New Isra
Committed
Roleplay posts: 71
Biography: This account represents the NPCs and locations associated with New Isra!
Allegiances: Isra
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:30:20 GMT -5
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Post by New Isra on Dec 8, 2023 19:56:28 GMT -5
As the weather has gradually grown colder and winter has set in across The Isles and New Isra, morale has dimmed. Though the fervor of construction has not abated, the initial excitement of establishing a foothold has worn out. Now people just live here, and it has grown dull.
However, now that the solstice is past, the Yuletide spirit permeates Port Argentium.
Lady Naoki has decreed that Yuletide celebrations shall be observed. This means a few things. First and most visibly, a bonfire is burning in The Forum. It’s not quite the gargantuan Yule log from Old Isra, but it’s a cheery fire nonetheless. The fire will burn day and night for the duration of Yuletide, fueled by the stockpiled efforts of Isra’s brave lumberjacks.
The fire, as the old wives say, is burned to keep The Snowkeeper at bay. The Snowkeeper is a wretched figure, consumed by grief, and hatred for all things warm — as his wife was melted in a raging inferno. As such, he loves snow, the cold, and all things chilly. The legends say that if you wander away from the fire, if your fire goes out, or you are otherwise deprived of warmth, The Snowkeeper will come. He will take you, grind you into snow, and fashion your snow into a new wife for himself -- or so they say.
Beyond the log, the two central practices of Yuletide are sharing gifts and The Feast. The Feast occurs later on, but in the meantime, citizens of Port Argentium are encouraged to share what gifts they have with each other. A small rise in private artisanry has led to the proliferation not just of useful household items, but of trinkets and tchotchkes. The barter economy is in full swing, with townspeople trading shiny shells for housewares, and leftover coins for seasonal treats.
Isras gift to itself is coats. Leatherworkers have been busy for months with the pelts brought back by the hunters. In a nondescript warehouse, coats have slowly been stockpiling for the winter. Some of them are quite nice, big furry things from bears and their ilk. Others are a bit patchier, assembled from several smaller pelts that don't fit together quite right. One's luck depends on their favor with the guardsmen assigned to handing out these coats.
Regardless, Port Argentium is alight with cherry citizens and the occasional chorus of carolers. The holiday spirit is most alive in The Forum, where some enterprising citizens have even seen fit to decorate the streetlights with holly and thistle. In some places, even mistletoe!
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Fiona Blythe
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 26
Appearance: Fiona is a highly attractive woman, with high cheekbones, a small nose, and a soft complexion. Her long, wavy hair is a dark brown, and her eyes a warm, smouldering green. For most of her life, catching eyes was part of her career, she was her own advertisement, so maintaining her good looks what a priority for a long time.
She's of medium height and a toned build, yet soft and supple where it counts the most. The only thing someone might consider as a blemish is a handful of small beauty moles that break up the gentle sea of clear, pale skin.
Equipment: Fiona didn't manage to bring much with her from Isra, largely only the supplies she had in her backpack and the clothes on her back, leaving behind her fortune and vast wardrobe, much to her annoyance.
What she has is a dress donated to her a few months prior, which was made up of browns and beige, very much not her style, but she made it work with some minor adjustments. While a boring outfit, she wasn't as interested in catching eyes as she had been previously.
What mattered most was what was held in her backpack. Tools of the thieving trade, including a grapple rope, three smoke bombs, a set of throwing knives, along with her twin pair of finely crafted blades assigned to her when she became an agent for the crown. As much as she loved her personal blades, the craftsmanship of her new pair gave her reason to retire them.
As well as the blades is her unique, lightweight armour that obscured her identity as well as it protected her. The armoured plates were painted a matte grey, stopping them from reflecting any lights, and the mails covered by lightweight leather materials.
[https://i.imgur.com/2BggqAd.jpg]
Unfortunately her favourite bow was lost months ago.
Skills and Abilities: Fiona's 'day job' made her a master seductress and an incredible lover, for that was why she was paid so highly. She also had a good sense of business, and could mix one hell of a drink.
After dark however, her skills shifted into something more practical for those who lacked certain morals. She is a master thief, making her a master at stealth, lock picking, and acrobatics, as well as having a keen eye and ear for expensive items and valuable information.
In combat, she's fast and accurate with a pair of daggers, and one hell of a shot with a bow.
Biography: Before the end times, Fiona was known as one of the most exclusive and sought after escorts, with her beauty only matched by her grace. She made a small fortune schmoozing and doing business with the rich and famous amongst the nobility of Isra and beyond. She was always quite the seductress and found great pride in parting the rich from their gold in exchange for her company. Eventually she found enough success in her business that she opened a highly exclusive brothel in Isra’s richest district - The Violet Star.
However there was another side to Fiona that many did not know. While she made her public fortune on her back, she made far more as one of Isra’s master thieves, known only to the powers of the underworld. These people would commission Fiona to break into highly secure places, to steal great artefacts or riches, and to test security of their enterprises, to name only a few of Fiona’s talents.
A combination of her secret and public life also earned her a reputation in the underworld as an effective and often reliable information broker. She and those who worked under her were skilled manipulators, pulling secrets from their clients in the form of pillow talk. Nothing got the rich and powerful talking like laying next to a gorgeous woman in a soft bed, where they felt the safest. When suited up, Fiona got her information first hand, breaking into homes and safes to find secrets and information to be used as blackmail or a leg up over the competition.
However, on one fateful evening, she eventually caught the eye of the Empress and was offered an ultimatum. The Imperial secret service knew of her activities, so she could either be made an example of and be imprisoned for a very long time, or put her skills and business to good use in the name of the Empire. She chose the latter.
It was on a mission for the crown that Fiona narrowly escaped death during the great floods. She found herself climbing from a window after a successful mission when the waves came crashing in. Using her acrobatic skills and her prowess, she managed to get above the waves and eventually onto floating debris, carried by the newly formed tides.
She spent a day adrift, completely befuddled over what to do. The city was gone, or maybe she’d just been carried out too far, but her doom seemed inevitable. Fortunately, her lucky streak wasn’t over yet, and she was soon rescued by a galleon that had turned pirate.
Months passed since the end of the world. She changed her name to Emma Thompson to avoid anyone who may know her, and earned her way out of being a prisoner by seducing the captain and his first mate, which in turn allowed her to prove herself in combat through duelling on the deck. She needed a new plan to escape the savages…
Over the course of the months, she sewed the seeds of discontent among the crew, and on a raiding mission on a small refugee fleet she put her plan into effect. A mutiny sparked during the raid and in the chaos she joined the civilian escort ship’s forces, beating the pirates back. Its here that she crossed paths with one Andrea Lanne, who she knew from her time in Isra. She aided the injured cat woman onto a refugee ship before returning to the battle.
The escort ship broke off to give the rest of the fleet an out, and were eventually victorious, but the ship was heavily damaged and the crew dwindled to a fraction of its full strength. Though distrustful, the captain allowed her passage in payment for her assistance, once she explained what she’d done.
Eventually, deep into the mists, the ship would group up with a small brigantine escort and its own refugee ship. While the crew joined the escort, Fiona slipped into the ranks of refugees as Emma once more. She was finally Mistbourne bound to a whole new life.
Registered: Aug 9, 2023 15:09:52 GMT -5
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Post by Fiona Blythe on Dec 10, 2023 10:21:16 GMT -5
Yuletide was always a favourite time of year for the adventurous Fiona, a time of cheer and warmth, markets and song, everyone seemed to get together in harmony with their families. Which, for people like her, meant she could make a fortune from those with deep pockets and nobody to cosy up to but the warm beauties of her profession. It was as warm and cozy as it was incredibly profitable.
Times had changed though. It was that time a few short months ago that Fiona thought she’d be spending Yule huddled up with a bunch of cold, unwashed strangers on a rickety boat out in the mists. It would have been a truly miserable time, moreso than it already was. However, she’d been saved by the fates once more and washed ashore in what would become home, and brought in from the cold by its ruler. Perhaps it was because she was a familiar face, or because she had once worked for the Empress, but none the less it was appreciated.
As such, Fiona was able to secure a nicer coat than most, one with less patches and one that fit far better, one befitting of her station… or perhaps befitting of someone who serves those of a higher station as well as she did.
She stood, bundled up in her nice coat and boots on a platform facing a new building being constructed not too far off of the Forum. Scaffolds had been erected, with stone and wood being carefully placed according to her and the foreman’s designs. The building’s foundations looked sizeable, allocated just a few short days after Fiona’s arrival, but one only expected the best when building a business at the request of Lady Naoki herself.
Fiona poured over the blueprints once more at the foreman’s side, talking shop and pointing out one of the various rooms the building would have, and cross referencing it with a large list of furniture she’d need for each one. The majority would come from the carpenters in town, mostly basic affairs with only a small amount of panache, but there was an exclusive list for the bigger rooms and that list would need to be outsourced. The grumpy Av’ from the forest had already agreed to most of her list, but it was only a matter of time before she’d accept the whole thing. Fiona had a way with words that would surely make them see eye to eye.
She finally took a deep breath and placed a hand on the foreman’s shoulder in thanks before he took his leave to oversee the construction of the outer walls. Before long, she’d have her business, and with it, stature and fortune… not quite what she had before, but it would be enough that she would no longer need to be Lady Naoki’s guest while still living comfortably.
