Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Aug 31, 2017 12:54:19 GMT -8
In the western reaches of Rondón beyond Selanca sits the estate of infamous Gauldin "traitor" and former general, Harnois le Renard. In the twenty years since his flight from Gauldin and his unexpected reward of his own lands, the Lyon of Rondón has since lead his lands with the nobility and grace that the man he once was never did. Dotted with vineyards, a quiet and well patrolled land that he has since kept bandit free is a welcomed sight. And though it rests on the far reaches of Rondón, he has never allowed the dangers of the realms or creatures beyond to interfere with daily life. Lord Renard's abode is a small, fortifiable abode atop a hill in the small town of Vala. Adorned with flags and pennons of his glory days, adorned with the shields and lances of his fallen troops, it remains an impressive home that harkens back to his days of youth spent as a fighting man and the feud that changed his life. The sounds of soldiers training in the courtyard can always be heard, as he maintains a strict militant presence and lends his troops for a modest price throughout Rondón. Nobility of Rondón are always welcomed to visit, and he has more than once opened his doors to travelers and the like. Though retired from the battlefield himself, he can be seen sparring with the recruits, sharing stories and wine on his terrace or entertaining his green thumb in his gardens. Good folk of courage, talespinners or downtrodden can always find one night of hospitality in Castella Lyonesse. And if Lord Renard sees fit and the company is welcomed, perhaps longer.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 1, 2017 16:07:19 GMT -8
The roads of Rondon are quite poetic in their own unique way. Unlike many lands, Rondon knew her inhabitants, so well in fact that she gave their air a taste to reflect their way of life; a sweet ode to an honest pursuit for wealth. The bumpy ground, the greenish-yellow glare of Rondon grass, the light blue skies, the cobblestone paths that take one from town to town; they all give a sense of care to any traveler.
One such traveler had come from somewhere in the reaches between Selanca and the Fair City of Rondon. A home to many mountains, and many caves, and many worlds which reside below the nose of Man. The traveler knew these roads, and knew where she was going, and knew who she was going to meet. A dishonest, yet honest man, she understood; an oathbreaker of sorts.
This traveler had respect for oathbreakers. They were more often than not sensible and held undisguised ingenuity.
As the light-blue skies began their beautiful exchange to a bright-orange sunset, the traveler had stepped afoot in the Lion's estate. Selanca, it was called. The site was quite what one would expect of a general; though the sun was fading men still practiced the sword, though it could be called the frontier there was no sense of unruliness; it was safe and complacent. Legs truly give way at the end of a journey though, and the traveler admittedly was used to much more efficient manners of travel than walking. Nevertheless, the sight of her end-goal sent a wave of exhaustion over her that almost discouraged her from continuing up the hill which the Lion's home resided.
The lady endured it though. Eventually, she arrived at the home's entrance; no doubt it was aesthetically pleasing, and no doubt it had a guard at the gate, or door, or teleportation device, whatever entrance it could have been. Sometimes the traveler had troubles processing the sights that she sees. Quietly, she stood, putting most of her weight on her right leg; it seemed that she had strained her left leg when walking. Perhaps she tried too hard getting up the hill. It's not that important, but it's true nevertheless. Her monastic robes draped just like her body when she slouched to the right, and she suddenly found herself lost in some sort of thought. She spent several minutes observing the world around her; the building, the wildlife, the labors of those around her, and the entrance. There may have been some sort of confusion on her part.
From any onlooker, without seeing the face under the hood, the traveler resembled that of any scholastic. Why a scholar would be outside the estate of a powerful general was a mystery, but like any mystery, it could easily be solved.
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 1, 2017 16:24:58 GMT -8
And solved it would be, in short order.
As the sun set and painted the horizon in crimson and gold, as the echoes of steel in the courtyard faded with the call of a strong voice, the marching sound of armored feet greeted the weary traveler. Some dozen of the soldiers, garbed in leathers, chain or open gambesons all made their ways back home in the village, their work done for the day. More than one saluted or nodded the scholar's way, noting the peculiar and distinct appearance. It was a hale and hearty voice that called out from the gate to the inner courtyard and not the iron front gates, thick with the unapologetic dialect of Gauldin.
"And who graces us this evening as the sun rests his weary head?"
