, but her kind smile makes her amicable, that is, unless you make her mad.
She sports a long red jacket that matches her hair and wears black pants and combat boots.
Equipment: Avalon's most notable equipment is her chain whip, which she hides in her jacket, and a dagger at her hip.
Skills and Abilities: She is a powerful sorcerer with a lot of raw magical power that she has trained for years to control. But, Avalon's magic is also corrupted, and she has always struggled to not get overtaken by her powers, sometimes losing control and becoming something monstrous.
However, interestingly enough, since arriving to the Isles Avalon has noticed that she is not battling the corruption nearly as much as she usually does. Though, if she is honest her magic feels odd overall, almost as if it is being greatly filtered and it takes a bigger effort to cast any spells.
Though mainly a caster and a goofball, Avalon is actually a good strategist and negotiator, having spent many years traveling through Komali and learning from a powerful pirate lord, and slowly uncovering memories of her education under a powerful noble group. Her time as a pirate has allowed her to become a formidable fighter, learning to imbue some of her magic into her weapons.
Registered: Dec 15, 2022 0:13:14 GMT -5
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Post by Avalon on Jun 28, 2023 15:22:29 GMT -5
Avalon hummed. “Having more than one name is overrated. I myself only have one name too. I think.” She sat, pensive, as she considered his (their? its?) question. “Secrets? I guess you could say I have a few of those.” A bitter chuckle escaped her. “Amnesia is after all just a fancy word to describe when your brain keeps secrets from yourself, and years ago I forgot everything about myself except for my name…”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence. Instead, Avalon let her thoughts wander. She didn’t know how to feel about that specific period of her life. Back then she was so eager to learn everything about her past, her powers, if she had a family, or even a last name. She finds herself missing that innocence these days. But that eagerness led to her getting answers to her questions, and she didn’t like what she learned. Those answers led to choices, and those choices led to people dying, and then she kil-
A rat had suddenly been placed in Avalon’s hands, snapping her out of her thoughts. Reminiscing about the past did always make her spiral, so she was quite glad to have a distraction. She looked down at the rat, finding it very cute, although a little frightened. She started slowly caressing its head, hoping the motion would calm it down and it seemed to respond positively. Good, petting the rat felt grounding to Avalon as well. Foxgloves’ quilt, though a bit strange, also helped clear her mind.
Avalon turned her attention to Foxgloves once more. “You could say that I’m an adventurer. I like exploring Komali and finding new things to do and more magic to learn. I’ve been running with the Kensington pirates on The Pear Necklace for the past couple of years for that reason.” She grimaced, her worry for Diego and the crew returning to the forefront of her mind. “I actually got separated from the crew while I was scouting with a friend… when you found me, was there a sword nearby? He’s big and has a white blade, with a red doughnut between the hilt and blade. Oh! He is kind of a smart ass too, but also a sweetheart.” Avalon paused briefly.
“He’s also my best friend, so please, if you have seen him let me know. I’m worried about him.”
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Aug 18, 2023 22:51:41 GMT -5
Foxgloves sat quietly and listened, tilting his head ever-further to the side as Avalon continued to speak. By the time she was finished, the plain white mask had turned almost upside-down, causing the points of his hood to droop almost to the ground. Meanwhile, the rat in Avalon's hands squeaked softly at her touch. Its fur was soft beneath her fingertips, meticulously groomed as rats were wont to be. The rather fat rodent looked up at her, beady black eyes bearing not the slightest hint of fear or resentment. It was, all things considered, a rather friendly sort of creature.
"The Pearl Necklace?" repeated Foxgloves, twisting his head slowly back to the upright position. "That's quite an interesting name for a pirate ship, if I do say so myself. I've heard of a few of such vessels, but most seem to bear rather fearsome names. The Talon, Aurenia's Bow, The Wandering Wolfhound...honestly, they're all rather tiresome and cliched, if you ask me. The Pearl Necklace, though, is something new. Refreshing, one might say. The Pearl Necklace...that's really something, isn't it? Have you a tale behind that name, Avalon the Pirate? Or do you not remember? Memory is such a fickle thing, you know. I myself simply cannot bear to forget things, so I tend to write them down. I try to write down everything in my little books, but it can be difficult at times. Writing can be so very difficult at times, as I'm sure you're aware. My words escape me."
