Saela Elannore
Established
Indebted to the local lecher
Roleplay posts: 31
Age: 23
Appearance: Saela is an elf with a dark brownish red wavy hair that has two large cowlicks and the rest combed back barely extending past the nape of her neck. Her eyes are a sapphire blue that sparkle in the twilight and torchlight.
She stands a head smaller than the average person, with an overall skinny silhouette. Despite that she is somewhat curvaceous, despite her looks not being her main priority. She does at least like to keep herself presentable.
Saela wears a white dress shirt that is has green stripes flowing down and a green collar. Over that she wears a black linen vest and a red tie. Her legs are covered in black tailored dress pants. She also wears pointed black leather dress shoes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Equipment: She carries a large leather bag over her shoulders with two sets of clothes, a more casual
two-part green dress with the top having black floral patterns and the bottom being just black. The dress extends down to her knees. The other set are comfortable cotton bottom and top that she wears for pajamas. She also carries a set of sandals and boots in the bag separated by a rough linen bag to keep the other clothes neat.
In a second compartment of the bag lies Saela's treasure, her favorite novel. If she had known that she was going to end up here, she would have brought another few books.
The novel is called "Mysteries of the Man made from Fire" and it is a fictional tale of a wanderer in her world that was born from fire. His being flame incarnate. The protagonist in that book was this mysterious man that was extremely reliable and witty, often winning the hearts of ladies he came across. Nonetheless, quite a trope heavy and cheesy novel that was fit for a young adult audience, although some sections of the book pushed that with the immense flirting.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Skills and Abilities: Saela Elannore is not the most skillful, and she has really no magic. However, what she does have is an accurate memory and the love for books. It has always been her dream to be a librarian that is surrounded by books and other novels.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Biography: Saela came from a rich family in her homeland, often trying to hold herself to that etiquette that she was taught from an early age. She is a major bookworm and will often not drop a book once she starts reading, often lost in her own world.
Allegiances: Books
Registered: Apr 29, 2021 22:09:20 GMT -5
|
Post by Saela Elannore on Jun 4, 2021 9:43:34 GMT -5
This isn't a lake... was Saela's first thought as the fog began to clear. Her small rowboat pushed by the waves, drifting to new land. It thoroughly confounded the young lady as to how she came from a fresh water lake and into a saltwater sea. The miss kept low to her rowboat as the waves shook her rowboat violently from side to side. She swore, as the impacts bruise her back. To her mind, she felt like an ingredient of a meal that was violently shook until it was its desired consistency.
Oh why did I have to think of food? She thought herself as her body pressed against the sides of the rowboat, desperately she kept low. Without any time to react, a big wave came crashing down over her rowboat and Saela was tossed from it, hitting the aft of the rowboat. Her vision went black.
|
|
Captain Ambre Blake
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 24
Appearance: The first thing you would notice about Ambre Blake is that she was the perfect mixture of features inherited from both mother and father. She stands tall and proud, her amber eyes sparkling with the humor of her father, while her figure was that of her mothers: Tall and curvy. Her hair is long brown and straight just like her father's, while her lips and nose came from Camilla.
****
Equipment: Weapons: Rapier and dagger.
Clothing: Leather and linen, a homespun blouse, a leather corset, leather breeches and boots.
Other goods that a ship captain has.
****
Skills and Abilities: She has the ability to not only sail on the sea, but if ever there were airships again, she would be the first one on deck proving her worth as a sky captain. She has minor use of magic in the form of healing as well as some plant manipulation, inherited from her mother.
She sings pretty well.
****
Biography: She was born to the Blakes early and barely lived to tell the tale... but her mother was strong and so was she, and she grew into a strong and capable young woman under the eyes of her parents and her brothers. Unfortunately, they got separated during the flood and she has not seen her family since.
She has been adrift at sea for at least a year by her estimation, though who knows how long it actually was?
Registered: Jun 4, 2021 13:47:20 GMT -5
|
Post by Captain Ambre Blake on Jun 4, 2021 15:04:35 GMT -5
Had it been a year? It seemed like it had been to HER mind, but Captain Ambre Blake actually had no clue just how long or short they had been adrift at sea. Her ship, the Brass Mermaid, cut through the waves as it always did, the spooky mist surrounding both crew and captain so long that they were all certain they would never make it out alive. It was true that some had perished, she could have sworn that their spirits were trapped within the depths of those wisps.
Ambre had a grim look on her face as crew members explained not only their nightmares, but talked about how low the food and water supply was running. They would eat fish for a time, of course, but how would they get the water they needed?
The answer came in the form of a butt projectile dropping down from the sky and landing on her shoulder. The gull dropping was certainly unexpected, but a welcome sight regardless of it being a turd. The raucous caws soon filled the air and the crew and captain looked at each other. Then a cheer broke out even as the mist started to dissipate!
Land!
She practically leapt toward the wheel, steering the ship toward the island and away from the mist...
|
|
Nomi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 64
Age: 24
Appearance: A young, diminutive human with pale white hair and soft yellow eyes, donning simple robes befitting the life of a nomad. The robe's left sleeve has been ripped off completely, exposing runic tattoos along the length of their arm, and a fresh gash made by the claws of a monster. Though much of the rest of their skin is covered by their robes, the ends of more tattoos can be seen creeping along their neck and wrists.
Equipment: Their possessions are few in number - A gnarled wooden staff, a dagger, a leather pouch containing divining equipment, and the clothes on their back.
Skills and Abilities: Nomi is a Seer of their people before arriving in the Mists, and has limited capabilities in ways of divination. However, these talents are known by them to be unreliable at best - they prefer to rely on their wits in order to get by in the new world.
Registered: Jun 11, 2021 0:33:43 GMT -5
|
Post by Nomi on Jun 11, 2021 3:14:51 GMT -5
For all the nights Nomi had spent being plagued by nightmares about the Great Cataclysm, of the Unending Storm that would rise beneath the waters to swallow up the world - they had never once considered before this point that the apocalypse would be so... dull.
They had drifted across open sea in the ramshackle remains of a covered wagon for what felt like aeons (and truly it may have been, for all that they knew). They entertained themself as best they could, but they weren't used to this degree of solitude, even less so for this amount of time. They had little to no idea what had become of the majority of the world's population they left behind, let alone their own people. The only thing that they knew for certain is that they would survive, at least until they happened upon wherever they were fated to go.