The slightly mysterious woman stood by the makeshift hearth that sat in the corner of the foreman’s platform with a wide smile on her face, one that looked much fuller and healthier since she first arrived. She was finally regaining that look she had cultivated oh so meticulously in the old world.
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Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Dec 10, 2023 10:37:31 GMT -5
Stasia didn’t know what to think of Yule, in fact she’d found it rather confusing. Not the actual event or what it stood for, that she understood perfectly, but with every new sight and sound of it a vivid memory would flood her mind from somewhere across the wide tapestry that made up her body and the souls that had been knitted together. Some were feelings of distaste or downright hate, accompanied by unpleasant memories of the holiday that sent her reeling for just a moment, but other times she found herself filled with cheer, happiness, and a heart full of love at the thought of Yule, with the memories that accompanied them filled with family and friends, parties and laughter. Each one more vivid than the last, so much so she actually needed to take two days off for them all to wash over her and for her to make any sort of sense of them.
Two days locked away in her home were more than enough for her, however, and she was thankful for those who did come around to check on her, even if they worsened her confusion on how to think of Yule. The memories and floods of thought had finally surpassed, and she had been able to think clearly again. These were the memories of all the Israns who made up her multicoloured body, not hers… at least, most of them weren’t hers. Some may have very well been from who she was before her mind had been so traumatically wiped by her pseudo-death. She couldn’t tell.
So she came to several conclusions. She would not let the memories of the souls inside her dictate how she felt. They were, as they had always been, merely guidelines and experiences on how to do things, they were not to push her in one way or another emotionally. Instead, she was to make her own yuletide memories, ones filled with joy and laughter if all went according to plan.
As such, she made it a point to get amongst it. She had ordered the nurses and infirmary pages to decorate the infirmary to bring some cheer to those within, which had worked wonderfully. So wonderfully in fact, she’d asked the same pages to decorate her home, complete with a small tree that sat in the corner, decorated with hanging acorns and nuts, dried leaves, and whatever colourful plant matter and trinkets had survived the snowy mornings. It had all been going to plan.
Her next step was to enjoy the festivities of the town, and bring some joy to those who were struggling as best she could. Once she figured out how to, of course. Her only plan by that time was to decorate herself and greet everyone with a smile, but that was no different than her seemingly-permanent, unnatural grin anyway. She had compensated for that, however, by decorating herself. While she normally had much of her patch-work, colourful skin on display, it wouldn’t do her much good in the bitter cold, and instead of taking a coat from the town that needed it more than her, she’d made her own from scraps of fabric she’d either found or been donated to her.
So she waltzed down the street, wishing all she crossed with a ‘happy yule!’ wearing a coat of bright colours, all as mismatched as her skin and twice as colourful, one that stood out against the drab furs that surrounded her. Thankfully, with her idea to line it with the furs donated to her by the hunter who’s arm she saved, it was quite warm too.
There was one thing about her outfit that nobody could quite figure out though, and it was that her regular white porcelain mask had been replaced by one of far brighter colours. It was a red, with green and gold detailing along the trim and beautiful swirls that licked at its curvature. It even had a slightly longer nose than her regular, smooth ridged mask. Where had she gotten it? Did she make it herself? More of the surprise seemed to be that she could even take her normal one off to replace it…
It was a question she refused to answer. She was a lady of almost no secrets, but she had finally decided to have at least one for herself.
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Shyv'Ahna
Committed
Roleplay posts: 50
Appearance: Shyv'ahna, or Ahna for short, is an Av' nomad woman, standing at 180cm (6ft) tall. Though tall for a woman, she is in fact the average for most Av' women. She has light lavender skin, intersected by feint tattoos that glow while using magic, her eyes are golden, and her hair a very dark purple. Though mostly humanoid, she possesses a set of bowed legs, not unlike other Av’, and a pair of horns that curl around her ears.
She adorns herself with jewellery, specifically gold caps to her horns, silver and golden rings, two on the right side of her eyebrow, four in her right ear, and one through her septum.
Her body type is strong and toned, forged through years of patient training, fighting, and more travel than most would do in a single life time. It is covered, much like her face, in tattoos, jewelry and the occasional scar, from top to bottom, though most would never know considering her rather conservative wardrobe.
Equipment: Ahna uses medium armour. Leather, light scaled metal, and chainmail make up the most of her regular outfit, but all under a dark blue poncho, adorned with golden stitching and traditional Av'rae patterns that dance across its light blue trim.
Her travelling armour consists of a chain vest and a scaled skirt that reaches her knees around the back and sides, leaving the front open, starting at her belt and fanning out. Over the chain vest, she usually wears a leather corset to keep it in place.
In a trunk inside her vardo, however, sits a much more elegant set of armour, one she hadn’t worn in quite some time, her Elder Guard armour. Forged from the finest metals in dwarven-supervised forges, her Elder Guard armour has both the toughness valued by dwarves, but the mobility favoured by the Av’rae. It’s an elegant suit, tailored and forged to fit Ahna’s form, with its cuirass, graves, skirt, bracers, and boot plating made from the finest mithril, a light but extremely sturdy metal. The trim and under suit are made of a soft, breathable cotton, as is the cape that covers one shoulder.
The helmet of her Elder Guard Armour is ornate, to say the very least. It’s a closed design from back to front, but with openings to slide up around her horns, and a T-shaped visor for her stunning golden eyes to peer out of. The front of the opening is often covered by a thin chain mail for protection, as is her neck guard.
The armour’s colour matches her standard pallet, with the mithril painted mostly in a purple, with its trim painted a fine, reflective gold. The cotton of her armour, such as her undersuit and cape, are a fine dark purple with golden stitching that matches her regular shawl.
Her weapons are just as expertly forged, her primary weapon being a two handed pole weapon most would consider a fauchard, a long pole with an ornate, curved blade attached to the top, the blade on one side of the weapon’s top while a hook sat on the other, giving her the option to slash, stab, and pull as necessary. Though most Av’rae prefer to fight with two handed weapons, Shyv’Ahna also carries an ornate dagger with a similarly curved blade, just in case.
Finally, she is also an adept with a crossbow, though she prefers to fight with her melee prowess.
For transport, Shyv’Ahna has a vardo, a caravan of sorts, that she uses to transport her things as well as live inside with comfort. Being of the nomadic sort, Shyv’Ahna has no desire to a standard home, one that doesn’t move, so a Vardo, pulled by her beast of burden Bahsel, does the trick perfectly.
Bahsel, her beast of burden, is a creature rarely seen without an Av’ companion. Nobody can understand why or how, but the Av’rae are one of the few people to find these creatures’ native land and tame them for both work and protection. Bahsel could be described as a large, muscular porcupine, with thigh legs, built perfectly for work, a thick hide to protect from predators, a pair of large front teeth, perfect for chewing on its usual diet of roots and plants, and finally a back covered in quills that not only stop melee attackers, but can also be shot outwards like a series of javelins, that grow back quicker than most would expect.
Together, Ahna and Bahsel travel the lands, always ready for the next adventure.
Skills and Abilities: Ahna has spent years training and being trained in combat, and she has become an expert fighter with two handed pole weapons, daggers, and hand to hand combat, making her a fierce enemy to face, or one hell of a good sparring partner if you don’t mind a few bruises. She also carries a crossbow, but she mostly uses it for hunting. She’s a great shot, but her preference is found in melee.
Before the end times and the escape from the destroyed lands, Ahna was a strong, and sometimes scary mage. The Av’rae are some of the more magically-tuned folk in the old world, and Ahna was no exception, but after travelling away she can feel her powers weaken, as if stopped by something. Normally she could conjured lightning and electricity in the palm of her hand, powering her attacks while also zapping her enemies as needed, and on the rare occasion, under a cloudy sky and with great inner rage, she could even conjure storms, but no longer. Now, she can barely use her magic at all. Perhaps she just needs to find new ways to channel it…
Being a nomad, Ahna is an expert traveller and guide, able to traverse most terrain and survive in some of the more harsh environments, making her an exceptional pathfinder, if asked nicely and presented with enough gold.
Allegiances: The Av'rae people.
Registered: Mar 23, 2021 0:17:47 GMT -5
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Post by Shyv'Ahna on Dec 10, 2023 10:55:09 GMT -5
Yuletide… Shyv’Ahna got it, much to the surprise of most she spoke to about it. Her people celebrated something different, yes, but it had a similar sentiment to the Israns’ celebrations that she was able to forego her usual grump towards the mostly-human people, and allowed herself to try and enjoy their company for once.
Her people celebrated the solstice as the end of the year, a time to celebrate the victories and accomplishments and venerate the gods of the cold, the ones that looked over the cryomancers among her people as the god of thunder watched over her. It was a time for the clans to come together and a festival to take place deep in the wilderness, where very few outsiders knew about it, and those that did were those who were invited. To her that usually meant dwarf folk and green skins, the ones who welcomed her to their holds and towns, and those who could hold their booze exceptionally well.
