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 May 26, 2016 6:56:57 GMT -8
"I know very few who individuals who would be worth the time, even if they would agree to join us on our endeavour," Krypt told the Queen while turning and following her back into her scrying chamber with with his fingers idly tracing over the pendant she had gifted him. "We are going to need threats, coercion and leverage for such things and I am no politician. A man who will respond to intimidation and fear I can get to join us; a man I can force, who I can make respect and fear us, who will be receptive to promises of power are the ones we seek. Yet I do not know where to find such people and those who are worth the effort to recruit will want more... They'll require further persuasion."
Krypt narrowed his eyes and peered into Neia's scrying crystal, though he had no such gift to actually see the things she saw. "Yet let us start with the people we know. What about your daughters, your friends and servants you left in that old house of yours?"
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 26, 2016 7:26:26 GMT -8
She rounded on him, fury easily read in her gaze.
"Am I to create this empire on my own, and you to just dally in it? I give you an army and you tell me you are not a general, I give you the power to persuade and you tell me you are not a politician. You expect me to create allies from peons of my past-- what CAN you do for me, Kinzokan Krypt? You may warm my bed, but there are thousands of lovers that can do the same," she snapped.
As she spoke, as her vehement words poured from her lips the room appeared to get colder and colder. Her own lush mouth turned blue, and frost grew like lace over her black gown, over her skin, framing her eyes in a mask. The ring upon her finger, too, began to glow, and the very castle around them shivered underneath her might.
"The Oracle told you that we would rule an Empire of Fire and Ice, but so far, the only thing impressive about you is the size of your cock." Neia stepped closer to him, her hair drifting around her beautiful face on unseen currents, sparkling like the brightest star, while her gaze was cold and just even being this near to Neia was causing frost to worm up Krypt's skin. "And I can create a cock like yours to please me without you being here."
She whirled away from him, heading around her large scrying orb and towards yet another pair of doors that led elsewhere. "Find the men you need to fulfill your end of the bargain, Krypt, by whatever means necessary, even if it means dragging them in chains or promising them power," she tossed over her shoulder. She put her hands on the doorknobs of the doors and looked over her shoulder at him. "Or don't come back at all."
Neia tossed open the doors and walked through, planning to make other preparations for her coming Kingdom.
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Rose Merosiky
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 15
Physical Description: Height: 5'8"
Skin: Pale
Eye Color: Silver
Hair Color: Fluorescent white
Powers: Unknown
Personality: Uknown
Clothes and Equipment: Enchanted leather suit with armor plating as muscular padding to prevent movement restriction while being able to sustain an attack. Knee high strapped boots. Black leather gloves. Magical pendant.
Registered: May 23, 2016 17:41:12 GMT -8
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Post by Rose Merosiky on May 26, 2016 20:49:25 GMT -8
Rose responded in a soft and lifeless voice, "The Rose is among the most valuable of flowers in my tribe. It has a flower as beautiful as you and thorns as sharp as needles. Anybody who has a Rose is being gifted from the gods. I am the Rose of the Merosiky family."
The food was welcomed by Rose. The boy didn't eat fast at all, each bite having a slight distaste in his mouth that left an aftertaste similar to blood. Although the new hunger with Rose was growing, he had received enough sustenance to slightly tame it.
Now staring down at his Frosted Plum, Rose contemplated on eating it. Rose took his right hand and picked up the frosted plum from his tray to take a better look at it. The Merosiky family was nobility in their tribe, but foreign foods, especially desserts, peaked their curiosity. Rose would sniff the plum and tap it with his tongue to get a quick taste. The sugar was delightful and covered the aftertaste much better than the salty foods. The poor frosted plum stood no chance as Rose ate it with haste. It did little for his hunger, but his mouth tasted more normal to him.
When he was done in with the frosted plum, Rose spoke again in his soft and lifeless voice, "Many legends have been spoken of the The White Mountain. Only hunters and soldiers knew the truth. I was the second smartest student in my tribe, my father was a doctor, and I studied warfare and combat under the leader. In my haste to flee my tribe I thought I could lead them through the snow, lose them in the cold to die, and return to the forests before you found me on your mountain to kill me. I wanted to reach the Draxis to slay the demons that plague my village.