Nevertheless, Nomi was antsy. They had never even laid eyes upon the sea before its waters took the world for its own, and they found that they did not care for it one bit. Their makeshift raft was in motion, sure, but gazing into the seemingly endless depths of the sea, it felt as though Nomi had been stationary for the entire duration of their voyage. With land, the horizon was ever in flux, but by sea, you could be battered by waves for hours and hours just to end up right where you started, without ever having known. All they could do was summon their last shred of faith that destiny knew what it was doing - a sentiment that felt quite misplaced at this point in time.
Nomi laid on their back, closing their eyes in respite from the monotony of the surrounding vastness. Gods, did they miss the sun. Destiny and everything that comes with it can shove it, they found themself thinking.
Seemingly in an act of cosmic retribution, the waves lifted the rotting wagon and dashed it splintering against the shallows of an encroaching coastline, unceremoniously dumping Nomi onto the shore like a sack of yesterday's produce. They laid there for a quiet moment, dislodging saltwater from their mouth in a neat geyser, before releasing a deep sigh into the air.
"I suppose that's only fair." They offered to the universe at large. "What comes next, then?"
|
|
Paragon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Appearance: The impressionable Paragon is the antithesis of his father where they hoped he would be his mirror. Fit, but wiry, he takes after his mother's frame. He dons a teal color that fades to white on his chest and face, like shallow waters in the sunlight. He has no scales and instead has the same thick skin as a moray eel, which can light up and change colors in certain areas around his eyes, neck, and shoulders. What seems to be hair on his head is a slippery cilium that is very much alive and does not absorb water or weigh him down. His teeth are quite human, albeit with a few more pointy ones, as his diet is widely carnivorous. In between his arms to his torso is a thin membrane that helps him swim. The same membrane can be seen between his fingers and toes. Between his shoulders, he has a large dorsal held up by a stiff spine with a clear membrane attaching it to his mid-back. His gills sit along his ribcage.
On land, he stands at 5'8".
________________________________________________________
Equipment: Paragon wields a spear that is more adept for fishing than it is for fighting, though it is made to hunt large, sometimes dangerous prey. The base is made from bone, while the head is made from the thorny tooth of the same prey. Though only a few inches in length, the tooth is ideal for piercing fish.
_________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though not half as fast as his counterpart, Cutthroat, Paragon boasts a speed and agility that is still impressive among his peers. His strength and combat abilities are nothing to boast about, but his people are sure he will come into them one day to be the Paragon of his father, their great and fearless leader.
Unlike most of his people, he is amphibious and has a set of lungs alongside his gills. As long as he stays moist, he can spend long amounts of time on land.
Registered: Jun 10, 2021 0:18:17 GMT -5
|
Post by Paragon on Jun 13, 2021 21:09:30 GMT -5
The water was dead.
There were no waves, no reefs, no bottom. There was just a void. On the surface, a mist circled them, but it gave so little for what it concealed. Sometimes it was floating debris, and now again, a school of fish that was just enough to keep them going. On a particularly frightening day, a beast swam up from the void and swallowed up one of their own. It did not live long enough to disappear back into the void, but every one of them was woefully frightened from then on.
Paragon, a prince hailing from vast, tropical seas, with two legs and fins that helped him traverse between the world below and the world above, was particularly fearful. They had started their journey confused, but hopeful, as his father was leading the charge. That he was closeby offered the comfort and confidence that Paragon himself could not muster now that Legend disappeared in a charge against a sea beast with ten of his best men. Now, Paragon and forty others were swimming aimlessly through the mist, growing weaker and more afraid every single day. They had lost so many more in the days past, either to madness or starvation. Cutthroat, one of the most adept hunters of their clan, did what she could, but even she was beginning to slow down.
Hope was all but gone when, at long last, a wall of coral and stone greeted them. Then, dancing in spiderweb patterns atop their faces, was the sun shining through the waves.
And if they had breath to gasp, the sight would have taken it from every single one.
|
|
Ingemar
New
Roleplay posts: 1
Age: 30
Appearance: Brightly colored, she is a mermaid of average weight and size. She has flowy hair and fins of shades of blue and red.
Equipment: Trident
Sack filled with odds and ends
Skills and Abilities: She has the ability to sing when not in water, much like a siren who lures folk in...
Biography: Ingemar was born in a world of water. She had been to the surface, but never seen land before. But now, after swimming for ages, she seems to have found the Isles.
There is not much else that is known about Inegmar, she prefers to be tightlipped about her past.
Registered: Jun 13, 2021 20:13:10 GMT -5
|
Post by Ingemar on Jun 14, 2021 10:06:44 GMT -5
The swim was exhausting. She had gone to surface for her people to survey the weather, for it affected the hunt for food. There was a raging storm, and suddenly a gust of wind that carried a large and crashing wave with it. The mermaid was thrown through the water into a disorienting dervish. When she surfaced again, it was to a vast mist surrounding her. And when she dove? Only a void.
That had to have been weeks ago, she thought in exhaustion. She then found herself breaking surface again, only to see sunshine dancing on the water above her. Her eyes widened as she saw the curious site before her. Is that what land looked like?
She found her spirit again and dove back down, swimming toward shore with hope in her heart.
|
|
Toban Gwyllt
New
Roleplay posts: 1
Age: 26
Appearance: He stands at a tall, 6'4" with his light blonde hair blows gently in the breeze. He peers at you with almost gray blue eyes, his face almost boyish despite his size.
Equipment: ------
Toban carries around only what is on his back; his clothing, his armor, his sword and shield, and his rucksack.
He wears the plate armor of a knight as well as chain-mail, a hybrid of both really.
------
Skills and Abilities: He was trained to be a knight, so he is trained in melee as well as hand to hand combat.
He has the basic skills of survival, such as fire starting and water collecting
He is a decent singer, a baritone.
------
Registered: May 2, 2021 9:41:44 GMT -5
|
Post by Toban Gwyllt on Jun 14, 2021 10:13:09 GMT -5
For Toban, he did not remember the mist. He was floating, simply floating in the small rowboat, half-dead as it were. His eyes were closed like he had died, but he was alive still. There was nothing to do but to sleep and eat, and even eating was hard to do when one hardly had energy to do anything. He awoke to the warmth of the sun on his face, squinting up into suddenly blue skies as the mist parted around him.