Being the only Av’ she knew of on the island though meant she had to make the best of the Isran customs. It was easy enough, gift giving and cheer, music and song, those were at least consistent with her own celebrations. It had started with a quiet drink at her camp with the few friends she had made in town all sat around her fire with a bottle or two of her nicer wine and a few pipes filled with potent pipe-weed, and it had gone swimmingly. Her next step was to wade into town and see just how much she could take…
It started with riding on the back of her beloved beast of burden Bah’Sel, a large porcupine-like creature that plodded along, pulling a covered sled behind it. Her delivery sled was full and covered, like it usually had been every time she’d have artisan furniture to make, but this time none of it was ordered. Each piece underneath it was one she had hand crafted specifically as a gift for those who did right by her through the year. There was a few spots she’d stopped in, the foreman’s office to unload a new crib for his newborn son, the infirmary to deliver a comfortable new chair for Doctor Vulpin’s office, Grandma’s home to deliver a box of three handmade pipes, each spot got something wonderfully crafted from the horned woman in a brief burst of generosity.
Her sled was still half full as she got to the forum though, and her gifts had been delivered. If she was going to try and relive the times of her past, she’d do so as best she could, and that meant setting up shop. She’d found herself a little corner and unhitched Bah’sel, allowing him to plod over to the fire and take a seat, much to the surprise of the other patrons, but with a handful of root vegetables in his mouth that Ahna had carried with her he was very much docile. Then she uncovered her sled and set about displaying her furniture, all shapes and sizes, from a bed and a chest of drawers, down to storage boxes and little hand carved dolls, each up for trade and purchase.
As the evening had gone on, she’d even started to play one of the many instruments she’d brought along with her, adding some pleasant music to the growing atmosphere, partly as a way to advertise, but mostly because she just felt merry. It certainly helped that she’d been handed an ale or two, and a group of the dockyard goblins had joined her with their own instruments and song. What went from a little stall of wood furniture had turned into a band playing from one of the Forum’s corner, playing all sorts of things from Isran carols, to Av’rae ballads, all the way to Goblin shanties, mostly requested by Captain Frankie and her crew.
The only time she could take a break to sell her wares were between sets, when the goblins would scamper off for more ale and give her a moment to breathe. She wouldn’t have had it any other way…
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Nina
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 289 
Registered: Apr 4, 2021 10:46:08 GMT -5
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Post by Nina on Dec 10, 2023 11:11:34 GMT -5
Sitting down on one side of the square, there was a girl in a white corset heavy with thread-of-gold, placed atop a fluffed-up cherry-red skirt that made her look like a confectionery treat. Once, that dress would have spun in the grand ballrooms of some Isran ruler. Now, it was hitched atop many other skirts, blouses, trousers and socks, bringing together various lands, ages, social classes, and likelihoods of having been kept together by patchwork and prayer. Theodosia's gift, given onwards to Nina from her generous patrons. Atop the girl's shoulders, there was a blanket – the same she would be using that night. Her breathing was tense as she focused on keeping out the cold.
Around her, flickering in the light coming out of the ceramic pot that she huddled around for warmth, the same that brought a glow to her face and the beads in her hair, were her paintings. They hung from the branches of a tree overhanging a fence, on strings weighed up by seashells that rattled softly in the breeze. Most of the paintings were small palm-sized pieces, of birch bark scraped from the lumber yards. Some were scenes from her travels: the steppe of many colours, the proportions of the Overgrowth (with herself painted looking up at a daisy for scale), the ominous red towers of the now-hidden Helsreach. Some were seasonal creations. Intricate snowflakes, campfires and hearths, waves and lighthouses. Seasonal greetings. Also for sale, lengths of colourful cord stretched between the paintings. In front of her, on a piece of clay, was inscribed the price of quarter-token for a portrait sketch, half-token for a coloured sketch, and one token for realistic colouring and shading. None of the illustrative samples had faces. ALL 1 TOKEN OR LESS1.
(if new law was limiting her ability to trade, then she might as well use it as advertisement)
With her canvas of smooth bark resting against the lip of her fire-pot, with her cup of water occasionally having to be stirred before it froze over, Nina painted the great bonfire in the yellows and reds of the ochres gathered from the nearby Silver River, in the soot of fire itself.
...
Not too far away, a man was walking barefoot on a rope stretched between a branch and a fencepost. He wore all black, and he looked lost in a world of his own. Hesitant at first, his steps soon grew more bold. He danced, stumbled and leaped, as fit the story that a group of carollers (a narrator and a choir) were telling nearby. He was the Snowkeeper, dancing with abandon as he met the love of his life, collapsing to his knees as he lost her. His cloak of black feathers was wielded to emphasize, distract, dazzle. He was turning to and fro, drunk with confusion, and he was pacing with a perfect, unearthly regularity as he was settling into his monstrous resolve. In the end, the carollers went quiet.
The man walked up to the tree, and picked a large sword from its branches. At first he used the weapon to steady himself, but then he started attacking the air, a little bit more viciously with each step he advanced. A simple routine, but executed well. In a deeper tone, the carollers repeated the choir. He was snowfall, blizzard and the terrible frost of a cloudless day. A little girl from the choir approached with a rushlight, and the figure in black seemed to shy away. He roared (a tiny, theatrical roar that sent her giggling) before making another feint. After a bit of a back and forth, the Snowkeeper had been pushed back to the end of his rope. He raised the sword, and stabbed downwards. Some saw the rope break. But moments later the sword was still hanging from the rope by its hilt, in perfect balance, still sheathed, the cloak having flown down a few paces away, while the man himself had disappeared, only to reappear again in the middle of the carollers and join the cheer. A queer smile hung upon his lips as he went to recover his props and boots.
He had noticed someone he thought he recognized - someone in a beautiful mask – though he did not show it. His sharp gaze, accompanied by the small smile, moved on through the crowd. He hoped that she was doing well.
1 Some called it a taler (from an old word for dish), or a two-snack, or a standard, but a token was generally understood as being the value to one meal, or something of approximate worth to it.
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Fran'garaz "Frankie"
Established
Roleplay posts: 44
Age: 30
Appearance: Frankie stands at a small 5 foot even. This is of course taller than most goblins, who average out at about 4 feet to 4'4 feet, but shes far shorter than those of her father's race, as orcs tend to average 6+ feet.
She's unmistakable as a half Goblin however, by her green skin and short darker green hair, her long, pointed ears, and her long, mischievous grin. However, some orc does creep into her features, most notably by the small tusks that jut up from the bottom of the jaw. They're small enough that they're only noticeable when she smiles.
Her face is slightly more attractive than most goblins, with high cheekbones, large orange pupiled eyes, and a slightly upturned button nose. Her hair is mostly unkempt on top with similar bangs that droop down at the top of her jaw, but the back is usually pulled into a small, messy ponytail.
Finally, she sports a handful of golden rings through her ears, as well as a ring through her septum.
Though she could be considered relatively attractive, she's still prone to goblin hyperactivity from time to time which twists her features. In such a state, her eyes and grin seem to grow larger and slightly crazed, but this state is usually one of joyfulness and mischievousness, and rarely ends in injury. Instead, it's more likely to result in mere property damage
Equipment: Frankie is a merchant vessel captain first and foremost. To keep up appearances, she can usually be found wearing a white silken shirt, a big red belt with a golden buckle, and a pair of navy pants that match her captain's coat and tricorn hat.
However, she never really forsook her tribal heritage. When out in the wilds or jn private, she sometimes can be found in her a light, leather and fur top that covers her from half way up her midsection and up to her neck, leaving her midriff and arms exposed. This is coupled with a matching skirt that reaches just above her knees, and finally a pair of wraps that cover her shins and ankles, then wraps around the middle of her feet, leaving the ankles and toes exposed, giving her better purchase when in the brush.
Frankie is an expert with a knife and always has one on her for personal protection, but she is also a great shot with a bow and arrow, having been taught by her mother. Though her father always wanted to teach her how to wield an axe, being an orc, she found that she had trouble with the weight of such weapons, and decided a quick, versatile fighting style would keep her alive longer.
Finally, though not equipment, she owns her own trade ship. A fairly large boat for a goblin, the ship is one part her home, one part transport hauler, and one part store front. She's spent a good few years collecting and trading that the hull of the ship is mostly full of all sorts of goods.
Skills and Abilities: Frankie is a merchant first and foremost. Goblins tended to do most of the trading in her mixed tribe, as the orcs weren't as charismatic nor crafty enough to trade efficiently. The goblins however used their stature and the stereotypes of their kind to their advantage, allowing their trade partners to think they're ripping them off, when the tables are actually turned.
As a half Goblin, Frankie is able to use a handful of tactics from both goblins and larger humanoids, as well as her looks. She's a fair merchant, but has a keen eye for an excellent deal. She's one to take advantage of whatever situation she comes into, and usually ends up on top.
Being the daughter of a goblin ranger and an orc warrior, she also knows how to hunt and fight with great skill, choosing range and a knife as well as her own two hands.
Finally, like most goblins, she is prone to Goblin Hyperactivity. When this occurs, starts to think, speak, and move at great speeds, often running and climbing from one thing to the other, and it usually ends with great joy and mischief as well as likely property damage. There's no time to consider not breaking something when there's fun to be had, stuff to climb, and things to do.
Enemies of the goblins often consider this akin to a berserker frenzy, but those who are friends of the goblins either join in the fun or stay out of the way.
