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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 5, 2017 6:41:04 GMT -8
The Elderwood GroveFar from any city and deep in uncharted territory sits a unique forest. Elderwood trees, usually extremely rare and sought-after for their remarkably strong and fire-resistant wood, grow in abundance here. These trees grow for thousands of years, and can reach seemingly impossible sizes. The dense canopy lets little sunlight through, so the forest floor is fairly bare and shrouded in mist and shadows. Any explorer had best be careful and make sure to leave a clear trail, as it's very easy to get turned around in the endless twilight.
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Gram Tyrfing
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Age: 284
Physical Description: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Elves are slender folk, graceful in their movements with sinuous bodies of a gymnast and the endless youth of their long-lived race. Pale, fair, ethereal.
Gram and his family are cut from a different cloth.
Though the Clan harkens its bloodlines to the fiery haired elves, ready for battle and their hearts full of fire and fury, the Tyrfing elves are stouter and darker. They say the Tyrfings once had hair of spun gold wet with the blood of the setting sun but countless ages locked away in their forges have ruddied their pale flesh, stained their hair with ash and soot and given them a taste for steel and fire.
He is of a middling height, more than a handful of inches below six feet though his shoulders are firm and arms strong. Inked upon his flesh, particularly his arms, are runes earned for his mastery of his craft and denoting his family's great works and deeds.
He reeks of molten steel, his face oft marred with ash or the filth from the forge as clean a shop he runs. The price of doing business, he says with a smile.
Clothes and Equipment: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Gram is neevr seen without his stained leather apron when in the shop, favoring utility over style where his attire is concerned. There are but few things of value he carries upon his person, and though he is a smith of metal and steel, his Clan have always been ready and able to fight and he has been no exception.
'Dáinsleif' was the blade forged by his father that bore the same name and was passed on to Gram when his father passed beyond the final gate and into the underworld. It has never been seen to rust, though that may be attributed to the nearly religious manner Gram tends to the blade. The blade has room for two runes to be placed upon it, stored safely until needed. But the blade has a price whenever drawn and must draw blood, lest the runes vanish and the blade grow heavy. Until blood is drawn and the blade laid to rest in the fires of the forge for one day, it shall remain unwieldy.
Two bracers are of his own making, one bearing the Sol rune and the other the Uruz rune.
When coaxing to life the Sol rune, it kindles to life and burns with the strength of a strong bonfire and could provide the same heat if nead be for some time. However, those fires must be stoked and they draw from the bearers own body to carry on. Prolonged use of it could leave the bearer weak, famished and dehydrated if used for too long. A burst of magic from the Sol rune can leave it burned out for a day but it can severely diminish or repel the effects of a flame spell directed at the bearer of the vambrace.
When bringing to life the Uruz rune, it knits together injuries, dulls pain or can expedite the recovery from sickness or bumps and bruises. Much like its sibling, this vambrace must draw upon something in order to work. Often times, this leaves Gram working in the shop or meandering about town with a slight cold, or bearing the burden of bruises and bumps that should be healing but remain as they are while he wears the vambrace, storing his body's ability to heal for greater purpose.
Registered: Sept 5, 2017 6:43:06 GMT -8
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Post by Gram Tyrfing on Sept 5, 2017 6:54:40 GMT -8
To many, the elven folk had roots as deep as the Elderwood to ancient forests such as this fabled place. Blood that whispered with the trees, that heard the songs the leaves made as the wind danced among the canopy.
But they fell on deaf ears as Gram, son of Dáinsleif, walked through the Elderwood, his aim intent on carving his goal from the very boughs of the ancient forest. It was not the firsttime the elven smith had made his way into the forest, the rare wood a painfully frustrating material to work with but endlessly rewarding and beautiful in the end. But his ears listened to the song of steel and flame, not wood and earth. It would not be the first time he might have misstepped.
With his hand resting on his blade at his hip, and the other holding the axe riding on his shoulder, he would certainly not allow this to be his last trip into the Elderwood. He was not greedy, though, and he was not foolish as some humans often were; he wandered only as deep as need be which still left him with enough discomfort. He marked the trees as he traveled, fully aware that the olde ways of this place may yet try and trick him even with those markings.
