Duchess Caridwyn An Sí
Committed
Roleplay posts: 94
Age: 19
Physical Description: A tall and slender woman, Caridwyn is 5'8" and shapely, with a woman's curves. Her skin is fair and her facial features are finely formed, nearly aristocratic, with high cheekbones, a smooth brow, and a delicate nose above full lips that rarely smile. Her hair is long, falling to her lower back, and a pale shade of blonde that verges on silvery. Her eyes are wide, luminous, and expressive, and are a pale blue color that often appears violet in certain lights.
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Clothes and Equipment: Most often, Caridwyn is seen wearing simple robes composed of soft, silky white fabric that lay draped across her body in an elegant fashion. Always found upon her person are two intricate silvers rings that cover the entirety of her index fingers, formed into intricate whorls and heavily enchanted with magics that allow her to disguise herself and move around unnoticed. Around her right wrist is a hammered iron cuff bracelet that is enchanted with protective magics. And around her neck is a necklace which bears a shining white moonstone that enables her to more easily use her divine magics. On ceremonial occasions, she wears an elaborate silver circlet set in the front with a large moonstone.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Jun 19, 2016 14:52:41 GMT -8
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Post by Duchess Caridwyn An Sí on Jul 6, 2016 22:25:31 GMT -8
The question inspired a great deal of hesitation in the slender priestess; there was a look on her face that said she was trying to decide whether to be honest, or if she should pad the truth a bit so as not to trouble the new King. The truth was, Caridwyn had been greatly concerned for the safety of her people - it was dangerous for a priestess to go walking alone, and they often went in groups or took the rare priests with them for protection. This had all become necessary after a number of priestesses were found raped and beaten near to death in back alleys and outside the walls. But that was hardly something that needed to be shared in such a setting, let alone at such a time. In the end, she decided to go for a bit of.. middle ground, and even offered her words with a small smile, although there was still that slightly troubled gleam to her gaze.
"I appreciate your concern, Your Majesty, but this is your coronation feast. I'd feel absolutely terrible if the mood was brought down with such unpleasantness. Although, perhaps, if you're amenable, we could discuss this subject at a later date? I know you'll be very busy in the near future, but it would be my pleasure to be available at your convenience." She dipped her head again in a sign of respect. This was his night to celebrate his return, to meet important people and enjoy himself. Caridwyn refused to put a damper on this evening, and when she raised her head once more, it was to reveal a slightly brighter and notably pleased smile on her face.
"Would you perhaps be willing to regale us with a tale of your youth, Your Majesty? They say you grew up in Gauldin and were a mercenary.. is this true?"
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Sir Cairex Forgepyre
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 274
Age: 23
Physical Description: Wolf - stature of a large grey wolf, mottled patches of darker grey and black mingle in with a lighter grey coat. A single black patch of fur surrounds the blue eye, while the brown eye is surrounded by the light grey color. Teeth are sharp and well maintained, just like his claws.
Hybrid - His most common form, his coloring perfectly matches the wolf form. This form stands around 7ft tall, weighs nearly 330 lbs, with a fairly long tail.
Human- only used when interacting amongst civilized society, he is tall for a human, around 6'3" and about 210lbs. His long hair matches the grey and black coloring of his wolf fur, and the only distinguishing feature is his canine eyes and elongated canines.
Clothes and Equipment: Clothing - Cairex now wears a custom suit of armor, enchanted so that it will resize as he does, providing his already formidable wolf forms with substantial armor that is lightweight but strong, akin to mithril in both strength and weight.
Equipment - A good sized bastard sword and a small dagger are his only weapons, plus teeth and claws.
Player's online availability : Weekends/Nights
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 8:02:28 GMT -8
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Post by Sir Cairex Forgepyre on Jul 7, 2016 4:59:43 GMT -8
"And may they keep your ear tips from curling Ailionora." He then gave a respectful nod to the Wildling leader as he passed.
Averin's approach to the feast put a smile on Cairex's muzzle, the man had always placed far more importance on food than speechifying, and within moments the wolf was digging into the provided fare. He had no desire for wine, finding it to be distateful, much like Madadh had.
He watched with no small amusement as the young King talked with the priestess, his excellent hearimg letting him pickup and isolate every word in every conversation at the table. It would seem the witch he had brought with him wouldn't be making an appearance after all. And good riddance, witches were nothing but trouble.
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Alanis Waterbloom
Established
Roleplay posts: 20
Age: 140-ish, but who cares?
Physical Description: Reddish brown hair, dark eyes, not particularly athletic-looking but with reflexes and speed comparable to most other elves.
Clothes and Equipment: A white robe, a silver tiara, she carries no weapons of any kind
Registered: Jun 9, 2016 15:24:46 GMT -8
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Post by Alanis Waterbloom on Jul 7, 2016 7:25:31 GMT -8
Alanis gave a little head nod and a look of awe. "Ah, I see. I am Alanis Waterbloom. I am a visitor from another continent. Some of these humans you see here are my compatriots. We come from a land called the Land-Tiller's Expanse. We are an ancient people, but as a nation we are quite young. In fact we're only been recognized as having any sort of sovereignty by the outside word for a few years at best."
