Plague
New
Roleplay posts: 4 
Age: 36
Physical Description: A tall and imposing figure, Plague stands at 6'6" and weighs 230 lb. His body is of average proportion and at peak physical condition. His skin is black as jet and of supple complexion. His eyes are traditionally coffee black. A dense braid of coarse hair is woven along his scalp which reaches to the base of his neck. He has the head of a jackal, which is probably one his more prominent features.
Clothes and Equipment: Casual: Burlap clothing of minimal aesthetic values. The weaving is of high end tailor quality. Shoes tend to be simple cloth sandals. If not a long walking stick, a wooden club always within reach.
Training: weighted leather jerkin of loose fit. baggy wool pants tucked into iron sole boots. Weapons include heavy training swords, a long bow with arrows, and large stones.
Professional: Black fitted flax suit, boiled leather cuirass with optional folding plate mail, plated joint guards. Splinted bracers and grieves. Garments are form fitting. A sinister wood carved mask and black thick hood are worn over the head. The attire features leather two belts,—waist and chest—burlap satchels, and a burlap pack. (what ever items have been prepared the night prior)
Simple gothic Dagger: 18" (blade 12")
Dartgun: 20"
sling shot: Arm braced dual band (20 lb)
Recurve bow: 6'5" (60 lb)
Sling shot: arm braced hand held sling shot with
Registered: May 29, 2017 21:18:53 GMT -8
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Post by Plague on Jun 2, 2017 6:25:01 GMT -8
The Sundered Frontier
 To the world outside its' boarders, the sundered frontier appear to be a the embodiment of chaos itself. At one point or another it was stricken with cataclysm so great that it opened up the heart of the world itself. Literally, Colossal chasms and canyons reach down to the fiery depths of hell itself. The environment is erratic and varies abruptly between a multitude of known biomes. What isn't tangled in vicious swamps or gnarled forests features lumpy savanna and isolated deserts. The climate is mostly warm and very humid—even in the deserts. The skies never seem to clear. Around the outer cloister of the realm are great cathedral like clouds with charcoal underbellies. They appear to be rotating inward, albeit slowly. Lightening is prevalent and known to cause wildfires. The weather anomaly intensifies the deeper in one travels. Even days and nights are affected, stretching over the span of a week each. As is the rest of the land, weather is erratic in nature. Pockets of violent monsoons can appear without warning and leave as abruptly as they spawn. There is a wide array of vegetation that grows here, but none of which seems quite like the outer world. Many offensive and toxic plants dwell within the sundered frontier. On the other hand, a select few hold preternatural effects of benefit. Alas these are few and far between. Day dwelling fauna range from extraordinary undulates to big cats of prey. Those which awaken when the realm is dark appear to rise straight from the nightmares of the insane. Huge alien beasts emerge from their burrows and caves to ravage the nightly realm. Magic functions differently in these lands. A great overriding force suppresses all forms of magic unless derived from traditional usage. It does not nullify, but significantly diminishes effectiveness. Blood and souls are demanded in exchange for magic. If none are available, casters are immediately aware of the siphoning of their own vitality. Virtually, there is no information of these lands in any archive. Save for an encampment of archaeologists which can paint a broad—albeit vague—idea of the place, the only way to truly understand is to explore. As of now, the only natural way in is a simple suspension bridge spanning across a hundred feet of bottomless chasm. |
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Plague
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 36
Physical Description: A tall and imposing figure, Plague stands at 6'6" and weighs 230 lb. His body is of average proportion and at peak physical condition. His skin is black as jet and of supple complexion. His eyes are traditionally coffee black. A dense braid of coarse hair is woven along his scalp which reaches to the base of his neck. He has the head of a jackal, which is probably one his more prominent features.
Clothes and Equipment: Casual: Burlap clothing of minimal aesthetic values. The weaving is of high end tailor quality. Shoes tend to be simple cloth sandals. If not a long walking stick, a wooden club always within reach.
