Soraya Silvertalon
New
Roleplay posts: 8
Age: ─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
𝟖𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Appearance: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐫𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Equipment: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐉𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Skills and Abilities: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Biography: 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧. 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝-𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫. 𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Allegiances: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬
Place of Residence: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬
Registered: Aug 17, 2023 8:42:05 GMT -5
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Post by Soraya Silvertalon on Sept 13, 2023 21:28:40 GMT -5
"If you desire, we can even have a longhouse constructed to your specifications, much like this one."
Soraya's head tipped to the side with her boldness, her smile, and her words, "I DO desire one."
As he turned to address the others within the house, Soraya's silvered gaze turned across their faces as well -- a grey starling in flight as she took in the details of their faces, wrinkles, aches, and pains, their gazes, their noses, the scars on their jaws or hairlines, the commonness of them all, but the obvious togetherness they showed as well. Lorrans were not like this; the Kingdom was not this together when it had succumbed to the fate of the storms. This was new. Different. There was a belonging among them that, for some reason, made Soraya's heart ache for home in that moment -- a sharp twinge she was unfamiliar with, and quickly mentally boxed away.
When Ralf turned to regard her again, she smiled brilliantly. "But of course," she said, and turned to the tables, throwing up her hands, and as she did so--
FWHOOM!
The fire in the hearth, and the fires in the sconces that lined the walls, and even the little flames of the candles scattered along the table BLAZED for a moment before ebbing away. Soraya's dark, feminine clothing moved with her figure as she did, walking slowly the length of the hall, as the trailing ends of her skirts and her sleeves began to drift like smoke, her hair lifting to float on unseen currents.
"In my home, the nights were blacker than pitch, and the dawns more brilliant than gems," Soraya stated, an accent spicing her words. "When the moon was high and fat and round in the sky, we would come together before a fire, and make the figures dance." The gemstone at her throat glowed subtly, as with a twist of her palm and fingers, the flames on the candles LEAPED from their waxy towers, and instead did become figures to dance along the table and the food, tiny footprints scorching where they touched. "The colors of the night burst to life," she spoke, and with a flicker of her other hand, the fire of the hearth turned blue, then green, then red, then purple, "and music filled the air."
She nodded to the Skald that had been playing, and hopefully, the clever man would take this que and start a lively song for which dancers -- either human or flame -- might find a rhythm for.
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Ralf Valgard
Committed
The White Wolf
Roleplay posts: 67
Equipment: Ancestral Sword: An ancient sword passed down in the Valgard family for generations. It is made of a dark, unknown metal. Ralf could potentially channel magical powers through the blade, but he has yet to discover the possibility.
Steel Longsword: Ralf's preferred weapon of choice.
Hirhanic Shield: Ralf's special shield, a gift from his friend Hirhan. It can absorb magical attacks and kinetic energy, to be redirected at his will.
Mariah's Dagger: A magical dagger than can sap magical power from opponent's. Taken from the corpse of Mariah.
Ki'Gar: A traditional garment worn by the Varan. Ralf wears his like a scarf, but other Varan may wear them as capes, sashes, head-dresses, and more. Ralf's is blue, with white trimming, and white wolf's head in the center. The name VALGARD is spelled beneath it. Ki'Gars are knitted from Buunvar hide, making them resistant to damage as well as fireproof.
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Skills and Abilities: Warrior: Ralf is a strong and capable warrior, preferring to use a sword-and-shield combination in combat. Ralf's fighting style focuses on speed, agility, and opportune striking. He wields his sword and shield with impressive dexterity, and complements his style with the powers of his Hirhanic Shield.
Cure of the White Wolf: As per his bloodline, Ralf is cursed with a form of lycanthropy. He transforms into a werewolf, whose hide is nigh-invulnerable and resistant to damage. His speed, strength, and reflexes are greatly increased. Ralf has learned to repress his instincts, but he will unleash the creature if necessary.
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Biography: Ralf is the son of Volrun Valgard, the original heir to the throne of Valland. Volrun was killed in battle at Gripclaw Pass, but his lover Aesa Jojora returned to Asgeir pregnant. Ralf was born and his mother would rule as regent until he came of age.
Ralf, however, opted to travel the world in search of adventure, fame, and wealth. He also wanted to prove his worth, as his rivals criticized his bastard birth.