Alanis wanted to maintain a policy of being honest about her emotions. She didn't want to come off as a narcissistic diplomat. "I must admit, I'm still not sure what to make of your kind. You seem... similar to us, but different."
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Warlord Ei Halvard
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 180
Physical Description: Of the Dwarven race, Ei Halvard is about 4'5" (relatively tall for a dwarven male), has jet black hair, and thick stony muscles.
Clothes and Equipment: Bronze armor, iron boots, lead alloy axe.
Registered: Apr 2, 2016 16:08:04 GMT -8
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Post by Warlord Ei Halvard on Jul 7, 2016 7:56:11 GMT -8
While everyone else was enjoying the festivities, Halvard was still pensive. Even though no one seemed to hold it against him, he still felt like he smelled the blood of many races on his hands. Luckily his ruminations were interrupted by a nudge on the shoulder by Justicar Nachton, who was otherwise occupied with listening to little Queron's stories with a mouthful of pie. Halvard smiled and nodded at his old friend. Very well then. He decided to move a couple of seats up under the pretense of accessing a particularly golden looking roasted pheasant. It happened to be near Ryden Greyiron . As he sat down to eat, he said slyly, "Your glance keeps shifting towards the king. I see you came here with a purpose." Immediately the dwarf feared his tone had come off as accusatory. "Forgive me. My name is Ei Halvard. I am the warlord of the dwarfs and one of their leaders. Further down the table is Justicar Nachton, another leader, and his charge, Queron. She is a real treasure of our people, that one. Her powers helped bless the king's mighty sword." Halvard took a sip of wine and also gestured towards Ailionóra and Cairex. "Those two are important figures of the other races. Whatever it is you're planning, remember you will be dealing with more than just humans. It is a common mistake among diplomats to mostly associate with but their own kind." ... Once again Halvard felt he had managed to come off as accusatory. He'd grimace if he wasn't so used to having a stone-like visage. "This pie is excellent isn't it?"
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Ailionóra uí Muineacháin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Age: Ancient.
Physical Description: As with all of the Fae, Ailionóra is tall and lithe, at a respectable 5'11", and although she is thousands of years old, she appears to be in her mid-twenties. She has long hair that falls to her hips, which is a mix of shades of auburn with golden highlights, and bright green eyes. She has a delicately-formed bone structure resulting in limbs and fingers that are just slightly longer in proportion than a human, and features that are wildly beautiful in an almost harsh and feral kind of way, along with the pointed ears possessed by all her kind. Her skin is lightly tanned from several lifetimes spent out in the Wyld, and heavily adorned with a great number of intricate tattoos in varying shades of green ink that she proudly displays.
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Clothes and Equipment: While safely at home within the Wyld, Ailionóra typically wears very little, allowing her to be closer to the nature within the Wyld. Her usual attire typically consists of a vest in any number of colors that bares her shoulders, back, and midriff, paired with a knee-length loincloth, and accessorized with gauntlets, upper arm bands, and various beaded necklaces and belts. She can occasionally be seen carrying a long spear, most often while out in the Wyld engaged in the Hunt. When outside the Wyld, she dresses a bit more conservatively, but still tends to wear dresses that display her shoulders and the tattoos on the skin there. When attending to important matters of Fae governance, either within the Wyld or when dealing with the Council of Alban, she often carries an staff composed of intricately twined pieces of wood, adorned with ever-blooming flowers and a few magic-focusing crystals of green and gold.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 10:51:15 GMT -8
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Post by Ailionóra uí Muineacháin on Jul 7, 2016 10:29:17 GMT -8
The Fae leader continued to sip at her wine with an arched brow, looking semi-interested in what the Elf had to say. Similar to her own people, yet different? Interesting, indeed. Once the other woman had ceased speaking, she finally replied after a few moments and another sip of wine.
"Your people are druids, then? Perhaps we could learn from each other. It is dangerous for me to leave the Wyld for too long, and it would be nigh-on impossible for me to leave the island, but some of your people would be welcome to visit our city."
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Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 259
Age: 850
Physical Description: Neva's form is as fluid as the rivers she protects. Her usual form is approximately forty meters, armored with an incredibly thick, scaly hide. Her head is a armored as well, with long horns or fins, depending on whether she is moving through water or land. In her human form she tends to take the shape of a young, tanned, attractive woman, with long dark hair. Finally, she can take the form of any animal that spends the majority of its life in any watery area of the world.
Clothes and Equipment: In her human form, she is wearing thick leather armor of a similar substance to her dragon hide. The only weapons she wields are a pair of javelins and a long spear. The weapons are magical as she sees fit, variously imbuing them with her own magical powers.