Now I sit here on your mattress eating your food with my name being laughed at... The best ten minutes of my day so far. If you plan to kill me like the soldiers and hunters say you will, just do it, there isn't much you could do to me that is worse than why I ran here."
The simple thought of the earlier events brought a tear to the crevices of eyes. These were the first moments he had to look back on the events without fear or pain surging through his body. The thoughts angered him now instead of making him fearful. Rose's jaw began to clench as a sharper set of teeth emerged within his closed mouth to keep them hidden. His eyes shifted and remained slitted as the anger and thoughts surged through him. When the memory was over, Rose's mind drifted back to Neia being present, his mannerism kicking in as he calmed himself.
Rose looked up to Neia through his silver strands of hair that hid the tear trails on his face, "This may sound rude since I am the guest in your humble abode, but may we not speak of why I am here and accept it as Fate? Things have been very tragic for me. If you could please tell me about who you are and why you are here to distract my mind for awhile, I will tell you when I can handle myself better since I feel very ill at the moment."
With his meal now finished and his focus on Neia, Rose set his dinner tray to the side of the bed beside Neia. With a slight gesture using his left hand, Rose pushed his hair flourescent white hair behind his ears to fully show his eyes and attention. His skin still remained pale and his lips were still a slight bit purple but his eyes were clear as day. If Neia took notice she would notice Rose wasn't breathing; something he didn't realize yet himself.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 27, 2016 6:36:16 GMT -8
Neia's ability for patience was just as unstable as her ability for politeness. For now, she was content to listen to Rose as he spoke, his lifeless voice not truly matching his body. He was a mortal boy of fourteen. She wasn't exactly sure what mortal boys of fourteen did, but she figured it wasn't... whatever that was.
No, her swirling blue gaze dropped to the blood pendant around Rose's neck, taking note how his chest never rose or fell beneath it for breath of life. She figured it had something to do with that pendant, a pendant she wanted, and then of course whatever sob story he wound up for Neia. Unfortunately, even if he did speak of it, it would have moved Neia very little. She cared as much for mortal beings as she cared for bugs -- also mortal beings -- and not much compassion could be felt in her ice cold heart.
"No, no, of course not, darling," Neia told him. She waved a hand, and the dinner plate seemed to go up in smoke, but instead of disappearing, it formed into a bowl of more lush, ripe, sweetened, sparkling sugar plums. With a wave of her hand, she set it upon his side table while she moved closer once again and sat on his bedside.
"I will not harm you this day or the next, sweet Rose," the Frost Queen said, reaching for his hand if he would allow her. She was, of course, cold to the touch and if she did hold his palm a very light, tingling growth of lace-like frost would cover a small part where her skin touched his, as if it was simply a reaction to being this close to the Frost Queen herself. "You must rest and be well. You were right to come to the White Mountain... to come to me."
She leaned forward towards the bowl of sugar plums, taking one in her free hand before she sat back and offered it to Rose again. "I can help you. I can keep you safe. Your enemies can become my enemies, if you let me in to guide you." Oh, she was so very beautiful and there she was, offering herself to Rose.
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Rose Merosiky
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 15
Physical Description: Height: 5'8"
Skin: Pale
Eye Color: Silver
Hair Color: Fluorescent white
Powers: Unknown
Personality: Uknown
Clothes and Equipment: Enchanted leather suit with armor plating as muscular padding to prevent movement restriction while being able to sustain an attack. Knee high strapped boots. Black leather gloves. Magical pendant.
Registered: May 23, 2016 17:41:12 GMT -8
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Post by Rose Merosiky on May 27, 2016 21:21:04 GMT -8
The sweet treat that Rose was very fond of appeared right before his eyes. Despite all the mental anguish, the sight of the frosted plums appealed to his hunger. His hunger would overpower his mind for awhile till he was in full control of his body. Neia had found a saving grace in disguise when she decided to serve frosted plums to Rose.
"These things are delicious and they do not have a metallic aftertaste that you get when you have blood in your mouth. I hope you have more of these delicious treats," Rose spoke as he picked up one and took a bite out of it while looking into Neia's eyes, "That is, if you don't kill me."