Ralf is well-traveled, and a highly experienced combatant, explorer, and survivalist. His friend Hirhan created the Hirhanic Shield for him. He also looted a magical dagger from the corpse of Mariah.
Ralf has opted to build a bustling trade hub for his people and allies on the Mistbourne Isles called the Twin Cities, straddling the Ildesian Strait.
Allegiances: Varan
Place of Residence: Twin Cities
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 21:05:09 GMT -5
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Post by Ralf Valgard on Sept 13, 2023 22:02:23 GMT -5
The Varan erupted in a cacophony of roars and cheers as the spectacle of fire unfolded before them. Ralf, the chief among them, leaned in attentively to hear what Soraya had to convey. Every other man and woman in the grand hall also leaned in, for this was a place where warriors recounted epic adventures, skalds wove timeless sagas, and Varan traditions were kept vibrant. Soraya's words held them spellbound. "Ubba! Strike up the talharpa!" Ralf boomed with commanding enthusiasm. Ubba, the skilled skald, promptly began playing a lively and spirited tune, even faster-paced than before. The revelry resumed with renewed vigor - feasting, drinking, and dancing carried on as they had prior to Soraya's arrival, but now with an added intensity, an electrifying fervor in the air. "Join me," Ralf invited, his voice warm and inviting. "Come sit at the high table. Share with me more about yourself and your people. Let us learn of one another's stories and kindred spirits." Meanwhile, Ubba began to sing amdist the revelry: In the land of frost and northern skies, Ralf Valgard bold, with fearless eyes, He sailed the seas, his destiny clear, To conquer lands, without a fear.
With sword in hand and shield held high, He battled giants 'neath the endless sky, Through storm and fire, he'd never yield, This Varan hero, to whom all would yield.
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Queen Qathreen
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Appearance: The queen of the Pchelinaya appears most insect-like of the entire colony. She stands regal with her wings tucked into her backside. Her skin is a yellow tint with black striped markings. She wears a long gold dress that is sleek against her figure and in her dark hair sits a light crown to display her nobility. She stands 6inches tall.
Registered: Nov 27, 2021 1:57:11 GMT -5
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Post by Queen Qathreen on Sept 14, 2023 0:29:47 GMT -5
Sometime after Vidkun's departure, Queen Qathreen arrived at the longhouse, her visit coming late in the day. Upon her arrival, she was greeted by a contingent of imposing Varan warriors, their towering figures adorned in lamellar and chainmail armor. Two of them stood sentinel at the entrance, wielding large round shields, swords, and axes. Though their faces were concealed behind helmets, their flowing hair and beards were visible, each draped in a wolf pelt cloak. These formidable guards were the Wolfguard, Ralf's dedicated personal hearthguard, responsible for safeguarding the door and ensuring the safety of those within. "Um," one of the Wolfguard exchanged a glance with the other, their curiosity piqued by the presence of this exotic visitor, both dangerous to touch yet captivating to behold. "Ralf is currently receiving guests," one of them explained. "Just maintain a respectful distance. Some of the others might become uneasy if you get too close." With that, they allowed Queen Qathreen to enter. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Ralf occupied his chair on an elevated stage, engaged in conversation with important Varan figures. Throughout the hall, men and women were scattered about, partaking in food and drink, sharing laughter, revelry, songs, and tales. "I can assist you, my lady," one of the Wolfguard offered from behind her, his voice courteous. "If you require guidance through the bustling hall and an introduction to Ralf, please do not hesitate to ask. Just share your name and the purpose of your visit." The queen nods and thanks the guard for his time. "I will find my way." Find her way she did. Queen Qathreen made little time in buzzing into the same room that Ralf sits. She waits patiently for a moment of his time. The Pchelinaya remembers to keep her distance should anyone accidentally mistake her for a bee, the consequences could be devastating. The hustle and bustle of the room didn't seem to distract her. She pays little notice to the other people in the room. "Greetings" She approachs Ralf when an open opportunity presents itself. She makes an effort to tuck in the legs connected to her lower appendage into the large ball gown style dress, as to make her seem less abnormal. Queen Qathreen understands that not all may be as welcoming to the appearance of her and her kind. Her wings fit snuggly against her back. "I am the Queen of the Pchelinaya, a race of fae that take after common bees. I am here to seek some sort of peaceful alliance. Our kind are small and as such, we rely on the good word and actions of larger beings to not destroy our homes."