He sat up slowly, weakly, and looked about. Land... Land? Oh, shit, LAND! With a sob that tore through his chest, he grabbed for the oars and found some energy he didn't know he had in him. The oars took him toward land too slowly for his liking.
What a nightmare it had all been!
He just wanted to see that it was over. His stomach growled. He would have to find food. He rowed frantically toward shore...
|
|
Ti'el
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Appearance: Tiny and lithe, Ti'el is as spritely as the desert fox that she resembles. Two brown, tall ears sit atop her head in a nest of messy blonde hair. Spots of dark melanin decorate her face, stretching from the inside of her eyes down the bridge of her nose. They also freckle the back of her neck, her arms, and her stomach.
Though her body is predominantly human, her feet do end in dainty paws. Stretching from her lower back is an incredibly fluffy, golden tail with a hazel stripe down the middle.
Her eyes are a dark, washed-out blue, making it difficult to tell whether her pupils are slit or round.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Though she does not enjoy combat, Ti'el is a fine hunter by nature. Small animals and insects cannot escape her grasp when her stomach when she is hankering for a meal, and sometimes even larger prey, perhaps even deer, will find themselves in danger from the vulx's claws. She has incredible hearing, good enough to detect prey underground, and can survive with very little water for long amounts of time. She has a fantastic resistance to heat but suffers greatly in cold climates. Though not strong, Ti'el is very agile and swift. Scaling trees or skirting through a forest is no difficult task for her.
Registered: Jun 10, 2021 0:21:14 GMT -5
|
Post by Ti'el on Jun 14, 2021 17:28:38 GMT -5
The vulx's journey was much like everyone else's. One moment, she was prancing around the forest looking for something to eat. The next, she was waist-deep in water, getting swept away in a magical tide. It had taken her every drop of energy she had to summon a lotus large enough to bear her weight, and she almost didn't manage it, were it not for a desperate fear of drowning pushing her to the edge. Even now, when she could write and read and speak as most people could, she still could not swim.
She floated like this for quite a while, trapped in the bud of the hut-sized lotus. For much of it, she was asleep, her little body weary from the effort it took to save herself. Then, after several days, she awoke, swathed in a dull grey that was the sun trying to pierce through the mist. It wasn't like the normal sun, and sometimes Ti'el wondered if it was something else altogether. It never turned to night, nor was it ever truly day. It wasn't the wickedly bright colors of evening or morning. Something about it reminded Ti'el of the wet season. All the water around her only served to further this notion. It must have become the rainy season when she wasn't looking and it just hadn't stopped!
But this was nonsense and she knew it.
As the weeks crept by, she would feast on the petals of the lotus. At one point, she'd eaten so much that she could poke her hand through the layered petals. She did not rip them apart, afraid that she would damage her only vessel, but she could peek an eye through it to see the endless mists around her. Sometimes, fish would come to nibble at the leaves of the flower, giving the vulx ample time to lash out and catch them for eating. It was better than just eating at a flower for days on end, but fish began to bore her after the fifth day and she longed for red meat and fruit.
Sometimes, when she decided to sleep, something would bump the lotus violently and frighten the vulx. She dared not look out in fear of seeing what it was. If there was a monster out there about to eat her, she had no chance anyway. Might as well just sleep it away and hope she died in her sleep.
It was one of these occasions where the lotus began to rock back and forth violently. Ti'el woke up in a flurry, rolling around inside of the flower. She attempted to make it to her feet with her hands over her eyes, knowing her demise was closeby at last. Oh, it had been a good life! Even as short as it was!
But it was not done yet.
The young enchantress' ears flattened against her head as the sun blared through her fingers, and she opened her eyes to see that the lotus had bloomed, and with it, the morning sun.
|
|
Lucrezia Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Appearance: Lucrezia is as fair and fine as any porcelain doll, with her long flaxen hair and painted features. Below the neck, however, is a much different story. Made from the finest metals, forged by the most skillful smiths, woven by the adept hands of an artificer, is a body made of armor. It was put together to seem as slender as any young lady's limbs with the toughness of plate and mail. Though no flesh is interwoven in the design, draping skirts and a cape were added to give her a more approachable, more feminine silhouette. Her eyes are a bright blue and swirl with an ethereal light.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Elmar, her ornate war scythe, is a living weapon with two cores, much like herself. He is a fallen warrior with a rigorous amount of life and after-death experience. When held, Elmar can make adjustments to the wielder's body to help them learn how to wield him.
A knife is set into her hip on a scabbard attached to her body in case someone gets too close for the scythe to become useful.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Lucrezia is new to the world and thus has little to no skills of her own. Thankfully, she is equipped with a hardy body and the ability to be dismantled completely without dying. The secret to her life lies in her two magical cores which harbor the parts of her soul. Should those be destroyed, so too would Lucrezia die.
Registered: Jun 10, 2021 0:25:17 GMT -5
|
Post by Lucrezia Fletcher on Jun 14, 2021 21:07:25 GMT -5
A square-rigged caravel floated through the still waters of the mist, silent all save for an older couple at the bow. They spoke in hushed tones to one another, fingers interlocked. The woman, white-haired, dressed in regal purples, clung to a small doll in her other hand as she looked up into the mists, at the shadows looming above.
"I suppose we couldn't escape them forever," she said, laughing bitterly.
The man, with his salt and pepper hair and unkempt beard, groaned a reply, "We knew this wouldn't last forever. You knew better than I."
"Yes, I-" She turned her face into the man's shoulder, wiping tears. "I just wish we had more time."
He raised a hand to her cheek, using his thumb to clear her eyes. His smile was tender enough to ease her heart if only a little. She placed the doll in his hand and together, they held it, gazing at it warmly.
"Is everything ready?" the man asked, grasping his partner's shoulder softly. She nodded, then led them both into the cabin where a body of plate and mail lay on the ground. Silken strands of hair were woven into a mask that was uncannily human, which was to be laid atop a hollow cage that resembled a brain where the head should have been. Piece by piece, they took the armor. the dress, the mask, and the cage, and brought it onto the deck. Together, they laid them out, and when they were neatly assembled, they sat before it, grasping the doll. The woman pulled a finger through its head and sliced it open, fumbling a little clumsily before managing to pull out a blue orb contained by a glass sphere, reinforced by iron rings.
