Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Jun 17, 2021 15:24:03 GMT -5
Sylvanie, eyes full of wonder, finds herself wandering all around the settlement being built around them all. Compared to her home it was just so...different. Rather than trees dotting the village inside and out, all around them was a plain, filled with a sea of tents and rapidly forming buildings of various designs. The sounds of birds and rustling leaves replaced with the sound of the river and the many people going about their day. Even the people were just so different from her own.
Her own people... No. She cut off her own thought. Now was not the time for that, there was too much here to wonder at and explore for her to catch herself being sad. She looked around, marveling at the sites as she stopped for a second in the center of town, trying to decide where the wind was to take her next around here.
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Thuratiphel
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: Ageless (Appears late 30)
Appearance: Appearance: For the most part, he never takes his armor off. About 7 foot tall, he has a skull helmet, and pitch black armor. The armor has large curved pauldrons, and raised skeletal markings. He is usually wreathed in flames, coming from the the joints of his armor.
If you were to remove the helmet, you would see the face of a fairly regular man in his 30's. A square jaw, with short brown hair. However, if you look into his eyes, you would notice that both the iris and pupil are near black.
Equipment: Equipment: His armor. A small piece of paper attached to his armor by a wax seal, detailing his sentence and what must be done to complete it. When it is completed it will burn up and Thuratiphel's appearance will change to a more angelic form.
Skills and Abilities: Skills & Abilties: Slight premonition. Control of the flames on his body, allowing him to choose whether they harm someone or not. Limited Levitation (think like a double jump). Abnormally strong for someone his size. Skilled with his sword.
Biography: Bio: A taciturn man, Thuratiphel is a Xuel-nelga, a angelic species of extremely powerful beings. He was ordered on a mission of penance fore a crime, and was given his current more demonic form. In his travels to complete his penance, he began to travel to the mistborne isles, the mist stripping all but a few of his once immense power.
Registered: Apr 11, 2021 7:21:36 GMT -5
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Post by Thuratiphel on Jun 17, 2021 17:35:25 GMT -5
Sylvanie, eyes full of wonder, finds herself wandering all around the settlement being built around them all. Compared to her home it was just so... different. Rather than trees dotting the village inside and out, all around them was a plain, filled with a sea of tents and rapidly forming buildings of various designs. The sounds of birds and rustling leaves replaced with the sound of the river and the many people going about their day. Even the people were just so different from her own. Her own people... No. She cut off her own thought. Now was not the time for that, there was too much here to wonder at and explore for her to catch herself being sad. She looked around, marveling at the sites as she stopped for a second in the center of town, trying to decide where the wind was to take her next around here. Thuratiphel, who had been following her wanderings quietly, finally spoke. "Sylvanie? Do you have any idea where you're going?"
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Jun 17, 2021 18:12:32 GMT -5
Sylvanie, eyes full of wonder, finds herself wandering all around the settlement being built around them all. Compared to her home it was just so... different. Rather than trees dotting the village inside and out, all around them was a plain, filled with a sea of tents and rapidly forming buildings of various designs. The sounds of birds and rustling leaves replaced with the sound of the river and the many people going about their day. Even the people were just so different from her own. Her own people... No. She cut off her own thought. Now was not the time for that, there was too much here to wonder at and explore for her to catch herself being sad. She looked around, marveling at the sites as she stopped for a second in the center of town, trying to decide where the wind was to take her next around here. Thuratiphel, who had been following her wanderings quietly, finally spoke. "Sylvanie? Do you have any idea where you're going?"
Sylvanie turned towards Thuratiphel, beaming. "Nope!" She exclaims jovially, rocking back and forth on her heels. "The where doesn't even really matter all that much I don't think, the going is the part I care about right now."
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Thuratiphel
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: Ageless (Appears late 30)
Appearance: Appearance: For the most part, he never takes his armor off. About 7 foot tall, he has a skull helmet, and pitch black armor. The armor has large curved pauldrons, and raised skeletal markings. He is usually wreathed in flames, coming from the the joints of his armor.