Training: weighted leather jerkin of loose fit. baggy wool pants tucked into iron sole boots. Weapons include heavy training swords, a long bow with arrows, and large stones.
Professional: Black fitted flax suit, boiled leather cuirass with optional folding plate mail, plated joint guards. Splinted bracers and grieves. Garments are form fitting. A sinister wood carved mask and black thick hood are worn over the head. The attire features leather two belts,—waist and chest—burlap satchels, and a burlap pack. (what ever items have been prepared the night prior)
Simple gothic Dagger: 18" (blade 12")
Dartgun: 20"
sling shot: Arm braced dual band (20 lb)
Recurve bow: 6'5" (60 lb)
Sling shot: arm braced hand held sling shot with
Registered: May 29, 2017 21:18:53 GMT -8
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Post by Plague on Jun 2, 2017 6:55:14 GMT -8
The sky was dim with amber light, but light nonetheless. Darkness had finally retreated from over the Blightlands. Despite the occasional snap of colossal static striking terrain, the weather was as moderate as it could ever be. Deep in this bizarre realm was the Blightlands. A vast frontier of jagged ridges among wooded savannas. From the dusty green saw grass grew broad trees that seemed to stretch further out than they did up. Their leaves were long and curly with jagged teeth. At the palm of each branch rest a cluster of rusty orange berries. The trunks of some of these trees appeared stripped. Precise grooves were carved into the bark featuring circular bore marks. This was the presence of some form of industry. The body responsible for this trade was Plague.
Plague was a mostly humanoid being. Save for the jet black skin and the jackal head, he could have passed for any run of the mill human. His wardrobe was of humble burlap. Though humble in material, the craftsmanship of his attire was nearly perfect. The clothes fit him well. From tunic to baggy pants. Today he was observed with more to his daily wardrobe. Over his shoulder was a leather sack. Over his head was a hood and mask. His hands were concealed in two long gloves which were secured at his elbows. To one of these portly trees he strode casually before taking a knee at it's massive trunk.
At the foot of one of these trees, he pulled forth from the bag his tools of trade. A large carving knife which featured two handles. Two wide mouth vats of clay. A screw like piece of metal, hollowed out like an over-sized syringe. A large piece of leather was pulled out and unfolded. As if was opened, it featured the shape of half a tree skirt. As it's shape was evident, this was set below the area which Plague sought to work.
Without much ceremony, he took the draw knife in both hands and lifted it over his head. The curved blade was then plunged into the dense, yet soft bark. He carefully sheered the pale dusty bark from the reddish brown wood. Rather than allowing one large sliver to wobble about, it was skillfully spun into multiple chunks which fell to the leather below.
Plague so began the grueling task of harvest...
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Anaten
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 35
Physical Description: Born as a combination of a human soul and the spirits of felines, specifically those of the Egyptian Mau breed, was an unwelcome surprise to his family. Humanoid in shape and scale, Anaten stands at 6'1" in height. Fine grey fur covers his toned and lithe physique from head to toe and is entirely monochrome in color except for his muzzle and his central torso, which fades between a light grey and shifts to a darker shade at his abdomen. His eyes hold a peculiar glowing orange hue in the irises while his sclera are a crimson red, which is thought of to be a side-effect of his practices, which is partially true.
Clothes and Equipment: Due to his particular skill-set, Anaten is fond of wearing various types of light-armor in the form of leather from the fact that he finds steel to be too cumbersome and noisy, ultimately defeating the purpose of stealth. With this in mind, he wears a form-fitting leather jacket and pants with a simplistic pair of boots, but beneath the jacket lies a thin-layer of folding-mail that is infused with the material, providing protection, with its rectangular plates.
Training: Simple pair of black gi and a loose, tattered long-sleeved shirt.
Casual: Anything he can find as he has no particular preference in the harsh setting he resides in. However, he does try to look presentable in city areas.
Traditional: From his heritage and when he's foraging or venturing out in nature, he will make a shift to more traditional clothing that appears to be a mixture of Egyptian, African and Nazeebo attire.