"One for the soul that dwells in the mind, giving us thought," said the enchantress.
The man pulled out a necklace from the folds of his shirt, pulling out a similar orb. "One for the soul that dwells in the heart, giving us passion."
Together, they held out the orbs above the collection they'd made, then began to channel what little magics the mist allowed them. The pieces began to flutter, as though by wind. The wizard sobbed.
"If only I could have watched her grow, as you did."
The enchantress put a hand over his shoulder. "She had no such thing after what happened. I just held her soul until you came by to give her the chance," she said, trying to reassure him, but his tears did not ease.
"What of Reginald? What of Rainier? My sons."
"Perhaps they are still alive, and perhaps they are dead, but we will never know." As the pieces flew away, along with the orbs, the woman took the man's face in her hands, staring into his eyes. "What I do know is that it has been an honor to be loved by you, Tristam Whittle."
A sour little smile lit upon his face as he drew her close, ignoring the cries of the creatures above.
"And I always will, Regina."
|
|
Freyr Ironwolf
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Age: 30
Appearance: Freyr Ironwolf has a very strong body and normally with a white shirt black pants, but whenever he needed to fight, hunt, etc he takes the shirt off
Equipment: He Cary on his person his battle axe who will give a small frostbite around the wound, and A small dagger at all times, he has a water skin
Skills and Abilities: A proficient hunter and expert fighter
Biography: Freyr Ironwolf grew up with Baggi and Astrid, the three played together, they grew together, they fought together, Baggi and Astrid got married, Freyr lost his Father, he inherited the father's axe, as it was passed between generation, he got a daughter and lost a wife, than the Jalr he served died.
Registered: Jun 4, 2021 19:56:46 GMT -5
|
Post by Freyr Ironwolf on Jun 15, 2021 0:18:03 GMT -5
"A legend so old that it's most of its details were lost says that, in a stormy night, much like this one this one, a gigantic battle was fought by two powerful beings, the fight was short but it shook all of Midgard. The loser's weapon broke and a piece fell very very far, some described as 'a fallen star'. You're grandfather believed that his great great grandfather found it, he says that the ground was frozen beneath where it landed, according to him the small piece of metal was so cold that the Dwarves had to bring it into a Vulcano to forge a axe head, and one day this axe will be yours as it was passed through generations to the firstborn."
"Cool," said a sleepy child called me Ásbera Ironwolf as her father showed her his axe
"Goodnight small one."
"Goodnight dad."
Before Freyr Ironwolf could close the door his daughter said, falling asleep
"I wish mom could tell me stories too."
"Me to." The man sighed "me too."
The same girl was sitting besides his father, she was now 16 years old, most of their village was inside of the Inn, people seemed to be agitated waiting for something, they all had weapons too except for the children and some of the women
The deafening silence was broke by Astrid Randviðr as she barged inside the inn and said "it's happening."
Astrid Randviðr is part of the city guard, which Freyer Ironwolf was leader, she is married to the village's carpenter and lumberjack Baggi Randviðr, the three grew up together, and they fought together
Freyr stood one top of the table "Friends, neighbors, fellow guards. After our beloved Jarl died his son took control, for a year we stood quiet, as he took more and more, for a year we endured his greed, now he wants to take our daughters." The man shook his head, the crowd would cuss the new Jarl's name.
"I say we stay quiet no more !" Everyone shouted twice in synchronism, slamming their feet one the ground "His loyal little man are coming to take them, to kill us if they have to, but we, we are Nords." Everyone shouted and stomped the ground once more "We survived long, frozen winters." Once again everyone shouted and stomped "We fought the elfs together and survived, it's not a the greedy cunt's men that will kill us." The crowd started to scream and stomped multiple times, the noise inside the inn could be heard by the man approaching, and most of them hesitated
"You all know the the formation and who to follow, but I'm gonna called the ones that will help me lead us to victory today."
"Astrid Randviðr."
"Baggi Randviðr."
Baggi is Astrid's husband and part of the trio that grew up together, he's also the village's carpenter
"And Fengr Vestmundr"
Fengr like his father is a blacksmith, after his father's death his mother and him came to this village to be closer to their family, also fought beside Freyr against the elfs
"If anyone is injured but can still walk, come back to the in and Líf will try to save your life"
Líf is a mysterious yet kind old lady that worshipped Eir, the Goddess of protection, healing, and mercy, she came one day out of nowhere and her kindness and prayers reached the old Jarl who gave her a small temple"
Everyone left the inn and entered formation, a few man and woman stood behind each leader and Freyr stood in front
Freyr desn't believe in the axe legend, "even though this axe have a cold enchantment that caused frostbite in the wounds, It's not strong enough to cause a fucking earthquake," he normally says when asked about it, grew up with Baggi and Astrid and fought against the elfs with most of the people with them
The Jarl's men would once again hesitated as their enemy started making sounds that could be described as barking, stomping their feet and clanking their weapons
A second of since was fell upon the battlefield, "FORWARD !" Freyr shouted and his people would step by step stomp they're way forward, making a loud noise echo through the streets in front of them.
The enemy soldiers would step back twice before Freyr would shout "CHARGE !" Every man and woman ran gladly towards battle for their cause was just and their fallen would reach Valhalla
Freyr stayed behind, his target was the Jarl himself. The battle started and, although their enemies were certainly intimidated, they had the better equipment, Freyr would avoid direct confrontation in the battlefield, mainly making anyone who tried stop him loose balance and fall before keep moving or others would get in the way of them and he eventually reached the Jarl's house
The man was so confident of his victory that he stood in front of the door, his face was filled with panic as the man stood before him
"Y-you made an oath to..."
"I made an oath to your father, and for my people, not to you," Freyr interrupted "enough words."
