Deleted
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Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2015 18:02:41 GMT -8
The Norkari Mountains have always been a place where men dare not to trod. Where only those with power might stand a chance, where dragons and their kin are said to roam, where the dark plays freely in the light. Such mountains look over the Free Plains, and the glittering city of Isra in the distance. They tower like giants that never get too close, their jagged peeks threatening in the far distance. One such mountain, however, has suddenly become shrouded. Storms were not so uncommon upon the Norkari Mountains, but this one does not move and it does not dissipate. It howls and it screams, and the white churns and roils and completely engulfs this mountain top. No longer can people see its top, and its cold, cold, cold temperatures have driven away much of the wild life from the peak where they used to roam. Of course, there are plenty of rumors of how such a thing has come into place, but the most prominent rumor is that some sorceress lives there now, some sort of mistress of magic. It remains to be seen, quite literally. For none, so far, have pierced the veil of the White Mountain.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2015 18:09:55 GMT -8
The storm swirled and screamed all around the mountain. The earth groaned as ice was lifted, added, shaped and molded. The winds were so frigid, so quick, that they froze animals in their beds, ripped birds from the sky as they tried to take flight.
When all was done, Neia stood in the courtyard of her own beautiful, glittering, gleaming castle, and the storm had been pushed out in all directions, allowing her to look upon her creation and smile. Her arms were graceful above her head, and a light snow began to fall where she stood.
Rio Fletcher stood with her, taken from the Realm of Titania when she had self-exiled herself.
"There now," Neia said. "No silly duchesses and faerie to order me around. It was all getting quite bothersome. Wouldn't you agree, Rio Fletcher?" She asked, and she looked over her naked shoulder, beautiful and sparkling and smiled at her pet.
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Rio "Fireball" Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 25
Physical Description: Rio is tall, with white hair like all the rest of his family. He dyes it a sort of silvery-blue, but it's still kinda white so his family doesn't give him trouble over it. He's got the sort of face and body that compels women to throw their undergarments onto the stage.
Clothes and Equipment: He carries a guitar, and wears a leather jacket. He also has a sword, but it's mostly for show.
Registered: Oct 2, 2015 10:51:39 GMT -8
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Post by Rio "Fireball" Fletcher on Dec 19, 2015 18:14:07 GMT -8
Rio shivers, his teeth chattering.
"Y-yeah. Much better here."
He looks nervously over the edge of the cliff, at the long, long drop down to the rocks below. One stiff breeze could knock him clean over. Shaking his head, he moves closer to Neia.
"What will you do here, Lady Neia? There's nobody here. Your children have gone."
With another worried glance at the cliff, he scoots a little further away from the edge.
"Is there even any food here?"
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2015 18:26:08 GMT -8
She waved a hand. "My children were a nuisance anyway," she says, rather dismissively.
"Come along, Rio Fletcher. It's best not to dawdle." She moved into her beautiful, palatial abode. It was much grander, and far more ornate than her last had been. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the ice seemed to glow pink and purple and blue and white. It was breath-taking to look at.
"Food? Oh, why yes, of course."
As if she already knew how the castle was laid out, she brought him through winding halls and opened double doors into a wide garden. Fruit trees were there, and they appeared to be frosted and iced, but the rich color of their low-hanging, plum-colored fruits could be seen.
She drifted out towards one, her gown sparkling in her wake, her long, starlight hair flowing all around her as she plucked a plum and turned to hand it to Rio. "Eat this, Rio Fletcher." It was very, very clearly a command.
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Rio "Fireball" Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 25
Physical Description: Rio is tall, with white hair like all the rest of his family. He dyes it a sort of silvery-blue, but it's still kinda white so his family doesn't give him trouble over it. He's got the sort of face and body that compels women to throw their undergarments onto the stage.
Clothes and Equipment: He carries a guitar, and wears a leather jacket. He also has a sword, but it's mostly for show.