If you were to remove the helmet, you would see the face of a fairly regular man in his 30's. A square jaw, with short brown hair. However, if you look into his eyes, you would notice that both the iris and pupil are near black.
Equipment: Equipment: His armor. A small piece of paper attached to his armor by a wax seal, detailing his sentence and what must be done to complete it. When it is completed it will burn up and Thuratiphel's appearance will change to a more angelic form.
Skills and Abilities: Skills & Abilties: Slight premonition. Control of the flames on his body, allowing him to choose whether they harm someone or not. Limited Levitation (think like a double jump). Abnormally strong for someone his size. Skilled with his sword.
Biography: Bio: A taciturn man, Thuratiphel is a Xuel-nelga, a angelic species of extremely powerful beings. He was ordered on a mission of penance fore a crime, and was given his current more demonic form. In his travels to complete his penance, he began to travel to the mistborne isles, the mist stripping all but a few of his once immense power.
Registered: Apr 11, 2021 7:21:36 GMT -5
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Post by Thuratiphel on Jun 17, 2021 19:56:17 GMT -5
Thuratiphel, who had been following her wanderings quietly, finally spoke. "Sylvanie? Do you have any idea where you're going?"
Sylvanie turned towards Thuratiphel, beaming. "Nope!" She exclaims jovially, rocking back and forth on her heels. "The where doesn't even really matter all that much I don't think, the going is the part I care about right now." "How about us-I mean you, find a place to sleep, maybe live. I don't think we-you'll be leaving for a while." Thuratiphel suggested.
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Jun 17, 2021 22:04:40 GMT -5
Sylvanie turned towards Thuratiphel, beaming. "Nope!" She exclaims jovially, rocking back and forth on her heels. "The where doesn't even really matter all that much I don't think, the going is the part I care about right now." "How about us-I mean you, find a place to sleep, maybe live. I don't think we-you'll be leaving for a while." Thuratiphel suggested. Sylvanie brings a hand up to her chin, contemplating this thought, tongue sticking ever-so slightly out of the side of her mouth, eyes staring upwards at nothing as she thinks. Then she returns to her rocking motion. "Well back in the forest we usually just slept in the trees! Sometimes we influenced their growth to make them more comfortable, but otherwise..." She stops, an idea lighting up her eyes. "Oooh! What if I go plant a tree near the other houses to live in!" She exclaims. "I mean, no one would object to a nearby tree, right?"
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Thuratiphel
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: Ageless (Appears late 30)
Appearance: Appearance: For the most part, he never takes his armor off. About 7 foot tall, he has a skull helmet, and pitch black armor. The armor has large curved pauldrons, and raised skeletal markings. He is usually wreathed in flames, coming from the the joints of his armor.
If you were to remove the helmet, you would see the face of a fairly regular man in his 30's. A square jaw, with short brown hair. However, if you look into his eyes, you would notice that both the iris and pupil are near black.
Equipment: Equipment: His armor. A small piece of paper attached to his armor by a wax seal, detailing his sentence and what must be done to complete it. When it is completed it will burn up and Thuratiphel's appearance will change to a more angelic form.
Skills and Abilities: Skills & Abilties: Slight premonition. Control of the flames on his body, allowing him to choose whether they harm someone or not. Limited Levitation (think like a double jump). Abnormally strong for someone his size. Skilled with his sword.
Biography: Bio: A taciturn man, Thuratiphel is a Xuel-nelga, a angelic species of extremely powerful beings. He was ordered on a mission of penance fore a crime, and was given his current more demonic form. In his travels to complete his penance, he began to travel to the mistborne isles, the mist stripping all but a few of his once immense power.