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Vidkun Wewelsburg
Established
Roleplay posts: 42
Appearance: It seems most people who met him have had a varied account of exactly how Vidkun looked.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 15:25:25 GMT -5
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsburg on Sept 14, 2023 1:05:32 GMT -5
Ralf sat in silence, seemingly staring at a display across the room. The wooden fixture had upon it a set of chainmail armor, a helmet, a shield, and a sword - the basic equipment carried by Varan warriors. He thought back to a time when he was a raider; Varan longships would set out from the shores of Asgeir and travel along the coastlines of the Old World, seeking sites to plunder. Many settlements were threatened first, and sometimes the victims paid the Varan to simply leave. The villages and towns which refused were often attacked and looted. In both cases the Varan warriors carried with them great hordes of treasure. The more successful clans became wealthy and more powerful, absorbing their neighbors through persuasion, bribery, intimidation, or outright belligerence. They were able to raise large armies, and soon these large armies replaced the raiding parties. Varan jarls, styling themselves as kings now, transported large armies on their fleets. The backbone of these forces were huscarls and hirdmen - well-equipped, experienced, and loyal infantrymen. They were supported by skilled archers and frenzied berserkers. Their numbers were supplemented by the leidang - conscripted warriors who were often eager to join in hopes of acquiring wealth. The Varan rarely used cavalry, but would often mount their best troops when given the option, or designate a number of skirmish cavalry. Varan runesmiths were often found in the armies as well, to enhance the weapons, armor, and capabilities of the troops. "I will call forth the hirdmen," he finally said. "I'm sure my brothers and sisters are itching for a good raid. Would this suffice?" He waited for Vidkun's answer, then continued. "Let us deal with this problem first; it will be the easiest and quickest. That will give us the room and time to deal with the kelpie. What say you?" Vidkun followed ralf's gaze, taking in the old weapons. He knew the history therein well enough, respected it, even! But he found it insufficient, outdated. Oh it was all well and good to have these wild warriors, but they'd need taming, a leash. He wasn't going to say that of course, not to the living legend before him. As Ralf said his proposal, Vidkun stood up. He bowed, one hand on his breast and the other raised far off behind him. "You do me a service, Herr Ralf. But... this oughtn't be a raid." he said, sitting once more. "Or, at least not what the books call a raid, your warlordliness." Vidkun continued. He drew a pair of swords from his belt, putting them both gently on the ground. "The left blade is forged with Hagbane, a tale perhaps you know of. The right? Well, you know how there's iron in the blood of men? Take from that what you will. Many of my order had such swords. Thousands of lives would need to be spent to make one such weapon. Yet they did it. Why? Well they're damn good swords, all sorts of esoteric nonsense about them from how souls are tied to the stuff. Don't remember the full explanation right this moment but it kade them damn sharp! But you know what the important part is? It sends a message that we'll fucking kill you and anybody you shared tea with in your life. Its the unspoken threat that the hat carries, the one that makes it so easy for people here to imagine me burning their daughters at the stake for brewing love potions and the like. Not that' I'd do it. Ambitious girl like that is better employed than burned!" The Hunter looked up the ceiling, sighing contentedly. "Where was I going with this? Simple enough. Its not just a raid. There's dozens of little seeds of civilizations on this island. We're not going to let these cave-dwellers be one. Its a culling. A slaughter, like animals. Any lad with hair on his face is a target. Any lass with so much as a knife that looks like it can do more than cook is too. Any kids will be put with new families, depending on their age made forget about mummy and daddy or explained very concisely why they were not nice. The kelpies are a problem, but if we show we can be nasty little bastards ourselves maybe our position negotiating with them will be a little simpler. Maybe they will get scared of the day we figure out a way to go down to the depths and find them and how we will hurt them then."
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Ralf Valgard
Committed
The White Wolf
Roleplay posts: 67
Equipment: Ancestral Sword: An ancient sword passed down in the Valgard family for generations. It is made of a dark, unknown metal. Ralf could potentially channel magical powers through the blade, but he has yet to discover the possibility.
Steel Longsword: Ralf's preferred weapon of choice.
Hirhanic Shield: Ralf's special shield, a gift from his friend Hirhan. It can absorb magical attacks and kinetic energy, to be redirected at his will.
Mariah's Dagger: A magical dagger than can sap magical power from opponent's. Taken from the corpse of Mariah.