Registered: Oct 2, 2015 10:51:39 GMT -8
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Post by Rio "Fireball" Fletcher on Dec 19, 2015 18:30:09 GMT -8
Rio follows her inside, relieved to be further away from the cliff. To be honest, he's glad that her children are gone. They worried him. He takes the proffered fruit, admiring the trees.
"Thank you, Lady Neia."
Lifting the plum, he takes a generous bite. It smells sweet.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2015 18:38:53 GMT -8
And tastes, so, too! In fact, to a mortal, it tastes like sweet ambrosia, like the taste of life and good health.
Neia reaches up and plucks another off a tree and hands it to him, watching him devour the sugarplum fruit. Rio himself would be able to sense that the cold was not bothering him as much as it was before. In fact, he'd feel... comfort? No! But yes. He was comfortable.
"Lady Neia," she repeated. "Hm. That sounds almost... common now, don't you think?" she asked as she moved past him and back into her castle. "It seems almost too mundane for a mistress of winter."
She swept her hand forward and snow leapt up into the air, whirling until little Snow Sprites had formed. They quickly darted off, presumably to do something within the ornate, leviathan castle.
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Rio "Fireball" Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 25
Physical Description: Rio is tall, with white hair like all the rest of his family. He dyes it a sort of silvery-blue, but it's still kinda white so his family doesn't give him trouble over it. He's got the sort of face and body that compels women to throw their undergarments onto the stage.
Clothes and Equipment: He carries a guitar, and wears a leather jacket. He also has a sword, but it's mostly for show.
Registered: Oct 2, 2015 10:51:39 GMT -8
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Post by Rio "Fireball" Fletcher on Dec 19, 2015 23:42:35 GMT -8
"Hmm? Lady Neia?"
Rio continues to eat the sugar plums, as they're delicious and he's starving.
"Mistress of winter? Huh? What else would you be called besides Lady Neia? That is your name, after all. And it is a beautiful one indeed, my lady. It suits you."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 21, 2015 22:49:30 GMT -8
"Don't be droll, Rio Fletcher," Neia lightly scolded as she pushed open the icy doors that led to a beautiful and long great hall. A fantastic throne of carved ice was down at one end. Neia twirled her hands, and huge pillars rose to either side of it, and "fire" seemed to glow upon them-- really just a captured winter's breeze churning snowflakes and snow in the air to make the illusion of it.
"I think I want to be a queen," Neia said. She smiled, warming up to the idea. "Yes, a queen. That will do wonderfully. But a queen needs subjects, doesn't she?" She twisted at the waist and flung out her arm, and beautiful frozen statues of women in beautiful gowns appeared, crystalline. The magic imbued in them had them suddenly moving, as if they were only just discovering that they could move on their own. Even so, they were silent but for the faint crackle and pop of ice moving against ice.
"Rio Fletcher," Neia said, turning to him. "I want you to go down to that city. The one down in the plains." Magic was growing all around Neia, glittering around her like an aura, as even her eyes began to sparkle. "I want you to be my eyes and my ears. I want to know about the people who live there. I want to know who's in charge."
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Rio "Fireball" Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 25
Physical Description: Rio is tall, with white hair like all the rest of his family. He dyes it a sort of silvery-blue, but it's still kinda white so his family doesn't give him trouble over it. He's got the sort of face and body that compels women to throw their undergarments onto the stage.
Clothes and Equipment: He carries a guitar, and wears a leather jacket. He also has a sword, but it's mostly for show.
Registered: Oct 2, 2015 10:51:39 GMT -8
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Post by Rio "Fireball" Fletcher on Dec 23, 2015 11:09:15 GMT -8
"Oh?"
Rio blows on his hands, trying to warm them.
"You want me to go to the city, my lady? How would I contact you? How would I let you know what's happening?"
Of course, he thinks, it would be nice. It's warm down there, and his uncle is there. Of course, he can't run. Lady Neia would hunt him down if he ran. But wouldn't it be nice to be warm for a little while?