Registered: Apr 11, 2021 7:21:36 GMT -5
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Post by Thuratiphel on Jun 18, 2021 15:00:07 GMT -5
"How about us-I mean you, find a place to sleep, maybe live. I don't think we-you'll be leaving for a while." Thuratiphel suggested. Sylvanie brings a hand up to her chin, contemplating this thought, tongue sticking ever-so slightly out of the side of her mouth, eyes staring upwards at nothing as she thinks. Then she returns to her rocking motion. "Well back in the forest we usually just slept in the trees! Sometimes we influenced their growth to make them more comfortable, but otherwise..." She stops, an idea lighting up her eyes. "Oooh! What if I go plant a tree near the other houses to live in!" She exclaims. "I mean, no one would object to a nearby tree, right?" "I don't see why not, though how large would this tree be?" He asked. Hopefully big enough for the two of them. Or at the very least in a place where could rest nearby. She was the closest thing he had to a friend in this place, and he'd be loath to go too far away.
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Jun 18, 2021 20:57:27 GMT -5
Sylvanie brings a hand up to her chin, contemplating this thought, tongue sticking ever-so slightly out of the side of her mouth, eyes staring upwards at nothing as she thinks. Then she returns to her rocking motion. "Well back in the forest we usually just slept in the trees! Sometimes we influenced their growth to make them more comfortable, but otherwise..." She stops, an idea lighting up her eyes. "Oooh! What if I go plant a tree near the other houses to live in!" She exclaims. "I mean, no one would object to a nearby tree, right?" "I don't see why not, though how large would this tree be?" He asked. Hopefully big enough for the two of them. Or at the very least in a place where could rest nearby. She was the closest thing he had to a friend in this place, and he'd be loath to go too far away. Sylvanie contemplates for a moment, her rocking slowing significantly. "With my magic acting wonky as it is, I'd say at best...a branch in the dense leaves to sleep in and another few for my stuff and for sitting and doing things." She says, oblivious to Thuratiphel's reason for asking. "And if I plant it in the housey place, I'll be right next to everyone else so I can meet all sorts of new people!" She exclaims, hopping up a short distance as she does so.
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Thuratiphel
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: Ageless (Appears late 30)
Appearance: Appearance: For the most part, he never takes his armor off. About 7 foot tall, he has a skull helmet, and pitch black armor. The armor has large curved pauldrons, and raised skeletal markings. He is usually wreathed in flames, coming from the the joints of his armor.
If you were to remove the helmet, you would see the face of a fairly regular man in his 30's. A square jaw, with short brown hair. However, if you look into his eyes, you would notice that both the iris and pupil are near black.
Equipment: Equipment: His armor. A small piece of paper attached to his armor by a wax seal, detailing his sentence and what must be done to complete it. When it is completed it will burn up and Thuratiphel's appearance will change to a more angelic form.
Skills and Abilities: Skills & Abilties: Slight premonition. Control of the flames on his body, allowing him to choose whether they harm someone or not. Limited Levitation (think like a double jump). Abnormally strong for someone his size. Skilled with his sword.
Biography: Bio: A taciturn man, Thuratiphel is a Xuel-nelga, a angelic species of extremely powerful beings. He was ordered on a mission of penance fore a crime, and was given his current more demonic form. In his travels to complete his penance, he began to travel to the mistborne isles, the mist stripping all but a few of his once immense power.
Registered: Apr 11, 2021 7:21:36 GMT -5
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Post by Thuratiphel on Jun 18, 2021 21:04:50 GMT -5
"I don't see why not, though how large would this tree be?" He asked. Hopefully big enough for the two of them. Or at the very least in a place where could rest nearby. She was the closest thing he had to a friend in this place, and he'd be loath to go too far away. Sylvanie contemplates for a moment, her rocking slowing significantly. "With my magic acting wonky as it is, I'd say at best...a branch in the dense leaves to sleep in and another few for my stuff and for sitting and doing things." She says, oblivious to Thuratiphel's reason for asking. "And if I plant it in the housey place, I'll be right next to everyone else so I can meet all sorts of new people!" She exclaims, hopping up a short distance as she does so. Thuratiphel just sighed at her a oblivousness and said nothing more on that subject. "That sounds grand. I hope you'll gave fun."