Registered: Jan 9, 2022 23:34:33 GMT -5
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Post by Fran'garaz "Frankie" on Dec 10, 2023 11:18:23 GMT -5
Yule was usually Captain Frankie’s busiest time of year. Orders would come in from all across the coastline, and the Green Queen and her crew would be doing overtime to maximise their profits. Between her highly trained crew and extremely efficient quartermaster, they made a huge portion of their yearly profit in one month. Of course times had changed. She was no longer a trade captain, that just didn’t have much use in the world after it had ended. Her boat had barely left shore more than a handful of times since she’d arrived all those months before, and the majority of the goods in her hold had been spoken for by the on-going negotiations between herself and the Isran leadership. So far it’d lead to both sides being happy, but it wasn’t over yet. So, in time, Frankie had taken up a new role in ordering her crew of various green skinned sailors into their new roles. Goblins, orcs, even the troll that made up her crew had put their skills in organisation, sailing, and good, hard labour to work in various parts in town, between being messengers, assisting the page teams and teamsters, or working the docks and ships that made up the town’s fishing and transport fleets. It wasn’t quite what she wanted for the crew, that might come later, but it kept them busy and out of mischief. Idle hands for a goblin usually meant something loud and mischievous was just down the road. Of course, that was all on the surface. Behind closed doors, Frankie had been busy organising her retirement plan. With supplies she had set aside from the negotiations, originally meant to be sent to a private island she’d been eyeing up, she had started up a new venture with a select bunch of her crew. Her valued ship’s cook, her quartermaster, her brother, and a handful of runners had all been hired into a more artisan role, and Yule was the perfect time to unveil her little plan. “Roll up, roll up, one and all!” The voice of her Quartermaster, a half goblin like her, with black wavey hair, bangles hanging from her ears and arms that jangled with each movement, one with incredible intelligence (and a smugness to match) stood on a crate in front of a large stand built onto a requisitioned cart that had been pulled by the troll that now sat beside it, keeping an eye on things. Thankfully, despite his look, he was quite intelligent… for a troll. “The illustrious and hard working crew of the Green Queen have been honoured to join you in New Isra these past several months. While we’ve been busy putting in the hard yards alongside you all, keeping ourselves busy to make sure we can call this home one day… some of us have been up to something that we think you may enjoy…” Captain Fankie meanwhile had taken a moment to climb atop the wagon that seemed oh so mysterious and took a proud pose. It was a striking image, seeing a half goblin in full captain regalia, complete with a puffy fur lined coat and decorative cutlass by her side, but one the dock workers of New Isra were likely getting used to. “That’s right ladies and germs,” she said, continuing the Quartermaster’s speech. “With a life of trade behind me its time to turn over a new chapter in my life, see! What is that I hear you ask?” Nobody asked. “Well lemme tell ya! Tonight I am proud to unveil…!” She pulled a switch on the top of the wagon and below her a large floor flapped down, acting as a ramp that lead up to a makeshift bar with three casks behind it and a stove top from which a sweet and spiced aroma emerged from. A grinning goblin in a bartender’s smock stood at the bar, rubbing his hands, ready to get to work. “Captain Fankie’s Goblin Brews!” the captain announced. “A new batch of ales and cider made in the finest casks my ship has to offer, made by yours truly and the greatest minds of Goblin kind. For one night only we are making our first batch available, come and buy a mug and let us know if you want more!” She climbed down from the wagon and watched as the first mugs went out, traded for by whatever the townsfolk wanted to give. Shiny shells, a coin here and there, it was enough to keep Frankie satisfied. If all went well, Frankie may be in for a new life as an ale baron… but time would tell. She stood beside her quartermaster and spoke in hushed tones, discussing the next batch, when they should send the troll for more of the first, and getting giddy about their future. Before long though, the Captain left the quartermaster to aid her bartender, and made her way into the crowd with a mug of her own spiced cider, ready to mingle. |
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Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Dec 10, 2023 11:55:28 GMT -5
Hellos and seasons greetings flowed from Stasia as she made her way through the town, she even received a few little gifts from former patients! A thank you note, a little card, and even a bag of mixed roasted nuts that she carefully nibbled on as she walked. Even with the many different feelings swirling through her from the parts that made her, she was certainly edging towards enjoying Yuletide.
She soon found herself standing by the fire, feeling the warmth as it washed over the unmasked parts of her face, making her feel all snuggly inside. The conflicting thoughts within were quelled slightly as she closed her mismatched eyes and just… felt for a brief moment. The cool breeze against the back of her neck, the warmth of the fire in her face, the crinkle of the paper bag in her hand, and the salted, smoked taste of the various nuts that she was snacking on. All of it helped clear her mind and allowed the joy to bubble up inside.
The patchwork doctor finally opened her eyes with a sigh, content with the moment. Yes, Yule was a good time. Her eyes danced along the crowd, her grin tightening at faces she knew, and her kind, yet striking eyes, conveying her seasons greetings. Her expression shifted when she spotted something in the crowd though. A black cloak that gracefully shifted through the various people. Some might call this person mysterious…
Stasia would call him Gray.
The doctor shifted through the crowd again, feet moving with that strange grace that was natural to her, until she came face to face with her friend.
“Seasons Greetings, Gray,” she said in a soft tone as she reached out and touched his upper arm. “I am… very pleased to see you, my friend. Though, I am slightly surprised, I did not think this would be your kind of event. Nevertheless, I am very happy that you’re here. Jubilant. Joyful!” Yes, definitely. She paused only for her grin to tug at her cheeks that little bit more, then she pulled her friend into a hug.
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Burzul Thorne
New
Roleplay posts: 2 
Appearance: At a towering seven feet tall and with muscles that can bend iron bars, Burzul is an absolute mountain of a man. His green skin and prominent tusks denote him as an orc, while the tattoos on his arms and the scars across his face mark him as a brawler. His strength is the subject of all manner of whispers, with tales ranging from wrestling with dragons to pulling whales from the sea with his bare hands. Burzul does little to spread such rumors, but he seldom refutes them. His twin sister, on the other hand, seems to delight in hearing the stories and embellishing upon them to anyone who might care to listen. Like Mirela, he wears a dark cloak with a black Isran flag emblazoned upon the back, although his is likely large enough to serve as a small tent in a pinch.
Allegiances: The Empire, its Empress, and the Imperial Vizier
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 22:39:48 GMT -5
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Post by Burzul Thorne on Dec 10, 2023 20:17:59 GMT -5
Burzul had always enjoyed Yuletide. The joy and cheer in people's faces were a pleasant reminder of what the Empire stood for - safety and prosperity for its people. The coats had been a good idea, and he watched with approval as people lined up to receive their warm, patchy gifts. It really was impressive, he thought. Even in the austere environment of this island, the Empress still managed to bring warmth to her citizens. Procuring the materials and labor to create the coats had been a marvel of management and logistical planning, and he was proud to have done his part. Without such strict controls on the flow of resources, he knew, it was very possible that such a feat would have been impossible. It was only thanks to the diligence of the Inquisition, the compliance of the citizens, and the sheer force of will of the Empress herself that everybody would get a coat. The tailors and artisans conscripted to do the sewing had offered to make him a coat of his own, but he had declined. Such a large garment, he figured, would take enough material to make coats for two or three smaller people. Besides, he didn't particularly need one; his black Inquisitor's cloak was more than warm enough. Keeping him warmer still, though, was the amulet that he wore around his neck. Tucked deep within his clothing, the little wooden trinket was carved into the shape of the Isran sun sporting a pair of pointed cat's ears. A number of people had taken to wearing the amulets, he knew. It wasn't spoken of, but it was a symbol of their devotion to Isra and its Empress. She didn't just lead the empire, she was the empire. She stood as a living symbol of its might, and Burzul knew for a fact that he would lay down his life for the imperial flag without a moment's hesitation if she demanded it. The fact that she'd managed to lead the survivors of the old world to such prosperity on this remote island was evidence enough of her prowess. Was it any wonder that there were whispers of her divinity?
As he strolled through the festivities, one particular amusement caught his eye. A crowd of small children sat in a semicircle around an old legionnaire, listening with rapt attention as he told them a fantastic tale. He paused to listen, casting a long shadow over the gaggle of children as they drank in the old man's words. It seemed that he was telling them an old war story, an account of his time serving in the legions in years gone past.
"The snow people were a ruthless bunch," croaked the old man, leaning down towards his wide-eyed audience. "They lived atop the mountains, you see. They were all just like the snowkeeper, full of spite and rage and ice cold envy. Snow people, you see, didn't like to see anyone else being happy. They looked down from their mountaintops with their beady little eyes, and what do you think they saw? Isran villages, warm and happy in the valleys. Why, these snow people just couldn't stand to see the good Israns frolicking around in the sun. They wanted everything to be cold, you understand. If everything was cold and covered in snow, they'd be able to come down and take everything from us down in the valley."
He paused, looking up at his newest audience member in surprise. Burzul nodded at him, gesturing with a hand for the man to continue his tale.
"The snow people," he went on, "hatched a devilish plan. They would gather snow into huge piles and push them down the mountains, causing massive avalanches to fall down into the valley. The icy monsters rode the avalanches down, sliding down the falling snow and ice like kids on sleds.The Isran village was caught completely unaware. Nobody thought the snow people would try anything like that. The fate of those poor people...I remember when my platoon marched into the town, days after the avalanche. The first thing we saw was the snow. It blanketed everything, deep enough to bury a horse up to its neck. Only one snow person was there, rummaging through the town for loot. We chased him off, but he ran away. Who knew that he'd cause us so much trouble later? We dug through with shovels, carving a path through the town's main road. I was shoveling my way towards the schoolhouse when I saw a hand reaching out towards me from the snow. I'd found someone buried, I realized. Grabbing the hand, I pulled with all my might."