The oathbreaker was unmistakeable, a man clearly not born of the nation where his current abode sank deep roots in. He was tall, even when compared to the pale skinned and weary traveler, some good head taller than she and barrel chested and wide shouldered. He was a man carved of stone, his thick golden hair liberally threaded with silver, the beard upon his jaw neatly kept. When nearby, he finally took a moment to bow, stiff bones allowing him to perform the courtly display with an elegance despite his years and popping joints.
He slowly approached, a man accustomed to taking his time, each step a ponderous and deliberate one. A wooden practice sword was passed to one of the uniformed mercenary soldiers that stood by his side. The oathbreaker smiled, the expression settling into the wrinkles and laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, calloused and scarred hands now clasped behind his back. A thin sheen of sweat had settled upon his brow, his pale tunic beneath the opened crimson coat clinging to him slightly.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 1, 2017 17:03:00 GMT -8
Those who greeted the stranger were met with a folding of hands; customary of her homeland, it was a gesture symbolizing a friendly and faraway embrace. Interrupted from her meaningless greetings and brought away from her uninterested non-acquaintances, a man inquired from the gates with confidence.
"And who graces us this evening as the sun rests his weary head?"
The traveler's mind averted from the soldiers of before to this voice. This was the Lion of the surface. This was the general of two armies. He was the oathbreaker. She hadn't expected such a man to speak with prose, because, naturally, she thought most men of military to be good at a few sole things, and none of those things were linguistics.
Her weary posture corrected itself as she remembered how nobility often find inadequate manners to be unamiable. The Lion approached slowly, and inevitably, the traveler took note of his elderly stature; especially when he gave her the greeting of the bow and she heard his bones. This Lion was challenging a lot of her expectations, and the only word that could fit into her mind was 'intriguing.'
"I am a pilgrim," she answered his question from before. Her voice sounded of soft feathers and viola, leaning towards the deeper sounding tones of the vocal spectrum. "Xiu Xiu, my customary name, but Pilgrim can appease."
Xiu Xiu bowed, and then some, for the nobility of her home had the habit of enforcing their caste; she was to bow at waist level, which often caused meeting nobility a troubling experience. It was better to meet a noble as tall as The Lion. After three long seconds she arose from her full obeisance.
"I have heard about you, my Lord."
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 1, 2017 17:21:16 GMT -8
I am a pilgrim, she said.
"Aren't we all?" he replied, the smile remaining. Her obeisance was met with a most respectful regard, though it turned to concern as he noticed her discomfort. "Bah. Why appease when one can please, chere demoiselle. Come. No need to stand on ceremony when one has weary feet!"
Though age marched relentless upon the old warrior, his soul remained as boisterous as his voice, beaming through his great smile. An arm was held out gallantly for her if she would oblige him or require it and he would lead her further into his estate, as a good host would.
"Now, Xiu Xiu, I find myself perplexed. If you know me by repute, would it be arrogant of me to introduce myself or poorer form to assume it known properly? Weighty questions already this evening, fair Pilgrim, and we've yet to sup on wine. Tsk, tsk," he mused aloud, grinning all the same. With a whistle, he caught the attention of some of the servants, some of them of Gauldin like himself. "Claudette, Aramis, du vin et notre souper sur la terrace, s'il vous plait. Nous avons de la visite ce soir!"
The serving staff acquiesced to the command with bows and smiles, hurrying along as he led her through the courtyard. Some of the mercenaries were still putting away the training materials, orderly and patient in their manners, all snapping salutes to their lord as he passed and he returned with a gracious bow of his head.
"Now, it does not surprise me you have heard of me. I assure you; the stories are all lies, and true. Do they paint me as a hero still, or a traitor, Iw onder. It changes with the seasons, as do all reputations of men and women. I fear I have lost track of this season's clime," he rumbled pleasantly, quirking a brow. "But, that can be indulged later. First, I must inquire what brings you to my doorstep, weary and dusty from the road?"
They approached a stairwell, which would take them away from the courtyard and towards the back of the estate, by all appearances.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 1, 2017 18:04:14 GMT -8
No, not all men and women are pilgrims, Xiu Xiu refuted within her mind, but she held a conservative and pursed smile upon her face. The hood to her robe lifted with the aid of her left hand, revealing her light grey face and the blue eyes and the runic inscriptions that tattered themselves along with it all. Her hair looked to have the same consistency of a long-dead corpse, but this cadaver was most deliberately alive. The Lion gestured the way; a terrace, to meet. His friendly demeanor struck her to be surprising.
