Thaelyn Mortris
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 310
Age: 22
Physical Description: At 5'7", Thaelyn is just above average height for a woman, with a slender build that makes her just shy of willowy. Slight curves and a womanly shape keep her from looking boyish, if only barely. She has long red hair that falls to her knees, and rich crimson eyes that are usually filled with curiosity, set in a face with delicate features.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Thaelyn wears a set of white and blood red armor which is inscribed inside with a complex series of magical runes. This provides her armor with a strength that belies its lightness, as well as serving as a sort of magical buffer that wards off most spells. She also carries a spear, or perhaps it's a staff - she seems to use it as a combination of both, using it both to fight and to channel her own magical abilities.
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Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Aug 15, 2016 12:11:27 GMT -8
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Post by Thaelyn Mortris on Apr 30, 2019 17:40:43 GMT -8
Thaelyn watched all of the happenings with a sharp eye, a frown on her lips as she saw how the knights were being painfully dislodged by the beast's leaping and thrashing. Healing magics weren't her forte, and that wasn't even counting the fact that most normal folk disliked interacting with her magic in any way. For some reason blood magic was seen as inherently evil, which she could understand.. if she were using other peoples' blood for her magic. But she used her own whenever possible.
Also she knew she'd just get in the way if she ran out there, so despite her inclination to go stab the thing with her spear, she elected to remain where she was huddled and continue gathering energy for her magic, so she could heal her comrades after the thing was defeated.
[Charge 2]
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Cult of Xoilun
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Registered: Feb 4, 2019 21:09:39 GMT -8
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Post by Cult of Xoilun on Apr 30, 2019 17:48:34 GMT -8
The Beast's frantic movements became less so after the majority of its unwanted passengers were dislodged, partially because it turned back to assault the other combatants and ended up with an armor-clad fist smashing into its fanged face. A few of those teeth broke off, but really all it served to do was anger the creature further. Enraged by the attack, it lunged toward Fenrir snarling and snapping, intent on ripping him to pieces.
This sudden sharp movement meant that both Gabriel and Dasyra's attacks mostly missed their marks, the Rondonian's blade slashing across the monster's shoulder, and the Wingman's halberd barely slicing into the thigh rather than severing the tendon as intended. Alaric's progress toward the Beast's skull would be slow going, as an unfortunate side-effect of the Beast's existence became known to both him and the other fighters, that being that its blood was highly acidic and the ichor leaking from its wounds was attempting to eat through both armor and weapons.
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Senior Wingman Dasyra Ushael
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 127
Age: 29
Physical Description: Tall and sturdy, Dasyra is a lightly muscled and curvaceous woman. Light-skinned and with strong, striking facial features, she stands out in a crowd not only for her height - taller than the average Esdaran woman at 5'9" - but for her strikingly violet hair. Said hair usually worn tamed back into a long braid that falls nearly to her knees. She has pale blue eyes that are piercing, and often filled with mirth - or determination.
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Clothes and Equipment: It's very rare to see Dasyra outside of her armor/uniform - which consists of lots of silver-edged greyish-white plate and blue fabric - but on the rare occasions it happens, she tends toward comfortable clothing in shades of blue and grey, with sturdy brown boots and fingerless blue gloves. When on duty, she carries a long halberd, and it never leaves her side while she's in her armor. She has little in the way of personal effects, and wears no jewelry. When off duty, she tends to carry a small sword and a set of daggers.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 11, 2016 12:59:25 GMT -8
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Post by Senior Wingman Dasyra Ushael on Apr 30, 2019 17:59:18 GMT -8
Dasyra cursed as her attack missed the mark considerably, and then cried out when she realized the sticky black fluid that came from the wound was now bubbling and sizzling ominously on the blade of her halberd. Well that was information she hadn't possessed before, and she didn't know what to do with it. She had no way of getting the acidic gunk off without transferring it onto her person, which left on avenue: Focus on attack and hope the mage could get the stuff off after this was all over.
Now that the Beast was no longer flailing about, it made it much easier for her to run in and jam the spike at the top of her halberd into the creature's underbelly.
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on May 1, 2019 17:37:15 GMT -8
For all that his father's blade was a masterwork, it was a masterwork by a normal smith. The steel had no especial resistance to acid and when he saw the black ichor burn his father's blade, Gaberial froze. There were many things he'd been prepared to lose in this battle but this sword, this last remanent of his father, of his home, was not one of them. Releasing a litany of curses everything is forgotten by the young man as he tears at his own shirt trying desperately to scrub the weapon clean. He'd not completely lost his senses and he was back peddling away from the beast at the same time but for the moment he was lost in a panic.