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2015 21:50:32 GMT -8
Neia seemed to be glowing with happiness. Free of the shackles of Titania, she could feel her power throbbing here, just waiting for an excuse for her to let it run wild. Technically, she already was, given the blizzards that were now enshrouding her "humble" little mountain top, obscuring her beautiful and ornate ice palace from view.
"Here," she said to Rio, and she gave a little twirl of her hand. A pendant of deep blue and purple was formed, a silver chain around it. It floated through the air until it settled around Rio's neck. "I will keep track of you with this, and I will be able to see and hear the world that you see and hear as long as this pendant is with you."
Of course, she didn't add that if the pendant's chain did settle around Rio's neck, it would stay there for at least a very long while, until Neia herself took it off. It wouldn't prevent Rio from wandering or leaving Isra or the Norkari Mountains at all... but she'd be able to find him.
And find him, she would.
"Tell the people about the... Frost Queen. Yes. The Frost Queen. I rather like that. Tell them whatever you want. Start the rumors, and we'll see what curious cats come wandering." She smiled to herself, pleased by her own cleverness as she turned and took a seat on her luxurious throne.
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Rio "Fireball" Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 25
Physical Description: Rio is tall, with white hair like all the rest of his family. He dyes it a sort of silvery-blue, but it's still kinda white so his family doesn't give him trouble over it. He's got the sort of face and body that compels women to throw their undergarments onto the stage.
Clothes and Equipment: He carries a guitar, and wears a leather jacket. He also has a sword, but it's mostly for show.
Registered: Oct 2, 2015 10:51:39 GMT -8
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Post by Rio "Fireball" Fletcher on Dec 24, 2015 22:03:42 GMT -8
Rio stares at the pendant dubiously. It's probably enchanted to kill him if he takes it off. But no matter, it's not like she couldn't track him anyway. He's long since resigned himself to his fate as her plaything.
"Yes, my lady. You will see the wonders of the city, and hear all the music and gossip of the streets. I'll spread the remorse, just as you ask."
He takes a deep breath and dons the necklace, shivering as the freezing metal touches his skin.
"This necklace, my lady. It won't melt, Will it's? Because I'd hate to take a bath and have your gift melt away. That would be awful."
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Xel'rath
Committed
Roleplay posts: 83
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: If Xel'rath has a true form, it is unknown as to what it really looks like. It can take on the appearance of anything or anyone with complete perfection.
Clothes and Equipment: None, Xel'rath can conjure anything it needs along with it's many forms.
Player's online availability : Unknown
Registered: Nov 3, 2015 18:47:56 GMT -8
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Post by Xel'rath on Dec 27, 2015 20:53:28 GMT -8
A curious cat did in a sense finally make it's way to the White Mountain to investigate. Only, there was a slight difference, this curious cat was not a cat at all but a void being known as Xel'rath. In the form of a raven he fluttered up to the white mountain. The raven seemed to be uninhibited by the gusting winds of the blizzard it seemed, as if flew straight through it, almost as if the winds passed right through the being.
The raven alighted near what appeared to be the entrance of the ice castle and within a few seconds it's form seemed to change to that of a boy with black hair no older than twelve. His dark brown eyes peered at the castle curiously before he approached the front door.
Xel'rath had recently learned the commonly practiced process that was performed when one approached a door and wanted to get the attention of those on the other side, and thus, the boy with the black hair in the black cloak knocked on the icy door.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2015 12:02:37 GMT -8
Neia laughed beautifully, charmingly. "Oh, my dear Rio Fletcher. It will not melt. Go, then. And report to me," she smiled at Rio, reclining in her throne with the pleasure of a cat with a belly full of cream.
. . . . . . . . .
Unfortunately, fluttering was not an option when it came to the White Mountain.