This man was surprising, so far.
His gesture of support was politely ignored as she simply followed him complacently. He amused himself with cheery small-talk and his ever-vigilant smile. Secretly, something within Xiu Xiu found it pleasing, but in surface thought it struck her as annoying. Her mouth hadn't moved an inch throughout their exchange until the stairwell, after the saluting soldiers and loyal servants.
A Lion spoke of his reputations and the stories that Xiu Xiu was to have known. The only thing that the pilgrim knew was that this man was someone who held power, power enough to have commanded two different armies on two different sides; and furthermore, he was still alive, and comfortable. No matter of devilish deed could dispute the prowess he must have.
"First, I must inquire what brings you to my doorstep, weary and dusty from the road?" The Lion begged the question. They had realized the stairwell but were yet to surmount their voyage upwards; she answered before then, anyways. She had lost her confident posture; her shoulders had slumped, her neck slightly craned forwards, her previously hidden overbite became more noticeable, and her hands had fallen into an effort to hide themselves.
"As I said, I am a Pilgrim. A religious minority, of sorts. I wanted to personally ask you if I had your permission in my trek further west, to a place I must be. It's very close to your estate, naturally, and..." she took a few steps upwards, and saw the lion with an expecting gaze. "Shall we?"
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 1, 2017 20:32:42 GMT -8
If he was surprised, he kept his expression calm and collected when gazing more fully upon her face. In fact, it seemed more like concern than alarm threatened to breach the facade of neutral, pleasant civility. The request seemed but a petty thing in his mind, something he waved off with a hand as he lead her up the staircase, all too ready to lend his strength if need be for the final leg of her journey up the stairs.
"Madame, this is a small thing to ask. Bien sur, you have my permission. Come now. As a Pilgrim, you no doubt must be aware of more fascinating stories than old traitors you could share. I would gladly take that as recompense enough for my hospitality. Dine with me, keep an old man company as the night beckons and I will see to it you have a roof over your head this evening, food in your belly come the morning and see you off with a westward patrol on horseback when you meet the road again for the rest of your journey to the border. Agreed?" he offered, cresting the final steps.
It was a charming view, the horizon a magnificent tableu of rolling hills, swaying grass, a vineyard and garden painted by the setting sun. A fine wooden table rested comfortably on the stone terrace, a lovely white tablecloth set upon with white and blue porcelain dishes, plates and remnants of Gauldinian silverware. For all of Rondon's influence on his surroundings, this seemed to be an island preserved in his former home's memory. Naturally, the Lion pulled the chair out for his guest before seating himself, slinging his coat across the back of his chair and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.
With the coat gone, she could see the long faded marks around his neck of a scar from a hangman's rope that had ravaged his throat once. It was a wonder he could speak so clearly, though it may have been helped along with magic. He poured himself a glass of red wine, holding the bottle up in a silent offer to pour her some.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 2, 2017 10:44:42 GMT -8
A larger task had cemented itself under her pilgrimage. No doubt a man such as the Lion would not cower away, but the question was whether or not he would want to take part in Xiu Xiu's musings. The stairwell, yes. One leg up after another, about halfway she found herself tired. Such a menial task and she had nearly failed it.
As they breached into the anachronistic diner, the Lion wished of her to have a meal and talk tall stories in exchange for his aiding hand. Nodding, Xiu Xiu understood her task. She had nowhere else to go, so being held hostage in a social situation wasn't that much of a bad thing.
The sight onwards onto the horizon felt like a painting, but Xiu Xiu could not enjoy it as well as her dinner companion; nothing she ever saw caught the perfection of the real world. For her, a thick mist set in just fifteen metres out from the table; the visible world found itself grey and a faint green, the only sense of light coming from a large, fiery ball in the sky which, with all of its sunset strength, only managed to pierce enough to make sure her world was not pitch black.
There was a chill.
The chair was a comforting escape from her day of travel. Her body retreated into her mind as she thought of what surfacers ate. She knew from the books that, apparently, mushrooms were poisonous to them. Were surfacer foods poisonous to her? An answer to be, most delicately handled, by science tonight at this table.
The Lion offered most likely his best beverage to signify his standing in society, but she politely shook her head. A hand from below the table held a crumpled piece of paper; as it came above, she flattened it out. There were delicate diagrams, mostly made up of circles, and foreign writing scrawled itself alongside them. After she poured water into her glass, she dropped it in. It sunk like a feather would fall to the floor. And then, in a huff of white smoke, the water convulsed into something a bit more red than before.