Registered: May 17, 2016 15:08:26 GMT -8
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Post by Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden on Jul 7, 2016 11:26:54 GMT -8
Neva had perhaps had a bit too much wine, and normally it would not affect her, but she let it this time. After all, a feast was essentially a party right? And getting tipsy never hurt anyone.
She leaned over Oerwin to grab some rolls and accidentally knocked his glass of wine over, spilling it on the table but it had yet to reach the edge.
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I should have just asked you to pass the rolls. I didn't want to bother you though, but now I think I have bothered you more than I would have otherwise."
Her tone was very apologetic and very rambly, she was clearly tipsy, being about five glasses of wine in already.
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Owein Raic'Leach
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 48
Physical Description: An even six feet tall, Owein is a sturdily-built man with weathered features that make him appear older than his years. He has a strong jaw that descends to a firm chin, which is covered by a mustache-goatee that comes to a point, composed of brown hair threaded with silver hair - much like the hair atop his head, which he keeps trimmed to just about shoulder-length. His eyes are a deep steely grey, filled with a wisdom beyond his age. He usually wears a perpetual scowl.
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Clothes and Equipment: For the most part, Owein wears a set of intricate clothing in browns and reds. Red breeches are tucked into brown boots that fall just short of his knees. Into these breeches is tucked a brown tunic, with a red long-sleeved shirt beneath. At his waist he wears a red sash which serves as a belt, onto which are attached a number of pouches, that hold various alchemical and spell items. And over top it all he wears a long-sleeved red robe with hardened shoulders and intricate golden scrollwork at the shoulders, hem, and cuffs. The shoulders are actually made of red dragon hide, to ward against magical attacks, and the golden scrollwork carries enchantments. Around his neck is a long red scarf, that hides a nasty scar on his throat. He always carries with him a tall staff made of an odd opalescent white wood, that is carved at the top into an intricate, twisting shape reminiscent of dragons.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 14, 2016 14:36:28 GMT -8
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Post by Owein Raic'Leach on Jul 7, 2016 11:51:21 GMT -8
Owein froze as an unfamiliar woman reached over and knocked his wineglass onto its side, sending wine tumbling across the table and right toward him. His hands shifted, snagging a napkin and dropping it down on top of the spreading liquid, before righting his half-empty glass.
"Quite alright, madam. No harm done. Well, not to me, anyway, and I'm sure the servants are expecting far worse than some wine-soaked napkins after this event." He glanced up and gestured toward a passing servant, indicating that he should get the unknown woman some water and remove the wine from her presence. "I don't recognize you. What brings you to Alban and the king's coronation?"
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Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 259
Age: 850
Physical Description: Neva's form is as fluid as the rivers she protects. Her usual form is approximately forty meters, armored with an incredibly thick, scaly hide. Her head is a armored as well, with long horns or fins, depending on whether she is moving through water or land. In her human form she tends to take the shape of a young, tanned, attractive woman, with long dark hair. Finally, she can take the form of any animal that spends the majority of its life in any watery area of the world.
Clothes and Equipment: In her human form, she is wearing thick leather armor of a similar substance to her dragon hide. The only weapons she wields are a pair of javelins and a long spear. The weapons are magical as she sees fit, variously imbuing them with her own magical powers.
Registered: May 17, 2016 15:08:26 GMT -8
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Post by Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden on Jul 7, 2016 12:01:50 GMT -8
"Well to be perfectly honest I do not recognize you either. Curiosity brought me here. I desired to see what the big deal was with crowning a new king and experience a feast. You humans can be so strange at times."
She said this very nonchalantly, she had no idea that it was perhaps best to not spread around the particular reason she was here, that she might not be welcome just for curiosity. She took a bite of the bread she had been reaching for previously, remembering that she could just bring it to herself with magic. Oops. Oh well, no harm done to the man. His clothes stayed unstained and that is what mattered.
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Owein Raic'Leach
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 48
Physical Description: An even six feet tall, Owein is a sturdily-built man with weathered features that make him appear older than his years. He has a strong jaw that descends to a firm chin, which is covered by a mustache-goatee that comes to a point, composed of brown hair threaded with silver hair - much like the hair atop his head, which he keeps trimmed to just about shoulder-length. His eyes are a deep steely grey, filled with a wisdom beyond his age. He usually wears a perpetual scowl.