24" Khopesh Sword
19" Elven Dagger
x10 Throwing Knives
Crossbow with broadhead tips
Blowgun
x3 Smoke bombs
Vial of Dendrocnide moroides extract
Registered: May 30, 2017 2:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Anaten on Jun 2, 2017 7:48:22 GMT -8
With the amber illumination creeping its way across the vast sky, orange eyes surveyed the landscape as the darkness made its lethargic retreat. To see the Blightlands in such a light was pleasant to a denizen of the area. However, to any unfortunate travelers, the sight wouldn't be anything other than horrendous and ominous. From the crackles of lightning above to the harshness of the terrain, these lands didn't welcome the weary in the slightest and it begged the questions: who would reside here? How could anyone survive here? Having knowledge of the area aided a great deal as well as a heightened sense of vigilance and adaptability.
Milati trekked his way along a weathered path and, if it were not for his ears, he would have been mistaken as humanoid as his features were covered by a protective cloth, but with grayed fur covering the entirety of his form, clawed fingertips, a head similar to a canine, and glowing orange eyes, it would be impossible to pass as such without the tricks of a magister. His choice of attire was relatively simple, but intended to share the same purpose as the cloth upon his features. Clad in a pair of baggy, cloth pants, a tattered, white tunic, and a hooded cloak, he also wore a set of calve-high boots and a single belt that held a set of five leather pouches and four vials as well as a single sheath.
From the rigors of his training to obtain the immunity to toxins and poisons, he kept his hands bare and, ahead of the strange being was a plain that was once a home to a vast array of toxic vegetation. Now, it was almost a mere shadow of itself, housing useless stems and patches of grass, and it was this very strange being who was responsible for its state by making use of its resources.
The rumble of thunder crackled closely to his location and gave him warning of the time he presently had. With that in mind, he knelt beside one of the remaining plants and procured his dagger from its sheath. Elven in design, its blade was curved and its handle appeared almost decorative with strips of silver lining its grip in a swirled pattern.
In a swift and precise swipe, the plant was severed from its base and housed in one of his pouches before the action was repeated with the next to commence his collecting.
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Plague
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 36
Physical Description: A tall and imposing figure, Plague stands at 6'6" and weighs 230 lb. His body is of average proportion and at peak physical condition. His skin is black as jet and of supple complexion. His eyes are traditionally coffee black. A dense braid of coarse hair is woven along his scalp which reaches to the base of his neck. He has the head of a jackal, which is probably one his more prominent features.
Clothes and Equipment: Casual: Burlap clothing of minimal aesthetic values. The weaving is of high end tailor quality. Shoes tend to be simple cloth sandals. If not a long walking stick, a wooden club always within reach.
Training: weighted leather jerkin of loose fit. baggy wool pants tucked into iron sole boots. Weapons include heavy training swords, a long bow with arrows, and large stones.
Professional: Black fitted flax suit, boiled leather cuirass with optional folding plate mail, plated joint guards. Splinted bracers and grieves. Garments are form fitting. A sinister wood carved mask and black thick hood are worn over the head. The attire features leather two belts,—waist and chest—burlap satchels, and a burlap pack. (what ever items have been prepared the night prior)
Simple gothic Dagger: 18" (blade 12")
Dartgun: 20"
sling shot: Arm braced dual band (20 lb)
Recurve bow: 6'5" (60 lb)
Sling shot: arm braced hand held sling shot with
Registered: May 29, 2017 21:18:53 GMT -8
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Post by Plague on Jun 2, 2017 10:28:45 GMT -8
The process of harvesting was a precise one. One wrong move, one slipped blade, or a nonchalant wipe of the brow was all it would take. The very essence of this plant was toxic. The bark, the sap, and the leaves all shared a ghastly surprise for any unwary flesh to brush along side it. It was a ghastly neurotoxin that wasn't exactly fatal, but triggered the must intense pain that any could possibly comprehend. It's effects lingered for days, months, or even years depending on how long the stuff stayed on the skin.