For now, he hummed under his breath, the same tune his father, and his father's father sang at the forge, to stoke his own courage and assuage his distrust with the olde ways of the forest.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 5, 2017 7:11:31 GMT -8
Walking through the Elderwood grove was quite an experience, and wasn't like any other forest. For one, the woods were almost completely silent. The dense canopy cover choked out any plant that tried to grow on the forest floor, and Elderwood seeds were few and far between. This sparse terrain led to a noticeable lack of birds and other wildlife, leaving the Elderwood trees to grow tall with only each other for company. As Gram walked through the foggy forest, he would hear a series of very soft footsteps approached. They padded up to him, until a very short and round figure appeared from the mist. The newcomer looked to be some sort of gerbil, but stood about three feet tall and almost the same across. He wore what looked like a blue wool coat, and wore a feathered hat. He stopped, looking up at Gram. "Well now, what have we here? What brings you to these woods, tall one? Whatcha gonna do with that axe, hmm?"
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Gram Tyrfing
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Age: 284
Physical Description: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Elves are slender folk, graceful in their movements with sinuous bodies of a gymnast and the endless youth of their long-lived race. Pale, fair, ethereal.
Gram and his family are cut from a different cloth.
Though the Clan harkens its bloodlines to the fiery haired elves, ready for battle and their hearts full of fire and fury, the Tyrfing elves are stouter and darker. They say the Tyrfings once had hair of spun gold wet with the blood of the setting sun but countless ages locked away in their forges have ruddied their pale flesh, stained their hair with ash and soot and given them a taste for steel and fire.
He is of a middling height, more than a handful of inches below six feet though his shoulders are firm and arms strong. Inked upon his flesh, particularly his arms, are runes earned for his mastery of his craft and denoting his family's great works and deeds.
He reeks of molten steel, his face oft marred with ash or the filth from the forge as clean a shop he runs. The price of doing business, he says with a smile.
Clothes and Equipment: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Gram is neevr seen without his stained leather apron when in the shop, favoring utility over style where his attire is concerned. There are but few things of value he carries upon his person, and though he is a smith of metal and steel, his Clan have always been ready and able to fight and he has been no exception.
'Dáinsleif' was the blade forged by his father that bore the same name and was passed on to Gram when his father passed beyond the final gate and into the underworld. It has never been seen to rust, though that may be attributed to the nearly religious manner Gram tends to the blade. The blade has room for two runes to be placed upon it, stored safely until needed. But the blade has a price whenever drawn and must draw blood, lest the runes vanish and the blade grow heavy. Until blood is drawn and the blade laid to rest in the fires of the forge for one day, it shall remain unwieldy.
Two bracers are of his own making, one bearing the Sol rune and the other the Uruz rune.
When coaxing to life the Sol rune, it kindles to life and burns with the strength of a strong bonfire and could provide the same heat if nead be for some time. However, those fires must be stoked and they draw from the bearers own body to carry on. Prolonged use of it could leave the bearer weak, famished and dehydrated if used for too long. A burst of magic from the Sol rune can leave it burned out for a day but it can severely diminish or repel the effects of a flame spell directed at the bearer of the vambrace.
When bringing to life the Uruz rune, it knits together injuries, dulls pain or can expedite the recovery from sickness or bumps and bruises. Much like its sibling, this vambrace must draw upon something in order to work. Often times, this leaves Gram working in the shop or meandering about town with a slight cold, or bearing the burden of bruises and bumps that should be healing but remain as they are while he wears the vambrace, storing his body's ability to heal for greater purpose.
Registered: Sept 5, 2017 6:43:06 GMT -8
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Post by Gram Tyrfing on Sept 5, 2017 7:24:31 GMT -8
His elven eyes pierced through but a bit of the fog, the dense canopy a shroud for the corpse that was the Elderwood's barren floor. With a shifting of his right arm, Gram brought his forearm into sight, taking a deep and steady breath to breath life into the Sol rune angraved upon the steel vambrace, as though one were stoking the coals of a fireplace, breathing new life into a fire. As the rune upon the vambrace began to burn and glow accordingly, he heard the light padding, almost too late.
He'd already pivoted, crouching lightly as both hands now gripped the wooden haft of the axe upon his shoulder, the light of the rune on his right bracer coaxing forth a slowly expanding light that flickered like flames in a hearth. He looked downward to the furry being that approached, well-garbed and portly.
The elf chuffed, even that brief bark of a laugh more gruff than could be expected from an elven fellow such as he.