The old man stopped, staring over the children's heads into a scene decades in the past. The color left his face as a vacant look filled his eyes, and he clutched his hands together to stop them from trembling.
"I still remember the snap," he said finally, still unable to meet anyone's gaze. "It was like breaking glass. The poor victim had frozen as stiff as stone, and the hand broke off at the wrist. I fell onto my back, still holding the frozen, severed hand. I can still feel that hand in mine, so cold, so small. Every night it's the same. I see it whenever I close my eyes. I pull the hand, it snaps off. Time and time again, night after night, year after year, decade after decade. Do you know the difference between dreams and nightmares, kids?"
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and finally seemed to snap back into the present.
"Dreams aren't real."
Burzul frowned, glancing down at the assembled children. They shuffled uneasily in their seats, clearly unsettled by the man's rambling. It wouldn't do for the little ones to be upset, not on Yuletide. Tutting softly, he gestured for the old man to hurry up and get to the good part. The old man caught the message and nodded, swiping at the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand.
"Empress Naoki commanded that the snow people never again be allowed to bring harm to citizens of the Empire," he said. "The legions marched into the town. My squadron was given the task of blazing a trail up the mountain, cutting handholds and sinking pitons so that everybody behind us could climb up. I was quite a climber in my youth, you know. We set off up the mountain, carving a path for the army to follow. It was hard going, every step of the way. The wind bit into us like knives, even with our warm coats. The ice made the rocks as slippery as butter, and I saw many brave legionnaires fall. The worst part, though, was the snow people themselves. They ran around the mountain like it was nothing, pelting us with sharp shards of ice and stone as we climbed. Luckily for us, we had two things going for us. First of all, we had our devotion to the Empire to keep us warm. Naoki herself commanded that we climb, and so climb we did. There could have been ten times as many snow people on that mountain and it wouldn't have made a difference. We were going to make it to the top no matter what.
"The second thing we had on our side were the imperial combat mages. Magic was more prevalent back then, as you know. These weren't the fancy spellcasters, now. Those were specialized troops, very highly trained and all busy in other parts of the Empire. No, what we had were the most basic of shapeshifters. They turned themselves into monsters, became weapons for the empire. It wasn't easy on them, I'll tell you that. Every time they transformed, it became harder and harder to turn back. They all had the signs, you know. I remember one of them, Lory was her name. Even when she turned back into a human, she had horns on her head that grew longer and longer each time. By the end of that campaign, her left arm was entirely covered in this dark, wiry fur. That didn't stop them, though. They did their duty, turning themselves into beasts and ripping through the snow people like dogs in a rat's nest. It's really all thanks to them that we were able to climb at all. It took weeks to get to the top of the mountain, fighting for each and every step. We did it, though. We climbed up to the top, slaughtering the hordes of wicked snow people along the way."
The children's attention was back now, Burzul noted. They'd gotten to the exciting bit, and he watched as they all leaned in close to hear what happened next. This was a good sign, and he nodded with approval.
"Once we reached the top," said the old man, "we found ourselves faced with the snow people's fortress. An enormous snow fort, complete with turrets and battlements and absolutely loaded with snow people. Well, it was our job to bring them down, but going in and fighting hand to hand would have been terrible. Isran legionnaires, however, are very clever. Can any of you guess what we did?"
He stopped for a moment, giving the kids a few seconds to ponder before answering his own question.
"We hauled up enormous casks of oil," he said. "Rigged giant cranes to pull them up the mountain. Casks big enough that all of you could fit in just one! The snow people were a cowardly bunch, hiding in their fortress and thinking they were safe. Well, we proved them wrong. The shapeshifters could turn into enormous creatures, as strong as catapults. We lit the casks on fire and they threw them into the fortress, one after another. Those fireballs lit up the sky as they flew, smashing into the fortress and spreading the burning oil all over. By daybreak, we'd melted the entire thing. We went in then with swords and spears, and finished the job. We melted all the snow people, except for one. You remember the one that ran away from us at the base of the mountain? As it turns out, he managed to get away entirely and went on to live a bitter, miserable life. And that, children, is why the Snowkeeper is the only wicked little snow person still around. We saved the empire from the evil snow people, and everyone was nice and warm and lived happily ever after. The end."
The children cheered, jumping and clapping at the thrilling conclusion of the tale. The old man chuckled, looking over his audience. Reaching into a bag, he pulled out a handful of colorful hard candies, which he handed out to the happy children.
"Here you go, kiddies," he said. "Enjoy the festivities and have fun! For the empire!"
"For the empire!" echoed the children, running off to disperse into the crowd. Burzul stayed behind, stepping up to pat the old man on the shoulder.
"Well done," he said, his voice a deep rumble of approval. "A fine tale. Tell me though...is the cold of the mountain still in your bones?"
The old man looked up at him and nodded, face turning grave.
"Yes," he said. "I feel the chill in me still. However...the glory of the Empress keeps me warm."
He pulled a cat-eared sun amulet from his pocket, identical to Burzul's, and raised it to his lips. Burzul nodded approvingly, pulling his own out from beneath his shirt for just a fraction of a second before hiding it away again.
"That she does, my friend," he said, helping the old man up to his feet. "That she does."
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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 Dec 10, 2023 20:35:19 GMT -5
Yuletide, this celebration is new to the Pchelinaya. Holidays are not something they usually celebrate. They have small joyous occasions but nothing quite like the scale of this. The winter times are a hard time for her people. Many are too ill-equipped to venture outside the hive during this time of year. The Pchelinaya keep warm within the hive by vibrating their wings to generate heat. The efforts of dozens stave off the freezing temperature. This year seems to mark a different advantage for Queen Qathreens people. The deal between Lady Naoki and her has been prosperous. She has gifted the Pchelinaya furs and wool to create thicker clothing with. To thank her for her efforts, the queen and her dedicated workers have been hard at work creating a thank-you gift.
As Queen Qathreen ties the final bow on the gift-wrapped item, she turns to her most faithful diplomat Saxi. "Are you ready to visit Lady Naoki? It has been quite some time since we last saw her. I hear there will be other important citizens at this festive celebration. I think it would be beneficial to make ourselves known to them too. If they are a friend of Lady Naoki then they will be a friend of ours." She smiles warmly at Saxi.
"I heard a nasty folklore of this thing called Snowkeeper. The story goes that if you do not keep warm, he will come in the cold of night and take you to grind into snow to become his new snow wife." The queen herself even seems excited to participate in the holly cheers of Yuletide. The mysterious gift is wrapped in patterned wax wrappings with a large decorative bow to tie it together. Weeks have been spent making this item to ensure its proper size. She is thankful that Lady Naoki has lent them a messenger close to Naoki's size. This will make transporting the gifts much easier. The queen loads the messenger's bag with the present, before wrapping herself up in a thick puffy coat stuffed with cotton and lined with fur. The coat white as snow hangs down to Queen Qathreen's ankles. The sheer size and puffiness of the coat make the queen resemble that of a marshmallow. She doesn't seem to mind though, so long as it keeps her dry and warm.
She takes a knitted scarf and wraps it around Saxi. "I can't have you getting frostbite, my dear. Keep yourself warm as we mingle with the tall ones." Much like a mother, she walks around Saxi making sure the Pchelinaya is as bundled as can be. The only downside to this winter attire is the inability to use their wings. Luckily the two can hitch a ride on the messenger of the tall ones. The two quickly make their way in time for the ongoing festivities. She scans the area taking in the faces of everyone there. She'll introduce herself to those faces later, the only face she's looking for is Lady Naoki's. After seeing the familiar cat ears among the crowd, she makes her way over sitting regally on the messenger's shoulder. Her fuzzy legs can be seen peeking out from underneath the enormous coat. Each of her six legs ended with a wool-lined boot.
"Lady Naoki, good Yuletide to you. I heard that it is accustom to bring a gift during this holiday. I have brought a gift for you not only for this splendid occasion but to thank you for the help you have given my people." She stands and curtsies. The entire lower half of her face seems to disappear into the neck of the coat when she stands.
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Ms. Tilly Vanderbilt
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: now now, it's rude to ask a woman her age
Appearance: From her flaming locks to her sultry hazel eyes, Miss Vanderbilt is an extraordinary woman. She is of average height at about 5'5 and weighs about, oh that's a secret. The boys usually have a bad habit of looking at something other than her eyes. Her body is well maintained and often compared to that of a dancer.
Equipment: She wears black sleek clothing that hugs her curves and a pair of long gloves to avoid touching things with her bare hands. Tilly is the type of person who enjoys adding a little bit of color to her outfits. Her favorite piece of clothing is always the fur shawl she wears if the day isn't too humid. Along her hip sits a rapier finely polished and ready to pierce whatever is in range.
Skills and Abilities: Tilly comes from a family of merit and from that family learned to efficiently use her rapier. Her rapier a gift from her late father just before his passing. She hones her abilities of agility and elegance similar to a rose. People see her beauty but not the thorns that will prick their skin. It's not their fault there, Tilly can be quite the sweet talker and often talks her way out of tight corners.