Taking a knee, Plague placed the tool on the ground. Perhaps there was something he had failed to produce before, because the rough cloth shrouded figure was back in that large leather bag. It didn't take much digging to find the hand crank drill. After standing, he'd pres it against the bare reddish wood and begin to twist. The wood was soft enough to yield, albeit slowly. Shaving spiraled out from the bore zone. They tumbled down the trunk and onto the swath of leather below.
His broad shoulders rocked with the repetitive and tedious act of drilling far enough into the wood to yield the best sap results. It was a process that was going to take some time. Without much focus, he simply gazed in the direction of the drill while his hands worked the action with the grace of a season artisan. His form and the tree were soon illuminated with a bright white flash followed instantly by a loud crash. Overhead, a large arc of lightening happened to discharge. Save for a slight wince of his coffee black eyes, His composure wasn't disrupted all that much. Plague was used to this sort of environment.
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Anaten
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 35
Physical Description: Born as a combination of a human soul and the spirits of felines, specifically those of the Egyptian Mau breed, was an unwelcome surprise to his family. Humanoid in shape and scale, Anaten stands at 6'1" in height. Fine grey fur covers his toned and lithe physique from head to toe and is entirely monochrome in color except for his muzzle and his central torso, which fades between a light grey and shifts to a darker shade at his abdomen. His eyes hold a peculiar glowing orange hue in the irises while his sclera are a crimson red, which is thought of to be a side-effect of his practices, which is partially true.
Clothes and Equipment: Due to his particular skill-set, Anaten is fond of wearing various types of light-armor in the form of leather from the fact that he finds steel to be too cumbersome and noisy, ultimately defeating the purpose of stealth. With this in mind, he wears a form-fitting leather jacket and pants with a simplistic pair of boots, but beneath the jacket lies a thin-layer of folding-mail that is infused with the material, providing protection, with its rectangular plates.
Training: Simple pair of black gi and a loose, tattered long-sleeved shirt.
Casual: Anything he can find as he has no particular preference in the harsh setting he resides in. However, he does try to look presentable in city areas.
Traditional: From his heritage and when he's foraging or venturing out in nature, he will make a shift to more traditional clothing that appears to be a mixture of Egyptian, African and Nazeebo attire.
24" Khopesh Sword
19" Elven Dagger
x10 Throwing Knives
Crossbow with broadhead tips
Blowgun
x3 Smoke bombs
Vial of Dendrocnide moroides extract
Registered: May 30, 2017 2:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Anaten on Jun 4, 2017 11:18:10 GMT -8
Harvesting these particular plants was a practiced and careful process that took a moderate amount of time...time that he wasn't certain he had an ample amount of. Lightning struck and thunder crackled, each strike inching closer and closer to his location and prompting his eyes to stare skyward where he could track the movements of the malevolent clouds overhead. More and more small spheres of white with singular black dots were procured from his harvesting and placed securely in vacant packs to make use of for later ventures and important missions.
What he was harvesting was significantly lethal either from ingestion or direct exposure with the blood stream, making it useful in combat situations or when stealth played part in silencing an enemy or target selected by someone with deep pockets and a lack of courage to see the deed done themselves. It was all sickening, but it was a rewarding way to get by in this world--it was a way to survive. In the process of his daily task, his thoughts wondered over to his partner whom was procuring their other set in an area he believed to be more dangerous than this.
However, with another strike of lightning that occurred closely behind him, his thoughts of danger shifted and the hairs of his back extended outward in full alert. with a deep exhalation of breath, Milati calmed his instincts and harvested the last of what he had come for where he could make his retreat from the spreading wrath of nature.
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Plague
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 36
Physical Description: A tall and imposing figure, Plague stands at 6'6" and weighs 230 lb. His body is of average proportion and at peak physical condition. His skin is black as jet and of supple complexion. His eyes are traditionally coffee black. A dense braid of coarse hair is woven along his scalp which reaches to the base of his neck. He has the head of a jackal, which is probably one his more prominent features.