Ki'Gar: A traditional garment worn by the Varan. Ralf wears his like a scarf, but other Varan may wear them as capes, sashes, head-dresses, and more. Ralf's is blue, with white trimming, and white wolf's head in the center. The name VALGARD is spelled beneath it. Ki'Gars are knitted from Buunvar hide, making them resistant to damage as well as fireproof.
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Skills and Abilities: Warrior: Ralf is a strong and capable warrior, preferring to use a sword-and-shield combination in combat. Ralf's fighting style focuses on speed, agility, and opportune striking. He wields his sword and shield with impressive dexterity, and complements his style with the powers of his Hirhanic Shield.
Cure of the White Wolf: As per his bloodline, Ralf is cursed with a form of lycanthropy. He transforms into a werewolf, whose hide is nigh-invulnerable and resistant to damage. His speed, strength, and reflexes are greatly increased. Ralf has learned to repress his instincts, but he will unleash the creature if necessary.
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Biography: Ralf is the son of Volrun Valgard, the original heir to the throne of Valland. Volrun was killed in battle at Gripclaw Pass, but his lover Aesa Jojora returned to Asgeir pregnant. Ralf was born and his mother would rule as regent until he came of age.
Ralf, however, opted to travel the world in search of adventure, fame, and wealth. He also wanted to prove his worth, as his rivals criticized his bastard birth.
Ralf is well-traveled, and a highly experienced combatant, explorer, and survivalist. His friend Hirhan created the Hirhanic Shield for him. He also looted a magical dagger from the corpse of Mariah.
Ralf has opted to build a bustling trade hub for his people and allies on the Mistbourne Isles called the Twin Cities, straddling the Ildesian Strait.
Allegiances: Varan
Place of Residence: Twin Cities
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 21:05:09 GMT -5
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Post by Ralf Valgard on Sept 14, 2023 11:31:23 GMT -5
Vidkun followed ralf's gaze, taking in the old weapons. He knew the history therein well enough, respected it, even! But he found it insufficient, outdated. Oh it was all well and good to have these wild warriors, but they'd need taming, a leash. He wasn't going to say that of course, not to the living legend before him. As Ralf said his proposal, Vidkun stood up. He bowed, one hand on his breast and the other raised far off behind him. "You do me a service, Herr Ralf. But... this oughtn't be a raid." he said, sitting once more. "Or, at least not what the books call a raid, your warlordliness." Vidkun continued. He drew a pair of swords from his belt, putting them both gently on the ground. "The left blade is forged with Hagbane, a tale perhaps you know of. The right? Well, you know how there's iron in the blood of men? Take from that what you will. Many of my order had such swords. Thousands of lives would need to be spent to make one such weapon. Yet they did it. Why? Well they're damn good swords, all sorts of esoteric nonsense about them from how souls are tied to the stuff. Don't remember the full explanation right this moment but it kade them damn sharp! But you know what the important part is? It sends a message that we'll fucking kill you and anybody you shared tea with in your life. Its the unspoken threat that the hat carries, the one that makes it so easy for people here to imagine me burning their daughters at the stake for brewing love potions and the like. Not that' I'd do it. Ambitious girl like that is better employed than burned!" The Hunter looked up the ceiling, sighing contentedly. "Where was I going with this? Simple enough. Its not just a raid. There's dozens of little seeds of civilizations on this island. We're not going to let these cave-dwellers be one. Its a culling. A slaughter, like animals. Any lad with hair on his face is a target. Any lass with so much as a knife that looks like it can do more than cook is too. Any kids will be put with new families, depending on their age made forget about mummy and daddy or explained very concisely why they were not nice. The kelpies are a problem, but if we show we can be nasty little bastards ourselves maybe our position negotiating with them will be a little simpler. Maybe they will get scared of the day we figure out a way to go down to the depths and find them and how we will hurt them then." Ralf's interest was piqued as he listened to Vidkun. The name of these witch-hunters and the dark reputation that preceded them were not unfamiliar to him. The fear they inspired was well-earned, not just among their adversaries but even within their own circles. Ralf couldn't help but admire the sharp intellect and cunning prowess that seemed to define each of these enigmatic agents. They were individuals of unparalleled value, unflinchingly dedicated to their cause. To count Vidkun as a friend and partner was a stroke of luck that Ralf greatly appreciated. He absorbed every detail of Vidkun's plan, a strategy that might have sounded sinister to others but resonated differently with Ralf, a Varan with a past as a raider who had seen the darker side of life. "Consul Vidkun," Ralf acknowledged with a nod, leaning forward in his chair. "Your cunning knows no equal, and I place my trust in your capable hands. Just instruct me on what you require of me, and it shall be done." Ralf knew he could rally some of his fellow Varan to join Vidkun in his mission if needed. "In fact," he added, pausing briefly as if a thought had just occurred to him, "I have an ideal candidate in mind who would be the perfect addition to accompany you on this endeavor."