Biography: Matilda Vanderbilt born into a wealthy merchant family is now off on her own. She dreams of one day owning a boat with her own crew. The wind in the hair, the smell of salt in her nostrils, and the freedom of adventure. She was never meant to have a desk job and sit around all day. Tilly currently is in the business of handling other people's money. She dreams often about the sound of coins clanking together and hoping one day those will be her coins.
Registered: Mar 24, 2021 15:54:47 GMT -5
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Post by Ms. Tilly Vanderbilt on Dec 10, 2023 21:09:45 GMT -5
Yule was usually Captain Frankie’s busiest time of year. Orders would come in from all across the coastline, and the Green Queen and her crew would be doing overtime to maximise their profits. Between her highly trained crew and extremely efficient quartermaster, they made a huge portion of their yearly profit in one month. Of course times had changed. She was no longer a trade captain, that just didn’t have much use in the world after it had ended. Her boat had barely left shore more than a handful of times since she’d arrived all those months before, and the majority of the goods in her hold had been spoken for by the on-going negotiations between herself and the Isran leadership. So far it’d lead to both sides being happy, but it wasn’t over yet. So, in time, Frankie had taken up a new role in ordering her crew of various green skinned sailors into their new roles. Goblins, orcs, even the troll that made up her crew had put their skills in organisation, sailing, and good, hard labour to work in various parts in town, between being messengers, assisting the page teams and teamsters, or working the docks and ships that made up the town’s fishing and transport fleets. It wasn’t quite what she wanted for the crew, that might come later, but it kept them busy and out of mischief. Idle hands for a goblin usually meant something loud and mischievous was just down the road. Of course, that was all on the surface. Behind closed doors, Frankie had been busy organising her retirement plan. With supplies she had set aside from the negotiations, originally meant to be sent to a private island she’d been eyeing up, she had started up a new venture with a select bunch of her crew. Her valued ship’s cook, her quartermaster, her brother, and a handful of runners had all been hired into a more artisan role, and Yule was the perfect time to unveil her little plan. “Roll up, roll up, one and all!” The voice of her Quartermaster, a half goblin like her, with black wavey hair, bangles hanging from her ears and arms that jangled with each movement, one with incredible intelligence (and a smugness to match) stood on a crate in front of a large stand built onto a requisitioned cart that had been pulled by the troll that now sat beside it, keeping an eye on things. Thankfully, despite his look, he was quite intelligent… for a troll. “The illustrious and hard working crew of the Green Queen have been honoured to join you in New Isra these past several months. While we’ve been busy putting in the hard yards alongside you all, keeping ourselves busy to make sure we can call this home one day… some of us have been up to something that we think you may enjoy…” Captain Fankie meanwhile had taken a moment to climb atop the wagon that seemed oh so mysterious and took a proud pose. It was a striking image, seeing a half goblin in full captain regalia, complete with a puffy fur lined coat and decorative cutlass by her side, but one the dock workers of New Isra were likely getting used to. “That’s right ladies and germs,” she said, continuing the Quartermaster’s speech. “With a life of trade behind me its time to turn over a new chapter in my life, see! What is that I hear you ask?” Nobody asked. “Well lemme tell ya! Tonight I am proud to unveil…!” She pulled a switch on the top of the wagon and below her a large floor flapped down, acting as a ramp that lead up to a makeshift bar with three casks behind it and a stove top from which a sweet and spiced aroma emerged from. A grinning goblin in a bartender’s smock stood at the bar, rubbing his hands, ready to get to work. “Captain Fankie’s Goblin Brews!” the captain announced. “A new batch of ales and cider made in the finest casks my ship has to offer, made by yours truly and the greatest minds of Goblin kind. For one night only we are making our first batch available, come and buy a mug and let us know if you want more!” She climbed down from the wagon and watched as the first mugs went out, traded for by whatever the townsfolk wanted to give. Shiny shells, a coin here and there, it was enough to keep Frankie satisfied. If all went well, Frankie may be in for a new life as an ale baron… but time would tell. She stood beside her quartermaster and spoke in hushed tones, discussing the next batch, when they should send the troll for more of the first, and getting giddy about their future. Before long though, the Captain left the quartermaster to aid her bartender, and made her way into the crowd with a mug of her own spiced cider, ready to mingle. Though Tilly was a newer addition to the crew, she didn't let her inexperience hinder her. She found her footing and worked just as diligently as the rest of the crew. She was more than just a pretty face around here. The captain worked her to the bone, but she didn't complain about it one bit. Even though Frankie is her boss, the two seem to become fast friends with a little added benefits. That's besides the point, Frankie has been an excellent mentor for Tilly. Everyday the red head is grateful that the captain took her under her wings. Every Yuletide brought warmth and good spirits for her. She always knew which parties had the best selection of spirits. If you're not ending Yuletide as drunk as a sailor than you're not doing it right. She even woke up in someone else's tub at a previous Yuletide. The alarmed cries she got the morning after when the poor homeowners found her. What a wild night that was. She's curious to see how this night unfolds. Tilly's start to Yuletide was not as smooth sailing as she hoped. She had been too busy with her work that she completely forgot about gifts. It seems she's not the only one, frantic last minute shoppers were seen rushing from store to store to get whatever they could. Tilly mutters a curse at the predicament she's put herself in. Could she even find a gift. She wished she could give everyone in the crew a little something, but all that really mattered was making sure Frankie got a gift. After pushing and shoving through hoards of people, she finally got what she hoped was a worthy gift. There's only one way to find out. Tilly tucks the gift into her coat wrapping it tighter around herself. Off to the Yuletide festival she goes. If there's anything that she's learned from Frankie, it's that the woman knows how to make an entrance. "Oh Captain my captain" She shouts jogging over to Frankie. "That has got to be the most booze I've ever seen on wheels. You sure know how to start Yuletide off right." She clasps the captain on the shoulder with a black gloved hand. "Care if I buy you a drink?" |
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Gray
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 125
Registered: Jul 2, 2021 10:00:37 GMT -5
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Post by Gray on Dec 12, 2023 15:55:41 GMT -5
He was not surprised – it was hard to take by surprise someone who expected being stabbed every living moment – but he feigned it nonetheless in accepting the hug, for it would make him look human. “Doctor. I trust you have been doing well.” Gray spoke. He patted her on the shoulder, then stepped back and to the side as if he were still on the tightrope. Hidden under the flutter of the feather cloak to all but the two of them, his fingers brushed hers.
“It sounded like there would be interesting things to see.” He pondered, when she commented on his unexpected presence there. “And I wished to challenge myself.”
The high of the rope-walk lingered on his mind. His eyes burned like frost. Every patch of snow shined brighter, and so did every colour of Anastasia's mask, every crackle of ice, every whiff of smoke. The earth glowed under his soles.
“I must thank you for your earlier help.” Gray bowed. Simply being seen together now might one day endanger Anastasia's life, but that was a risk that Gray was willing to take. He needed allies. “I have little of value with me, but would you honour my invitation for a warm drink and a confection?” He gestured to the house behind him, where the rope was tied to, boots still in his hands. The sweet scent of something honeyed and warm drifted through the air. An apprentice came out, shouting to let people know the bread oven for the rest of the day. “The Baking Baron has been making these acorn cakes, and they are rumoured to be lovely.” Gray said.
The inquisition was stirring, he had noticed. Gray knew that at some point he and them would clash – yet for now both sides of the game played their hands subtly. If he were to sustain alliances, why not with someone whose conversations he rather enjoyed?
He walked into the yard, past the queue, to pick up his share of the cakes prepared for the performers, on a piece of discard wooden shingle and still sizzling with honey. The Baron was generous with those who brought him business (the first slice was for free, of course – that was the law – but he'd traded his way into enough surplus that he could afford a side business). Asking Anastasia to help with carrying things, should she be willing, Gray then picked up some hot mead in exchange for rope from some green-skinned people he had never seen before, on the other side of the square, and then walked with the doctor closer to the fire, where he could put on his socks, boots, and an extra-thick cape that looked like an old quilt with arm-flaps, in rose-pink.
“There was no Yuletide in my old land.” Gray spoke, gazing into the fire. “I do not know what tides the Yules. Of course, the Emperor would perform rites, but to even share them outside His Majesty's inner circle would be a sacrilege. Some of the monasteries might have their own ritual, with walking on hot coals.” He could try that, he supposed. Would it have any meaning? Slowly, he shook his head. “To involve common people...Unthinkable.” His gloved hand reached towards the warmth. “This is...a new experience.” He said. Everyone. Together. An illusion – but an enticing one. He spoke. “I wonder...Can something be sacred while still remaining profane? Or are ideas like fire, and getting too close the reality of something can get one consumed by the flames?”
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Saxi
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 18
Appearance: 6 inches tall, more bee-like than most other bee-folk
Equipment: Her helmet and armor are fashioned from the shell of an ironclad beetle. Her sword is made of amber and is enchanted.
Skills and Abilities: As far as pchelinaya go, Saxi is unusually tough, enough to actually survive an attempt by a human to squash her. She is quite fast and agile. Light that reflects through her amber sword can burn, blind, and heal. However, due to the suppression of the mist, these effects are temporary.