Clothes and Equipment: Casual: Burlap clothing of minimal aesthetic values. The weaving is of high end tailor quality. Shoes tend to be simple cloth sandals. If not a long walking stick, a wooden club always within reach.
Training: weighted leather jerkin of loose fit. baggy wool pants tucked into iron sole boots. Weapons include heavy training swords, a long bow with arrows, and large stones.
Professional: Black fitted flax suit, boiled leather cuirass with optional folding plate mail, plated joint guards. Splinted bracers and grieves. Garments are form fitting. A sinister wood carved mask and black thick hood are worn over the head. The attire features leather two belts,—waist and chest—burlap satchels, and a burlap pack. (what ever items have been prepared the night prior)
Simple gothic Dagger: 18" (blade 12")
Dartgun: 20"
sling shot: Arm braced dual band (20 lb)
Recurve bow: 6'5" (60 lb)
Sling shot: arm braced hand held sling shot with
Registered: May 29, 2017 21:18:53 GMT -8
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Post by Plague on Jun 6, 2017 14:34:05 GMT -8
Plague had just finished toiling beneath the shade of the that toxic tree. Despite the peril of the slightest touch, the wispy leaves of olive shading was quite pleasant. The tree was successfully tapped. One clay vat was suspended beneath the spigot while the other was used to collect shavings of the treacherous wood. All of his tools were amassed on the swath of leather which was in turn folded and placed into the leather satchel he wore across his shoulder. About a day later—which was truly hard to determine in the blightlands—it should be full. Milati should have still been gathering his respective materials just a mile or so south, this meant there was still time to put at least some effort into other tasks of the new day.
Plague had nowhere to go but back home. To access the quaint complex, it took some time walking. The shrub life condensed over time to a large thicket. Brambles and thorns had long since established their dominance over the tall trees. Woody thorns each with their own array of fine barbs stuck out from their respective stems. Where the forest converged upon a large front of jagged mountains, their compound was located. The security of their home wasn't advanced. There was really only need for a simple wall to separate their home from the harsh world. On the inside of the twelve foot wall of adobe was an extensive complex. A multitude of small structures had been arranged throughout the flagstone paved interior.
The wooden gate was already ajar from the time they had both set out—With nobody to keep out, such was low priority. His first stop was a quaint little shack. He pushed through the wooden door and into a storage. Many clay vats and glass flasks lined the shelves above and one. An assortment of plants hung from the rafters. He began to spread the contents of the bag across the table.
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Anaten
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 35
Physical Description: Born as a combination of a human soul and the spirits of felines, specifically those of the Egyptian Mau breed, was an unwelcome surprise to his family. Humanoid in shape and scale, Anaten stands at 6'1" in height. Fine grey fur covers his toned and lithe physique from head to toe and is entirely monochrome in color except for his muzzle and his central torso, which fades between a light grey and shifts to a darker shade at his abdomen. His eyes hold a peculiar glowing orange hue in the irises while his sclera are a crimson red, which is thought of to be a side-effect of his practices, which is partially true.
Clothes and Equipment: Due to his particular skill-set, Anaten is fond of wearing various types of light-armor in the form of leather from the fact that he finds steel to be too cumbersome and noisy, ultimately defeating the purpose of stealth. With this in mind, he wears a form-fitting leather jacket and pants with a simplistic pair of boots, but beneath the jacket lies a thin-layer of folding-mail that is infused with the material, providing protection, with its rectangular plates.
Training: Simple pair of black gi and a loose, tattered long-sleeved shirt.
Casual: Anything he can find as he has no particular preference in the harsh setting he resides in. However, he does try to look presentable in city areas.
Traditional: From his heritage and when he's foraging or venturing out in nature, he will make a shift to more traditional clothing that appears to be a mixture of Egyptian, African and Nazeebo attire.