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Alaric Marcellius
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Age: 29
Physical Description: Quite tall at just above 200 centimetres, Alaric has a moderate peachy complexion that appears pale when in contrast with his jet black hair and nearly black brown eyes. His otherwise pristine patrician face bears a scar coming from both blade and flame at the bottom of the right side of his jaw. Despite his height and large frame & build the man is not particularly imposing, with an often unmoving expression.
Clothes and Equipment: Full gambeson, chainmail and plate blessed to stop even the maulings of dragons and giants. Typically bearing a quite large flambard and a rapier for sidearm, his mount will carry a lance, crossbow and kite shield.
Registered: Feb 11, 2019 16:53:19 GMT -8
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Post by Alaric Marcellius on May 5, 2019 6:49:02 GMT -8
After a few movements to get over to the things head, Alaric looked down to his hands to sense a rather peculiar thing happening. He could hear the faint sizzling of his flesh as bits of the acid blood seeped into all the little slots and joints into his armour. He could feel his skin layering off and another spurt of blood let him see his hairs coil from the false burn.
The pain was quite horrific eliciting a growl from the man. But the Knight knew he couldn't just jump off for a little sizzle, he had to get the thing done with now and his resolve only strengthened. Instead of going for the thing's head he simply went mad in his current place chopping and stabbing into the thing's back in quick succession hoping to get to its spine.
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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 7, 2019 12:40:07 GMT -8
Fenrir's blade, gauntlet, and leg armor were all magically enchanted, and the acid had little effect on them. Unfortunately, most of his upper body was exposed, thick fur protecting him for but a few moments before he felt the burning on his skin. The momentary distraction was enough that the beast's snapping jaws left an angry red line along his sword arm, the blade scattering across the cave floor as he narrowly avoided getting eviscerated.
Fenrir snarled, smashing the beast's teeth with his metal arm, ignoring the growing pain in his sword arm.
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Thaelyn Mortris
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 310
Age: 22
Physical Description: At 5'7", Thaelyn is just above average height for a woman, with a slender build that makes her just shy of willowy. Slight curves and a womanly shape keep her from looking boyish, if only barely. She has long red hair that falls to her knees, and rich crimson eyes that are usually filled with curiosity, set in a face with delicate features.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Thaelyn wears a set of white and blood red armor which is inscribed inside with a complex series of magical runes. This provides her armor with a strength that belies its lightness, as well as serving as a sort of magical buffer that wards off most spells. She also carries a spear, or perhaps it's a staff - she seems to use it as a combination of both, using it both to fight and to channel her own magical abilities.
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Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Aug 15, 2016 12:11:27 GMT -8
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Post by Thaelyn Mortris on May 7, 2019 18:31:31 GMT -8
There were still a few things that could effect her, and seeing her companions now being plagued by the burn of acidic blood was one of them. To say it horrified a part of her that still cared would be quite accurate, and Thaelyn was now almost as desperate as the rest of them for the creature to die so that she could heal them and cleanse the acid from their persons and their equipment.
She closed her eyes and focused on pouring all of her considerable will and magic into the spell, ignoring the weakness that came from drawing so heavily on her own blood.
[Charge 3]
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Cult of Xoilun
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Registered: Feb 4, 2019 21:09:39 GMT -8
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Post by Cult of Xoilun on May 7, 2019 18:40:15 GMT -8
As large, strong, and otherwise enhanced as the Beast may have been, it was still a corporeal creature that bled and could die. And to be ganged up on by so many foes meant that its time was limited. Especially once Alaric redoubled his efforts to reach its spine. The Beast uttered an unearthly wail of agony as his weapon sliced into its flesh, severing muscle and tendon and carving down to bone - and it wouldn't be hard to find, because Xoilun hadn't exactly been smart in creating this thing, and made many of its bones much closer to the surface than they probably should've been.
That unholy racket suddenly cut off as Alaric's blade slipped between vertebrae and severed the spinal cord. The Beast spasmed with a choking sound, staggered one last time in a final futile attempt to fight back, and then collapsed. Even the most casual observation could show that it was dying. While its eyes continued to flick wildly between its attackers, it was no longer breathing, and it wouldn't be long before it expired fully.