With two fingers, Xiu Xiu brought her glass up for a toast. "To our minds," she proclaimed.
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 2, 2017 13:29:53 GMT -8
He observed her carefully and with great curiousity, from the manner she carried herself to the fascinating matter of the making of her own drink. To the toast, he gave a hearty chuckle, raising his glass and tapping it lightly to hers.
"For those who have them," he quipped before sipping his drink. His aged eyes squinted in the waning sunlight to regard her some more before he flicked some fingers away from his glass. "Take all the time you need to rest first, mademoiselle. If there is anything you must eat, or avoid, please say so and we shall cater as best we can. The road has been unkind to you. I can be patient."
Some servants arrived with a small basket of freshly baked bread along with herbed butter and oils to dip into. "And easily distracted!" he cheered, thanking the servants by name before digging in heartily.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 2, 2017 15:58:34 GMT -8
Maintaining eye contact, Xiu Xiu sipped her own drink in sync with him. Redness stained her lips, and when she placed her glass back in its place she took due effort to wipe in away with her thumb. He extended his hospitality, and then the bread had arrived.
"I will be honest with you," she began, "Even though I know nothing about you or your exploits, other than having commanded two different armies, and being loyal to two different countries, I expected you to be cold; the type to turn a person like me away."
With two fingers from her left hand, Xiu Xiu carefully acquired a piece of bread, doing as the Lion did. Dipping it in oil, she brought it to her mouth, and not without hesitation took a small bite. It was okay.
"I mean, you of all people must know the dangers of the world. You have touched its dark claws at least once."
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 2, 2017 16:15:47 GMT -8
"Wealth is like food; best when shared," he replied, still smiling though a sly edge had curled the corner of his mouth upward. "I have opened my doors to dangers in the past. I would be a coward to let fear rule my heart when compassion could reign. And I? I am no coward."
Lord le Renard sipped more wine and looked beyond his guest, towards the horizon. "Let me live without fear, love without fear. Death has not claimed me with darkened claws. Not yet. And I will laugh defiantly until the day it does. Then? I will laugh the harder. Perhaps some of the Lords of Gauldin remain aloof. Cold. But, the civil war that tears her apart is but a result of their blindness, their cold hearts and thoughtless traditions."
It was perhaps the firs ttime sorrow graced his expression, a pain to think of his home country so ravaged with strife but he shook his head and drowned the sour taste in his mouth with more wine.
"There are enough stories of me to find a proper image of my personage rather difficult, if impossible." The defiant smile returned as he covered another slice of bread in the herbed butter. "But. Here you are, enjoying some comforts. A pleasant twist to your expectations, no?"
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
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Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
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Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 2, 2017 16:37:39 GMT -8
Cowardice is not something to be frowned upon, Mister Lion, Xiu Xiu restrained her words.
"Expectations are always wrong, my lord. You must seek truth to find truth, and once you expect something, you no longer seek truth; you seek your prophecy." A world of subjective reality boasted to these two at their fancy table, with their fancy forks and spoons, and the different worlds that they lived in. Beauty contrasted to a shroud, they ate their bread.
"You wanted a story? Or do you wish to tell a story?"
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 2, 2017 16:43:28 GMT -8
"Truth is more valuable if it takes you a few years to find it," he said, quoting a Gauldin writer with a grin. "Why choose? I will offer you one of my stories for telling me one of yours. A fair trade?"
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 2, 2017 17:46:10 GMT -8
"I'm no merchant, but sure," she mused. Her body shifted a bit better into the chair she'd become accustomed to. What story to tell? There were many, not including her own, that she knew. Should she tell an important or mundane one? Would she crack jokes, or keep her stonely, rigid smile? Whatever is natural comes natural; whatever happens, happens.
"I will tell you the story of the Fiend and I," she chose, after her momentous pause. "We know what fiends are yes? Manifestations of our mortal evils, and all." She watched his face intently, ignoring the mist that so often clouded her eyes; it would be odd of she lost his focus on him and began telling her story to a grape vine or something like that. "I was deep below, where dirt no longer lies and rare ores find themselves plentiful. The heat of lava was unbearable, as there was a lake of it just below. I was alone."