24" Khopesh Sword
19" Elven Dagger
x10 Throwing Knives
Crossbow with broadhead tips
Blowgun
x3 Smoke bombs
Vial of Dendrocnide moroides extract
Registered: May 30, 2017 2:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Anaten on Jun 18, 2017 16:41:12 GMT -8
With his task complete, he made a hasty retreat along the path that brought him to the location; masterful foot placement carrying him at an exponential pace without the risk of scraping against something unsavory or haphazardly stomping a creature's settlement. Making glances toward what he had collected, he was pleased with what he had obtained, but he felt that he could have procured more. Unfortunately, doing so would risk his life, which was one he wasn't willing to as the harvest was of a lower level of importance in comparison to what he was trained to live for.
Progressing toward what he would call home, the complex slowly came into vision and, upon further inspection, he detected that the wooden gate had been left ajar, which meant that his comrade had either returned or was still engulfed within his objective. However, as he slipped through the gate and shut it behind him, he surveyed the structures they created and observed one that had a door pushed inward, confirming that Plague had returned. With a sigh, Milati traversed toward the shack and toward the storage here he tugged his facial scarf off.
Soon after, he removed his vials and satchel that housed what he had harvest and laid down the contents across another table. "The yieldings are light... but it should do for a week or two." Exhaling an inaudible sigh, he rested his hands upon the table and viewed what he had obtained in deep contemplation.
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Anaten
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 35
Physical Description: Born as a combination of a human soul and the spirits of felines, specifically those of the Egyptian Mau breed, was an unwelcome surprise to his family. Humanoid in shape and scale, Anaten stands at 6'1" in height. Fine grey fur covers his toned and lithe physique from head to toe and is entirely monochrome in color except for his muzzle and his central torso, which fades between a light grey and shifts to a darker shade at his abdomen. His eyes hold a peculiar glowing orange hue in the irises while his sclera are a crimson red, which is thought of to be a side-effect of his practices, which is partially true.
Clothes and Equipment: Due to his particular skill-set, Anaten is fond of wearing various types of light-armor in the form of leather from the fact that he finds steel to be too cumbersome and noisy, ultimately defeating the purpose of stealth. With this in mind, he wears a form-fitting leather jacket and pants with a simplistic pair of boots, but beneath the jacket lies a thin-layer of folding-mail that is infused with the material, providing protection, with its rectangular plates.
Training: Simple pair of black gi and a loose, tattered long-sleeved shirt.
Casual: Anything he can find as he has no particular preference in the harsh setting he resides in. However, he does try to look presentable in city areas.
Traditional: From his heritage and when he's foraging or venturing out in nature, he will make a shift to more traditional clothing that appears to be a mixture of Egyptian, African and Nazeebo attire.
24" Khopesh Sword
19" Elven Dagger
x10 Throwing Knives
Crossbow with broadhead tips
Blowgun
x3 Smoke bombs
Vial of Dendrocnide moroides extract
Registered: May 30, 2017 2:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Anaten on Jun 18, 2017 16:42:01 GMT -8
With his task complete, he made a hasty retreat along the path that brought him to the location; masterful foot placement carrying him at an exponential pace without the risk of scraping against something unsavory or haphazardly stomping a creature's settlement. Making glances toward what he had collected, he was pleased with what he had obtained, but he felt that he could have procured more. Unfortunately, doing so would risk his life, which was one he wasn't willing to as the harvest was of a lower level of importance in comparison to what he was trained to live for.
Progressing toward what he would call home, the complex slowly came into vision and, upon further inspection, he detected that the wooden gate had been left ajar, which meant that his comrade had either returned or was still engulfed within his objective. However, as he slipped through the gate and shut it behind him, he surveyed the structures they created and observed one that had a door pushed inward, confirming that Plague had returned. With a sigh, Milati traversed toward the shack and toward the storage here he tugged his facial scarf off.
Soon after, he removed his vials and satchel that housed what he had harvest and laid down the contents across another table. "The yieldings are light... but it should do for a week or two." Exhaling an inaudible sigh, he rested his hands upon the table and viewed what he had obtained in deep contemplation.
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