Biography: Saxi was a noble soldier bee who initially had no plans to leave her hive. She planned on beecoming a queen's bodyguard and protecting her the rest of her days. However, arriving in the mistborne isles has caused her to change her views. She beelieves the future of the hive and the rest of her people depends upon gathering knowledge of the strange new world they are in.
At her coming of age, she decided to become a diplomat instead. Unfortunately, having been a soldier her entire life, she doesn't really know what she is doing. Being close to the queen however, none of the other pchelinaya objected. Saxi beelieves the isles are dangerous and she is better suited to being a diplomat than most.
Her mission is to explore the isles and make friends/allies on behalf of the hive.
Allegiances: Pchelinyy Dom
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 21:24:49 GMT -5
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Post by Saxi on Dec 16, 2023 21:42:17 GMT -5
Yuletide, this celebration is new to the Pchelinaya. Holidays are not something they usually celebrate. They have small joyous occasions but nothing quite like the scale of this. The winter times are a hard time for her people. Many are too ill-equipped to venture outside the hive during this time of year. The Pchelinaya keep warm within the hive by vibrating their wings to generate heat. The efforts of dozens stave off the freezing temperature. This year seems to mark a different advantage for Queen Qathreens people. The deal between Lady Naoki and her has been prosperous. She has gifted the Pchelinaya furs and wool to create thicker clothing with. To thank her for her efforts, the queen and her dedicated workers have been hard at work creating a thank-you gift. As Queen Qathreen ties the final bow on the gift-wrapped item, she turns to her most faithful diplomat Saxi. "Are you ready to visit Lady Naoki? It has been quite some time since we last saw her. I hear there will be other important citizens at this festive celebration. I think it would be beneficial to make ourselves known to them too. If they are a friend of Lady Naoki then they will be a friend of ours." She smiles warmly at Saxi. "I heard a nasty folklore of this thing called Snowkeeper. The story goes that if you do not keep warm, he will come in the cold of night and take you to grind into snow to become his new snow wife." The queen herself even seems excited to participate in the holly cheers of Yuletide. The mysterious gift is wrapped in patterned wax wrappings with a large decorative bow to tie it together. Weeks have been spent making this item to ensure its proper size. She is thankful that Lady Naoki has lent them a messenger close to Naoki's size. This will make transporting the gifts much easier. The queen loads the messenger's bag with the present, before wrapping herself up in a thick puffy coat stuffed with cotton and lined with fur. The coat white as snow hangs down to Queen Qathreen's ankles. The sheer size and puffiness of the coat make the queen resemble that of a marshmallow. She doesn't seem to mind though, so long as it keeps her dry and warm. She takes a knitted scarf and wraps it around Saxi. "I can't have you getting frostbite, my dear. Keep yourself warm as we mingle with the tall ones." Much like a mother, she walks around Saxi making sure the Pchelinaya is as bundled as can be. The only downside to this winter attire is the inability to use their wings. Luckily the two can hitch a ride on the messenger of the tall ones. The two quickly make their way in time for the ongoing festivities. She scans the area taking in the faces of everyone there. She'll introduce herself to those faces later, the only face she's looking for is Lady Naoki's. After seeing the familiar cat ears among the crowd, she makes her way over sitting regally on the messenger's shoulder. Her fuzzy legs can be seen peeking out from underneath the enormous coat. Each of her six legs ended with a wool-lined boot. "Lady Naoki, good Yuletide to you. I heard that it is accustom to bring a gift during this holiday. I have brought a gift for you not only for this splendid occasion but to thank you for the help you have given my people." She stands and curtsies. The entire lower half of her face seems to disappear into the neck of the coat when she stands. Saxi did her best to maintain her composure as Her Majesty bundled her up. But, occasionally, she let out a child-like whimper. She especially didn't like having her wings bound. "Mmm... MMM... mmm." When the Queen was done, Saxi squirmed a bit. But then she saw herself in an amber mirror, and she did something which she rarely ever did. She smiled. "We... we look like moth-kin!" She buzzed stochastically, her own version of a laugh. She didn't want to admit it at first, but the truth was that the tall ones had grown on her, no pun intended. Not only had they honored their brokered agreement, but had gone a step further and given gifts to her people. And the more time she spent around them, the more she felt she understood the tall ones. Life wasn't so easy being tall. It required bigger houses; wax ones wouldn't do. And they couldn't just live off of flower nectar. Really, everything the tall ones did started to make more and more sense. For instance, they made swords, because they didn't have stingers of their own. And even tall ones had things they feared. The mists, and even just the wilderness itself, were cruel like that. The grubs were especially vulnerable. Little tall ones, still mammoth compared to her, actually ran away from fear when they saw her sometimes, mistaking her for their nastier cousins, the wasp-kind. "I've heard rumors of this foul snow beast, and I have prepared a... uh, a gift of my own, to help them defend themselves against this ice demon. I will try to make more, if they like them." Saxi had personally commissioned several amber disks, which were enchanted to absorb a bit of heat and stay warm for a long time. Of course, to the Pchelinaya, they were powerful defensive weapons against the wasp-kind. But even Saxi recognized that, for the tall ones, they would probably just be used to help their children sleep a bit more warmly at night. So she did have them strung with twine so they could use them as pendants. The finest one would be given to Lady Naoki of course. But the few others she was able to gather up would be given to the local children and their mothers. When they finally found Lady Naoki, Saxi bowed right along Queen Qathreen. Well, she tried too. The queen had wrapped her a little too tightly, so instead her whole body tilted forward, and back, and forward a bit. It came off as an enthusiastic bow though, so it was alright. "Meee tooo. It would be an hooonor." She added after Qathreen mentioned the gifts. Her voice still vibrated, but her pronunciation of tall one phonemes was much, much clearer! She'd been practicing. |
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on Dec 19, 2023 19:14:47 GMT -5
It was a lovely day for a stroll. Lugruk had never heard of this 'Yule' thing before. Plenty of cultures had their own take on something approximating a solstice festival. Traditional Orcish festivities around this time of year involved the mourning of the gone under the blanket of the goddess of winter. Most celebrations mirrored this sentiment - a time for mourning, of grief, and memory. Suffice to say that this 'Snowkeeper' song and dance made for a much livelier walkabout, not to mention what wonders it did for the heft of the townsfolk's coin purses. Lugruk was, if nothing else, an opportunist. In no time at all, the Buzzed Bee had been outfitted in all the trappings he could track down on short notice. Wreaths of holly and pine thrown atop the masts that decorated the interior, a pot of mulled wine warming at all hours of the day - all complete with the blazing hearth these poor Isran sods seemed so damn horny for. The preparations were made, but there was still daylight yet. The tavern wouldn't be packed full until much later, so Lugruk elected to leave the layabouts in charge for a few hours while he went to discover exactly what all the hubbub was about. And modest as it was, the celebration lived up to the hype and then some. Lugruk took his time walking through the forum, sporting a weathered leather longcoat he hadn't had the need for in ages, just taking everything in. Community, performance, and a menagerie of sights and smells was plenty enough to put Lugruk in a good mood. The only thing that could possible make this day better was... “Captain Fankie’s Goblin Brews!” the captain announced. “A new batch of ales and cider made in the finest casks my ship has to offer, made by yours truly and the greatest minds of Goblin kind. For one night only we are making our first batch available, come and buy a mug and let us know if you want more!” Oh. Oh, fuck yeah. Lugruk smelled it before he saw it. The steam of the hot cider against the chill in the air carried the sweet smell of spice to his nose like a seraph leading a fallen soul to the kingdom of heaven. He turned on his heels, the scent leading him forward until he arrived at the pop-up bar. His eyes finally fell on the extravagantly-clothed goblin that was running the show - ah. He'd heard tell of this one. Plenty of her crew had frequented the Bee in the time since its opening - Lugruk at one point was surprised at the number of orcs and goblins that had begun to be counted among his regulars. Didn't take too long to figure out that most of them sailed under the same banner. "Xeria's Tits - the Green Queen herself." Lugruk remarked with a tusk-laden grin. "Downright criminal we haven't been acquainted sooner. How is it that in all the gossip my crew keeps yammering on about, it never once got back to me that you're a woman of the craft? First things first, though -" Lugruk turned to the goblin at the bar, nearly salivating with anticipation. "I need mug of whatever that is, in my hand, as soon as humanly possible." |
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Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Dec 28, 2023 19:55:02 GMT -5
“Many interesting things to see,” Anastasia said in agreement, “I am glad you took up the challenge. There are many friendly faces here, but none as friendly as yours.” Her head lulled to the side as she spoke, such was one of her many strange ways, but as Gray spoke she stood up straight again, listening intently.
“It was not my choice, if you recall,” the patchwork woman said, but her grin didn’t fault in the slightest. While she hadn’t chosen to accompany Gray on his expedition, she hadn’t exactly been opposed however. “While you may have nothing of value with you, it is your friendship that I find the most value in, so your thanks is more than enough. That and perhaps the value that one might find on you, as opposed to with.” She’d let him try to figure out what she meant. Before giving him a chance though, she gestured him on and she would follow to the sweet treats that she herself had been more than curious about. She was about to raise a protest about skipping the line, but it became apparent that it was a benefit of his performance. Quite the benefit at that!