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Sylvanie Autumndaughter
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 145
Age: 43, though she looks closer to her mid twenties, going by human standards
Appearance: She has auburn hair, like that of fall leaves, that falls down to about her waist, as well as a golden-yellow pair of eyes and pale skin. Her clothing is very nature inspired, appearing to be made of sewn leaves and tree bark, as well as vines for straps and a belt. She usually goes around barefooted(though she has a vine tied around her left ankle) and comes no taller than 5'4" She has a thin frame and clear skin, except for a very slight scar on the top of her right hand, and she bares a pair of translucent wings similar to those of an insect, like a butterfly, though they appear too small to lift her.
Equipment: As she arrived on the Isle she had no equipment to write about, other than the clothes on her back and what appeared to be a dagger made out of wood.
Skills and Abilities: Before arriving here, she could commune with nature and help plants to grow, as well as speak with animals, fly, and cast a variety of nature and illusion based spells. Since arriving, most of her magic has waned significantly. If her spells work at all they take much longer to take hold, her understanding of animals has become much more broken, her flight has left her entirely, and the trees here seem to fall quiet or silent to her ears. Annoyingly, she still seems to hold the allergy to iron and steel that her mother's blood gives her.
Biography: Born of a human father and a fairy mother, Sylvanie was known in her world as a Faeschild. Raised by her mother in the world of magic the fairies inhabited, she learned many things about nature and magic, such as the fairy's ability to commune with it, the animals' nature as a part of it, and humanity's great fear of it. She was always quite naïve and fiery, her heart thirsting for adventure. However, she didn't get the chance before...it happened. She isn't entirely sure what it was, or what happened, but the next thing she new, she was coughing up seawater on the shore of a strange island. Who knows where it'll take her next?
Registered: Apr 9, 2021 0:02:55 GMT -5
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Post by Sylvanie Autumndaughter on Jun 18, 2021 21:59:36 GMT -5
Sylvanie contemplates for a moment, her rocking slowing significantly. "With my magic acting wonky as it is, I'd say at best...a branch in the dense leaves to sleep in and another few for my stuff and for sitting and doing things." She says, oblivious to Thuratiphel's reason for asking. "And if I plant it in the housey place, I'll be right next to everyone else so I can meet all sorts of new people!" She exclaims, hopping up a short distance as she does so. Thuratiphel just sighed at her a oblivousness and said nothing more on that subject. "That sounds grand. I hope you'll gave fun." "Ooooh and you can have a house right next to it!" She says, skipping away from the center of town with a new mission. "I'm gonna go get seeds from the forest, I'll be back!"
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Thuratiphel
Committed
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: Ageless (Appears late 30)
Appearance: Appearance: For the most part, he never takes his armor off. About 7 foot tall, he has a skull helmet, and pitch black armor. The armor has large curved pauldrons, and raised skeletal markings. He is usually wreathed in flames, coming from the the joints of his armor.
If you were to remove the helmet, you would see the face of a fairly regular man in his 30's. A square jaw, with short brown hair. However, if you look into his eyes, you would notice that both the iris and pupil are near black.
Equipment: Equipment: His armor. A small piece of paper attached to his armor by a wax seal, detailing his sentence and what must be done to complete it. When it is completed it will burn up and Thuratiphel's appearance will change to a more angelic form.
Skills and Abilities: Skills & Abilties: Slight premonition. Control of the flames on his body, allowing him to choose whether they harm someone or not. Limited Levitation (think like a double jump). Abnormally strong for someone his size. Skilled with his sword.