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Clothes and Equipment: For the most part, Owein wears a set of intricate clothing in browns and reds. Red breeches are tucked into brown boots that fall just short of his knees. Into these breeches is tucked a brown tunic, with a red long-sleeved shirt beneath. At his waist he wears a red sash which serves as a belt, onto which are attached a number of pouches, that hold various alchemical and spell items. And over top it all he wears a long-sleeved red robe with hardened shoulders and intricate golden scrollwork at the shoulders, hem, and cuffs. The shoulders are actually made of red dragon hide, to ward against magical attacks, and the golden scrollwork carries enchantments. Around his neck is a long red scarf, that hides a nasty scar on his throat. He always carries with him a tall staff made of an odd opalescent white wood, that is carved at the top into an intricate, twisting shape reminiscent of dragons.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 14, 2016 14:36:28 GMT -8
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Post by Owein Raic'Leach on Jul 7, 2016 12:09:21 GMT -8
Owein glanced at her with curious hazel eyes set in a grizzled face. So she was uninvited, unknown, and inhuman? She certainly looked human enough. Attractive in a foreign sort of way. Too young for him, though. ..Or was she? If she wasn't human, there was no telling how old she was. This intrigued him quite a bit. So she was just there to see what their human customs were all about?
"I'm Owein Raic'Leach, the leader of the Talveron wizards. Who are you?" He took a bite of his food, chewed, and swallowed before speaking again. "This was a momentous occasion for us. The kingdom has been falling apart since the King's father died, and now that he has returned, balance has been restored to the land. We were on the verge of collapse."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 18, 2024 21:23:40 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2016 12:26:41 GMT -8
As the representative of the Trader's Caste, the Trader Krupp came to this occasion. He had not come to the coronation itself, reasoning it likely to be boring with a generic speech. He was trailed by a few lower but nevertheless important members of the caste. The Dwarf wore uncharacteristically wore his battle armour, a massive body casing polished slightly shine, but the dark colour of it would not make much glare. He would not come armed, knowing that even if harm was to come, after a drink or two he would not care. He looked around, and was not happy. He liked the concept of foreigners. They were people to swindle, without your wife complaining that you were making the neighbors poor, and they were there to travel to. However, he did not like their presence here. The He noticed all kinds of foreigners. What worried him most was how much they all looked like the people of his country. Pointy eared? That was a sign someone was not trustworthy. Furry? That they were a savage. The stunties with him had similar thoughts, and were somewhat grumpy (a common and usually perpetual state of being for Dwarves) but their mood lightened as ale was dragged out. Cursing under his breath as he avoided, walked around and occasionally shoved past the "stranger" and more exotic foreigners, he cautiously hovered around some of the more pleasant looking and sounding human arrivals.
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King Renaux of Travére
Dedicated
The King of Gauldin
Roleplay posts: 368
Age: 29
Physical Description: Standing at 6'4 Renaux is an imposing figure. He is well muscled from years of training and he has collected his fair share of scars. His auburn hair is kept short in a military style, and his face is clean shaven. He has a powerful jaw, mid set cheek bones, and a smooth brow. His blue eyes are fierce and determined, though there are smile lines in the corners.
Renaux was never supposed to be king he is actually the second son of the now deceased King Voltair. The former king and the crown prince Vyun both died in an a tragic airship crash three years ago much to Renauxs sorrow and anger. Renaux never held any aspirations for the crown and hated the thought of having things given to him. He entered the Académie Royale de le Pégase by winning the yearly tournament while posing as a peasant. He kept up this charade over his years serving with the Royal Air Force reaching the rank of Captain on his own merits.
He may have spent another few years in this guise but with his father and brother dead he was forced to ascend to the throne. Relatively unknown among the nobility Renaux has faced many challenges in the last two years. These turned the young military commander into a king whether or not he will prove to be a good one is still unknown.
Clothes and Equipment: Pretty much whatever he wants he's a king.
The Crown of Wings, and his Bastard Sword.
Clothing changes between enchanted plate, military dress, and casual clothing.
Registered: Dec 3, 2015 18:03:01 GMT -8
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Post by King Renaux of Travére on Jul 7, 2016 13:36:27 GMT -8
Renaux sat within the large hall, smiling to himself. It was good to see that his former squire hadn't changed much in the last few years. Straight, to the point, and eager to act. Averin would make a good king in these delicate times. The king of Gauldin sat apart from the other guests flanked by his bodyguards. Well he wouldn't turn people away out of hand, he wasn't looking for too much talk. It was rare for two kings to be in the same room, but he'd rather not draw too much attention from Averin. It was the other mans country and his day after all.
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King Averin Arach
Dedicated
Working on the whole king thing
Roleplay posts: 284
Age: 21
Physical Description: Averin is a tall man, standing at six foot two. He has a build equal parts lithe and powerful. Broad shouldered, well muscled, but possessed of an undeniable grace. He reminds many of a tiger. He moves with a slow, languid, precision, that gives him undeniable aura of deadly skill.
Averin is a handsome man. With a square cut jaw, straight nose, and prominent cheek bones. His brown eyes are dark and alluring. Sometimes they sparkle with kindness, other times gleaming with baleful intent. His habitual expression is a half smile.
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Clothes and Equipment: Averin prefers to wear his silver steel half plate. One pauldron stylize to look like a hawks head. Combined with his large red cloak, he has a very distinctive look. His preferred weapon is a bastard sword. His blade is an oddity. The hilt is worn and weathered, and seems to be ancient. The blade though looks freshly forged. The shining metal gleams brightly in light, and it's edge razor sharp. Both his armor and sword posses some degree of magic, though exactly how much is known only to him.