Dragging the tip of her finger across the grain in the wooden table, she emulated her travels. "I was no adventurer. I knew not what to look for, or what to be cautious of. I only wanted to find a rumored city of which I heard so much of as I grew. So I walked unbeknownst on a roof to the hottest place I had ever been; the funny thing was, I already thought I was in the hottest place I had ever been!" She took a moment to chuckle, and sip her drink.
"And then, on one step in this small, claustrophobic cave, my foot struck through a stone and opened a crevice; it was just my luck that the stone that I happened to kick out was the keystone. I was terrified as the floor around me began to shift and give way their comfortable positions. Have you ever fallen off of your horse? Imagine falling off of your world, and watching the floor come with you, only to turn and see that but a mile below you was orange and red."
Xiu Xiu paused, unsure on how to phrase her next words. To save time, she continuously emptied her cup of its liquid, not remembering to clean off her lips as she did before. "As I span helplessly mid-air, multiple stones fell faster than me. They pelted my body softly and bounced away, the ones that did. The heat as I fell exponentially grew into what I can only equate to fire and smoke being shoved directly into my face. I felt my entire body sweat, and have every little droplet immediately evaporate. I truly thought it was the end. I had already said my prayers."
"But it wasn't the end. A gigantic creature I hadn't noticed in my fall grabbed me about halfway in my descent. His skin was dark red, he had several arms, and eight legs, which spanned across at least an eight of the lava cavern. I was already horrified, and this was just adding insult to injury; all I could do was scream and mindlessly flail against his clenched fist. I believe I did that for a few hours until... I faded away, and awoke floating in the lava. There was no pain, but all of my possessions had been burnt away, and everything did not seem as it should have. I couldn't see the ceiling, I couldn't feel my body as I used to, and my mind intrusively shoved shapes into my eyesight. At that point, I no longer sought the ancient city. I just wanted to go home, so I awkwardly, swam through the molten rock and pitifully scaled the walls. I failed about four times before I finally found my way back to the treacherous ceiling. I soon learned that I had to write the shapes I saw, or I would die. The fiend's blood, the instructions to its reality were written down on that paper which burnt in water."
Smiling, she raised her glass, "I'm a vampire, stricken to be a wino for fiend's blood. What a fate. A story from you, my lord?"
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 3, 2017 6:16:18 GMT -8
It was as she began to speak that their meal brought before them; a small bowl of soup that smelled richly of herbs, a bowl of crisp salad with a dark and rich smelling vinaigrette with finely sliced tomatoes peppered throughout, a whole chicken that was finely seasoned to pluck from the plate as they saw fit with a savory cream served in a bowl alongside it to pour over or dip into, and roasted potatoes stuffed with what appeared to be a cheese of some variety.
The Lion dug into his food, eagerly savoring the meal one at a time, but he remained a receptive audience, eagerly eating up her words as though they were his meal rather than the food before him. He would pause in his meal, repeating a word of hers here and there almost like a child would, but each word was spoken with a clear and genuine emotion; confusion, awe, horror, wonder. There were questions here and there, curiousity driving his words.
"A fascinating tale, no doubt. Magic. Such wonders and horrors they bring, no? But I've so many questions! What was the city you were seeking from yourr youth? Why was it underground? Why did the fiend spare you? How did you escape to the surface? If you are a vampire, how could you walk under the sun? Should I take the garlic potatoes away from you?" he said with great zeal, waving about a drumstick in his hand as though it was a schoolmarm's ruler.
"Of course, if these are things you cannot or wish not to answer, that is your decision which shall be respected but...A vampire. Addicted to a fiends blood, right from the bowels of hell, sitting upon my terrace. Mon dieu," he said with more wonder than fear. "I cannot say I've such tales of fancy, eldritch horror and great magicks under my belt. Simply tales of men and women. Betrayal, treason, loyalty. Some of beasts and brave souls. Revenge. Justice. Honor. I suppose it depends on what your mind and heart hunger for in the telling of my tale. Choose, and I shall deliver. Telling tales is not something I do lightly."
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The Kingdom of Rondón
Committed
Seeking fearless soldiers, merchants, and frontiersmen
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: 400 - 450 years old
Physical Description: Gist: Having just recently conquered their neighboring kingdom of Zephyr, Rondón is going through a golden age, and its Queen is commissioning sea captains as privateers to explore and colonize nearby islands to bring underneath Rondón's green banner.