"Whatever one does with an axe, short one. And what brings you here? Gathering nuts for the coming frost?" he replied, his humour dry, if a little blunt.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 5, 2017 7:39:56 GMT -8
The rotund figure fixed Gram with a disapproving glare. However, the menacing effect was somewhat lost, as his face was far too round and soft to look anything but adorably annoyed. He tapped his walking stick against the ground as he spoke, to emphasize his words.
"And what might that be, hmm? I hope you're not going to try and chop down an elderwood tree. It's an awful thing to do, you know. Haven't you heard that they contain the souls of giants?"
He sighed, letting out a soft squeak.
"It's not as though you'll get very far with that axe, anyways. Live Elderwood is as strong as granite. What's your name, anyways? I'm Lauri. I, er, speak for the trees. As for what I'm doing right now..."
Rummaging into his pocket, Lauri pulled out three tiny acorns, each the size of a cherry pit.
"I suppose you're right, I am gathering nuts. These are Elderwood seeds, and they're awfully rare. Each tree only drops two or three per year, you know. I'm moving these out of the forest into the sun, so that they can grow."
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Gram Tyrfing
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Age: 284
Physical Description: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Elves are slender folk, graceful in their movements with sinuous bodies of a gymnast and the endless youth of their long-lived race. Pale, fair, ethereal.
Gram and his family are cut from a different cloth.
Though the Clan harkens its bloodlines to the fiery haired elves, ready for battle and their hearts full of fire and fury, the Tyrfing elves are stouter and darker. They say the Tyrfings once had hair of spun gold wet with the blood of the setting sun but countless ages locked away in their forges have ruddied their pale flesh, stained their hair with ash and soot and given them a taste for steel and fire.
He is of a middling height, more than a handful of inches below six feet though his shoulders are firm and arms strong. Inked upon his flesh, particularly his arms, are runes earned for his mastery of his craft and denoting his family's great works and deeds.
He reeks of molten steel, his face oft marred with ash or the filth from the forge as clean a shop he runs. The price of doing business, he says with a smile.
Clothes and Equipment: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Gram is neevr seen without his stained leather apron when in the shop, favoring utility over style where his attire is concerned. There are but few things of value he carries upon his person, and though he is a smith of metal and steel, his Clan have always been ready and able to fight and he has been no exception.
'Dáinsleif' was the blade forged by his father that bore the same name and was passed on to Gram when his father passed beyond the final gate and into the underworld. It has never been seen to rust, though that may be attributed to the nearly religious manner Gram tends to the blade. The blade has room for two runes to be placed upon it, stored safely until needed. But the blade has a price whenever drawn and must draw blood, lest the runes vanish and the blade grow heavy. Until blood is drawn and the blade laid to rest in the fires of the forge for one day, it shall remain unwieldy.
Two bracers are of his own making, one bearing the Sol rune and the other the Uruz rune.
When coaxing to life the Sol rune, it kindles to life and burns with the strength of a strong bonfire and could provide the same heat if nead be for some time. However, those fires must be stoked and they draw from the bearers own body to carry on. Prolonged use of it could leave the bearer weak, famished and dehydrated if used for too long. A burst of magic from the Sol rune can leave it burned out for a day but it can severely diminish or repel the effects of a flame spell directed at the bearer of the vambrace.
When bringing to life the Uruz rune, it knits together injuries, dulls pain or can expedite the recovery from sickness or bumps and bruises. Much like its sibling, this vambrace must draw upon something in order to work. Often times, this leaves Gram working in the shop or meandering about town with a slight cold, or bearing the burden of bruises and bumps that should be healing but remain as they are while he wears the vambrace, storing his body's ability to heal for greater purpose.
Registered: Sept 5, 2017 6:43:06 GMT -8
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Post by Gram Tyrfing on Sept 5, 2017 7:46:47 GMT -8
Indeed, the scowl was lost on the elven man but an amused glint remained his his eyes.
"It's a good thing, then, our Clan knows how to best jotun and their kin, as they have in the past," the elf replied, casting his gaze back towards the fog. "Which is why I look for dead limbs on the Elderwood trees. Yet to craft a pickaxe to do the work needed to charm a living Elderwood of it's flesh. So hail and well met, Lauri of the Eldertongue. You may call me Gram."
As terse as his greeting was, it was given, spoken with an air of confidence that almost bordered on arrogance were the sentiment not genuine beneath it all. He inclined his head, dark hair dancing about his face as he did so.