Before long, she found herself sitting with Gray by the fire, a warm mead beside her and the pastry in one hand. Two things she had never tried before, but quickly found herself very fond of. Or perhaps parts of her were. She’d tried to hide it, but their taste and touch brought forward memories from within, ones that filled her mind for just a moment before dissipating, and none of them belonging to Anastasia. More things to try and figure out, but like most of the memories of her shared past, she shrugged them off and enjoyed the moment with Gray. Delicious food and drink, the latter of which was perhaps her first alcoholic drink in recent memory, and exceptional company, there was no need to look to the past when the present was so lovely.
“Sacred and profane matter only to those who care,” Stasia said in a small tone as she looked into the fire, then she looked to Gray. “It’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it? Of belief. Of conviction. Preserving and caring for life is sacred to me, but the rituals of your emperor’s rites mean nothing to me.” To some she may have sounded offensive and snide, but to those who knew Anastasia would likely understand it was merely her cold, calculated logic coming through. “Some would even call me profane because I am an unnatural construct. An artificial being. Perhaps even an abomination. I would like to think that you think otherwise.”
She shrugged as she finally took Gray’s hand. They’d been touching hands since they’d run into each other, and she finally found she had a moment to actually enjoy it. “Perhaps those rites are still sacred to you, and perhaps involving others may be profane. Perhaps they are just memories of a past life you choose to bring to the present. Or perhaps they are to be forgotten.” Her head tilted again. “As some would say… food for thought?”
“Reality is what we see before us in the present. The past was real, but gone, and the future is undecided.” Forever the present minded, Anastasia seemed to be. “Enjoy the new experience, my friend, and if it doesn’t suit your liking then that’s fine. If not…” She shifted and sat herself closer to Gray and smiled warmly. “Perhaps it can be a new tradition. Something for the new life of Gray.” Her hand squeezed his for a moment as her grin tightened. “Perhaps embracing Yule will suit you as it does me.” She didn’t quite understand the abstract of his talk of ideas being like a flame, but she felt that she had the gist of it. At least, mostly.
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Fran'garaz "Frankie"
Established
Roleplay posts: 44
Age: 30
Appearance: Frankie stands at a small 5 foot even. This is of course taller than most goblins, who average out at about 4 feet to 4'4 feet, but shes far shorter than those of her father's race, as orcs tend to average 6+ feet.
She's unmistakable as a half Goblin however, by her green skin and short darker green hair, her long, pointed ears, and her long, mischievous grin. However, some orc does creep into her features, most notably by the small tusks that jut up from the bottom of the jaw. They're small enough that they're only noticeable when she smiles.
Her face is slightly more attractive than most goblins, with high cheekbones, large orange pupiled eyes, and a slightly upturned button nose. Her hair is mostly unkempt on top with similar bangs that droop down at the top of her jaw, but the back is usually pulled into a small, messy ponytail.
Finally, she sports a handful of golden rings through her ears, as well as a ring through her septum.
Though she could be considered relatively attractive, she's still prone to goblin hyperactivity from time to time which twists her features. In such a state, her eyes and grin seem to grow larger and slightly crazed, but this state is usually one of joyfulness and mischievousness, and rarely ends in injury. Instead, it's more likely to result in mere property damage
Equipment: Frankie is a merchant vessel captain first and foremost. To keep up appearances, she can usually be found wearing a white silken shirt, a big red belt with a golden buckle, and a pair of navy pants that match her captain's coat and tricorn hat.
However, she never really forsook her tribal heritage. When out in the wilds or jn private, she sometimes can be found in her a light, leather and fur top that covers her from half way up her midsection and up to her neck, leaving her midriff and arms exposed. This is coupled with a matching skirt that reaches just above her knees, and finally a pair of wraps that cover her shins and ankles, then wraps around the middle of her feet, leaving the ankles and toes exposed, giving her better purchase when in the brush.
Frankie is an expert with a knife and always has one on her for personal protection, but she is also a great shot with a bow and arrow, having been taught by her mother. Though her father always wanted to teach her how to wield an axe, being an orc, she found that she had trouble with the weight of such weapons, and decided a quick, versatile fighting style would keep her alive longer.
Finally, though not equipment, she owns her own trade ship. A fairly large boat for a goblin, the ship is one part her home, one part transport hauler, and one part store front. She's spent a good few years collecting and trading that the hull of the ship is mostly full of all sorts of goods.
Skills and Abilities: Frankie is a merchant first and foremost. Goblins tended to do most of the trading in her mixed tribe, as the orcs weren't as charismatic nor crafty enough to trade efficiently. The goblins however used their stature and the stereotypes of their kind to their advantage, allowing their trade partners to think they're ripping them off, when the tables are actually turned.
As a half Goblin, Frankie is able to use a handful of tactics from both goblins and larger humanoids, as well as her looks. She's a fair merchant, but has a keen eye for an excellent deal. She's one to take advantage of whatever situation she comes into, and usually ends up on top.
Being the daughter of a goblin ranger and an orc warrior, she also knows how to hunt and fight with great skill, choosing range and a knife as well as her own two hands.
Finally, like most goblins, she is prone to Goblin Hyperactivity. When this occurs, starts to think, speak, and move at great speeds, often running and climbing from one thing to the other, and it usually ends with great joy and mischief as well as likely property damage. There's no time to consider not breaking something when there's fun to be had, stuff to climb, and things to do.
Enemies of the goblins often consider this akin to a berserker frenzy, but those who are friends of the goblins either join in the fun or stay out of the way.
Registered: Jan 9, 2022 23:34:33 GMT -5
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Post by Fran'garaz "Frankie" on Dec 28, 2023 20:20:03 GMT -5
Captain Frankie grabbed the hand that clasped her shoulder and twirled her red headed friend around once, then pulled her in close with Tilly’s back to the half goblin’s tummy. “Buy me a drink-” She twirled her again, pushing a little and leaning back, holding the human’s hand as the stood out stretched “Buy me a home-” Then she pulled her close and let go, only to put her hand around Tilly’s waist. “Buy me the whole world.” She planted a small, mischievous kiss on her lips and grinned. “Nothing holds a candle to your company.”
She gave a wink then let the human go, but not after a pinch to her rear. “Glad you could join the party, Fussy Boots!” she said with that wide, slightly crazed grin the goblins got when they were starting to get a little too exited. She wasn't there yet, but she'd succumbed to the goblin craze twice in Tilly’s company, one when the crew had a game of deck ball, which ended in absolute chaos and laughs, and another time that ended up with both of them on the floor of her cabin, thoroughly exhausted to the point of being unable to move. The goblin looked to the cart and grinned even wider. “Yeah, that’s the project I was keeping secret. Wasn’t sure if it was gonna work, but whaddya know, the Captain’s always right after all.” That grin shifted to one of pride. Her retirement plan was moving forward, perhaps far too early, but successful so far none the less.
At the mention of buying her a drink though, the captain scowled slightly. “Psh, no crew member of mine’s buying their booze tonight, Fussy Britches. There’s a loada kegs back on the ship for the boys, its the first batch, meant for sharin’!” She turned and stood beside Tilly, then bumped her hip against hers. “And after what you did last night, I think I owe ya.” Another wink, then she raised her mug which she had somehow not spilled even a drop of. Then again, with her reputation, it was likely a well practiced feat. “Besides, I already got one. C’mon, we’ll get you all liquored up, that’ll be fun as hell.” With a mischievous laugh, she set off for the Goblin Brews booze cart, pulling Tilly along by her hand.
She had just pulled a fresh pint and handed it to Tilly when that beautiful word carried over the winds and straight to her ears - ‘Tits’ - quickly followed by the name of her ship. She raised an eyebrow at Tilly. “Give that a taste. Lemme see what this is about…” Then looked to the man who’d addressed her, and promptly grinned. He wasn’t one of hers, but she knew of him, and she quickly gestured for the barkeep to pour him a pint, on the house.
“One ale coming up, as quickly as…” the barkeep looked the orc over. “Orcly possible. C’mon, humanly? Psh.” With that, he began his pour.
Frankie scrambled down from the bar, mug still in hand. “First of all, the Green Queen’s the ship, not me. I’m a Captain, better than any queen.” Then she looked up at the Orc, her grin flashing both her goblin teeth and the stubby little tusks of her own, the mark of a true half orc, half goblin. As if her height wasn’t the main indicator of her only being half a Goblin. Though… she was still quite short.
“Second of all, hellooooo tall, Green, and Handsome,” she said before sticking out her hand. “Captain Fran’garaz, or Frankie to the humans around here.” She sized him up once more, then decided that he was indeed who she thought he was. “And you’re Lugurk.” Those words weren’t said in Common though, instead she’d slipped into fluent Orcish. A gutteral, brutal language, but one most greenskins were happy to hear. It certainly wasn’t as quick or complex as Goblin-speak tended to be. “The Barkeep in town, I’m going to assume. The craft is new to me, I will admit, but it is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Some would call my profession Trade Baron, but without trade…” She shrugged. “I’ve had to start my retirement plans early. So far so good.”
Then she slipped back into Common again, to ensure her companion understood her. “And this fine young lady is Ms. Tilly Vanderbilt of none other than the Vanderbilt merchant family. Now, she’s a valued, hard working member of my crew, a wonderful friend, and-” She looked from Tilly to Lugruk. “A little bit more.” Wink.
“It’s a pleasure, my fine purveyor of even finer drinks,” she then said with a slight bow. “I was hoping we’d cross paths somewhere. Good luck that its here, eh?”
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