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Registered: Mar 21, 2016 6:59:05 GMT -8
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Post by King Averin Arach on Jul 7, 2016 13:50:53 GMT -8
Averin raises an eye at Caridwyn's response. He debates ordering her to tell him anyway, but decides against it. Her avoidance of the question told him all he needed to know. It was a note in her favor that she had the tact to avoid details. Especially over dinner. The king takes a swallow of wine and mulls over her question. It was irritating having to guard his tongue, but from what he read necessary. He wasn't a trained courtier and he was now ruler of a country. He couldn't afford to be careless with his words.
"Yes I grew up in Gauldin, and yes I worked as a mercenary. As too tales of my youth..."
He trails off for a few moments.
"Technically I am still in my youth and I am not much of a bard. Most of my stories wouldn't shy from the unpleasant details, which you've already pointed out should be avoided. I do however have a rather amusing story of how I met that man there."
Averin points at the moutain man standing to the left of the King of Gauldin. He was Antain, Renaux's bodyguard and closest friend.
"When I was just thirteen I was separated from my guardians. I was left alone in the forest near the southern mountains in Gauldin. Unfortunately for me I had the misfortune to stumble upon a party of barbarian raiders. Worried I would warn a nearby knight encampment of their proximity the raiders decided to kill me. I decided I should run away."
Averin stops and takes another swallow of wine.
"So I took off through the woods, raiders hot on my heels. I was darting over rocks, roots, and all manner of rough terrain. I was fast and agile for my age, but they were grown men. It wasn't long before they were nipping at my heels. Once almost caught me and that could have been the end of it all. Luckily he tried to grab me by the hilt of the sword on my back. Which just so happened to be An Dli, I don't have to tell you what happened to his hand."
The only bit of human magic on An Dli was in the hilt. Powerful runes that burned the hand of any not of Arach blood who touch it.
"Anyway I burst through some undergrowth and right next to a latrine ditch. Were the mountain you see next to King Renaux was, relieving himself. I will not soon forget the sight of Antain, pants round his ankles, beating off barbarians with his bare hands well shouting bloody murder."
He doesn't talk about the bit were he killed his first man. That act had scarred the young Averin, but also earned him a place as Antain's and by extension Renaux's squire. Three of the best years of his life and it cost him one life and his innocence. He wasn't sure if that was fair or not.
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Duchess Caridwyn An Sí
Committed
Roleplay posts: 94
Age: 19
Physical Description: A tall and slender woman, Caridwyn is 5'8" and shapely, with a woman's curves. Her skin is fair and her facial features are finely formed, nearly aristocratic, with high cheekbones, a smooth brow, and a delicate nose above full lips that rarely smile. Her hair is long, falling to her lower back, and a pale shade of blonde that verges on silvery. Her eyes are wide, luminous, and expressive, and are a pale blue color that often appears violet in certain lights.
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Clothes and Equipment: Most often, Caridwyn is seen wearing simple robes composed of soft, silky white fabric that lay draped across her body in an elegant fashion. Always found upon her person are two intricate silvers rings that cover the entirety of her index fingers, formed into intricate whorls and heavily enchanted with magics that allow her to disguise herself and move around unnoticed. Around her right wrist is a hammered iron cuff bracelet that is enchanted with protective magics. And around her neck is a necklace which bears a shining white moonstone that enables her to more easily use her divine magics. On ceremonial occasions, she wears an elaborate silver circlet set in the front with a large moonstone.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Jun 19, 2016 14:52:41 GMT -8
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Post by Duchess Caridwyn An Sí on Jul 7, 2016 14:00:11 GMT -8
Caridwyn gave Averin an openly grateful look when he decided not to pursue the subject of the persecution her order was facing, and instead elected to acquiesce her request. Leaning forward attentively, she followed his gesture to glance at the man indicated, then looked back at the King as he resumed telling his tale. Her eyes widened at the news of him being chased by raiders, barely escaping.. and then stumbling upon the aforementioned mountain man, exposed and vulnerable. She curled the fingers of her right hand over her smiling lips to stifle the laughter the following mental image inspired, that of a bare-assed man fighting off raiders with his bare hands. Once she had her mirth under control, her eyes sparkling with amusement, she let her hand fall and smiled at Averin.
"Thank you for indulging that bit of whimsy, Your Majesty." Bowing her head, she silently withdrew from the conversation. She couldn't manipulate his time for the entirety of the feast, of course. So instead, Caridwyn fell to watching. Observing both the people of Alban and the strangers that surrounded them as she sipped from her wineglass and nibbled delicately at her food.
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Alanis Waterbloom
Established
Roleplay posts: 20
Age: 140-ish, but who cares?
Physical Description: Reddish brown hair, dark eyes, not particularly athletic-looking but with reflexes and speed comparable to most other elves.
