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 12, 2021 0:12:27 GMT -5
After the brief, unspoken prayer, Keph poked one of his eyes opens. Yep, the spectre was still in the midst of its haunting. There was a shake of the head and a deep, regretful sigh. Occultism had been a field he had had many a chance to study, but could never be bothered. When will he ever need to banish a ghost? He had always sarcastically wondered, but his mockery of the ghastly arts had come back to bite him.
The young man crossed his legs, gripped his chin, and hunkered down. His half-asleep brain was going to need a heck load of concentration to find a solution to this bothersome conundrum. The ghost didn't appear threatening, but often, apparitions rarely were - at least initially. This world was no longer theirs, there was a body in need of inhabitation, and this thing was refusing that body its better half. This wasn't to even start on the issues of the what-ifs it got overly emotional.
No, no, no. He couldn't just leave this be.
Quiet was refused to him. The spectre's voice permeating the back of his mind, making thought confusing, several voices all speaking over each other, all in his head. A voice from beyond the stars, a voice from beyond the grave, in the midst was his. His thoughts got louder and louder, until they became mental screams.
SILENCE!
The white-haired, wannabe Occultist furiously rubbed his palms across his head, disheveling his hair. Anxious, prickling annoyance felt across his scalp and face.
Alright! Alright! Keph understands! Now: shush! He's trying to think!
For once in his life, even the cosmic static of his patron went silent.
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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 Oct 15, 2021 19:24:08 GMT -5
Cuate's sylph body lurched back in recoil. Her rear end might have been burned by the bonfire if ectoplasm was flammable.
Ok ok. Keph, huh? Nice to meet you.
Cuate turned herself around and then leaned back on nothing. She rocked back and forth a bit, as if resting on an invisible hammock. Occasionally her gaze bored into Keph's skull, as if searching for something. There was definitely another magical influence in there somewhere. She didn't sense evil, but it was very alien, and somehow familiar at the same time.
Then, Coatl, the rugged sleeping man, began to snore.
It was a soft snore, a bit breathy and nasally. It was mostly buried by the sound of the bonfire, but it was definitely there.
After a bit, Cuate started to get feel bored. So she bent down and started doodling in the sand.
So uh, who's your friend? I feel like I might have known it in a past life.
Cuate's finger did not need to actually touch the sand. It seemed to do as her finger tip willed from a couple of feet above the ground.
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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 30, 2021 15:12:11 GMT -5
Keph’s faced dipped into his hands. The snoring added another layer of frustration. That bargain-bin occultist not only couldn’t accomplish his sole mission in life, he had the gall to go about snoring. A tired Keph was infuriated, he should’ve been the one sleeping! The adventurer had half-a-mind to kick the slumbering weirdo a second time, but decides not to; in all likelihood, he would just make things worse. It claimed to be some sort of guardian spirit, but Keph remained skeptical. It didn’t look like any guardian spirit he’d ever seen! If anything, it looked distinctively human. Weren’t guardian spirits supposed to be interconnected with nature? He shrugged. Lacking the expertise to call what he was certain was a bluff, he gave in… for the time being! His ink rose, the smooth, metallic surface twinkling from flickering fire. “Huh? Does she mean Rara? Keph REALLY doubts she knows Rara!”
The ink cut itself off. How in Hel was he supposed to explain the entity? Often, Keph himself had difficult comprehending Rara’s nature. He snapped his fingers, an idea coming to mind. His satchel was dropped, trinket-after-trinket thrown out in haste. He had in there somewhere! Ah! There it was. It’d been a long while since he’d been asked about his patron, and thus it’d been a while since he’d shown this treasured visual aid.
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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 Nov 11, 2021 0:18:22 GMT -5
Cuate's sylph head craned over the drawing from her invisible hammock. One of her luminous, pupil-less eyes widened with interest.
That, that is the most adorable thing I've ever seen in my life! Oh that is just precious! Did your little brother draw that?
Cuate felt a warm fuzziness well up in her ethereal heart. It was just the cutest, oddly familiar thing she had seen in a while.
Really, she was just a few ectoplasmic synapses away from remembering that she and the creator went to the same art school.