"A fine prize, those seeds. And noble to plant trees whose shade you may never know."
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Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 121
Age: 25
Physical Description: Riley Fletcher is a red-haired human standing 6 feet in height, with the body of a trained soldier. His hair has been described as "red and floppy" and his clothes always seem to be their cleanest. Cheesecake is a fairy standing 6 inches in height, wearing a pink skirt. She has short blonde hair with a tiny cowlick that never seems to go away no matter what.
Clothes and Equipment: Riley's normal attire includes his red armor and green-tinted plate pieces and his green scythe with an amber blade. The scythe was a gift from the archfey themselves. Riley will be the first to admit a scythe isn't actually a viable weapon but the archfey, living in another plane of existence and having no idea what humans consider weapons, gifted him one thinking that because "it's super awesome-looking" it must be a proper weapon.
He keeps a longsword and shield as a backup for when the archfey are proven wrong. Along with his weapon, Riley carries with him standard adventuring gear as well as healing potions for when they're traveling. Cheesecake's small size means she's not able to carry much more than her rapier (essentially a metal toothpick).
Registered: Aug 23, 2017 9:00:03 GMT -8
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Post by Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake on Sept 5, 2017 9:11:05 GMT -8
Meanwhile, another soul had entered the grove by accident. Distracted by the large trees, Riley had wandered into the forest. He meandered through the underbrush, making sure to step over exposed roots, as he looked around. Cheesecake sat on his head, gazing up with twinkling eyes filled with awe.
"Reminds me of your home, Cheese." Riley said outloud. The little fairy chirped in confirmation as the two continued. Although lost they didn't seem upset by it. Yet another adventure to go on, for them.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 5, 2017 16:46:50 GMT -8
Indeed, the scowl was lost on the elven man but an amused glint remained his his eyes. "It's a good thing, then, our Clan knows how to best jotun and their kin, as they have in the past," the elf replied, casting his gaze back towards the fog. "Which is why I look for dead limbs on the Elderwood trees. Yet to craft a pickaxe to do the work needed to charm a living Elderwood of it's flesh. So hail and well met, Lauri of the Eldertongue. You may call me Gram." As terse as his greeting was, it was given, spoken with an air of confidence that almost bordered on arrogance were the sentiment not genuine beneath it all. He inclined his head, dark hair dancing about his face as he did so. "A fine prize, those seeds. And noble to plant trees whose shade you may never know." The oddly adorable Lauri nodded, a rather subtle movement from someone with essentially no neck. He placed the seeds carefully back into his pocket, making sure not to cause them any unneeded jostling. Precious cargo stowed, he clasped his little paws together over his round belly. "Well then, I suppose that's not so bad, just picking the limbs up off the ground. And yes, these are very valuable indeed. My family cultivates them, and has done so since the beginning of time. We're not guardians, not really...more like nursemaids. We plant the seeds and care for them, generation after generation. Eventually, they'll grow as tall as these." He patted the Elderwood tree beside him, giving it a soft rub as though it were a beloved pet. "I can show you where to find some dead branches later, if you'd like. But first...would you like some tea? My house isn't far from here. It might be a little cramped, but I'm sure you'll manage just fine. It's been ages since we've had any guests."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 5, 2017 17:05:15 GMT -8
Meanwhile, another soul had entered the grove by accident. Distracted by the large trees, Riley had wandered into the forest. He meandered through the underbrush, making sure to step over exposed roots, as he looked around. Cheesecake sat on his head, gazing up with twinkling eyes filled with awe. "Reminds me of your home, Cheese." Riley said outloud. The little fairy chirped in confirmation as the two continued. Although lost they didn't seem upset by it. Yet another adventure to go on, for them. As Riley and Cheesecake wandered through the forest, they'd find it to be not a very fairy-friendly forest at all. There was no food to be found, no bubbling streams, barely any sunlight...really, there was nothing in the forest besides some moss and the imposing trees towering over everything. The mist made things hard to see, and gave the entire forest a rather gloomy feel. Amidst all the dreary grey fog and hulking trees, Cheesecake would see something glinting on the ground. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a piece of sugar candy in a brightly colored foil paper wrapper.
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Gram Tyrfing
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Age: 284
Physical Description: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Elves are slender folk, graceful in their movements with sinuous bodies of a gymnast and the endless youth of their long-lived race. Pale, fair, ethereal.