Clothes and Equipment: A white robe, a silver tiara, she carries no weapons of any kind
Registered: Jun 9, 2016 15:24:46 GMT -8
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Post by Alanis Waterbloom on Jul 7, 2016 20:07:02 GMT -8
The Fae leader continued to sip at her wine with an arched brow, looking semi-interested in what the Elf had to say. Similar to her own people, yet different? Interesting, indeed. Once the other woman had ceased speaking, she finally replied after a few moments and another sip of wine.
"Your people are druids, then? Perhaps we could learn from each other. It is dangerous for me to leave the Wyld for too long, and it would be nigh-on impossible for me to leave the island, but some of your people would be welcome to visit our city." Alanis perked up a bit at how responsive the queen was. "I see. Well, we're certainly open to visiting more, establishing diplomatic ties with the... how should I address your people? Albanese? Albanians? Albanites? I haven't quite figured that out yet." At this Alanis looked around at the other humans and briefly observed their mingling with an amused, if somewhat jealous eye. How peculiar that this wasn't coming more naturally to her. "Druids. I don't know if druids is the right term for us. There are druids among my people, both humans and elves. But that isn't to say all our kind are druids. Some are archers, some are summoners, some are simple farmers and warriors. But one thing I believe we have in common is our deep connection to the earth. We move with it, grow with it, and nurture it as it nurtures us. But our lands are welcoming to our kind. They have been blessed by the mighty Earthwarden, its inhabitants embued with power. Your relationship with the Wylds seems far more tumultuous." Alanis reached for another sip of wine. Not as fruity as she would have liked, but it seemed to be doing the job. "Well, at least the lands here provide you with decent enough grapes." She chuckled demurely.
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Ailionóra uí Muineacháin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Age: Ancient.
Physical Description: As with all of the Fae, Ailionóra is tall and lithe, at a respectable 5'11", and although she is thousands of years old, she appears to be in her mid-twenties. She has long hair that falls to her hips, which is a mix of shades of auburn with golden highlights, and bright green eyes. She has a delicately-formed bone structure resulting in limbs and fingers that are just slightly longer in proportion than a human, and features that are wildly beautiful in an almost harsh and feral kind of way, along with the pointed ears possessed by all her kind. Her skin is lightly tanned from several lifetimes spent out in the Wyld, and heavily adorned with a great number of intricate tattoos in varying shades of green ink that she proudly displays.
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Clothes and Equipment: While safely at home within the Wyld, Ailionóra typically wears very little, allowing her to be closer to the nature within the Wyld. Her usual attire typically consists of a vest in any number of colors that bares her shoulders, back, and midriff, paired with a knee-length loincloth, and accessorized with gauntlets, upper arm bands, and various beaded necklaces and belts. She can occasionally be seen carrying a long spear, most often while out in the Wyld engaged in the Hunt. When outside the Wyld, she dresses a bit more conservatively, but still tends to wear dresses that display her shoulders and the tattoos on the skin there. When attending to important matters of Fae governance, either within the Wyld or when dealing with the Council of Alban, she often carries an staff composed of intricately twined pieces of wood, adorned with ever-blooming flowers and a few magic-focusing crystals of green and gold.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 10:51:15 GMT -8
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Post by Ailionóra uí Muineacháin on Jul 7, 2016 20:17:58 GMT -8
"The humans are Albish. The non-humans prefer to be called by our respective racial names - we are the Fae, they are the Dwarves, the Wildlings are.. well no one knows what they call themselves, in truth." There was a hint of wry amusement to her tone and in the twist of her lips as she replied, taking another sip of her wine. For all her apparent boredom, she was still listening to Alanis and ready and willing to respond to any comments made or questions posed. What made her ears flick forward in open curiosity was the mention of an 'Earthwarden', and the Fae leader narrowed her eyes upon the Elven female.
"..Yes, we rule the Wyld, but it also rules us. It is dangerous there, even though we bend it to our will, and careless Fae will often meet their demise beneath the shade of the great trees. What is this 'Earthwarden' you speak of?" Their connection with the earth was.. strange; it didn't so much speak to them in words as there was a sort of music to it that let them guide the power, even while it pulled their strings like a puppeteer.
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Alanis Waterbloom
Established
Roleplay posts: 20
Age: 140-ish, but who cares?
Physical Description: Reddish brown hair, dark eyes, not particularly athletic-looking but with reflexes and speed comparable to most other elves.
Clothes and Equipment: A white robe, a silver tiara, she carries no weapons of any kind
Registered: Jun 9, 2016 15:24:46 GMT -8
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Post by Alanis Waterbloom on Jul 7, 2016 23:26:11 GMT -8
Alanis' eyes lit up when Ailionora enquired about the Earthwarden. "Oh, the Earthwarden. She is a guardian of the earth and nature. To be more precise, she is a dragon. A big one. As tall as one of the towers of this castle perhaps. And quite benevolent. She recently visited our lands and revealed the truth of our origins to the humans who live there. But... that's a long story. She was the one who originally blessed our land, so that we elves and humans who occupied it could live in peace with nature. Unfortunately humans live such short lives that her story had been lost to their legends. But none-the-less the humans have done a remarkable job of preserving their love of nature."