He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, the cover bound in an uncomfortably human-like skin. The book was tied tightly shut with a piece of twine, which Foxgloves loosened before cracking the pages ever-so-slightly open. Words tumbled out from the paper, the inky black letters spilling from the pages and falling to the ground where they collected into an incomprehensible puddle of gibberish. The little letters seemed to squirm and thrash on the ground, squiggling about like worms as they vanished into the dirt. Satisfied with his little demonstration, Foxgloves bound the notebook shut once more before replacing it in his pocket.
"But if you're so fond of pearl necklaces," he continued, "then perhaps I have another gift for you. Would you like a gift, Avalon? Another one, I mean. The rat was the first...or perhaps it was the second, if you count being fished out of the water as the first. I always wonder where people begin counting their gifts. Everybody seems to have a different metric as to what counts, and it's so very difficult to keep track. In any case, I have this for you. I do so hope you enjoy it."
Once more, the long-fingered glove vanished into the impossibly deep pocket of his coat. Once more, the glove emerged, this time bearing a string of the most remarkable pearls. Each was shaped like a human heart, the milky-white beads bearing all of the valves, arteries, and chambers of an anatomical model. Beckoning for Avalon to lean forward, Foxgloves draped the necklace around her neck, running his fingertips along her collarbones as he did so. The tiny pearl hearts beat softly against Avalon's skin, their smooth, stony surfaces pulsating one after another.
"I found this in a sea witch's lair," said Foxgloves, leaning back to inspect his handiwork. Hooking a finger beneath Avalon's chin, he tilted her face this way and that, checking to see how the necklace looked on her from multiple angles.
"I'm not sure where she got it," he continued, "but she certainly didn't have any need for it any longer. I've kept it in my pockets ever since, looking for just the right owner. I've come to believe that that owner must be you, Avalon. It does look so very good on you. It suits your complexion."
At the mention of a sword, Foxgloves shook his head. The motion made his mask slip ever-so-slightly, revealing the dark void and the edge of the long, slimy tongue that wriggled behind it like a snake. He quickly replaced the mask, making sure that it was secure before speaking again.
"I'm afraid I haven't seen any swords like that," he said. "But there are a great many swords on this island. Why, just the other day, I was chased by a group of the most unkind people, all bearing swords and bows and lassos of rope. Perhaps they might have this talking sword of yours? It seemed that they had every other sort of weapon imaginable, so maybe they've got your friend tucked away in a box somewhere. They did seem rather fond of putting things in boxes."
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Avalon
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 25 years old
Appearance: Avalon is a slightly taller than average woman with long red hair, usually arranged in a side braid that falls midway through her back. She has multiple freckles adorning her brown skin throughout her body, though mostly in her back and in her face. Avalon's eyes are a deep shade of red that resembles blood if you stare at them for too long, but her kind smile makes her amicable, that is, unless you make her mad.
She sports a long red jacket that matches her hair and wears black pants and combat boots.
Equipment: Avalon's most notable equipment is her chain whip, which she hides in her jacket, and a dagger at her hip.
Skills and Abilities: She is a powerful sorcerer with a lot of raw magical power that she has trained for years to control. But, Avalon's magic is also corrupted, and she has always struggled to not get overtaken by her powers, sometimes losing control and becoming something monstrous.
However, interestingly enough, since arriving to the Isles Avalon has noticed that she is not battling the corruption nearly as much as she usually does. Though, if she is honest her magic feels odd overall, almost as if it is being greatly filtered and it takes a bigger effort to cast any spells.
Though mainly a caster and a goofball, Avalon is actually a good strategist and negotiator, having spent many years traveling through Komali and learning from a powerful pirate lord, and slowly uncovering memories of her education under a powerful noble group. Her time as a pirate has allowed her to become a formidable fighter, learning to imbue some of her magic into her weapons.
Registered: Dec 15, 2022 0:13:14 GMT -5
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Post by Avalon on Sept 1, 2023 17:09:56 GMT -5
Avalon smiled softly. She found Foxglove’s rotating mask quite charming. “I do like presents quite a bit, and this little friend is one that I will treasure for a very long time. It needs a good name though. Any suggestions?” She suddenly noticed that his face had stopped moving, but was still slightly tilted. “Wait, your head seems to be a little to the right ... May I?” She said, getting closer to Foxgloves and moving her hand to his face, if he let her.