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Senior Wingman Dasyra Ushael
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 127
Age: 29
Physical Description: Tall and sturdy, Dasyra is a lightly muscled and curvaceous woman. Light-skinned and with strong, striking facial features, she stands out in a crowd not only for her height - taller than the average Esdaran woman at 5'9" - but for her strikingly violet hair. Said hair usually worn tamed back into a long braid that falls nearly to her knees. She has pale blue eyes that are piercing, and often filled with mirth - or determination.
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Clothes and Equipment: It's very rare to see Dasyra outside of her armor/uniform - which consists of lots of silver-edged greyish-white plate and blue fabric - but on the rare occasions it happens, she tends toward comfortable clothing in shades of blue and grey, with sturdy brown boots and fingerless blue gloves. When on duty, she carries a long halberd, and it never leaves her side while she's in her armor. She has little in the way of personal effects, and wears no jewelry. When off duty, she tends to carry a small sword and a set of daggers.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 11, 2016 12:59:25 GMT -8
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Post by Senior Wingman Dasyra Ushael on May 7, 2019 18:51:40 GMT -8
When the Beast jerked so violently, Dasyra hastily shuffled backwards, and narrowly avoided having the thing land on her. Dropping her halberd almost immediately, she rushed to see whether or not she needed to pull the Knight out from under the creature. His wounds from the acid blood would no doubt be the worst, due to the close quarters, and she feared that he might die as well if he were further injured.
"Magus, if you have some method by which to heal us, now would be the time to do it!"
This was called out in a firm voice as Dasyra took quick stock of her companions, hoping there were no worse injuries, although given the young Gabriel's actions, she wondered if perhaps he was hurt worse than she'd realized. He was acting strangely.
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Alaric Marcellius
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Age: 29
Physical Description: Quite tall at just above 200 centimetres, Alaric has a moderate peachy complexion that appears pale when in contrast with his jet black hair and nearly black brown eyes. His otherwise pristine patrician face bears a scar coming from both blade and flame at the bottom of the right side of his jaw. Despite his height and large frame & build the man is not particularly imposing, with an often unmoving expression.
Clothes and Equipment: Full gambeson, chainmail and plate blessed to stop even the maulings of dragons and giants. Typically bearing a quite large flambard and a rapier for sidearm, his mount will carry a lance, crossbow and kite shield.
Registered: Feb 11, 2019 16:53:19 GMT -8
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Post by Alaric Marcellius on May 8, 2019 9:44:35 GMT -8
A strike, another, and yet once more. The distinct sound of metal upon bone was a melody to the Knight's ears but he was wrong to celebrate early. He was knocked airborne at speed just enough to get slammed upon the ceiling, before falling with gravity's force to now slam him on the ground. Alaric fell on the beast but it was less of a cushion than a new torment what with the bones and spiky bits.
The man was dazed for a second before starting to get up with hands clutched to his helmetted head. With a pained scream beginning in his lungs he took off his helmet and threw it aside, much of the Beast's acidic blood spilling from the flight. During the fight Alaric had easily ignored the trauma he endured as was per training but that time was over; suffering had come and was now taking its due. He desperately clawed off both chainmail and gambeson, just barely suppressing a gag as skin came off with it. His gloves and boots he could more easily empty of the accumulated blood in them but the rest of his plate would take much time to get off. He felt something fall to his shoulder and didn't instantly recognize the long lock of raven hair. Only as he heard Dasyra's approaching footsteps the Paladin threw it aside. "Well, that's a trip to the barber avoided I suppose!" he jested, trying to maintain the appearance of composure. Come to think of it, he could barely see, hear, or even smell the approaching woman with all the necessary orifices burning like hell.
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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 8, 2019 11:30:32 GMT -8
Feanor looked at the creature, monstrous and dying slowly. He walked over to where his sword had landed, picking the ice cold blade off the ground, calmly walking to the beast, and finishing it off with thrust of his sword.
"Disgusting creature." He said with a severe lack of sympathy. "I'll keep an eye out for anything else coming our way." His only injury was some slight burns, but his thick fur had protected him from anything too serious.
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on May 10, 2019 5:18:20 GMT -8
The black blood quickly dissolved through the thick cotton of his shirt but not before he got his father's master work clean, however, he got a fair amount of the black stuff on his fingers. Gasping in pain he rinses his now raw and blistered left hand with water which salves the burning but his hand was near useless now. Looking at his sword he finds it still in decent shape but there are some pockmarks that had not been there before, marring the once perfect metal in a way that would be difficult to repair, perhaps above his skills. The young man is left staring at the weapon in a fugue state, the world around him forgotten as he struggles with what to do next.