Alanis took another sip of wine and ate some more food. She suddenly became contemplative, with an eye towards the other elders and the king. "It makes me sad sometimes. The leader of the land-tillers is a human named Havador. He is wise and very powerful, the most powerful mage in our lands. But at a mere 150 years his life is near its end. We were born at around the same time. I watched him grow up, become a mentor to one of our great heroes, be elected to the elder's council, be elected as a leader, and grow old. To think his beard should grow long and white while barely a wrinkle of wisdom creases my forehead. Most likely I will watch several of his successors meet the same fate before I meet my own demise."
She sighed, then turned back to Ailionora. "If you don't mind me asking, I've heard the Fae and dwarfs have also been blessed with long lives. How old are you? I sense I am a mere child compared to you, but I want to be sure."
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Ailionóra uí Muineacháin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Age: Ancient.
Physical Description: As with all of the Fae, Ailionóra is tall and lithe, at a respectable 5'11", and although she is thousands of years old, she appears to be in her mid-twenties. She has long hair that falls to her hips, which is a mix of shades of auburn with golden highlights, and bright green eyes. She has a delicately-formed bone structure resulting in limbs and fingers that are just slightly longer in proportion than a human, and features that are wildly beautiful in an almost harsh and feral kind of way, along with the pointed ears possessed by all her kind. Her skin is lightly tanned from several lifetimes spent out in the Wyld, and heavily adorned with a great number of intricate tattoos in varying shades of green ink that she proudly displays.
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Clothes and Equipment: While safely at home within the Wyld, Ailionóra typically wears very little, allowing her to be closer to the nature within the Wyld. Her usual attire typically consists of a vest in any number of colors that bares her shoulders, back, and midriff, paired with a knee-length loincloth, and accessorized with gauntlets, upper arm bands, and various beaded necklaces and belts. She can occasionally be seen carrying a long spear, most often while out in the Wyld engaged in the Hunt. When outside the Wyld, she dresses a bit more conservatively, but still tends to wear dresses that display her shoulders and the tattoos on the skin there. When attending to important matters of Fae governance, either within the Wyld or when dealing with the Council of Alban, she often carries an staff composed of intricately twined pieces of wood, adorned with ever-blooming flowers and a few magic-focusing crystals of green and gold.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 10:51:15 GMT -8
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Post by Ailionóra uí Muineacháin on Jul 7, 2016 23:40:01 GMT -8
"A dragon who is not evil and destructive? Fascinating. I should like to meet this Earthwarden someday. I wonder how the Wyld would react to her." This was muttered thoughtfully, her gaze growing distant and glassy. Then her attention zeroed in on Alanis as she became pensive and.. sad? A coppery brow quirked as she listened to the female wax eloquent and thoughtful about a human she'd known, but it was clear by the expression on Ailionóra's face that she couldn't relate; she'd never been close to anyone, let alone a human. The thought was an odd one for her - why would you befriend someone you knew would die long before you did? Then again, the Fae didn't often form attachments. They were usually cold and aloof. Even their trysts were driven mostly of physical desire rather than any true emotional investment. The question of her age drew a smirk to the Fae woman's face, which then became a wide grin filled with very pointy teeth.
"I was a child of two mortal centuries when the pact was forged with the line of Andurin Arach." And she looked exceptionally good for her age. The perks of being an immortal creature.
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Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 259
Age: 850
Physical Description: Neva's form is as fluid as the rivers she protects. Her usual form is approximately forty meters, armored with an incredibly thick, scaly hide. Her head is a armored as well, with long horns or fins, depending on whether she is moving through water or land. In her human form she tends to take the shape of a young, tanned, attractive woman, with long dark hair. Finally, she can take the form of any animal that spends the majority of its life in any watery area of the world.
Clothes and Equipment: In her human form, she is wearing thick leather armor of a similar substance to her dragon hide. The only weapons she wields are a pair of javelins and a long spear. The weapons are magical as she sees fit, variously imbuing them with her own magical powers.
Registered: May 17, 2016 15:08:26 GMT -8
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Post by Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden on Jul 8, 2016 2:40:35 GMT -8
Hmmm, he seemed a bit unhappy she was here. She was important too though, probably more important than this man, who seemed a bit pompous to her.
"I am Neva-Svir-Suna, Wavewarden, pleasure to meet you Oerwin, and sorry again about the wine."
She laughed a bit nervously, already the wine wearing off, probably for the best. What if she had spilt wine on the king?
"Doesn't seem like a very stable sort of government if the death of one man causes its collapse. But then again...before I slept I remember hearing tales of such things happening. Good to know somethings never change, even over the course of 800 years."