It was only too obvious that the blizzards surrounding this mountain top were unlike the blizzards on the others. There was something else in the force-wind gales that whipped and ripped around the mountain side, even making the mighty trees bend to their strength. It almost seemed as if there was a magical pulse, meant to expel any unwanted visitors, whoever they may be. The snow whipped and turned, nothing but white all around whatever being ventured into its depths, meant to confuse and turn around. When one was surrounded by white, how did one know to go forward or backward, West or East, around or straight?
It was not easy. It was not simple. Perhaps, to an untrained mind, this would simply be the most horrible of storms. To those that new better, they could sense immediately that there was something more. Whoever was on top of that mountain did not want visitors. Yet.
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Xel'rath
Committed
Roleplay posts: 83
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: If Xel'rath has a true form, it is unknown as to what it really looks like. It can take on the appearance of anything or anyone with complete perfection.
Clothes and Equipment: None, Xel'rath can conjure anything it needs along with it's many forms.
Player's online availability : Unknown
Registered: Nov 3, 2015 18:47:56 GMT -8
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Post by Xel'rath on Dec 29, 2015 17:14:35 GMT -8
The raven seemed to pause in the midst of the storm, not flapping it's wings any more, but just floating there in the air. At this moment Xel'rath had detected the magical properties of the storm, and was now analyzing them. As he studied the magical fields around him he quickly came to the conclusion that this magic was a sort of illusionary magic, designed to divert and distract those within. Magic of this type would indeed be very potent against anything that would come across it, at least any being of the over-world.
This magic field is unprecedented in my experience of this realm... It is designed with the over-world creature's notions of direction, and senses in mind. I will have to use different methods to get past this. Xel'rath reflected to himself idly as his own field of magic in his direct surroundings reached out, absorbing a small portion of the magic that made up the storm. After analyzing this magic for a bit Xel'rath had the answer however, and soon began to mimic the magic that made up the blizzard, except now it worked to conflict with the opposing illusionary field so they both would cancel each other out.
With the illusions defeated, the powerful winds were not of concern to Xel'rath. In fact, the fact that his raven form was flapping it's wings in the first place was all part of the ruse of his form, as his wings or any other part of him did not catch the winds, they only passed through him as if he was ethereal.
Once he reached the castle finally, he would shift back into the form of a boy, and walk up to the entrance. No doubt whatever made it's home here has detected him already, and would not be happy with him being here. Regardless, he walked up to what appeared to be an icy door, and would lightly knock on it.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2016 17:48:51 GMT -8
Neia lifted herself from her throne once Rio Fletcher had left. She was humming to herself, and then frowned. Why should she have to hum? She stepped down the stairs of her icy throne and waved her hand. ice drifted and form until they were fae musicians. "Well, go on," she said to her creations, and music began to pour from their stringed instruments. She waved another hand, and the frozen statues of men and women began to dance in the large great hall, and with a smile, she moved through a door into another room. A large icy orb was in the middle, a veranda of her lovely storm visible to the eye. Yet her magic stirred, like a thread in her web being plucked and she smoothed her hand over the floating orb on the ground. She saw the black crow coming, saw how it stayed in the air, heedless of the storms that surrounded the White Mountain. And then it seemed to find its way through, as if it had realized the trick. She watched as the dark crow turned into a dark boy and approached the large doors of the crystalline castle, nestled in the Eye of the Storm. "Hm," Neia said. Was she amused? Was she annoyed? She hadn't decided yet. Her dress sparkling around her body, her starlight hair flowing as she stepped, she let her fingers dance in the air and little snow sprites formed. "My darlings, please greet our guest," she said to them. They twittered and then buzzed away from her as she turned back to the orb. She tapped it... ... and before the dark boy, the thick, gargantuan ice doors slid open, with a rumble quite like thunder. The sunshine from the day outside poured into the dark blue of the inside of the castle, and a gentle wind almost seemed to coax Xel'Rath further inside. Once inside, he'd find hallways and staircases and beautiful ice architecture that made a labyrinth, a mish-mash of corridors and steps that lead all at once no place and every place.