My memories from my past life are fuzzy. But I think I remember strange entities like this, both good and evil, and in between. There are creatures that live in darkness and wield darkness. At least, there used to be. This island may have removed their potency somewhat. Darkness is not inherently evil. It's an element like any other.
The ghost backed off from the drawing and did a little horizontal flip so that she was facing the sky, looking up at the stars.
Back when I was a living person, I had learned about the magical elements of darkness and light. The biggest difference, in my old school, was that darkness represented one's inner self, and the light represented one's outer self. One is associated with your identity, and the other with your relationship to the world. The inner self is usually where selfishness and desire reside, which is where darkness gets its bad rep. But one can commune with darkness by having a strong sense of self, and do so without being a spooky bad thing.
She flipped again and looked at Keph. You certainly don't strike me as a spooky bad thing.
She resisted her desire to ruffle the young man's hair.
Meanwhile, Coatl was still lightly snoring.
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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 Nov 22, 2021 20:58:07 GMT -5
Keph squinted, bubbling frustration visible in those clear, blue eyes of his. Something about the spirit claiming the artwork to be ‘adorable’ hit a nerve. He gritted his teeth, halfway tempted to throw a kick at the spirit’s master, just to get back at it. He restrained himself.
“That is an interpretation done by Keph’s prior master.”
His hand was waved in dismissive fashion. Ghost and ghouls, sylphs and guardians. Yes, Yes. He already knew this all! Well, he actually didn’t, but believed himself to host far more knowledge of the ethereal than he truly did.
Her small lesson was met with a callous, lazy resistance. The given information entering through one ear, and left through the other. Keph didn’t try to hide it, his mind clearly elsewhere as she went about tutoring him in occultism 101.
“Of course he isn’t a ‘bad thing’ or ‘spooky’!” He dropped back onto the sand, wrapping himself with his cloak. “He’s going to sleep! Stop bothering him.”
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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 Nov 23, 2021 19:36:42 GMT -5
Ghost synapse-> BZZZT! <-Ghost synapse ... The spirit stared at the image, her form deathly still now. I... I didn't realize I was such a poor artist.Before Keph could scarcely open his eyes, the sylph would be upon him, hugging him tightly. Her hug had no weight or presence, but it was warm. Did we ever figure out how to lube you into the void? Sadly I can't remember.He may have been a figment from a by-gone dream, but he was definitely Keph. There was no mistaking it anymore. If ghosts could weep.
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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 Nov 26, 2021 21:40:44 GMT -5
Keph rubbed his cheek into the sand. It wasn’t great, but it was better than dirt. From out of nowhere, he felt that ghastly embrace! He hopped onto his feet! Despite that ethereal form lacking weight, mass, even presence, he could still feel the dang thing clinging to him!
“What is she doing?!” wrote the Ink in massive letters, with an excessive amount of exclamation marks.
She wasn’t letting go! Lube into the void? That sounds familiar. But he had no time to think! Doubtlessly, the thing was trying to feed on his soul. He ran around the bonfire, flailing about, but no matter how fast he ran or how many times his arms passed through her, she stuck to him like sap to a tree.
“Get off!”
He didn’t feel any weaker, so it became apparent that she wasn’t trying to kill him - that only made the situation weirder. Maybe a shove, he thought. It didn’t work. How he had so quickly forgotten that she lacked mass in but a few minutes was impressive, to say the least.
Eventually, after many more attempts, and many for mishaps from that incorporeal nature, he gave up. He sat down, legs crossed, an ill-humored look on his face. He decided that perhaps it was best to let that spirit get this out of its system.
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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 Nov 29, 2021 16:09:02 GMT -5
As Keph flailed about, trying to dislodge the ghost, a snicker came from the other side of the bonfire.
The man with the leather hat had stopped snoring.
Just as Keph had settled down and surrendered to the apparition, the dusty man sat up from his burlap sack and watched the pair. He gave them a queer look as he crossed his legs into a more comfortable sitting position.
"You must be quite a charmer be able to cop a feel from beyond the grave," he said to Keph.