Thunder would echo through the sky as the rain started to fall. Freyr stepped forward and the first guard rushed him with a sword but he quickly dodged it counterattacking with his axe, hitting the guard between the ribs and slashing his side open, the skin and meat around the wound quickly became blue and the man felt the burning sensation associated with frostbite plus the deep wound sent the man into shock
The other two man attacked together but Freyr kicked the closest one sending him to the ground, he parried the the other man's attack, pushed him forwards and use the horns of the back of his axe to penetrate the man's head
"If you throw away your weapon and run away I'll show you mercy," said Freyr. The man took the offer and saved his own life
Jarl Benrir shouted profanities as he backed away in fear as Freyr marched towards him, when he decided to finally run, it was to late, Freyr's axe was inside the Jarl's belly and he could see the handle in front of his eyes and feel his guts burning as the axe did it's trick, than, Freyr pulled it upwards sending the Jarl to the frozen underworld
The battle was won, but many died, only a small number of people survived, most of which were inside the inn
Líf came out of the building as soon as the cries of victory was heard and she went straight to Freyr
"Eir was merciful and sent me a vision, this rain will only after Midgard get complete underwater we need to take every provisions we can and set sail. Jarl Freyr Ironwolf."
"Don't call me that, my name is plenty." He looked at everyone and order them to started filling the boats with every. Bit of food and all the water in the Jarl's house and their own
The water was thigh high by the time everything was loaded, every bit of doubt in anyone's mind would be ended by the rapidly rising waters
They sailed in a large ship that had two sails and many paddles for what felt like months after the mist settled, most of the one's who were wounded In the battle didn't survived the trip
It was morning when the noise of seagulls filled the air and the mist cleared to review the isles
|
|
Vailas Steelhand
Committed
Roleplay posts: 67
Age: Somewhere between his mid 30s and mid 40s
Appearance: At first glance, not much about him would stand out to most people. Average height, average weight and build, black hair with a growing goatee, brown eyes, tan colored skin, generally nothing much to draw attention to his own physical form, except for the striking silver and bronze of his left hand, make completely of metal, with blue energy flowing throughout lines in the construction. His clothing is mostly fairly simple as well, with brown pants and a long leather overcoat, under which he wears a gray top. However, on his chest he also wears a brooch made of the same materials as his hand, a large blue gem set in the center.
Equipment: -An assortment of tools for building his magic-powered automatons, known as Magikróm
-5 Variation 1 Magikróm, which are shaped like spheres with a 1.5 foot diameter and eight extendable limbs, with no weaponry. Used only for sorting, transport, and limited help around a house or lab setting. Only two are operational. The other three are functionally scrap metal
-3 Variation 2 Magikróm, of which none are operational. Originally, they were defensive machines with limited movement, having two wheels on their lower half, one spear/horn like appendage, and two magic-energy firing devices on pivots.
-a simple knife.
Skills and Abilities: While he's unable to harness it himself in any meaningful way(except creating his Magikróm), Vailas is highly knowledgeable in the properties and abilities of magic energy and most things tangentially related to it. He is skilled at basic robotics and more or less knows how to work metal into the shapes he needs. Other than that, his only true skill comes from being a well-read individual.
Biography: Hailing from the relatively barren land of Sezæria, survival was often a struggle for Vailas. As such, he had to find a way to make himself useful quick. Having some magical aptitude, as well as quite the intellect, he took to learning the ways of magic. However, he could never learn enough to cast the more complex spells. To get around this, he learned how to impart his magic into robotic entities, to power them. While some thought of this as being genius, many also feared him for it, and one attempted to be rid of him in his sleep. He got away, but he lost his hand in the process, eventually replacing it with the same sort of magical technology he used in his machines. He soon became much more reclusive, after that happened, and rumors around the town said he turned to less morally sound ways of practicing his craft, though it was never specified how bad it got. Near the time of the flood, he had found his way to the shore where he acquired a decent sized vessel, manning it with himself and a number of his machinations, many of which did not survive the voyage once the waters hit.
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:04:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Vailas Steelhand on Jun 15, 2021 21:54:41 GMT -5
I have lost track of the days. The fog on the waters continues to be ever-present, and while I know not all of the effects it has, it most assuredly has strange characteristics to it. Just today, another two Variant 2's went inert, and I cannot help but believe this mist has something to do with it. If I am not careful, the last of the Variant 3 models might-
The boat rocks, hit with a particularly strong wave. The sudden turbulence disturbs Vailas' writing, leaving a score of ink trailing from the end of the last letter over towards the right side of the page. He grumbles to himself as he stands, assuming that this wouldn't be the last of the rocking and that continuing to write at current moment would only make it less legible. He leans forwards, right hand pinching the bridge of his nose, left hand supporting him on the desk, metallic fingers tapping against the old wood. This voyage was taking its toll. He was low on food, water was becoming scarce, and more and more of his creations were permanently powering down every day. Vailas stands straight again, stretching upwards. turning to the door of his cabin, he walks out into the fog-filtered sunlight, The haze signaling another dreary day on the water, an occurrence seeming more and more to be just as endless as this sea they sailed on. He adjusts the brooch on his coat as he turns to look at the ship's helm, where a humanoid figure of steel and brass manned the wheel robotically, staring ahead with its emotionless red visor. A small smirk flashed ever so briefly across Vailas' face, admiring what he considered his finest work through the thick air.
...A thick air that seemed to be starting to lighten up. Vailas turned quickly on his heel, turning his attention ahead. He squints his eyes as a silhouette becomes clearer in the slowly lifting mist. A silhouette of an island. His eyes widen as his voice signifies his cautious optimism, muttering a single word:
"Land."
|
|
Variant 3-2
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Less than 2 years of operation
Appearance: A very sleek, humanoid design, primarily silver in color with bronze accents at the joints as well as along the torso and head areas. Roughly 5'6" tall with a slim body. Blue energy seems to trace lines along the body, though they have slowed and dulled since arriving at the island, with the lines seeming to run outwards from the torso area and towards the extremities.
Equipment: A fully armored body, resulting in limited range of motion, yet high resilience to physical attacks. Two short, thin limbs that can come out of the back. Two tube-like attachments on the underside of its upper arms, with holes in them near the elbows.