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Kinzokan Krypt
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 129
Physical Description: Kinzokan Krypt is a seven foot tall beast of muscle, violent scars and a wild mane of dark hair. Almost legendary for his status as a veteran of many battlefields, Krypt is known for his exceptional skill and combat prowess and because of his dark, ashen-coloured skin he is referred to in mercenary circles as "Kinzokan the Black".
He originally hailed from a volcanic land devastated by fire, brimstone, magma and ash and as such, his people are known as the Ashkin. Due to spending their entire lives surrounded by scorching heat and with little water that isn't boiling or steamed, the Ashkin are nigh impervious to fire and its effects and their skin has thus thickened and hardened into an almost naturally armoured hide. Such is the toughness of an Ashkin that only the sharpest of weapons, or the strongest of their wielders, could cut deep and hard enough to draw blood or cause serious injury. Yet in the volcanic wastes, such a defense isn't only advantageous, but necessary - for each day would bring the Ashkin tribes into contact with the aggressive, giant, reptilian monsters who ruled the ashlands as ever-starving kings.
Registered: Nov 10, 2015 20:24:36 GMT -8
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Post by Kinzokan Krypt on Jan 5, 2016 19:12:56 GMT -8
Forcing through the cold and up the mountain, a grey-skinned Krypt found himself wrapped in a cloak of three different types of thick, fuzzy fur. It enlarged his figure, making him almost like a bear from a distance with a hood protecting his head and face. The difference between this sight and a bear, however, was that this one wielded a large, long spear like a walking stick to find his grip on the icy ground.
He faced the storm with surprising valour, with his mind forcing his body onwards up towards the tower at the very top. Anyone who had known him for his naked escapades in the previous realm of the Ice Queen would recognize the way he was now being cautious on his journey through the snow. It seemed, here at least, even he needed to be careful of the cold.
He peered upwards. The blizzards were getting worse and soon, they would completely engulf him. Yet, if what he was hearing was true, they were the domain of the same woman he had been enchanted by so many hundreds of miles away - in that land not too dissimilar to this new one. That woman, he felt, would surely not allow him to be killed. Slow him, perhaps, or maybe even stop him from approaching, but he didn't expect her to actually harm him.
So, he kept climbing, trusting that she would recognize his presence long before she saw him - or heard him.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2016 20:18:26 GMT -8
Neia had been slowly circling the orb in her ante-chamber, the music of the ball going on with the ice figurines echoing off the walls of the grandiose castle. Her glacial blue eyes sharpened as she looked through her orb and out into the blizzard beyond.
"You," she said beneath her breath, and it did not sound as if she was happy to see Krypt trying to make his way through the snow. Without magic to guide him, it was going to be impossible. He would freeze to death before he found his way to the castle.
"What... are you doing here?" she asked herself, her head tilting to the side as her shimmering hair flowed. A thoughtful expression stole over her beautiful face, and then she reached out and let a fingertip slide down the surface of the globe.
And in front of Krypt, a tunnel seemed to form, a tunnel through the storm where the winds did not batter or howl, where the snow did not blur and freeze, where the ice did not cut and slice. A tunnel of calm through the storm that ultimately let to the White Castle.
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Kinzokan Krypt
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 129
Physical Description: Kinzokan Krypt is a seven foot tall beast of muscle, violent scars and a wild mane of dark hair. Almost legendary for his status as a veteran of many battlefields, Krypt is known for his exceptional skill and combat prowess and because of his dark, ashen-coloured skin he is referred to in mercenary circles as "Kinzokan the Black".
He originally hailed from a volcanic land devastated by fire, brimstone, magma and ash and as such, his people are known as the Ashkin. Due to spending their entire lives surrounded by scorching heat and with little water that isn't boiling or steamed, the Ashkin are nigh impervious to fire and its effects and their skin has thus thickened and hardened into an almost naturally armoured hide. Such is the toughness of an Ashkin that only the sharpest of weapons, or the strongest of their wielders, could cut deep and hard enough to draw blood or cause serious injury. Yet in the volcanic wastes, such a defense isn't only advantageous, but necessary - for each day would bring the Ashkin tribes into contact with the aggressive, giant, reptilian monsters who ruled the ashlands as ever-starving kings.