She pondered for a minute, thinking about the origin of the ship’s name. “You know, I actually never heard Taidha’s reasoning for naming her ship. I am, however, surprised you have not heard of it before. It’s pretty famous throughout Komali.” She kept petting the little rat, listening to Foxgloves talk.
Upon hearing his comment about forgetfulness Avalon laughed sardonically. “Memory is probably one of the most fickle things. Now that is something I can wholeheartedly agree with!” The fact that she still could not fully remember many years of her life still hurt her more than she was ever willing to admit. “I do understand your frustration. Writing is especially hard when you're in the middle of -oh.” Avalon did a double take upon noticing literal words spilling from a skin notebook. Now, Avalon had seen weirder things - her mind briefly remembering her friend Hoürig - the words spilling out were nothing out of the ordinary for her. The skin notebook, however, “Is that … human skin?” She tried not to judge other people’s pastimes but seeing the notebook reminded her a bit too much of a certain weird individual she would rather forget.
Thankfully, she got quickly distracted when she saw Foxgloves retrieve a beautiful pearl necklace from his coat. She leaned even closer to him, and if she blushed when he draped the necklace on her, well, there was no one to confirm nor deny the fact. “Thank you.” she whispered, “This is a very beautiful gift.” Avalon ran her fingers through the pearls and smiled slightly at Foxgloves, raising a playful eyebrow. “Does it really suit my complexion? Well, consider me flattered. I will have to find you a gift to return your kindness sometime.” Her mind briefly wandered back to the skin-notebook, and with a weird survival hunch that often evaded Avalon, she added, “I shall decide what that gift will be though. Anything you are interested in?”
Avalon sighed disappointedly at the mention of Diego, or rather, at the lack of sightings of him. But, upon hearing him mention the group of rude individuals her interest peaked a little. “How rude of them to chase you with weapons. That’s the sort of thing you need consent for.” Barring cases were of course one had already been attacked first of course. Avalon was not sure why, but she somehow had the feeling that the word "unkind" was a big understatement on Foxgloves' part. “You said they like putting things in boxes? How so?” Avalon shook her head and slowly got up. “Either way, this is the best lead I have so far. Would you mind showing me where these people are, dear Foxgloves?”
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Sept 10, 2023 18:05:31 GMT -5
As Avalon reached towards his mask, Foxgloves flinched away. The points of his hood flicked protectively in front of his face, only parting once it became clear that Avalon wasn't going to try and snatch the mask away. The smooth, painted wood was cool to the touch and seemed to snap into position as she adjusted it, as though held fast by some mysterious force. Once the mask was properly secured, Foxgloves' hood points would twitch once more, patting gently at Avalon's hands until she stepped back.
"It does seem to be human skin," said Foxgloves, flicking away a few stray letters from the hem of his coat. "It's quite nice, don't you think? I found it a while ago and simply had to have it. I must say, though, that it really is a bit troublesome. The letters and words dripping out are inconvenient enough, but the real problem is the illustrations. The things I draw in there seem to sneak away more often than not. I suppose that I could see it as a blessing, in its own way. I'm never worried about running out of pages, after all."
At Avalon's offer of a gift, the twin points of Foxgloves' hood perked up. He enjoyed gifts very much indeed, and it seemed so rare that he actually received any. He tapped a gloved fingertip to the lips of his mask, tilting his head over to the side as he thought. What did he have an interest in? Everything seemed so broad, but he really did enjoy most items that he found. What was the point in being picky when he could simply enjoy every little tidbit and trinket he found? Still, he knew that giving his new friend something to work with would make the task of finding a gift much easier.
"I'm very fond of unique things," he said. "Curiosities, secrets, strange little items with unknown purposes built by mysterious makers. I like to find trinkets that nobody else has, items with no match anywhere in these lands. I also enjoy things with moving parts, like music boxes. I do so love music boxes."
When she asked to be shown the unkind people, Foxgloves hesitated. He didn't especially want to go back, but she'd asked so politely that he simply could not refuse. Besides, it had been a few days. Perhaps they'd grown bored and forgotten about him. It certainly wasn't outside of the realm of possibility, as getting bored seemed to be the primary pastime of most people he knew. How anyone could be bored in a world full of so many fascinating sights and sounds and tastes was beyond him, but people were strange folk indeed. Rising to his feet, he held out his hands to Avalon to help her up.