The words Rose spoke after taking the bite out of the frosted plum seemed to carry a tone that had hints of sarcasm in the lifeless voice. Following the words, Rose looked at the frost as it crept across his hand. The sensation was cool and sensual to his skin instead of the freezing shock his skin would have normally went through. A slight twitch in his lips revealed the start of what was almost a smile occurred.
When the frost made contact with the skin, his pendant would let off a dim glow and create a side effect Rose didn't know was happening. Blood began to rise to the top of his skin, turning the frosted pale skin red. Rose's arm would slowly go numb as the redness continued. There was no aggression in the mind of Rose and he obviously wasn't gathering magic. Whatever was occurring would most likely go unnoticed at first as most mortals skin turned red at the temperatures cast in Neia's touch.
With the slight bend in his fingers, Rose would barely cup his hands around hers, his fingertips just barely grazing her writers palm, "I am no longer tired. I have things I must do. If you will take my enemies as your enemies, then I will take your enemies as my own.", He spoke before he lowered his head and slightly lifted her hand to kiss her on her middle knuckle.
"I feel as though I am different than I was before I passed out. I am only a young man and something inside me changed. Your guidance is all that I have to figure out what I have become. I must keep my darkness separate from evil so I might not be consumed and become what I have despise." Rose spoke with a slight bit more emotion even if what could be picked up was a depressed tone.
Going without notice beneath the sheets, Rose's skin was healing at an intense speed. The healing start unseen, but the rate it was going now after eating two frosted plums was remarkable. If Rose ate five or six more frosted plums he would be healed. Unlike his body, the scars on his right ear and left eye would remain as these scars were not like the others.
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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 May 29, 2016 12:29:29 GMT -8
Krypt's anger began to swell, yet he could control it well enough that he did not explode with it to Neia's words. He took a breath and calmed himself, deciding to see her insults as more of a challenge than a reprimand and he so very much liked a challenge. Still... How was he to get men and women to agree to serve Neia? In fact how was he even supposed to find them, or trick them into journeying back with him to the Queen's mountain?
He rubbed at his temples, saying nothing to Neia as she took her exit through the doors and left him alone by her crystal. He considered looking into it for a moment, to see if he could peer into his own future and confirm for himself whether Neferet spoke the truth about his destiny.
"Annoying," he eventually muttered, before leaving through a different door to the one Neia had used. Krypt's door led to the outside, to where Neia's ice soldiers had been summoned from the storm. He ordered two large squadrons to follow him, as untrained and unarmoured as they were, then marched them down the mountain and towards the exit of Neia's domain. He had the start of a plan in mind, which meant that his day would soon get rather interesting.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2016 17:45:12 GMT -8
The plums, Rose may find -- or never find -- were faeplums, of the Fae realm. The fruits could heal, and the fruits could grant abilities -- like immortality (as long as they are regularly eaten), like endurance from the cold (as long as they are regularly eaten). They helped tie a being to a fae creature's domain, helped to give them the tools to survive like the fae survived... helped to mold their minds to the whims and natures of the very fae that offered such a treat. And the Frost Queen, of course, was that fae.
Breath-takingly beautiful, the plums were more insurance than they were necessary, as the very woman herself was hard to look away from, as entrancing as the heavens that sparkled above. Rose seemed to be falling for it, as he spoke to her, the frost of her touch tickling and tingling over his skin that was turning rosy.
His hand held hers, her skin as soft as freshly fallen snow, as smooth as the icy pond, and he raised it up to his warm lips where the frost tingled him there as well, fading away as quickly as it grew over the softened flesh of his mouth. A little smile turned on Neia's own, her clear blue eyes still swirling and churning like the storm, her long starlight hair flowing and glittering every now and again.
"Of course, of course," she soothed him, and she gently took her hand from his grasp to instead... lay it upon his chest. Over his heart. .. Next to the pendant. "I sense great power within you," Neia said to him, her gaze on his, enchanting. entrancing. mesmerizing. "I can teach you to wield it, and to master it..." her featherlight touch moved over his young and masculine chest.
"But what is this, I wonder?" The Frost Queen asked and her delicate, frost-covered fingertips touched the pendant that hung from his neck and rested on that still-healing chest.