Registered: Nov 10, 2015 20:24:36 GMT -8
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Post by Kinzokan Krypt on Jan 5, 2016 21:22:18 GMT -8
Krypt watched the tunnel open up and smiled a little, for this was proof that, if she had not been expecting him, she was at least curious as to his presence. He began to march up through the tunnel, his proudness showing for all to see - or it would be if anyone was presence to witness it.
He lowered his hood, following the opened path all the way up to where the White Castle stood; over the bridge and the deep fall, impressed by the magnificence of the architecture she had created. When he finally came upon the castle doors, he paused. He would knock on them, no matter whether they were open or not, and await his welcome before stepping inside.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 10:08:30 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jan 7, 2016 9:12:06 GMT -8
They were indeed open, open like the great mouth of a beast that just waited for its prey to walk inside. There was no warmth to be had here, no crackling fire, no carpets on the floors. It was all just ice, hard, cold, ice, but beautiful in how delicate it could be, how it sparkled, to how strong and dark and piercing.
Just like Xel'rath, he could walk inside and into the labyrinth of corridors and staircases, where ice chandeliers and delicate ice-fairy chains hung from the ceiling, a marvel to steal the imagination.... Dare he step inside?
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Kinzokan Krypt
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 129
Physical Description: Kinzokan Krypt is a seven foot tall beast of muscle, violent scars and a wild mane of dark hair. Almost legendary for his status as a veteran of many battlefields, Krypt is known for his exceptional skill and combat prowess and because of his dark, ashen-coloured skin he is referred to in mercenary circles as "Kinzokan the Black".
He originally hailed from a volcanic land devastated by fire, brimstone, magma and ash and as such, his people are known as the Ashkin. Due to spending their entire lives surrounded by scorching heat and with little water that isn't boiling or steamed, the Ashkin are nigh impervious to fire and its effects and their skin has thus thickened and hardened into an almost naturally armoured hide. Such is the toughness of an Ashkin that only the sharpest of weapons, or the strongest of their wielders, could cut deep and hard enough to draw blood or cause serious injury. Yet in the volcanic wastes, such a defense isn't only advantageous, but necessary - for each day would bring the Ashkin tribes into contact with the aggressive, giant, reptilian monsters who ruled the ashlands as ever-starving kings.
Registered: Nov 10, 2015 20:24:36 GMT -8
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Post by Kinzokan Krypt on Jan 7, 2016 11:52:49 GMT -8
No longer did Krypt need the comfort of his fur cloak, or protection against the overwhelming element's of the storm that Neia had conjured to protect her home. The blizzard could no longer reach him here - no longer pierce his flesh in a thousand places at once, or slow his brain and freeze over his eyelids. Oh, it was certainly cold, but nothing that he could not handle. His muscle, his thick skin, were like insulating layers that protected him. Originally evolved to withstand the temperatures of extreme heat, he had since found that with a little mental discipline the cold was similarly harmless.
He glanced at Xel'rath, though cared little for who he was or what business he had with the Frost Queen. He might have been nothing more than a tourist and tourism certainly did not interest him; he had not walked hundreds of miles just to look. His business was real, was important; prophecised by the Oracle of Gaiaton herself when she had touched his flesh. His future and his legacy would depend on this visit.
And so he stepped inside the maw of the castle, with eyes that cautiously examined her home for tricks or traps. He knew how fickle she could be - how she was just as great a dangerous predator as she was a divine beauty. He took one look at the criss-crossing labyrinth of stairs, passageways and ice-sculpted architecture, then took a deep breath and began to climb the first set of steps that he saw with his spear still in hand.
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