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Ralf Valgard
Committed
The White Wolf
Roleplay posts: 67
Equipment: Ancestral Sword: An ancient sword passed down in the Valgard family for generations. It is made of a dark, unknown metal. Ralf could potentially channel magical powers through the blade, but he has yet to discover the possibility.
Steel Longsword: Ralf's preferred weapon of choice.
Hirhanic Shield: Ralf's special shield, a gift from his friend Hirhan. It can absorb magical attacks and kinetic energy, to be redirected at his will.
Mariah's Dagger: A magical dagger than can sap magical power from opponent's. Taken from the corpse of Mariah.
Ki'Gar: A traditional garment worn by the Varan. Ralf wears his like a scarf, but other Varan may wear them as capes, sashes, head-dresses, and more. Ralf's is blue, with white trimming, and white wolf's head in the center. The name VALGARD is spelled beneath it. Ki'Gars are knitted from Buunvar hide, making them resistant to damage as well as fireproof.
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Skills and Abilities: Warrior: Ralf is a strong and capable warrior, preferring to use a sword-and-shield combination in combat. Ralf's fighting style focuses on speed, agility, and opportune striking. He wields his sword and shield with impressive dexterity, and complements his style with the powers of his Hirhanic Shield.
Cure of the White Wolf: As per his bloodline, Ralf is cursed with a form of lycanthropy. He transforms into a werewolf, whose hide is nigh-invulnerable and resistant to damage. His speed, strength, and reflexes are greatly increased. Ralf has learned to repress his instincts, but he will unleash the creature if necessary.
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Biography: Ralf is the son of Volrun Valgard, the original heir to the throne of Valland. Volrun was killed in battle at Gripclaw Pass, but his lover Aesa Jojora returned to Asgeir pregnant. Ralf was born and his mother would rule as regent until he came of age.
Ralf, however, opted to travel the world in search of adventure, fame, and wealth. He also wanted to prove his worth, as his rivals criticized his bastard birth.
Ralf is well-traveled, and a highly experienced combatant, explorer, and survivalist. His friend Hirhan created the Hirhanic Shield for him. He also looted a magical dagger from the corpse of Mariah.
Ralf has opted to build a bustling trade hub for his people and allies on the Mistbourne Isles called the Twin Cities, straddling the Ildesian Strait.
Allegiances: Varan
Place of Residence: Twin Cities
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 21:05:09 GMT -5
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Post by Ralf Valgard on Sept 14, 2023 11:40:32 GMT -5
The queen nods and thanks the guard for his time. "I will find my way." Find her way she did. Queen Qathreen made little time in buzzing into the same room that Ralf sits. She waits patiently for a moment of his time. The Pchelinaya remembers to keep her distance should anyone accidentally mistake her for a bee, the consequences could be devastating. The hustle and bustle of the room didn't seem to distract her. She pays little notice to the other people in the room. "Greetings" She approachs Ralf when an open opportunity presents itself. She makes an effort to tuck in the legs connected to her lower appendage into the large ball gown style dress, as to make her seem less abnormal. Queen Qathreen understands that not all may be as welcoming to the appearance of her and her kind. Her wings fit snuggly against her back. "I am the Queen of the Pchelinaya, a race of fae that take after common bees. I am here to seek some sort of peaceful alliance. Our kind are small and as such, we rely on the good word and actions of larger beings to not destroy our homes." "Oi!" Ralf exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the exotic bee-lady standing before him. He hesitated, not yet attempting to pronounce the name of her race, wary of any potential missteps. "Queen Qathreen, fae," he repeated, extending a respectful greeting. "Hail and well met. I be Ralf Valgard, serving as the consul of the Twin Cities." Ralf's demeanor exuded a sense of genuine pleasure in meeting the Queen, coupled with a keen interest in learning more about the potential alliance she brought with her. "You have shown no ill will toward my people," he observed, his voice firm yet welcoming, "and so, I pledge that my people shall bear no grudge against yours. We are actively seeking allies, and I would welcome you as one of them." He took a moment, his fingers absently stroking his beard as he considered the terms of this burgeoning partnership. "You are most welcome to stay within our city," Ralf offered, "but beyond that, I can grant you land in the south, specifically the forested Cat's Head Peninsula. You may claim those lush woodlands as your own. In return, we ask only for trade between our peoples." Ralf couldn't help but wonder if the bee fae had anything sweet like honey to offer, though he didn't wish to press the matter too directly. "Additionally," he continued, "know that my people stand ready to lend their aid should you ever require it."