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Thaelyn Mortris
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 310
Age: 22
Physical Description: At 5'7", Thaelyn is just above average height for a woman, with a slender build that makes her just shy of willowy. Slight curves and a womanly shape keep her from looking boyish, if only barely. She has long red hair that falls to her knees, and rich crimson eyes that are usually filled with curiosity, set in a face with delicate features.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Thaelyn wears a set of white and blood red armor which is inscribed inside with a complex series of magical runes. This provides her armor with a strength that belies its lightness, as well as serving as a sort of magical buffer that wards off most spells. She also carries a spear, or perhaps it's a staff - she seems to use it as a combination of both, using it both to fight and to channel her own magical abilities.
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Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Aug 15, 2016 12:11:27 GMT -8
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Post by Thaelyn Mortris on May 24, 2019 18:05:36 GMT -8
"Working on it!"
Thaelyn's reply was snapped at Dasyra's words, and it didn't take a genius to realize what had happened, hearing what was happening on the other side of the rock she was sheltering behind. Though she knew it was entirely unnecessary to hold her breath, it was nonetheless a habit carried over from her youth, as though it would keep the roiling spell contained within her body as she rushed over to where the combatants were gathered around the corpse.
It was easy to see who the most serious case was, and so it was beside Alaric that she dropped to her knees, pressing her hands to the paladin's form, purposely touching some of that acidic ichor, and releasing the magic built up within her as she exhaled. The spell was designed specifically to key in to the magical register of the acidic compound, which meant that as the spell spread outward from her person to encompass those who had fought the creature, it would serve a dual purose. Firstly, it would negate the acid itself, keeping it from causing any further damage. And secondly, it healed any wounds caused by the acid.
With the magic expelled, Thaelyn slumped backwards breathlessly, shaking hands fumbling another pair of potions out of her satchel and downing them rapidly. After that much magic use, she definitely needed to heal her wounds and replenish her blood, just to keep moving, let alone to be of further use.
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Cult of Xoilun
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Registered: Feb 4, 2019 21:09:39 GMT -8
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Post by Cult of Xoilun on May 24, 2019 18:06:53 GMT -8
Although the Beast hardly deserved Fenrir's merciful death, nonetheless, it fully expired beneath his blade, and all was still and silent.
It seemed the heroes had earned a brief reprieve, as there was no sound of further aggressors coming their way.
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Senior Wingman Dasyra Ushael
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 127
Age: 29
Physical Description: Tall and sturdy, Dasyra is a lightly muscled and curvaceous woman. Light-skinned and with strong, striking facial features, she stands out in a crowd not only for her height - taller than the average Esdaran woman at 5'9" - but for her strikingly violet hair. Said hair usually worn tamed back into a long braid that falls nearly to her knees. She has pale blue eyes that are piercing, and often filled with mirth - or determination.
----------------------------
Clothes and Equipment: It's very rare to see Dasyra outside of her armor/uniform - which consists of lots of silver-edged greyish-white plate and blue fabric - but on the rare occasions it happens, she tends toward comfortable clothing in shades of blue and grey, with sturdy brown boots and fingerless blue gloves. When on duty, she carries a long halberd, and it never leaves her side while she's in her armor. She has little in the way of personal effects, and wears no jewelry. When off duty, she tends to carry a small sword and a set of daggers.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 11, 2016 12:59:25 GMT -8
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Post by Senior Wingman Dasyra Ushael on May 24, 2019 18:22:43 GMT -8
"By Esdar."
Dasyra breathed the words in a tone of dismayed, horrified awe as she saw the extent of Alaric's injuries, and immediately began to help divest the knight of his acid-splashed gear. There could be no modesty in such situations, after all, not when a man's life was on the line, and she cared little for the damage to her own armor that resulted from contacting the acid still on his person. Then the little mage was there, and she felt a cooling rush of energy spill across her person, making her breathe a relieved sigh.
It didn't last long, however, and she was soon examining Alaric with a concerned gaze.
"Sir knight, do you require further healing? You were in the most close contact with that creature."
They seemed to be safe for now, so she'd address the subject of their continuing once she was sure none of the men were going to die of their wounds. There would be more healers at the Fortress, and anything that wasn't too dire could get tended to once they took it back.