Capital City: Vinicio, formerly Rondón
Other Major Cities: Selanca, DeRuiz, Baloncia, Brais, Port Calar, Sincaro
Primary Language: Rondi (Fantasy Spanish)
Clothes and Equipment: Ruler: Queen Xiomara Vinicio
Heir: Prince Rafael, Princess Arenna
Primary Export: Gold, stone, wine, horses, lumber, iron, olives, luxury goods
Registered: Apr 5, 2017 19:08:47 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Rondón on Sept 3, 2017 8:35:38 GMT -8
Horses road down the well maintained roads, a rider on each. Some were clothed in silk, others in armor, but the banners of House Vinicio were unmistakable.
The Queen had sent riders to Vala, and none of the villagers we're surprised when they passed through the town and to the Castella to await the Lyon.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 3, 2017 10:01:58 GMT -8
Xiu Xiu had almost forgotten how pleasing it was to talk to another person. The dynamics of conversation tickled her mind as the Lion's voice echoed through her muddy world. Just watching his body shift in his seat as he ate, and reacted, and sodded from question to exclamation. He spoke with awe, but there was one thing that he hadn't quite caught; he thought that Xiu Xiu was actually a vampire.
"Oh, no, no, I'm not actually a vampire. A figure of speech. Perhaps, parasite, is a better word," she stated, taking a spoon and submerging it into the soup. She span it around, causing a weak vortex in the brown liquid. "I sought the ancient city of Rhodomr, the mother-city of the place I grew up. It was known as 'Sa Drunum i Uy Lo,' or, 'Lust of the Deep.' My town was a colony from this city," she rested her spoon against the side of the bowl, taking her hand and opening her palm to the table. "There is another world below yours, Lion. Short men and women, creatures of the dark, and, of course, fiends."
Her throat was on fire. So much speech. With one last sentence, she awaited his story. "'Eldritch Horrors' pale in comparison to how mortals squabble with their fleeting lives. I'm sure you can choose an important tale to tell." And with a spoonful of soup, the fire within her throat was quietly subdued.
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 3, 2017 11:05:53 GMT -8
"Rhodomr," he said, the name rolling off of his tongue as though he were trying the word on for size. "Lust of the Deep. Hm. It surprises me not that there is another world below my feet. There are worlds aplenty everywhere, most under our noses. In our cities."
He chuckled to himself, a wistful air about him as he sighed and pushed the bowl of garlic potatoes back her way then, as though they had been a poisonous snake before. "Bah. We are all slaves to our own hungers, sucking from the teat of Terra until we too feed the earth. But..."
He squinted, ruminating very ponderously on what to tell, like an artist deciding where to put the final touches on a long wrought masterpiece. He fidgeted, fingers dancing restlessly upon the table, his other hand stroking his jaw. When he spoke, the words were dragged from his mouth with care, as though each syllable was a struggle to decide upon. But with each passing moment, it gained momentum, a thought, a tale slowly woven into a clear image.
"But dark creatures are not only found in the depths below, nor are men and women short there alone. Many have been too short here, upon the surface, and fiends hide in the guises of mortals and in their own souls. Hell, they say, is sometimes other people."
He paused and sipped his wine, leaning back into his chair to look longingly into the setting sun.
"I remember a world long ago. One I that was full of glory, full of dreams and fulfillment. Where anything was possible and all days were filled with song, laughter and joy. I remember the heart of Gauldin, hearing it beat in my ears every day, with every smile, with every song and feast. Have you ever laid eyes upon the fair lands of Gauldin? the rolling hills and white capped mountains? The cerulean seas along her coasts and the charm of its song and poetry? Inspiration lives in every soul in Gauldin and once, I stood beside noble men and noble women, who by the grace of God and all that was right, ruled without fear. But, as we said, there are world aplenty, even before our very eyes yet not within sight."
"Now, she is torn apart by the wolves of war, a culmination of her faults and blinded vision. Have you ever looked upon something that defies your raison d'etre? Your entire being? Challenged the facets of your understanding? I too, was thrust into great fires that left me changed, no longer the being that entered that fateful crucible. The fiend that clutched me was the shadow of Gauldin, the truth of my countrymen so warped and twisted they could not know dream from reality."