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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 Jan 1, 2022 6:54:08 GMT -5
Keph stuck out his tongue and squinted his eyes, a look of slight disgust was given to the old creep. As uncomfortable as the embrace from beyond the grave might’ve been, the ‘occultist’ had somehow managed to make it all worse.
“Oh. Good. He’s awake. Could he please do Keph a favour and deal with the spirit? It must think he’s a relative from a past life.”
It was clear that the young man had not yet taken notice of the apparition’s identity.
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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 Jan 4, 2022 15:09:35 GMT -5
Coatl crossed his legs and sat in a comfortable position. He squinted again at the ink letters.
"Well son, that depends on your perspective. If she's correct, then in a metaphorical sense the true ghost of the past is you. After all, the floodwaters brought our peoples together when they were hundreds of years apart."
Cuate was still hugging him, but at this point it was obviously just to annoy him.
"Apprentice? Ex-boyfriend? Husband? Great-great-couple-more-greats-grandson?"
Finally the spirit let go. She drifted to the side and examined Keph with a proud stance.
Apprentice. I remember, a large bird, a massive darkness, kinda blobby and child-like. A tower... The Enclave! Or was it called the Citadel? Or... Oh I don't remember all those buildings kinda sound the same after a while. Food. Weird food. You just gobbled it all up without even thinking! Oh by the forest what else? What else? Stupid ghost brain.
She smacked the side of her ethereal head with her ethereal fist, causing glowing embers of energy to fling themselves off into the air.
"Keph, my name is Coatl. Carpenter, architect, and general protector of the Imilla clan and its allies. This here is my partner in do-gooding, Cuate, a spirit of our ancestors."
He cocked his head. "Though I'm guessing you knew her back when she had actual flesh and bone. Her name was Jun, and she was of an ancestor clan to ours known as the Celadine."
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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 Jan 17, 2022 23:38:23 GMT -5
Ghost of the past, he mentally scoffed. Coatl’s words had some sense to them, but it was difficult to take them with any seriousness when there was a literal spectre hovering besides him. Keph flapped his hand dismissively. He hated such frivolous profundities.
The young man’s eyes narrowed. The ghost’s words made her identity plain, but denial caused difficulties, and he merely stared in wait for the obvious to be said. Coatl’s voice snapped him from shock, Keph reacting in his typical, rebellious nature, dismissing the tidal wave of titles thrown his way. Titles, titles, titles. Why do they always have so many titles?
Shock returned. The spirit’s mask was viscously ripped away, prior action was given a new light, its familiar mannerisms were given color. Initially, he shook his head, denial again standing strong, but the seed of acceptance had been sowed. He gave Cuate a few, timid glances, out of the corners of his eyes. It didn’t look like Jun… or did it? The more he looked, the more he could see his former master. Like eyes adjusting to a new pair of glasses, the picture cleared.
The dam was broken, joyful tears being unabashedly shed. He pounced the spirit, arms stretched out, aiming to pull the woman into a tight hug…
Crash…
Incorporeality again got the better of him, causing him to land face first into a mound of sand.
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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.
-------
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 Jan 24, 2022 17:54:23 GMT -5
Coatl gave an amused humph and stood with a slight groan. Then he extended a hand down to help Keph up. The sand on his person would fall off with surprising ease, as if his clothing repelled it like water on oiled cloth.
Cuate had a hand up. A trace of her magic was in the sand, of course. The glowing, golden sylph did not have a distinct mouth, but Keph would feel a smile coming from her.
You don't know how happy it makes me that you survived the floodwaters. I didn't even know I needed such good news. What are you up to? How accomplished have you become? Oh, nevermind that. How are you feeling? How is Rara? Are you alright? Can I help you with anything? I have so many questions I don't know where to begin! I-
There was a slight pause as Cuate reckoned with the slight problem with their reunion. Her memory.
I'll... try to answer your questions too, but it might be hard for me.
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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 Feb 7, 2022 10:36:34 GMT -5
Keph took the hand, groaning as the sand fell off of his clothes. He’d bat whatever remained on his face and hair on with his palms, as soon as he was back on his feet.