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Owein Raic'Leach
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 48
Physical Description: An even six feet tall, Owein is a sturdily-built man with weathered features that make him appear older than his years. He has a strong jaw that descends to a firm chin, which is covered by a mustache-goatee that comes to a point, composed of brown hair threaded with silver hair - much like the hair atop his head, which he keeps trimmed to just about shoulder-length. His eyes are a deep steely grey, filled with a wisdom beyond his age. He usually wears a perpetual scowl.
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Clothes and Equipment: For the most part, Owein wears a set of intricate clothing in browns and reds. Red breeches are tucked into brown boots that fall just short of his knees. Into these breeches is tucked a brown tunic, with a red long-sleeved shirt beneath. At his waist he wears a red sash which serves as a belt, onto which are attached a number of pouches, that hold various alchemical and spell items. And over top it all he wears a long-sleeved red robe with hardened shoulders and intricate golden scrollwork at the shoulders, hem, and cuffs. The shoulders are actually made of red dragon hide, to ward against magical attacks, and the golden scrollwork carries enchantments. Around his neck is a long red scarf, that hides a nasty scar on his throat. He always carries with him a tall staff made of an odd opalescent white wood, that is carved at the top into an intricate, twisting shape reminiscent of dragons.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 14, 2016 14:36:28 GMT -8
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Post by Owein Raic'Leach on Jul 8, 2016 11:00:17 GMT -8
He waved a hand dismissively as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing the woman thoughtfully. He had no idea what a Wavewarden was. As long as she didn't attack anyone, he couldn't care less.
"The wine isn't an issue. As for stability, the Arach line is very important. They're the glue that holds our four races together.. and more than that, they are a barrier against the Wyld, which is ever encroaching on the territories of the humans, Dwarves, and Wildlings. Without an Arach on the throne, and An Dli in their hand, the land itself would turn against us and destroy us. It very nearly happened. He's more than just a leader, more than just a king." His tone remained gruff, but that was just how Owein was. He resumed eating, sipping occasionally at his wine as he did so, and waited to see if the woman had anything else to say.
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Ryden Greyiron
Dedicated
Chancellor of Isra
Roleplay posts: 226
Age: 42
Physical Description: Taller than most at 6'4, with relatively short, steel-grey hair, and a well-groomed, dignified moustache and beard, Ryden Greyiron would have been considered handsome, once upon a time, and still might be by some, but stress and worry has gotten to him over the years, and more than anything, he looks weary. With well-defined, prominent cheekbones, a strong-set jaw, and a proud nose, he looks every part the stately nobleman he professes to be. His dark blue eyes are filled with a solemn and calculative consideration of everything around him. He has the lean and muscular body of a great swordsman not long out of their prime, and his movements show it - they are graceful, yet dignified, confident and determined.
Clothes and Equipment: Ryden is generally only seen in his engraved armor. His armour is an assembly of intricately engraved detail and runic symbols in equal measures. With his long and flowing grey cloak, he creates a distinctive impression of gravitas in all situations. His preferred weapon, a hand-and-a-half sword, is rather unusual. The hilt is worn and weathered with battle, and seems to be ancient, and yet the blade gleams and shimmers in the slightest of light as though it emerged from the flames of a forge only yesterday. The blade's edge is razor sharp, and appears to have never needed sharpening. His armour and sword both possess a degree of enchantment, but the extent of which is unknown, even to him.
Registered: Apr 30, 2016 16:46:48 GMT -8
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Post by Ryden Greyiron on Jul 9, 2016 1:15:58 GMT -8
Ryden chewed the bite of pheasant, slowly, mulling over the response he would give to the slightly accusatory dwarf warlord. As he did so, he looked over the small man, considering what his role had been in the history of Alban.
"Of course I came here with a purpose. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't. After all, I don't imagine I'll be in Alban too often, and there's a lot of discussion I need to have with King Averin before I leave." Ryden's voice was smooth, and quiet amidst the raucous celebration around him. All the same, Halvard would be able to hear him clearly, perhaps even clearer than if he was yelling. "There is nothing to forgive. I am the Chancellor of Isra, Ryden Greyiron... She is very young to be working on a matter of such importance, is she not?"
To match the warlord, Ryden took a sip from the beaker of water he had requested, before following the dwarf's gesture with his own gaze, noting the two other non-human leaders. He had supposed it to be them, but having his suspicions confirmed was always reassuring.
"You shouldn't worry about my experience in handling other races, Warlord. The Lady of Isra herself is not human, and my diplomacy does not encourage xenophobia. But yes, the pie is most certainly excellent, and so is this pheasant. I wonder if there is any boar on the table."
Ryden's eyes met the warlord's, gazing passively as he considered the man again. It seemed he did not have so much diplomatic experience, which made sense when the Chancellor considered that the island had been isolated for much of living memory.
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