Skills and Abilities: The ability to harness magical energy for weaponry, including two short magic blades coming out of the arms and forming above the hands, similar to kama, two quarter-sphere shaped shields that appear out of the limbs attached to the back, or the ability to shoot weak magic missiles from either arm-cannon. The only catch is that only one of these can be active at a time due to the deficiency of magic on the isles due to the mist. It is powered by magic, so any senses or physical traits it would have that might have been considered superior to those of humans are rendered moot, other than an ability to sense magical energy and its use in an area around it. It has an ability to synthesize human speech and can understand a wide variety of human languages.
Biography: The second model of Variation 3 Magikróm produced by Vailas Steelhand, creator of magic-powered robotic automatons. This is the only Variation 3 known to have survived the flood. A general purpose model able to adapt to most commands given. Variation 3 models are the first humanoid model to be crafted by Vailas. Despite its entirely metallic appearance, its movements are...surprisingly fluid and humanoid.
Allegiances: Vailas Steelhand
Registered: Apr 24, 2021 23:02:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Variant 3-2 on Jun 15, 2021 22:05:18 GMT -5
Variant 3-2, having also spotted the land growing clearer in front of them by the second, keeps hold of the wheel, analyzing the shore best it can from this distance, looking for a good spot to land. After seeing a spot that seemed to be safe for them, it adjusts course, veering towards the decided landing point. "Suitable location detected on the shore. Prepare for landing within the hour." It says in a robotic, near-monotone voice. Despite having already decided on a landing location, 3-2 continues to scan across the visage of the island, almost as if...admiring it. Variant 3-2 detects an internal error. It corrects itself accordingly. Variant 3-2 focuses in on the decided landing spot, deftly steering towards it.
|
|
Crown of Fingers
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 80+
Appearance: Around 9ft tall with a body visually composed of a red marbled fleshy substance and hard bony plates, three legs terminating in roughly spherical nubs, a tall spire of meat where a head is located on a human, near the top of this spire is a vaguely humanoid mask devoid of most facial features. At the top of the spire are eight fully functional fingers. No visible eyes, ears, nose or mouth.
Equipment: A 10ft pole comprised of tough wood with homunculus carapace on both ends
Skills and Abilities: Due to their alien biology their internal antenna allows them to perceive the world based entirely on waves, airwaves for shape and sound and lightwaves for colour as well as other wavelengths but I doubt anyone's going be using radios or microwaves, another trait shared by all faceless is their ability to learn voraciously, they are capable of learning by observation, mimicking activities, reading, hearing and eating things, furthermore they are capable of growing new body parts to solve problems though this needs time to analyse the problem, gather and consume organic material and then grow the part the process can take up to days depending on the size and complexity of the part. Their carapace plating is completely disposable and can be safely removed if damaged to a point where it is no longer useful. Faceless also struggle to feel pain which helps when they remove parts of themselves to upgrade or replace thus is due to their decentralised nervous system. Furthermore the faceless can safely eat and digest any organic matter even if it's horribly rotten as they are naturally immune to infections due to their tendency to simply devour whatever's infecting them. Crown of Fingers can expel a stream stream of corrosive acids a short distance and can of course grip things with it's decorative crown.
Biography: A former Slave unsure of it's place in the universe, Crown of Fingers is one of many faceless that was lost by in the mist, they acted as a general construction overseer before the mist however they lack any sense of aesthetics as they used to simply instruct others to instructions. At the time of the flood they and other faceless were in transit to a separate colony.
Allegiances: The Faceless Homunculi
Registered: Jun 23, 2021 13:42:54 GMT -5
|
Post by Crown of Fingers on Jun 23, 2021 15:48:15 GMT -5
A bump rocked the interior of the dark ship, Crown of Fingers looked up in confusion and disbelief, had they finally made landfall after drifting for what seemed like centuries? The homunclus groped around in the dark for a window eventually finding one and pulling it open flooding the interior with light, Crown of Fingers took in what they could see of the outside. Forests dotted the terrain and great mountains like the structures of the empire loomed over. The mountains were smaller than the Great pyramid of the capital but they size was comforting.
Striding towards the door and pushing it open with effort the supervisor homunculus stepped out onto the shore. Three legs taking in the new terrain. Orders were whispered, any homunculi who had perished on the journey were recycled and the now independent faceless made their pilgrimage towards the mountains.
|
|
Siansa II Ætrinore
New
Roleplay posts: 1
Age: 20
Appearance: Siansa has a diamond-shaped face. Her blonde hair loosely pulled back into a french-styled hair knot. Loose strands of hair flow gently from her head and blow easily in the wind. Her eyes are emerald green and one would easily be reminded of the appearance of green expanses of healthy plains. Her irises are as brilliant as gemstones, and as clear as them. Attached to her left ear is a gold earing with a yellow tassel extending from it.
She is clad in a darken steel armor fitted for her form. A tan cloak hangs around her shoulders and on top of her chest, leading off into a cape. The armor accentuates her already defined hips by making them wider with fauld plates hanging from her cuirass.
Siansa has a slight hourglass figure, with a moderate chest. The bottom of her figure longer and wider than the top half.
Equipment: Siansa keeps a longsword sheathed to her side, and a set of simple clothes to wear when she doesn't need her armor.
Skills and Abilities: Siansa is well equipped with battle experience and training to fight with her sword.
Biography: Once a princess of a foreign land, Siansa fought against her twin brother in a civil war and in the conclusion lost her family. She was the heir to the throne and would succeed after her father. She left to voyage to another land, to wage war against an enemy kingdom. To her shock she found herself on the Isles.
Allegiances: To the Kingdom Ætrinore and her people!