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Rose Merosiky
Established
Roleplay posts: 46
Age: 15
Physical Description: Height: 5'8"
Skin: Pale
Eye Color: Silver
Hair Color: Fluorescent white
Powers: Unknown
Personality: Uknown
Clothes and Equipment: Enchanted leather suit with armor plating as muscular padding to prevent movement restriction while being able to sustain an attack. Knee high strapped boots. Black leather gloves. Magical pendant.
Registered: May 23, 2016 17:41:12 GMT -8
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Post by Rose Merosiky on May 29, 2016 18:36:15 GMT -8
The blood from beneath his skin that slowly rose to the surface where her frost touched would slowly subside. Her hand sliding out of his own hand felt like water flowing over his palm. Neia would find in time that her frosted plums would not hold him prisoner like a mortal being, but that they kept his mortal side present while they tamed the beast within. As time would reveal, the traits these plums had on mortals were traits Rose already possessed even if he did not know this himself.
When the hand placed itself on his chest, Neia would feel no flex in his chest. His heart did not seem to beat or his lungs expand. The warmth that normally radiated from a mortals flesh was false. The warmth she felt was the coldness his body carried that remained at a warmer temperature than Neia's touch. In the hands of a mortal his flesh would feel as if it was steel that had been left in ice for days. As his body produced a false warmth, her touch produced the soothing feel of menthol on Rose, casting the only thing he could feel.
He felt her finger tips on his bare chest, tantalizing his young muscles. He touch called to him, his mind taking in her beauty, mercy, and touch at once, Rose's mind forming an admiration for the woman. Many traits about him had changed while others had not changed, but rather increased and intensified. His silver eyes rested on Neia's while she worked her feminine magic granted to her by the gods. Her soothing voice speaking to him while mixed with her touch and the frosted plums, made Rose feel like a king who wanted to please his queen no matter if it was blood or pleasure that she wanted from him.
"My father told me the same thing when he was around. Even with different words, that was one of the last things I was able to hear from him." Rose spoke to Neia in his lifeless voice while focusing on her eyes that he marveled like diamonds he wished to possess.
In such a calm moment, Neia made a mistake. As the mortal angel placed her touch on his pendant, a reaction occurred. Rose's right hand shot over her hand on the pendant; his strength showing no mercy as it clenched around her hand forcing her to hold the pendant in fist. His silver eyes remained locked on Neia's, but they would instantly changed to the slitted eyes of a predator as the new situation unfolded. Neia's brief touch was likely to leave a scar forever on her mind; whether it be for good or bad.
Blood spewed from the pendant like a web immediately following her contact with the pendant. This blood would wrap around the hand of Rose and Neia, magically locking them in place. Even with such restraints put on Neia's hand, she could feel Rose's hand lighten up to a softer hold. Neia would feel something run around her hand as Rose's blood pulled from beneath his skin and mixed with the frost her touch naturally created.
Once her hand was held in place, the purpose of the pendant would become relevant to Neia. Everything that had occurred to Rose before his arrival, good or bad, would begin to flow into her mind. The scenes from life before the horror would show a pleasant and humble life for Rose as he studied and trained. Seconds later, after a lifetime of memories flashed before Neia in her mind, the horror would take place. These horrors did not move like the good memories or even act like they did. The horror took place in real time, but instead of Rose being in the scene, Neia was in Rose's position to see and feel everything that he had to deal with on that fateful evening. The magic from the pendant wanted Neia to be aware of everything about Rose.
When the horror was over, all went black. Brief scenes of blood and destruction filled her mind, Rose being the center of each scene. As each futuristic scene became clearer, she would notice Rose was wearing her mark on his garments. Further on with these scenes, she would see Rose in garments fit for a king and a ring around his finger. The final scene was Rose standing on a balcony overlooking the Norkari Mountains covered in the brutal effects of an eternal winter.
When all was over, her mind went black one more time; a voice would rise this time instead of an image, "Cherish him. Your will is his command and his heart can be yours to control. The Darkness has chosen him to carry it's will, make sure you do not defy it's will. While the mortal live and die, the Darkness has given him life within death. Cover your mountains in the will of Winter and stain their cities in the blood and snow. With or without you, Rose will carry the will of the Darkness. It is your decision to stand beside him or stand against him, for all his enemies will know death. You are stained with the Merosiky blood, no matter how far you try to separate yourself from him, he will find you, even if in your dreams." Neia's desire to touch his pendant had side effects that protected it; as Rose grew stronger, so would the pendant's power.
