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Post by The Winterlight Estate on Sept 27, 2023 11:31:46 GMT -5
 A dusky wetland forest coated in thick black mud and seeded with gnarled trees that approximate the color of silver. The Winterlight Estate has taken to calling the trees in this area 'Mistwood'. The area is speckled with mushrooms that glow with a dim blue light. Worms and butterflies holding the same luminescent properties flood the area. |
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28 
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Sept 27, 2023 18:53:43 GMT -5
The swamp, far from being a desolate mud puddle, proved itself to be a diverse ecosystem teeming with life. The fact that most of the life seemed to take the form of buzzing, biting insects did not bother Foxgloves in the slightest, as his cloth body was largely ignored by the bloodsucking swarms. The fact that his companion might not have been so lucky seemed to escape him as he crept silently through the wetland, his pointed shoes barely leaving a mark in the mud as he walked. He moved through the tangle of trees and vines with an unnatural ease, twisting and bending his body at improbable angles to slip through narrow gaps without so much as disturbing the moss. As the pair made their way through the swamp, the points of Foxgloves' hood perked up. He froze in place, his foot hanging over the ground in an awkward half-step as the hood points danced back and forth for a few moments before pointing directly to their south. Swiveling his head around, he turned to Avalon, all the while refusing to move the rest of his body.
"Over that way," he whispered, his voice as soft as a rustle of leaves. "Quiet, now. Listen and you'll hear. Quickly now, Avalon. Hide and make yourself small. Our guide is coming soon. He'll show us the way."
Sure enough, Avalon's ears would soon pick up the distinctive sound of somebody grousing and grumbling to themselves. As the complaining grew closer, Foxgloves slowly slid behind a thin tree, contorting his body like a scarecrow to hide behind its narrow trunk and spindly branches.
"The secret to following someone, Avalon dear," whispered Foxgloves, "is to be quiet. Most people won't notice you if you're very quiet. The quieter you are, the closer you can get. It's easier the closer you are, because then it's harder for them to see you. It's all about blind spots, you see. The further away you are, the smaller their blind spot is. The smaller the blind spot, the more likely that you'll be found out. Here, watch. You should stay back, though. I don't think you're quite as quiet as I am. Not yet, anyways. You'll learn, I'm sure."
He fell silent once more as the griping voice approached, vanishing behind his scraggly little tree. Out of the woods came what could only be a swamp creature, a figure made entirely of mud and goop. As it approached, however, it became clear that it was just an ordinary man who'd suffered the misfortune of falling into the swamp. He let out a neverending stream of curses and complaints as he trudged through the trees, paying little heed to anything except the flies that buzzed around him. The filth concealed his clothing entirely, but Foxgloves wasn't bothered. As far as he knew, there was only one group of people out here that this man could possibly have belonged to. As the man passed them by, Foxgloves held a long, slender finger up to the painted lips of his mask and slipped out of his hiding place. He moved without sound, not even crushing the leaves beneath his feet as he crept up behind the man. Stepping to within a few inches of his quarry, he began to match the man's steps, walking in perfect synchrony. He moved like a shadow, barely far enough away to avoid smudging the man's mud on his coat.
Despite being unable to hear his pursuer, however, the man still seemed to sense that something was wrong. Perhaps it was the empty eyes of Foxgloves' mask on the back of his head, or the mere presence of an unknown figure nearby. Whatever it was, something raised the mud-covered hairs on the back of the man's neck. He whipped around, glaring off into the woods behind him. Foxgloves was faster though, skillfully dodging away to stand right in the man's blind spot. From here, he waved cheerily at Avalon before jumping back into place as the man shook his head and continued on his way. This went on for some time, as the man never quite managed to shake the sense that he was being watched. Every now and again he would turn, scanning around for his unknown pursuer. Every time, Foxgloves would step quickly out of the way, always staying just out of the man's line of sight. It didn't matter how paranoid the man got, he knew. People only believed what their eyes could see, and Foxgloves was very well familiar with how eyes worked. Thus, he continued to step and dance around the man's increasingly nervous glances, waving and gesturing encouragingly to Avalon all the while.