Biography: Bio: A taciturn man, Thuratiphel is a Xuel-nelga, a angelic species of extremely powerful beings. He was ordered on a mission of penance fore a crime, and was given his current more demonic form. In his travels to complete his penance, he began to travel to the mistborne isles, the mist stripping all but a few of his once immense power.
Registered: Apr 11, 2021 7:21:36 GMT -5
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Post by Thuratiphel on Jun 28, 2021 14:46:22 GMT -5
Thuratiphel just sighed at her a oblivousness and said nothing more on that subject. "That sounds grand. I hope you'll gave fun." "Ooooh and you can have a house right next to it!" She says, skipping away from the center of town with a new mission. "I'm gonna go get seeds from the forest, I'll be back!" Thuratiphel sighed, then took a seat on the ground. Not that he had anything better to do.
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
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Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
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Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Sept 21, 2021 22:53:50 GMT -5
It was a weekday evening, and a dusty man was sleeping near the bonfire. He was lying face-up, and his head rested on a folded-up burlap sack. Most of his face was covered by a wide-brimmed leather hat. Next to Coatl were a few candles, an obvious redundancy compared to the fire itself. But the candles were already burned out.
Sitting vigilantly next to his body was the faintest sign of an apparition. The light of the flames refracted slightly as if crystal clear glass were in front of it, and the glass had a woman's shape. There was hardly anyone around, and low-level manifestations of this sort were soothing for the spirit. Even though her existence wasn't a secret per say, Cuate enjoyed the whispers and rumors of the man and his ghost friend a little more than she should have.
It had been a very long day, and her host had earned his rest. Coatl was overseeing several building and irrigation projects for Lady Naoki. Cuate however was feeling a bit restless. The magical prowess she could offer him was somewhat useless when it came to managing the logistics of carving out dirt trenches and ordering wooden jack planes.
She was thinking of their recent conversation with Lady Naoki, and wondered how many old friends she had forgotten over the centuries. It was a strange feeling, like mourning, but not really, unless one could mourn for memories.
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Keph
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Sporting odd, eye-catching, snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed ‘Master Adventure’: Keph d’Avon!
With a seemingly pure, unending thirst for exploration and a well of eager energy to match it, this short, athletic young man often finds himself in unnecessarily precarious situations. Even so, with all the trouble he gets himself into, a slight smile is most often seen.
Despite being born a mute, most will find him of oddly many words. His soft face is home to a pair of clear, sky-blue eyes; soulful, expressive orbs that constantly complement his exaggerated and somewhat theatrical expressions.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 14:10:27 GMT -5
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Post by Keph on Sept 28, 2021 15:41:07 GMT -5
Keph dropped down next to the bonfire, sand thoughtlessly being launched every which way. Bah, he thought. They don’t know a thing! He continued, complaining within his own head. He had lost track of the amount of maps he made, the amount of hours spent trekking, the amount of mosquito bites suffered. It all appeared to go unappreciated. At least the bloodsuckers had been delighted with his efforts.
He rolled over, towards the fire. The size of the flame brought him enough warmth to avoid freezing, but the nights were still cold enough to cause him to shiver and sometimes wake. Maybe, maybe one day soon, he’d have the time to work on building a temple. He wasn’t an architect, a carpenter, not even a lumberjack, and getting the aid needed for such was going to be a task-and-a-half.
Eyes hovered over the bizarre man that neighboured him, then the even more bizarre, ghostly fellow. The white-haired man sighed, before shoving a foot against his sand-splattered back, intent on waking him and catching his attention.
Ink hovered above Keph’s head, “He should light those candles. The dead are looking for guidance.”
The logic was hard to follow, but to Keph, it made perfect sense. Some poor sod died out in the forest, and by the man’s ridiculous outfit, he was no doubt an occultist. The spirit lost its path into the cycle, and the lighting of his undoubtedly occult candles would guide it.