When the Darkness finished it's short speech, energy pulsed from the pendant. The energy would blow Neia and Rose's hand off of it while spattering the blood across anything within it's range such as Neia, the bed, and Rose. His eyes returned to normal, still never letting go of their hold on Neia's eyes of ice. Rose felt a chill stretch down his spine as his body returned to normal, but Rose had no idea what happened as the Darkness had taken control of the situation. The only thing Rose noticed was the odd feeling in his mouth as his teeth returned to normal despite never revealing their fanged form beneath the confines of his lips.
Rose wondered when he seen the blood stains on himself and the surroundings, "Where did this blood come from? Neither of us are bleeding?"
Rose glanced above him to see if maybe something above him was bleeding. When he seen nothing but the cloths that covered his bedding from above. His eyes moved down to his chest where he noticed a larger amount of blood around his pendant. When he noticed this, he looked to Neia where he would take noticed of her hand that was covered in blood like his chest was. The final thing he noticed was the blood on his hand that he used to hold hers. Rose was dumbfounded on what happened and hoped that the angel he found could explain the blood that stained the two.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2016 20:34:52 GMT -8
Oh, she did not like that.
She did not like that at all.
When the experience done, when the blood splattered across her dress, across the sparkling white of her skin, when Rose came back into himself, she turned and forced herself away from the bed, the icy heels of her shoes tapping against the cold floor as she walked away. The temperature of the room dropped, dropped...
as cold as a grave, and the air was still, where the sparkles of snow and ice floated, suspended in the air on the will of their mistress. Rose was not the only one that possessed an item of great and terrible power, and the ring upon Neia's finger glowed, all but pulsed... and Rose would see on his pendant that it's black filigree turned... turned almost silver, almost as if it were now made of ice.
He now wore a pendant that was of the blood of Darkness, and the touch of Winter.
But truly, truly what Neia wanted to do?
She wanted to rip him to pieces.
Who did he think he was? He was but a boy, and she was an ancient being of catastrophic power. And he thought he would rule her kingdom? No. It wouldn't be done. She would not have it. What was Neia's, was Neia's. And what was not hers, would become hers.
Neia was indeed trembling with her anger, but her back was turned to the boy and his stupid question. Her palms were pressed together, and she finally let out a breath, although like Rose, she did not have to. Instead, it came out like a wind of frost. She turned then to look at him, her starlight hair flowing down her naked back, her dark blue velvet gown wrapped snugly around a body that made men cry.
But her eyes... those swirling eyes of her were steady on his face.
"You play a dangerous game, child," she told him, and lowered her hands, turning to walk towards him. "What you wear upon your neck... either you will master it, or it will master you. In the end, however, one of you will be the slave. Will it be you?"
A snowy owl came gliding through one of the windows, and it twirled and then landed, taking the form of a humanoid creature with talons for hands and feet. It seemed to be made of snow, and its eyes glowed like a light shining through a glacier. It held out its hand and Neia walked over to it.
It dropped what appeared to be a rag in her hand, and Neia smiled. She tuned to look at Rose and walked towards him, her mood restored as she reached out to stroke the back of her knuckles down his cheek. "Rest. You will join me once your health has been regained."
She waved a hand over the bowl by his table and more sugared plums appeared. Then, she turned and walked out of his room, the doors opening for her without any help from her and shutting as well. The snow-fae creature turned to look at Rose, and then it morphed back into the owl, gliding forward to rest upon the foot of his bed and stare at him, blinking its large glacial eyes once.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on May 30, 2016 11:16:54 GMT -8
The hunched over figure of a White Wolf powered its way through the blizzard at the peak of the mountain. The Frost Queen had promised his people power and prosperity if they joined, and so they had joined, coming from the frozen peaks of the Mountains, doing their best to avoid contact with the general populace of the Norkari Mountains as they moved, an easy task for the elusive werewolves.