He found himself still a tad out of it. The young man’s gaze hopped between the two, sea blue eyes displaying confusion. He nodded a few times, to assure both he was there and that he was listening.
A smile was returned as the spectre - Jun - elatedly spoke. He nervously chuckled and held up two hands above his shoulders, taken aback by volley of queries.
“Keph is fine,” spelled the ink. “Rara is fuzzier ever since Keph reached the island.”
He tapped his cheek. He’d never been much of an ask-er, always more of a do-er, but there was one thing he was wondering.
“How’d Jun become a ghost?”
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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 Feb 11, 2022 0:34:50 GMT -5
That was certainly an awkward question to read. Fortunately Coatl knew better than to reply that presumably she would have died first-
Well, haha, presumably at some point I would have died first.
Coatl winced and shook his head disappointingly. A sense of amusement radiated from Cuate's spirit; she knew exactly how that sounded.
It sounds strange, but I remember being old. Very old. Wrinkly old lady I was. I remember loved ones, though their faces aren't very clear. I remember... I remember being sad that I somehow managed to die of old age despite all the battles I had fought in. I remember, feeling like there were others who were more deserving of the honor. Maybe it's a warrior thing. It just didn't sit right to be denied a warrior's death.
My becoming what I am now was not a natural process, but I just can't remember how exactly it happened. The only clue I have is that when Coatl and his people were in need, I appeared to them and helped them, and we bonded and became close friends. He didn't have much magic before we fused, but he has a gift for wielding what I can provide him. He's special. That's why I chose him. At least, I think I chose him. His people were descended from my people, by a few hundred years. But, I don't know. Sometimes it feels like he's the one that chose me.
"... The kid probably thinks your nuts." Coatl smirked.
Pft, as if that's an inaccurate sentiment.
"So this Rara feller is some kind of creature living inside of you?" He asked. "And I'm guessing it's some kinda spiritual thing, maybe similar to Cuate?"
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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 Mar 22, 2022 2:49:21 GMT -5
Keph grimaced at the brief descriptions. Being denied a warrior’s death was both encouraging, as it implied a time of peace, but also painful, as you were left to slowly rot away. To go out in a fiery bang, there was nothing sweeter. Hopefully, his would be the kind of bang songs and poems might be written about years after the fact, by people who’d only gotten a fourth-hand account of the intense happenings.
The answer to Coatl’s question came with the ink, but this time, fluid imagery, not words. Keph grinned. He had just realized that the last time he’d seen his first master, his quill was limited to physical scribing; slow, boring, and in need of a lot of paper.
The answer to ‘Rara’ had always been a difficult one to answer, harder still was answering it with words. He himself had never been sure what his companion was, but there were certain truths he could feel, like a blind man placing his hand in a river, he might not be able to tell the color or size, but he knew which way it flowed and, if he happened to be so lucky, a fish might bump into him, revealing the river had life.
His bottle was emptied of ink, the entirety of it levitating above the fire. Light bounced off the blob, its smooth, liquid surface glistening. He took a few step backs, and then, in a quick motion, clapped both his hands together, before parting them, and swinging them out, arms open wide at his sides.
The ink followed the movement, most of its initial mass was pulled to the left, with its dwarfed scrap of a neighbour going right. Keph’s movements continued, but they grew in complexity and precision.
Notably, the larger of the two masses caught one’s eye: it was shrinking, little by little. As it shrunk, its surface became turmoil. Splatters firing out, angry spears that struck nothing. It was dying, but refused to go quietly.
Then, the small speck on the left began to pulsate. A beating heart. Tha-dum, tha-dum. The mass on the right became calm, like the most peaceful of lakes. A stream of ink came from it, stopping halfway. Then, the same from its neighbour, connecting both. The violent mass began to beat.
Tha-dum, pa-tum, tha-dum, pa-tum.
The two pulsated in tandem, two hearts sharing a single bloodstream. They gently orbited each other, now stuck in each other’s gravity, bobbing like paper boats on an unseen, massive lake.
Keph pulled on the invisible strings, and the show ended. The ink was leased away back to its bottle. The puppet master stuffed the cork, then gave a quick bow, like he always did. He dropped back. Phew! That was exhausting!
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