"It began when I was but a man halfway through his second decade. Surely, your mind can grasp that bygone age of glory, as I assure you that century is not beyond recollection. The summer winds were dying and the trees bled golden leaves, dressing Gauldin for glorious autumn. If memory serves, the Duke of Lorrain had marched his House's soldiers against the borders of Rondon, his feud with Signore Luccio reaching new heights. That morning was crisp, as the fog had nod dissolved under the lazing eye of the sun and they still lingered like the aimless spirits of the night prior in the valley beyond me. His Majesty had tasked me with the cessation of hostilies, a noble task that was not beneath me. I was still a General then. Loved. Feared. Respected. I observed from a hill well beyond both Luccio's and Lorrain's soldiers, a friendly reminder of what would come should their squabble not come to an end. Of course, the pride of Gauldin's nobility is a constant, like the stars and the moon. And Lorrain? His blood was bluer than the sea."
"I still remember when Lorrain sounded the silver trumpets. I lived for that clarion call like a sailor did to the sound of lapping waves and the scent of saltwater. These men would finally set their squabble aside with a final show of steel, spilling blood into the earth to consecrate their final agreement. But I watched as Luccio led the charge and Lorrain sat upon his steed, ordering his men to march forward. The battle was short lived, as most battles are. Only sieges last forever, mademoiselle, and let none tell you otherwise. Luccio was surrounded and the white flag rose. An entire year of bloodshed and fury along their border between them, finished by the time the last of the fog was gone. I watched as Lorrain sat upon his steed and sent his men into Luccio's lands, forcing him to observe as soldiers marched upon Luccio's home."
He was quiet a few moments, his eyes misty.
"Fiends hide in the hearts of men, my dear. Those are the most wicked monsters I have ever met. Those from Hell have no choice but to be as they are. But men who choose to be fiends? Their hearts are blacker than the Hell they have sold their souls to. As to what happened to Lorrain and Luccio? Well...A story for another time, perhaps. I fear I may have rambled. With age comes senility," he finally said, laughing loudly as he sipped the rest of his wine.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 3, 2017 12:05:26 GMT -8
Rhodomr. A fiend's delight, Greed and Wrath. Short men and men all held their demons; this world had its demons. Every world held a repugnant malevolence in every way you wished to view it. Garlic bread had its demon, which was a curious bucktooth, chewing away at its head; this garlic bread created a sensation that Xiu Xiu never experienced. Coupling that with the Lion's epic of war, it was like bread and soup.
It literally was bread and soup.
The Lion spoke of nostalgia unmatched; his home, his utopia, where nothing was ever bad and everything was always good. Was he looking through a fog? Were his memories corrupt, forever to be objectively benevolent? A heart which no longer beats with the same perseverance and vigor as before never sees a problem with yesterday. A world of noble, good, godly men and women; that is how the Lion saw his burning den. Those days are long gone, King of the Wilds, if they ever existed. Wolves, you say, the sheep of yesterday, tear your dream to shreds, and use their mortal gullibility to justify their strifes.
You know this, man of Gauldin. It is why you left. You cannot be the Shepard of Wolves. Yet you hold onto dream and set aside reality.
Fighting for what is important; war, bloodshed, none of it was foreign. The Lion reaffirmed his memories; those trees which bled gold, those feuds which cut off sensibility and created a new world to live in, that blue blood. Fiends do hide. Fiends are created, and they shroud their wicked nature. But who is wicked enough to say one is wicked? It's just what we say when someone ruins our dreamy, perfect world of the past.
"It was a story, and it served a purpose, my Lord," the woman humbled, crossing her fingers and resting them within her lap. He was lamenting senility, and she wanted him to know that that was not the case. "Tell me of the sun. You keep looking at it. What is its allure?"
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 3, 2017 12:13:40 GMT -8
It seemed to surprise him, that she could not see it but his eyes looked upon hers with scrutiny before he looked back to the horizon. Much like before, he gave great deliberation before speaking.
"Only in nature can one behold true splendor. The works of men and women alike can only seek to capture but a shred of it's majesty. Never by mortal hand will you capture such colours, such blend of furious flames standing defiant with the coming night. Already, the sky blushes with jewels and stars, glistening like heavenly dew in a sea of encroaching midnight. The light bleeds upon the golden hills, a seain sharp contrast to that of the darkness above. There is a peace, however, that comes from watching the sun set. As the day dies, defiant to the last of the inevitable hour of twilight, it is a calm and soothing sight that gives birth to the beauty of the night sky and the smile of the beauteous moon," he explained. "This has always been my favourite time of day."
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