Gram and his family are cut from a different cloth.
Though the Clan harkens its bloodlines to the fiery haired elves, ready for battle and their hearts full of fire and fury, the Tyrfing elves are stouter and darker. They say the Tyrfings once had hair of spun gold wet with the blood of the setting sun but countless ages locked away in their forges have ruddied their pale flesh, stained their hair with ash and soot and given them a taste for steel and fire.
He is of a middling height, more than a handful of inches below six feet though his shoulders are firm and arms strong. Inked upon his flesh, particularly his arms, are runes earned for his mastery of his craft and denoting his family's great works and deeds.
He reeks of molten steel, his face oft marred with ash or the filth from the forge as clean a shop he runs. The price of doing business, he says with a smile.
Clothes and Equipment: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Gram is neevr seen without his stained leather apron when in the shop, favoring utility over style where his attire is concerned. There are but few things of value he carries upon his person, and though he is a smith of metal and steel, his Clan have always been ready and able to fight and he has been no exception.
'Dáinsleif' was the blade forged by his father that bore the same name and was passed on to Gram when his father passed beyond the final gate and into the underworld. It has never been seen to rust, though that may be attributed to the nearly religious manner Gram tends to the blade. The blade has room for two runes to be placed upon it, stored safely until needed. But the blade has a price whenever drawn and must draw blood, lest the runes vanish and the blade grow heavy. Until blood is drawn and the blade laid to rest in the fires of the forge for one day, it shall remain unwieldy.
Two bracers are of his own making, one bearing the Sol rune and the other the Uruz rune.
When coaxing to life the Sol rune, it kindles to life and burns with the strength of a strong bonfire and could provide the same heat if nead be for some time. However, those fires must be stoked and they draw from the bearers own body to carry on. Prolonged use of it could leave the bearer weak, famished and dehydrated if used for too long. A burst of magic from the Sol rune can leave it burned out for a day but it can severely diminish or repel the effects of a flame spell directed at the bearer of the vambrace.
When bringing to life the Uruz rune, it knits together injuries, dulls pain or can expedite the recovery from sickness or bumps and bruises. Much like its sibling, this vambrace must draw upon something in order to work. Often times, this leaves Gram working in the shop or meandering about town with a slight cold, or bearing the burden of bruises and bumps that should be healing but remain as they are while he wears the vambrace, storing his body's ability to heal for greater purpose.
Registered: Sept 5, 2017 6:43:06 GMT -8
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Post by Gram Tyrfing on Sept 5, 2017 17:06:36 GMT -8
"I had the good fortune to find one or two of the Elderwood's, sick or injured. Once, rot had claimed a low branch while another had been struck by a storm's lightning or something as violent, splitting it asunder enough that I had been able to pry a branch free. Hardly ever more than that was needed, and all claimed has always gone to good works. If I can be guided to something, I will trust your rapport with this grove, Lauri," the elf said somberly.
But an offer for tea was made and the elf contemplated it gravely. What if this being was but another one of the forest's tricks? Another danger made manifest to lead him astray?
His bracer still glowed with the rune, the light around them still dancing like the flames of a strong bonfire to burn aside the mists. In time, he came to a conclusion; if this Lauri were but the forest's will, it would be rude to deny the spirits. An if it were an honest offer, a cup of tea should never go to waste.
"I'd be as happy to have the tea outside your home to spare it the discomfort of my presence and myself my own discomfort. But we have an accord. And whilst we journey, Lauri, you've myself to keep you safe," the elf offered in kind. He'd follow for now, the glow of his bracer helping light the way.
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Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 121
Age: 25
Physical Description: Riley Fletcher is a red-haired human standing 6 feet in height, with the body of a trained soldier. His hair has been described as "red and floppy" and his clothes always seem to be their cleanest. Cheesecake is a fairy standing 6 inches in height, wearing a pink skirt. She has short blonde hair with a tiny cowlick that never seems to go away no matter what.
Clothes and Equipment: Riley's normal attire includes his red armor and green-tinted plate pieces and his green scythe with an amber blade. The scythe was a gift from the archfey themselves. Riley will be the first to admit a scythe isn't actually a viable weapon but the archfey, living in another plane of existence and having no idea what humans consider weapons, gifted him one thinking that because "it's super awesome-looking" it must be a proper weapon.