"They're not especially far away," he said, indicating with the points of his hood the direction of the camp. "Come now, I'll bring you there. Perhaps they'll be a bit more polite to you than they were to me. They're rather odd, but maybe they'll be able to help you find your sword. One of them is a woman with hair a bit like yours, I've seen her. Strange girl. She's got a glass eye, but not like one that I'd make myself. Perhaps you two will get along! You're a friendly one, and I can't imagine that anybody wouldn't like you. Up on your feet now, if we leave now we can get there by sunset."
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Avalon
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 25 years old
Appearance: Avalon is a slightly taller than average woman with long red hair, usually arranged in a side braid that falls midway through her back. She has multiple freckles adorning her brown skin throughout her body, though mostly in her back and in her face. Avalon's eyes are a deep shade of red that resembles blood if you stare at them for too long, but her kind smile makes her amicable, that is, unless you make her mad.
She sports a long red jacket that matches her hair and wears black pants and combat boots.
Equipment: Avalon's most notable equipment is her chain whip, which she hides in her jacket, and a dagger at her hip.
Skills and Abilities: She is a powerful sorcerer with a lot of raw magical power that she has trained for years to control. But, Avalon's magic is also corrupted, and she has always struggled to not get overtaken by her powers, sometimes losing control and becoming something monstrous.
However, interestingly enough, since arriving to the Isles Avalon has noticed that she is not battling the corruption nearly as much as she usually does. Though, if she is honest her magic feels odd overall, almost as if it is being greatly filtered and it takes a bigger effort to cast any spells.
Though mainly a caster and a goofball, Avalon is actually a good strategist and negotiator, having spent many years traveling through Komali and learning from a powerful pirate lord, and slowly uncovering memories of her education under a powerful noble group. Her time as a pirate has allowed her to become a formidable fighter, learning to imbue some of her magic into her weapons.
Registered: Dec 15, 2022 0:13:14 GMT -5
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Post by Avalon on Sept 20, 2023 1:02:53 GMT -5
If Avalon’s hand lingered on Foxgloves’ mask for more than it needed to, well, there was no Diego to call her out. She enjoyed the feeling of the point of his hood patting her on the head as well. It felt quite comforting.
“Hmm, I can’t quite say that I am fond of loose human skin. Met this Skin Lady who was obsessed with other people’s skins a few years ago and it was extremely unpleasant. She was very rude and I barely got out of that encounter alive.” Truthfully, using the word “unpleasant” when referring to Eliz- Skin Lady felt like a massive understatement. Avalon had lost control and killed her back then, but after everything she learned about Skin Lady in the years following her death, Avalon could firmly say that she would kill her again with no hesitation. Alas, she pulled herself away from that memory. She would never encounter Skin Lady again after all, especially on this new island.
“I may not be the biggest fan on the skin, but I do see a certain charm in the letters having a life on their own. I wonder what magic that must be.” Avalon pondered out loud. At Foxglove's mention of gifts, she smiled. “I shall see what I can do. Music boxes are some of my favorite things too, but I’ll keep an eye out for anything that moves, maybe a fancy clock!” She paused and lightly frowned, pensive. “I do wonder if there are any clockmakers on this island, or clocks at all … there’s gotta be clocks in here, right?”
Avalon’s mind drifted once again, just thinking about the people she would meet here. Foxgloves confirmed that they were not the only ones here. Where there castles, or entire cities? Her thoughts seemed to still be on clocks because she got a sudden urge to see a clock tower. She quickly discarded the possibility though, that seemed too far-fetched.
Seeing Foxgloves hesitate gave Avalon a bad feeling. The magic inside her became louder, almost as if warning her about something. But it was still muted, Avalon couldn’t place why she got a bad feeling. When she noticed that Foxgloves extended his hand to her, she pushed the unease back down. She needed to concentrate and find her best friend, then she could figure out everything else. Avalon wholeheartedly believed this, but again, if she held onto Foxgloves’ hand longer than necessary, there was nobody around to confirm nor deny it.
There was also no one to confirm nor deny the blush that appeared in Avalon’s face when Foxgloves mentioned that he couldn’t imagine anybody not liking her. She grinned. “Glass eye, you say?”Avalon touched her right eye with her other hand. “Well, then she and I have more in common than just our hair color! I would love to see what glass eyes you’ve got in your inventory, but that must come later. Please lead the way Foxgloves.”
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