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Alaric Marcellius
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Age: 29
Physical Description: Quite tall at just above 200 centimetres, Alaric has a moderate peachy complexion that appears pale when in contrast with his jet black hair and nearly black brown eyes. His otherwise pristine patrician face bears a scar coming from both blade and flame at the bottom of the right side of his jaw. Despite his height and large frame & build the man is not particularly imposing, with an often unmoving expression.
Clothes and Equipment: Full gambeson, chainmail and plate blessed to stop even the maulings of dragons and giants. Typically bearing a quite large flambard and a rapier for sidearm, his mount will carry a lance, crossbow and kite shield.
Registered: Feb 11, 2019 16:53:19 GMT -8
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Post by Alaric Marcellius on May 25, 2019 13:35:16 GMT -8
Still in an excited state Alaric initially recoiled at the touch of Thaelyn, but then relaxed with a grimace to let the mage do her business. Muscles tensed in reaction to the regeneration his body wasn't expecting noticeable in a few twitches here and there. He nodded gratefully to the woman when she was done with him, testing the tenderness of the healed skin. "No, no I believe I'm fine. The mage did good work. Still hurts like bloody hell but that's never been a matter for the fighting folk eh?" He said, giving Dasyra a slap on the shoulder in an attempt at joviality. The effect might have somewhat been ruined as withdrawing his hand Alaric noticed some burnt skin falling off of the rejuvenated hand.
He stood up, looking through the bits of armour he removed and putting it on bit by bit after making sure that there was no more acid in it. The Paladin looked over to Fernrir and called out "That might have been the last blow but still my kill!" with a wink. Father above, try as he might to ignore iteverything still hurt with a phantom pain.
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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 27, 2019 15:48:10 GMT -8
"And a well-deserved kill at that! I just wanted to make sure it couldn't get back up." He shouted over his shoulder.
Fenrir looked over to Dasyra, gesturing down the rest of the tunnel.
"What else should we expect down this way?" He asked.
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on May 28, 2019 10:44:57 GMT -8
Shaking his head Gaberial emerges, somewhat, from his stupor. He was feeling distinctly useless for the first time in his life. What had he done during this fight? No harm to the beast and froze up when his father's sword was damaged. Why was he hear? He did not lead men like the knights, nor have great strength like Fenrir, neither did he prosses magic like Thaelyn. He was the odd man out and he'd not even been able to fight when the stakes were raised. He was utterly disgusted with himself and he wondered if he should just leave.
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Thaelyn Mortris
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 310
Age: 22
Physical Description: At 5'7", Thaelyn is just above average height for a woman, with a slender build that makes her just shy of willowy. Slight curves and a womanly shape keep her from looking boyish, if only barely. She has long red hair that falls to her knees, and rich crimson eyes that are usually filled with curiosity, set in a face with delicate features.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Thaelyn wears a set of white and blood red armor which is inscribed inside with a complex series of magical runes. This provides her armor with a strength that belies its lightness, as well as serving as a sort of magical buffer that wards off most spells. She also carries a spear, or perhaps it's a staff - she seems to use it as a combination of both, using it both to fight and to channel her own magical abilities.
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Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Aug 15, 2016 12:11:27 GMT -8
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Post by Thaelyn Mortris on Jun 14, 2019 17:55:15 GMT -8
After downing the potion and resting for several long moments, Thaelyn stood, her strength restored by the magical brews she'd downed. It was then that she looked at Gabriel and noticed the look on his face. He seemed.. despondent, and the mage felt a tiny flicker of concern. It was her fault he was here, after all. She was the one who'd offered him a portal so he could come on this adventure. She felt.. responsible for him, almost. A frown creasing her lips, she crossed to him, peering at his sword thoughtfully.
"Good craftsmanship. I could probably repair the damage, weave something into it to prevent more. It'd be a shame for something of such quality to be lost to evil. May I?"
She held out her hands palm-up, arching a brow at him. The sword clearly meant a lot, she wouldn't just do magic on it without his permission. Meanwhile, she turned a fraction of her attention to the others, listening for Dasyra's answer to Fenrir's question.
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Cult of Xoilun
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Registered: Feb 4, 2019 21:09:39 GMT -8
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Post by Cult of Xoilun on Jun 14, 2019 17:57:37 GMT -8
Almost comically, an armor-clad boy who couldn't have been more than fifteen stumbled into the cavern. He took in the sight of the fighters and the dead Beast with ever-widening eyes, before he finally yelped and darted back the way he'd come, screaming about a whole army of heroes come to kill them all, his voice gradually fading into the winding tunnels. Their advance was officially no longer secret.
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