He keeps a longsword and shield as a backup for when the archfey are proven wrong. Along with his weapon, Riley carries with him standard adventuring gear as well as healing potions for when they're traveling. Cheesecake's small size means she's not able to carry much more than her rapier (essentially a metal toothpick).
Registered: Aug 23, 2017 9:00:03 GMT -8
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Post by Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake on Sept 5, 2017 17:45:24 GMT -8
Meanwhile, another soul had entered the grove by accident. Distracted by the large trees, Riley had wandered into the forest. He meandered through the underbrush, making sure to step over exposed roots, as he looked around. Cheesecake sat on his head, gazing up with twinkling eyes filled with awe. "Reminds me of your home, Cheese." Riley said outloud. The little fairy chirped in confirmation as the two continued. Although lost they didn't seem upset by it. Yet another adventure to go on, for them. As Riley and Cheesecake wandered through the forest, they'd find it to be not a very fairy-friendly forest at all. There was no food to be found, no bubbling streams, barely any sunlight...really, there was nothing in the forest besides some moss and the imposing trees towering over everything. The mist made things hard to see, and gave the entire forest a rather gloomy feel. Amidst all the dreary grey fog and hulking trees, Cheesecake would see something glinting on the ground. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a piece of sugar candy in a brightly colored foil paper wrapper. Her eyes lit up. Anyone with a brain knew she was a sucker for sweets. Before Riley knew what was happening, Cheesecake burst through the air and dived for the candy. "Cheesecake, wait!" Riley cried out in an attempt to get her to stop, "You don't know if it's safe!"
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 5, 2017 18:48:07 GMT -8
"I had the good fortune to find one or two of the Elderwood's, sick or injured. Once, rot had claimed a low branch while another had been struck by a storm's lightning or something as violent, splitting it asunder enough that I had been able to pry a branch free. Hardly ever more than that was needed, and all claimed has always gone to good works. If I can be guided to something, I will trust your rapport with this grove, Lauri," the elf said somberly. But an offer for tea was made and the elf contemplated it gravely. What if this being was but another one of the forest's tricks? Another danger made manifest to lead him astray? His bracer still glowed with the rune, the light around them still dancing like the flames of a strong bonfire to burn aside the mists. In time, he came to a conclusion; if this Lauri were but the forest's will, it would be rude to deny the spirits. An if it were an honest offer, a cup of tea should never go to waste. "I'd be as happy to have the tea outside your home to spare it the discomfort of my presence and myself my own discomfort. But we have an accord. And whilst we journey, Lauri, you've myself to keep you safe," the elf offered in kind. He'd follow for now, the glow of his bracer helping light the way. Lauri let out a soft, squeaky chuckle as he turned and headed into the mist. His footsteps made a soft pat pat pat on the ground as he walked, quiet on the mossy dirt. Oddly, there was almost no leaf litter lying on the dirt, and what leaves there were laid scattered around, looking lonely on the barren soil. After about ten minute's walk, they reached a small hollow under the base of a particularly large Elderwood. An oval-shaped door was built into the side, and Lauri stepped inside. "You can come in if you'd like, Gram, but it might be a bit cramped for someone of your size. Here, I'll brew the tea in here and bring it out." The sound of kettles banging and a fire starting came from within, and Lauri reappeared within a few minutes bearing two steaming mugs of fragrant green tea. "Here you go, Gram. Would you like some sugar? I'm afraid I haven't got any milk. This isn't really my main house, it's just where I stay when I'm out looking for seeds. I come down into the forest about once every two weeks to search for them. The rest of the time, I live out at my house, where the nursery is."
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Gram Tyrfing
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Age: 284
Physical Description: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Elves are slender folk, graceful in their movements with sinuous bodies of a gymnast and the endless youth of their long-lived race. Pale, fair, ethereal.
Gram and his family are cut from a different cloth.
Though the Clan harkens its bloodlines to the fiery haired elves, ready for battle and their hearts full of fire and fury, the Tyrfing elves are stouter and darker. They say the Tyrfings once had hair of spun gold wet with the blood of the setting sun but countless ages locked away in their forges have ruddied their pale flesh, stained their hair with ash and soot and given them a taste for steel and fire.
He is of a middling height, more than a handful of inches below six feet though his shoulders are firm and arms strong. Inked upon his flesh, particularly his arms, are runes earned for his mastery of his craft and denoting his family's great works and deeds.