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Queen Qathreen
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Appearance: The queen of the Pchelinaya appears most insect-like of the entire colony. She stands regal with her wings tucked into her backside. Her skin is a yellow tint with black striped markings. She wears a long gold dress that is sleek against her figure and in her dark hair sits a light crown to display her nobility. She stands 6inches tall.
Registered: Nov 27, 2021 1:57:11 GMT -5
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Post by Queen Qathreen on Sept 14, 2023 15:23:31 GMT -5
Queen Qathreen curtsies in response to Ralf's warm greeting. "Thank you for accepting my request. I already have a hive to manage. I am quite the busy bee some might but if I find a spare moment I may return to visit. As for the honey, I could have some of my people transport it to a warehouse here or you may send your people to collect it from my hive. If you have a map I can show you where our hive lies."
"I will draft up a proposal plan for this alliance at another time to outline this agreement and the scheduling of honey delivery. This will ensure we have enough honey for you by the scheduled delivery date or pick-up date. I fear that if your town grows under attack I can not aid you very much." The Pchelinaya race is usually a docile race but will attack when provoked. The sting from a bee fae is similar to that of a common bee, but only in dire circumstances do they resort to that tactic. They instead use toothpick-sized weapons made of hardened amber, which is effective against other predatorial insects. Not so effective against the giants of the world.
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Soraya Silvertalon
New
Roleplay posts: 8
Age: ─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
𝟖𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Appearance: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐫𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Equipment: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐉𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Skills and Abilities: 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Biography: 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧. 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝-𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫. 𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Allegiances: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬
Place of Residence: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬
Registered: Aug 17, 2023 8:42:05 GMT -5
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Post by Soraya Silvertalon on Sept 14, 2023 18:50:42 GMT -5
The Varan erupted in a cacophony of roars and cheers as the spectacle of fire unfolded before them. Ralf, the chief among them, leaned in attentively to hear what Soraya had to convey. Every other man and woman in the grand hall also leaned in, for this was a place where warriors recounted epic adventures, skalds wove timeless sagas, and Varan traditions were kept vibrant. Soraya's words held them spellbound. "Ubba! Strike up the talharpa!" Ralf boomed with commanding enthusiasm. Ubba, the skilled skald, promptly began playing a lively and spirited tune, even faster-paced than before. The revelry resumed with renewed vigor - feasting, drinking, and dancing carried on as they had prior to Soraya's arrival, but now with an added intensity, an electrifying fervor in the air. "Join me," Ralf invited, his voice warm and inviting. "Come sit at the high table. Share with me more about yourself and your people. Let us learn of one another's stories and kindred spirits." Meanwhile, Ubba began to sing amdist the revelry: In the land of frost and northern skies, Ralf Valgard bold, with fearless eyes, He sailed the seas, his destiny clear, To conquer lands, without a fear.
With sword in hand and shield held high, He battled giants 'neath the endless sky, Through storm and fire, he'd never yield, This Varan hero, to whom all would yield. Soraya nodded her head in acquiescence to Ralf's command that she join him at the high table, and with a clap! of her hands, sparks drifted into the air as a little flourish for the roaring and stomping and feasting denizens within the longhouse. The sorceress made her way to the high table, and did her best to ignore the exhaustion she felt. Elegant, graceful, like a starlit queen she settled herself into a seat beside the Varan and made herself slowly take a drink of wine, and methodically filled her charger with food. "You must forgive me, my lord, if I am not the most pleasing of conversationalists. I've only just arrived from my ship," she said, turning her head with a pretty chime of the jewelry that dangled from her ears as her smokey gaze struck against his.