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
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Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
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Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Sept 29, 2021 17:03:44 GMT -5
Cuate was a bit startled to see someone just waltz right up to the fire and not react with the slightest bit of trepidation at a ghostly manifestation. She was either going to like or hate this person. She sensed there would be very little middle ground. Having the audacity to try to wake up her host, just like that, as he was being guarded by a ghost... was a possible step in either direction. His foot would fail to make contact with the man by an inch as a thin wall of sand suddenly appeared over his torso and absorbed the impact. It was so quick and faint there was a chance Keph wouldn't even know what happened. What do you think the candles were for in the first place? He'd hear the feminine reply in his brain. He lights them all the time to honor those that drowned in the waters.The ghost suddenly sat up and lifted up into the air. It was a sylph-like being, transparent, with vague, unfocused facial features. Her hair seemed to float on its own, as if she were underwater. The being hovered at Keph's height so that her eyes peered into his. There was something very familiar about this man. He was one of the few that elicited an emotional reaction from her when she saw them for the first time on the island. He communicated with ink, which was a distinct trait. She didn't know why exactly, but she felt like teasing him with a specific wording. Why is he kicking sand around? He doesn't look like a sand piper.
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Keph
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 22
Appearance: Sporting odd, eye-catching, snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed ‘Master Adventure’: Keph d’Avon!
With a seemingly pure, unending thirst for exploration and a well of eager energy to match it, this short, athletic young man often finds himself in unnecessarily precarious situations. Even so, with all the trouble he gets himself into, a slight smile is most often seen.
Despite being born a mute, most will find him of oddly many words. His soft face is home to a pair of clear, sky-blue eyes; soulful, expressive orbs that constantly complement his exaggerated and somewhat theatrical expressions.
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 14:10:27 GMT -5
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Post by Keph on Oct 4, 2021 1:11:40 GMT -5
Keph found himself briefly startled by the originless voice, he even reached for his sword. It wouldn’t be drawn, there was no threat. The now-journeyed adventurer recognized the trick, ability, or magicism: it was often referred to as telepathy.
He guessed (correctly) that the voice that had let itself in without permission must’ve been that of the specter. He sighed. She wasn’t alone with Keph, up there; some third entity her past life had been acquainted with.
Amidst the loud, otherworldly static from that third entity, Keph concentrated, perhaps he could reply without having to bother with his ink? He has no clue what a sand piper is! Shoo, spirit, shoo. It’s their turn to follow into the Cycle!
In frustration, he launched up some more sand, the grains flowing straight through the translucent girl. This hadn’t made him feel any better. He puffed his cheeks out at the disrespectful soul. If the “occultist” wasn’t going to do his job, Keph would do it for him. The candles were lit on the bonfire, then set to form an eight-pointed star. He clapped his hands together, and mouthed muted words in prayer.
At the end of the prayer, he clapped his hands thrice. A hopeful eye poked open. It’s still there, isn’t it?
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
-------
Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
-------
Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Oct 5, 2021 0:34:57 GMT -5
This was a strange and confusing young man.
Cuate allowed the hail of sand to pass through her body, then floated idly and watched as Keph enacted his ritual. There was no harm in it. That was technically what the candles were for. She noticed that Keph laid them out in a precise manner, which was itself interesting. Perhaps he came from a culture where this sort of thing was done regularly.
Cuate was sometimes able to hear thoughts directed straight at her, but she wasn't psychic exactly. She couldn't see or feel into a person's mind without their permission. However, she could sense other sources of magic. And there was definitely something odd about Keph, something familiar.
Both parties clearly had other things going on, so getting on the same page might take some more clear communication.
If you mean me, I'm pretty sure I'm still here. I don't think one can be mistaken about being in a place where they are, unless the mistake is in the actual place itself. I might mistake being inside a dark dungeon while in reality being in a catacomb, but I would know if I was in the place that I'm making the mistake of- of... Sorry in trying to screw with you I confused myself. Let's start again. My name is Cuate. I'm this man's guardian spirit.
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