He reeks of molten steel, his face oft marred with ash or the filth from the forge as clean a shop he runs. The price of doing business, he says with a smile.
Clothes and Equipment: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Gram is neevr seen without his stained leather apron when in the shop, favoring utility over style where his attire is concerned. There are but few things of value he carries upon his person, and though he is a smith of metal and steel, his Clan have always been ready and able to fight and he has been no exception.
'Dáinsleif' was the blade forged by his father that bore the same name and was passed on to Gram when his father passed beyond the final gate and into the underworld. It has never been seen to rust, though that may be attributed to the nearly religious manner Gram tends to the blade. The blade has room for two runes to be placed upon it, stored safely until needed. But the blade has a price whenever drawn and must draw blood, lest the runes vanish and the blade grow heavy. Until blood is drawn and the blade laid to rest in the fires of the forge for one day, it shall remain unwieldy.
Two bracers are of his own making, one bearing the Sol rune and the other the Uruz rune.
When coaxing to life the Sol rune, it kindles to life and burns with the strength of a strong bonfire and could provide the same heat if nead be for some time. However, those fires must be stoked and they draw from the bearers own body to carry on. Prolonged use of it could leave the bearer weak, famished and dehydrated if used for too long. A burst of magic from the Sol rune can leave it burned out for a day but it can severely diminish or repel the effects of a flame spell directed at the bearer of the vambrace.
When bringing to life the Uruz rune, it knits together injuries, dulls pain or can expedite the recovery from sickness or bumps and bruises. Much like its sibling, this vambrace must draw upon something in order to work. Often times, this leaves Gram working in the shop or meandering about town with a slight cold, or bearing the burden of bruises and bumps that should be healing but remain as they are while he wears the vambrace, storing his body's ability to heal for greater purpose.
Registered: Sept 5, 2017 6:43:06 GMT -8
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Post by Gram Tyrfing on Sept 6, 2017 7:39:50 GMT -8
The dark-haired elven smith followed his shorter guide, easing the light from the rune upon his bracer as Lauri seemed to know where he was going. When they arrived to the Elderwood tree that the rotund rodent called home, Gram took a few moments to appreciate the sheer height of the tree and the manner in which Lauri had crafted some semblence of a home within the base of it.
He waited patiently outside, waving Lauri off to go about his business and to prepare the tea and when he returned, steaming cups in hand the elven man took it. The axe was no longer riding his shoulder and had found a home with its head embedded in the earth before Gram, freeing a hand to drink freely from.
"A fine summer home then, is it?" Gram joked about Lauri's home away from home before sipping the tea. "No sugar is needed. I'm a rare breed. Prefer it a little bitter."
After a moment, his manners seemed to have caught up to him and he glanced Lauri's way, inclining his head and raising the cup. "To my gracious host. May your hearth keep you warm."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 6, 2017 13:08:32 GMT -8
The dark-haired elven smith followed his shorter guide, easing the light from the rune upon his bracer as Lauri seemed to know where he was going. When they arrived to the Elderwood tree that the rotund rodent called home, Gram took a few moments to appreciate the sheer height of the tree and the manner in which Lauri had crafted some semblence of a home within the base of it. He waited patiently outside, waving Lauri off to go about his business and to prepare the tea and when he returned, steaming cups in hand the elven man took it. The axe was no longer riding his shoulder and had found a home with its head embedded in the earth before Gram, freeing a hand to drink freely from. "A fine summer home then, is it?" Gram joked about Lauri's home away from home before sipping the tea. "No sugar is needed. I'm a rare breed. Prefer it a little bitter." After a moment, his manners seemed to have caught up to him and he glanced Lauri's way, inclining his head and raising the cup. "To my gracious host. May your hearth keep you warm." Lauri dropped a few sugar cubes into his tea before raising it towards Gram. Of course, as short as his arms were, the mug barely cleared the top of his head, but at least he tried. He smiled, and took a sip. "And to you, Gram, I wish you happy travels. Tell me...what do you plan to do with the Elderwood branches when you find it? Do you wish to make something from it? Elderwood artifacts will last many generations, and would make a fine heirloom or gift. Or are you thinking about selling it? I would hope not..." He sighed, shaking his head. Pulling the little seeds from his pocket, he dropped them into a small leather pouch and tied it tightly before placing it carefully into his backpack. "Sometimes people try to wander in and find seeds to sell for a profit. Less often, they'll try to cut trees. It's awful, and I chase them off when I can. I'm not always around, though...I simply can't stand scavengers. They're awfully unscrupulous people, and there's not a lot they won't do for a seed."