He stopped to howl into the wind, a sound that would carry for miles in spite of the storm, and he waited until he heard answering howls from his tribe, ensuring that they were all still relatively together in the storm. He would continue on until he had located either the Frost Queen's castle or herself.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2016 14:07:39 GMT -8
To Fenrir Skargard:
The blizzards suddenly and explicably stopped around him. Oh, they still raged but ten feet away from where he and his werewolves stood, but as if they were in the eye of the storm, they were no longer assaulted with the screaming winds and the harsh snow that slapped at skin and fur alike. A sort of tunnel then came through the blizzard, and they were urged to walk it until they reached the true eye of the blizzard to the magnificent and beautiful structure of the White Palace Upon the Mountain.
Wide steps led up to its front door, every single bit of this place made of ice in hues of deep purples and greens and blue. It was beautiful to look upon, and here was where the Frost Queen resided.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on May 30, 2016 15:10:00 GMT -8
The werewolf blinked in surprise as the storm suddenly dissipated, and looking about, realized his tribe, warriors all, were arranged behind him. Before him lay the dazzling sight of the Frost Queen's Palace, impressive to all the wolves. They understood the kind of magical power it would take to create such a structure in these desolate mountains. Fenrir turned towards his tribe, with short words already in his mind to say.
"Remain here outside the gates, I will return once I know what the Frost Queen has planned for us."
The tribe of wolves would all listen, howling their assent to the sky as their leader made his way up the wide steps and to the front door.
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Floe
New
Up your's fleshy!
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Well I forgets!
Physical Description: He has the appearance of a normal innocent snowman from afar, until they come close and see vicious teeth of ice, an ice covered and now sharpened carrot for a nose, and eyes of coal that can seem to produce smoke, and (moving) stick hands that create an "evil vibe." He is about 5 feet (although this is including the fact that he is permanently hunched).
Clothes and Equipment: His stick hands often carry some sort of nasty knife with a serrated edge, spiked knuckles and a gut hook to be as vicious of a weapon as possible. He sometimes carries balls of ice with hail or pebbles inside to throw as a sort of shrapnel bomb.
Registered: May 30, 2016 14:43:18 GMT -8
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Post by Floe on May 30, 2016 15:20:10 GMT -8
Somewhere near the bottom of the White Mountain the snowman would pop out of the snow, and into existence. He would don a hat he just made after killing a few squirrels, and he would begin a slow ascension to the top of the mountain to gain new orders from his mistress.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2016 16:24:38 GMT -8
To Fenrir:
The doors to the castle opened silently, the air cool within its depths, beckoning Fenrir to enter. He'd first come upon a grand foyer where a sparkling chandelier hung at its center. The distant strain of music could be heard, and six, beautifully crafted staircases led to six large corridors.
To Floe:
Although the blizzards continued to rage, Floe would find his ascent to the top of the mountain very easy, as if the storm itself knew not to hinder him, by command of the mistress that created it.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on May 30, 2016 17:37:53 GMT -8
The Wolf paused for a moment to take in the sights and scents of the palace, it was relatively uninhabited, but that just made it that much easier to track those who did live here, such as the Frost Queen.
He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed around, the cold air posing no difficulties to his lungs, which were used to the frigid temperatures of his home. Acquiring the scent of someone, someone powerful, he followed the scent and the sound of the music through which ever door they would be the strongest through.
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Floe
New
Up your's fleshy!
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Well I forgets!
Physical Description: He has the appearance of a normal innocent snowman from afar, until they come close and see vicious teeth of ice, an ice covered and now sharpened carrot for a nose, and eyes of coal that can seem to produce smoke, and (moving) stick hands that create an "evil vibe." He is about 5 feet (although this is including the fact that he is permanently hunched).
Clothes and Equipment: His stick hands often carry some sort of nasty knife with a serrated edge, spiked knuckles and a gut hook to be as vicious of a weapon as possible. He sometimes carries balls of ice with hail or pebbles inside to throw as a sort of shrapnel bomb.