Registered: May 21, 2021 19:50:41 GMT -5
|
Post by Siansa II Ætrinore on Jun 28, 2021 19:32:51 GMT -5
There is something beyond the mists. The thought tantalized her brain as she stood at the helm of the Azul Lioness. Her long blonde hair carried in the wind. She usually kept it in a loose hair knot at the back of her head, hanging low above her nape. It felt rather relaxing to her to have her hair loose in the wind, the sensation almost freeing from their current plight. She commanded this caravel, well actually she commanded a fleet of them. Her ship, the Azul Lioness, was the only member of the fleet to make it through the mists, even though there had been no warfare at sea. It was strange to her, how a whole fleet could merely vanish within a fog and it worried her. It created a fear in the back of her mind that felt as if some hand-spanning spider was crawling up and down her back. The painted blue bow of the juts past the transparent blue waves. White foam crashing against the white carven lioness figurehead. She could see it, there was land ahead.To the east lied a desert, and from what she could make out a more fertile land was west beyond a mountain range. “Lady Siansa!” called one of the ship’s crew, “Land ahoy! Where should we take her highness?” Siansa’s form shifted to her left as she looked at the crewmate. She paused for a moment before giving a second look. She barked “Keep just west of those mountains, it appears we have fertile land just west of the range. We will disembark there.” “And once we do?” the crew member further asked. “Once we reach land, we can survey our situation. If this is our destination, it is paramount we return... if we can return. If it is not, then we are lost... then perhaps we shall make temporary residence.” Siansa looked at her form fitting armor, almost frowning at the thought of putting it away. In truth this armor was a gift to her from an old friend, it was nowhere near as decorated as the plater her father wore into battle, that was a king’s armor. She did however, like how the armor accentuated her form. Her other clothes failed to do so in that regard, as there were a simple garb that loosely hung from her form, the top traditionally colored in the greens and yellows of her home, while the bottom was a simple bark brown. Siansa stepped from her helm and barked a last order, “Ready her for landfall! All hands on deck! Keep an eye for undesirable landing conditions and steer us clear from them!” She entered the captain’s quarters, which was just below the helm. It was small, but it made do in these travels. The ætrinorian navy was always focused on speed and out-maneuvering their enemies and this vessel helped in that regard. Siansa sat on one of the oak chairs and began to unfasten her sabatons and greaves, slowly working her way upwards, until all her armor was off. She had worn the armor, for the simple fact that they had expected warfare within the hour and that hour was passed. She stripped herself of the king’s mail and aketon, before grabbing her garments that were hanging on the hooks. The princess, threw the top over her head and shoulders quickly, pulling it down and around her abdomen. It was easily oversize for her, hanging to her mid-thighs, when most should be hanging just below her waist. She didn’t mind it, since the shirt was originally her brother’s. Siansa pulled up the trousers and fastened them with a black cord. She was as ready as she could be, even if she wanted to give up her lunch from all this uneasiness. “Lady Siansa! You need to see this!” Siansa entered the fray, the bustle of sailors at both sides. Each was moving in a strange synchronicity that she had yet to understand. They obeyed her well. They always did and it almost disappointed her to see them act in such clockwork. Siansa took to where the voice called, the bow of the ship. Sir Kæziar stood at the bow of the ship, his foot resting on the edge of the railing. He turned to face Siansa and simply smiled, “Never before did I imagine such a gift in my life.” “KÆZIAR!” Siansa collided with the older knight, embracing him. Tears leaked from her eyes and she simply asked, “Teacher, how are you here?” “I do not know my lady,” the knight stated, “I was beginning the campaign against the Lingesh, when the Red Songster was enveloped by fog, my next memory of myself standing here.”
|
|
Molenya Tideborn
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Appearance: On the surface, Mols seems to be a relatively unassuming mermaid, with a friendly face, kind eyes, and a pretty face. She has slightly narrow green eyes under a pair of thick eyebrows, usually filled with a relaxed amusement, and between them sits a small nose. Though her smile is usually genuine and filled with a row of pearly whites, it can be a little crooked at times, but it has never bothered her before. Her wavy brown hair sinks down past her shoulder blades and isn’t usually kept in any particular style, instead just thrown to one side when she climbs from the water.
The top half of her body is that of a sli, human woman, of course, without any sort of obvious markings other than a mole on her right breast, and two long, jagged scars just below the gills that sit around the bottom of her ribs. The fish half of her body starts around her groin and is about three times as long as her torso. From a glance, it appears to be shark-like, with a large dorsal fin jutting at the base of her spine, followed by another, slightly smaller fin further down with a pair of matching pelvic fins, just before her massive caudal fin. Though her front is a soft, blue-ish white, her back is a much darker hue and decorated by patterns of white spots, all down her sides and back, and all segmented by thin white lines.
When in the dark, however, Molenya’s bioluminescence becomes apparent. All across her body, light blues, greens, and pinks decorate her form in all sorts of hand-painted patterns. These tattoos had been collected over several years, and come in the form of runes, lines, swirls, and even the depiction of swimming fish down her sides. They even cover her face, with her lips and eyelids tattooed to be a brilliant light blue. The rest of her facial tattoos seem to be a mixture of make-up like patterns, and swirls that decorate her cheeks and forehead. Most of these tattoos, to Mol’s pride, are done herself.
Even her hair seems to change in low light, with several neon blue highlights forming amongst the brown.
Equipment: Molenya, or more accurately her whaleman friend Barry, carries a large satchel filled with equipment. As an apothecary, the mermaid carries a mortar and pestle, several smaller tools for cutting and manipulating her ingredients, several jars for storage, and a handful of flasks for brewing her potions and medicines.
Other than some decorative necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and a small utility belt, Molenya generally doesn’t wear any clothes while under water. Where she came from, they didn’t find much need for such things, enjoying the freedom the open ocean afforded them. However, she is not inexperienced with outsiders, and understands that some may be put off by this, so she usually carries a small bag at the back of her belt that contains a small, crude brazier fashioned from kelp and coral, and a matching thin skirt to cover the parts some cultures may find inappropriate.
Finally, she knows better than to be unarmed under the seas, and will often carry a spear with an ornate, long, sharp tip.
Allegiances: Barry, the whaleman godfatrher.
Registered: Jun 30, 2021 2:20:49 GMT -5
|
Post by Molenya Tideborn on Jun 30, 2021 2:51:46 GMT -5
The water above seemed so… murky. Definitely not as clear as the tropical waters of home, no sir. Not even in the slightest! Whatever was above the water, whatever that mist was, it was doing one hell of a job blocking the sunlight from piercing through the endless blue waters.
“What do you think it is?” the mermaid asks, sitting on a rock deep below the surface and staring up into the abyss above. “Can’t be fog, it’s lasted way too long. I feel like we’ve been under it for days by now.” The Mermaid seemed to speak without opening her mouth, instead her words came in the form of a series of whistles and clicks that sounded from the gills that sat along the underside of her ribs.