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Avalon
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 25 years old
Appearance: Avalon is a slightly taller than average woman with long red hair, usually arranged in a side braid that falls midway through her back. She has multiple freckles adorning her brown skin throughout her body, though mostly in her back and in her face. Avalon's eyes are a deep shade of red that resembles blood if you stare at them for too long, but her kind smile makes her amicable, that is, unless you make her mad.
She sports a long red jacket that matches her hair and wears black pants and combat boots.
Equipment: Avalon's most notable equipment is her chain whip, which she hides in her jacket, and a dagger at her hip.
Skills and Abilities: She is a powerful sorcerer with a lot of raw magical power that she has trained for years to control. But, Avalon's magic is also corrupted, and she has always struggled to not get overtaken by her powers, sometimes losing control and becoming something monstrous.
However, interestingly enough, since arriving to the Isles Avalon has noticed that she is not battling the corruption nearly as much as she usually does. Though, if she is honest her magic feels odd overall, almost as if it is being greatly filtered and it takes a bigger effort to cast any spells.
Though mainly a caster and a goofball, Avalon is actually a good strategist and negotiator, having spent many years traveling through Komali and learning from a powerful pirate lord, and slowly uncovering memories of her education under a powerful noble group. Her time as a pirate has allowed her to become a formidable fighter, learning to imbue some of her magic into her weapons.
Registered: Dec 15, 2022 0:13:14 GMT -5
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Post by Avalon on Oct 17, 2023 15:21:02 GMT -5
To say that she was impressed would have been an understatement. Avalon watched, mesmerized, as Foxgloves followed the suspecting man. He was so graceful while sneaking, that it almost seemed as if he was dancing. His mastery of stealth made some of the best thieves she had known in Komali seem like amateurs in comparison. Personally, Avalon would not have considered stealth to be her strongest suit. She had certainly gotten better over the years and as she traveled with many companions, but she was a little worried she wouldn’t be able to keep up with Foxgloves.
It was not as if she was bad at stealth per se. In fact, Avalon had become much better at sneaking around than when she first started adventuring. She was particularly proud of how well she could cast spells without alerting any enemies, but her biggest strengths definitely were in spellcasting more than anything. Still, Avalon listened intently as Foxgloves gave her advice on following someone.
She got confused when Foxgloves mentioned that it was harder to get caught the closer you were. That seemed counterintuitive. Yet, it was hard to argue against his logic when he was doing such a good job. Avalon instead chose to focus more on the person Foxgloves was following. She couldn’t make out any distinguishable features, seeing as he was almost entirely covered in mud, but she could at least evaluate if he could be a threat or not. He had a languid build and seemed tired, starved even. Avalon could take him down easily if he attempted anything against them. She really doubted Foxgloves would get caught, though, and the goal was ultimately to follow the person to a larger group that would hopefully know more about Diego’s whereabouts.
The situation seemed to be as safe as it could be, but Avalon could not shake the bad feeling she had since they left the shoreline. Her magic, though still muted, grew louder, as if trying to warn her. Against what, though? It wasn’t Foxgloves, or she would have had this feeling since she woke up. It couldn’t be the person they were following, she was confident in her ability to kill him if needed.
As she noticed Foxgloves motion at her to come closer, Avalon pushed her worries aside. No matter how dangerous, she needed to get Diego back, it was as simple as that. Bracing herself and being as silent as she could ever be, Avalon began getting closer to the mudman. She had noticed that Foxgloves moved out of the way just before the man turned, so she paid more attention to hiding as soon as Foxgloves went to hide, using the surrounding trees to her advantage. She did feel a lot of pity for the mudman though. He seemed to get more stressed every time he turned and saw no one.
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