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Vidkun Wewelsburg
Established
Roleplay posts: 42
Appearance: It seems most people who met him have had a varied account of exactly how Vidkun looked.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 15:25:25 GMT -5
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsburg on Sept 18, 2023 23:58:43 GMT -5
Vidkun followed ralf's gaze, taking in the old weapons. He knew the history therein well enough, respected it, even! But he found it insufficient, outdated. Oh it was all well and good to have these wild warriors, but they'd need taming, a leash. He wasn't going to say that of course, not to the living legend before him. As Ralf said his proposal, Vidkun stood up. He bowed, one hand on his breast and the other raised far off behind him. "You do me a service, Herr Ralf. But... this oughtn't be a raid." he said, sitting once more. "Or, at least not what the books call a raid, your warlordliness." Vidkun continued. He drew a pair of swords from his belt, putting them both gently on the ground. "The left blade is forged with Hagbane, a tale perhaps you know of. The right? Well, you know how there's iron in the blood of men? Take from that what you will. Many of my order had such swords. Thousands of lives would need to be spent to make one such weapon. Yet they did it. Why? Well they're damn good swords, all sorts of esoteric nonsense about them from how souls are tied to the stuff. Don't remember the full explanation right this moment but it made them damn sharp! But you know what the important part is? It sends a message that we'll fucking kill you and anybody you shared tea with in your life. Its the unspoken threat that the hat carries, the one that makes it so easy for people here to imagine me burning their daughters at the stake for brewing love potions and the like. Not that' I'd do it. Ambitious girl like that is better employed than burned!" The Hunter looked up the ceiling, sighing contentedly. "Where was I going with this? Simple enough. Its not just a raid. There's dozens of little seeds of civilizations on this island. We're not going to let these cave-dwellers be one. Its a culling. A slaughter, like animals. Any lad with hair on his face is a target. Any lass with so much as a knife that looks like it can do more than cook is too. Any kids will be put with new families, depending on their age made forget about mummy and daddy or explained very concisely why they were not nice. The kelpies are a problem, but if we show we can be nasty little bastards ourselves maybe our position negotiating with them will be a little simpler. Maybe they will get scared of the day we figure out a way to go down to the depths and find them and how we will hurt them then." Ralf's interest was piqued as he listened to Vidkun. The name of these witch-hunters and the dark reputation that preceded them were not unfamiliar to him. The fear they inspired was well-earned, not just among their adversaries but even within their own circles. Ralf couldn't help but admire the sharp intellect and cunning prowess that seemed to define each of these enigmatic agents. They were individuals of unparalleled value, unflinchingly dedicated to their cause. To count Vidkun as a friend and partner was a stroke of luck that Ralf greatly appreciated. He absorbed every detail of Vidkun's plan, a strategy that might have sounded sinister to others but resonated differently with Ralf, a Varan with a past as a raider who had seen the darker side of life. "Consul Vidkun," Ralf acknowledged with a nod, leaning forward in his chair. "Your cunning knows no equal, and I place my trust in your capable hands. Just instruct me on what you require of me, and it shall be done." Ralf knew he could rally some of his fellow Varan to join Vidkun in his mission if needed. "In fact," he added, pausing briefly as if a thought had just occurred to him, "I have an ideal candidate in mind who would be the perfect addition to accompany you on this endeavor." Vidkun laughed as Ralf complimented him. "You stroke my ego Ralf! If I was slightly less impressive - or humble! - I would have said no you flatter me. But it is true." As Ralf gave his offer of troops to assist, he nodded, clasping both hands together in thanks and blowing his head slightly. "Excellent, I am already excited to meet this colleague!" he said, rings clinking upon one another loudly as fingers locked deeper with one another and wiggled in delight. "Our people will be able to sleep ever quieter with this done." he said quite self assuredly. "There is but the slightest nuance I have not yet mentioned." he said, for the first time ever in his time with Ralf showing some anxiety. "These people we hunt. They are kin. Distant of course. But their language? Interchangeable with 'auld Asgeiran.' Lot of people out there think Northmen are idiots, I know better than that of course, so I know your warriors would be able to tell. The syntax is somewhat different, I heard more grammatical cases, unfamiliar vocabulary, different pronunciations. But the similarity is undeniable and will be noticed instantly. This, I hope won't be a problem. In the Empire I knew that men of sufficiently hard hearts would not even blink at the thought of fratricide but I know not if these warriors will think the same way."
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