“Could be anythin’,'' came the deep, rumbling reply as a bipedal creature marched its way across the sandy floor. Unlike his beautiful mermaid companion, the second creature seemed half whale and half man, but in the opposite way. Atop a stocky, bipedal body sat the head of an old whale, one that sported many scars from countless years marching along the seafloor.
Unlike the mermaid who wore nothing other than a satchel of goods, the whaleman seemed to wear a set of dented, worn armour that had certainly seen better days. Judging by the make of such plating, however, its clear that its days may be numbered but they aren’t over yet. Atop the whaleman’s shoulder rests a large anchor, the tips of which had been blunted into a bludgeoning tool, but the arms sharpened enough to do some real damage. Whoever this creature is, its clear he meant business.
“Could be fog,” he continued, his own voice a deep, melancholy whale song, yet perfectly clear and understood by the mermaid. “Could be mist, could just be a cloudy day.” The whaleman’s blue eyes peered up into the abyss above, watching for any slight glints of sunlight across the surface. “Eh, not far enough above the surface. Doesn’t bother me though.”
“It bothers me,” the mermaid replied with a pout, looking down from her perch at the whaleman, who would likely tower over her if she hadn’t sat so high up. “We could be going in circles for all we know. You know I like to use the sun for navigation.”
“Then we’d definitely be moving in circles,” the whaleman replies with a deep, rumbling laugh. As the whale calmed, he fixed the mermaid with a soft look. “You’re probably just homesick, kid. Don’t worry, we’ll find blue waters and sunshine soon enough.”
The mermaid blinked and shook her head. “Homesick? Nope. Never. Adventure awaits, Barry, I can’t be feeling homesick yet. We only just left, like… I dunno, three days ago?”
“About then. Look, don’t worry about what’s above the surface,” Barry says as he starts his march across the sea bed once again. “And let me worry about what’s below it. You just worry about keeping us on course.”
The Mermaid huffed before lashing her tail and pushes herself up off the rock, revealing a long, shark-like tail that extended behind her. The tail’s front was a soft, blue-ish white, while the spine sported a much darker hue, but still decorated by a series of parallel lines moving across her sides and a series of white dots between them. She gave a flick of her tail and swam one circle around her companion before she matched his pace. “Fine. Let's keep moving then, I guess.”
“Capital idea, marm,” the whale replied with a deep smile. “What is this place we’re headed to anyway, Mols? Some sort of island paradise?”
“Half of which was apparently swallowed up by the water,” Molenya replied, grinning at her companion. “Heard it from the hunters back home. Apparently the worlds above the waters got swallowed up whole, not much left above water. Fine by me, really.”
“Mmm,” the whale murmured. “Think you can trust them?”
“I choose to.” There’s that mischievous grin that always made Barry worried. She was up to no good, he was sure of it. “Besides, if there’s stuff that’s been swallowed up, just think of all the cool dirt-walker artefacts we could find? I wanna see what the deal is with this ‘wine’ stuff I hear so much about.”
“We’re gonna find trouble, aren’t we?” Barry didn’t stop, but he shifted his eyes from the waters ahead to Molenya, one brow raised, a look he often gave her while questioning her motive. It was unfortunate that it happened as often as it did.
“Not if it finds us first!” Then off she went, leaving the poor whale man in a sandy vortex for a brief moment.
“Marvellous…”
|
|
??? ???
Established
Vulx in a box!
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 11
Appearance: It begins at a point, a corner of fluffy dark brown fur with small tufts of fur standing out from the tip of each fox ear. Continuing down, the two fleecy ears meet against a furry mop of near-black hair. The hair waves back and forth down her head, and barely brushed around her soft round skull. Within the smooth carvings of her face are two white pools, with each a circular grassy island at the center. The green is shimmering like emeralds, and her pupils dark as olives. Her nose comes to a sharp small point, and each of her cheeks has a slight blush. The jawline of her face meets at a rounded point, where it arches inward to her thin neck, barely visible behind the long dark brown hair. The majority of the hair is pushed back behind her bare shoulders.
A black cloth mantle wraps around her upper chest, meeting at a blood-red cut jewel inset a frame of gold. Below the mantle of the dress is a simple white silk, making the sleeves and abdomen of the attire. The white cloth layers over a scarlet red bottom portion of the ensemble and frills outwards. The red silk falls down to her knees, bordered by more black cloth.
Peaking underneath the white silks and above the red cloth, and dark brown fluffy fox tail extends from her small body. Her legs are bare, no shoes or silks covering them below her knees.
Registered: Apr 29, 2021 17:32:27 GMT -5
|
Post by ??? ??? on Jun 30, 2021 12:48:06 GMT -5
This wasn't what she expected. The curious vulx was following the kind human for around two weeks now. The human fed her and often bathed her. He often make intricate sounds to the vulx child, as if the human was trying to communicate something. She never understood the sounds, but she knew his scent and became acclimated to his presence enough to follow him around.
What she did understand was her taste in clothes. The simple brown dress the man gave her worked well enough, it was also the only thing he was able to get the vulx child to wear, lest she hissed and clawed back.
They travelled for about a week's journey from the man's home. The vulx not understanding the worried complexion that the man wore. They took a tempory residence on a big boat, the biggest boat the vulx child had ever seen. The only other boats she'd ever saw before this were the rowboats of the village near the man's home. The sheer excitement of a new home made the child's tail sway from side to side while she bounced excitedly.
They took residence on the trading ship, and while extremely curious the vulx child kept to her human's side at all times and often hid behind his legs.
It was perhaps the fifth night during their stay of the vessel, that the vulx girl had gotten more used to her surroundings. She began venturing more and more away from her human at night, often searching for new smells and sights. There was this one crate that caught her attention, a crate filled with beautiful dresses. The child would often sneak away at night to try on these dresses. It was the third night of her doing so that the floods came.
She heard the cry of her human and peaked from the crate. The roar of tall waves made it hard for the vulx to hear his voice and the harsh winds were throwing off her ability to smell him. The crate violently shook and fell from the ship, the vulx screeched from inside the crate to no avail. She was thrown from the crate to one of its wall, only comforted by the dresses cushioning her impact. The constant repetion of the violent shaking causer the vulx to dive under the dresses.
She stayed like this for what felt to her like hours when the waters seemed to calm. The vulx peaked her head out from the crate. What she saw surprised her. Land!
|
|