Registered: May 30, 2016 14:43:18 GMT -8
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Post by Floe on May 30, 2016 17:46:17 GMT -8
The snowman would keep on moving to the top, using the knuckles of his hand to lift himself up, thrust forward his bottom and then lower himself, moving almost like some monkeys. He would gently swear under his breath, not out of anger but just because it was his nature to do so. "Oi! Oi! Down 'ere!" He would shout, hoping to get attention and thus better clues as to where to go.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2016 18:12:00 GMT -8
Neia walked slowly around her large scrying orb, able to see into its iciness the progress of her furred ally... and the lack of progress from the creature she'd created that seemed to have tumbled all the way down the mountain. An amused smile came across her beautiful lips at the way Floe seemed to try to catch her attention and she let her hand drift over the face that she saw in her orb. Where he was, he became disembodied, splitting apart into a snow flurry, the pieces that made him, well, HIM, floating around inside of it. She pulled him through space and time, using her orb to reassamble him nearby, where she was dressed in a flowing gown of that seemed to be made of white material when you first looked, but was really a make up of snow and frost and ice. (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/2d/61/df/2d61df95d9ce7b8945a3a7343d2a0abb.jpg) "Stop playing around, Floe," she said to him in her elegant and lovely voice. "We have friends to meet." She moved past him and through doors that opened of her will, her long train flowing behind her. As Fenrir moved through the palace, so, too, did she, until she was seated on her throne within her magnificent throne room that sparkled and gleam with the incredible ice fixtures that she had put into place. She waited until Fenrir found her, twitching a finger so the double doors opened silently and allowed the werewolf creature in. The very columns dwarfed the werewolf, and it seemed as if perhaps the palace itself was all throne room. Neia expected Floe to be at her side. "Come in," she called across the distance, and her voice echoed off the icy chamber walls, making the thick and ornate chandeliers overhead chime, almost dangerously. "You've come all this way, and I must say, I am very flattered."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 7:51:07 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2016 18:42:34 GMT -8
The Crimson Fool walks through the blizzard on the top of the mountain. The wind blows, but doesn't rustle his cloak. The cold bites, but doesn't pierce his flesh. He is not of this world and is no more substantial than smoke. Still he has power and he had work to do. There was a new force rising and it needed guidance. It was power unrestrained by wisdom and that was dangerous. With his help she could be down right deadly, he giggles maliciously at the thought. He comes to the gate of The Frost Queen's palace and waits for her to open the doors.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on May 30, 2016 18:48:24 GMT -8
Fenrir made his way carefully into the chamber, taking in its wide empty expanse, the strange snowman by the side of a woman he could immediately tell was not human, in spite of her appearance. Though very rarely, he had had dealings with the Fae in the past, and the experience tended to...linger in one's memory. He strode forward with a purpose and sank to a single knee at the foot of her steps. It killed him to do this, but the needs of his tribe came first, and he would not see them destroyed because of his pride.
"I have no choice but to entreat you for your help. Great powers move in this world that could potentially spell the doom of my tribe. The sky-runes spell out a great enemy arising, an enemy that my tribe can not face alone. And so I do what any leader must, I bring my tribe here and present myself to her Majesty with an offer. In exchange for her protection, my tribe and myself will enter her service. We are few in number but mighty in deed, and would pledge ourselves to her Majesty's service."
As he had approached, icy runes on his encased arm and sword gkowed in response to the Frost Magic that would undoubtedly fill the area around such a powerful being as the Frost Queen.
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Floe
New
Up your's fleshy!
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Well I forgets!
Physical Description: He has the appearance of a normal innocent snowman from afar, until they come close and see vicious teeth of ice, an ice covered and now sharpened carrot for a nose, and eyes of coal that can seem to produce smoke, and (moving) stick hands that create an "evil vibe." He is about 5 feet (although this is including the fact that he is permanently hunched).
Clothes and Equipment: His stick hands often carry some sort of nasty knife with a serrated edge, spiked knuckles and a gut hook to be as vicious of a weapon as possible. He sometimes carries balls of ice with hail or pebbles inside to throw as a sort of shrapnel bomb.
Registered: May 30, 2016 14:43:18 GMT -8
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Post by Floe on May 30, 2016 18:54:57 GMT -8
"Wheeeee!"
The short snowman would shout as he was transported by the Queen's might magics.
As the wolf thing entered the Snowman looked him up and down, (or perhaps only up and further up due to both of their sizes) and snapped at him.
"Woss in nit fer us, her that is, eh guv? Ye'd look fine juicy on a spit but wot else? I mean ye'd also make a nice coat an' all, but look, can yer tribe even fight, eh? How many of ya is there?"
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