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Gram Tyrfing
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Age: 284
Physical Description: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Elves are slender folk, graceful in their movements with sinuous bodies of a gymnast and the endless youth of their long-lived race. Pale, fair, ethereal.
Gram and his family are cut from a different cloth.
Though the Clan harkens its bloodlines to the fiery haired elves, ready for battle and their hearts full of fire and fury, the Tyrfing elves are stouter and darker. They say the Tyrfings once had hair of spun gold wet with the blood of the setting sun but countless ages locked away in their forges have ruddied their pale flesh, stained their hair with ash and soot and given them a taste for steel and fire.
He is of a middling height, more than a handful of inches below six feet though his shoulders are firm and arms strong. Inked upon his flesh, particularly his arms, are runes earned for his mastery of his craft and denoting his family's great works and deeds.
He reeks of molten steel, his face oft marred with ash or the filth from the forge as clean a shop he runs. The price of doing business, he says with a smile.
Clothes and Equipment: [==|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Gram is neevr seen without his stained leather apron when in the shop, favoring utility over style where his attire is concerned. There are but few things of value he carries upon his person, and though he is a smith of metal and steel, his Clan have always been ready and able to fight and he has been no exception.
'Dáinsleif' was the blade forged by his father that bore the same name and was passed on to Gram when his father passed beyond the final gate and into the underworld. It has never been seen to rust, though that may be attributed to the nearly religious manner Gram tends to the blade. The blade has room for two runes to be placed upon it, stored safely until needed. But the blade has a price whenever drawn and must draw blood, lest the runes vanish and the blade grow heavy. Until blood is drawn and the blade laid to rest in the fires of the forge for one day, it shall remain unwieldy.
Two bracers are of his own making, one bearing the Sol rune and the other the Uruz rune.
When coaxing to life the Sol rune, it kindles to life and burns with the strength of a strong bonfire and could provide the same heat if nead be for some time. However, those fires must be stoked and they draw from the bearers own body to carry on. Prolonged use of it could leave the bearer weak, famished and dehydrated if used for too long. A burst of magic from the Sol rune can leave it burned out for a day but it can severely diminish or repel the effects of a flame spell directed at the bearer of the vambrace.
When bringing to life the Uruz rune, it knits together injuries, dulls pain or can expedite the recovery from sickness or bumps and bruises. Much like its sibling, this vambrace must draw upon something in order to work. Often times, this leaves Gram working in the shop or meandering about town with a slight cold, or bearing the burden of bruises and bumps that should be healing but remain as they are while he wears the vambrace, storing his body's ability to heal for greater purpose.
Registered: Sept 5, 2017 6:43:06 GMT -8
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Post by Gram Tyrfing on Sept 6, 2017 13:26:09 GMT -8
Gram considered the question and gave Lauri something to consider.
"And what do you make of me then, if not a scavenger? I've come to pluck limbs from the dead."
Another sip of tea went passed his lips before he relished the bitter taste on his lips. "My family has a tradition. To craft something for their kin, their clan or their children. The sword 'pon my hip bears my father's name and one day, something will bear mine. What that thing will be however...I will only know when the metal before me sings my name. Elderwood makes for fine tool handles, especially in my smithy. Prefer them to dulling my hands with great gloves. Might sell something with an elderwood hilt or scabbard but...I choose my clients. If the elderwood becomes them, then the weapon I make will know," he answered Lauri. "I've a roof to keep o'er my head. Sometimes gold is needed. But I'll sooner tighten my belt for a week or two if it meant not handing something that precious to one who is undeserving."
He sipped more tea. "And what've you then? Living off the largesse of the forest, Lauri? Or the benevolence of your kin elsewhere?"
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 6, 2017 13:35:38 GMT -8
Riley's warning came too late, but was luckily in vain. Cheesecake picked up the candy, and would find it to be just as sweet and sugary as she'd anticipated. It had a very subtle strawberry taste to it, and had a rather sticky, chewy texture. As soon as she popped the candy into her mouth, the foil paper wrapper dissolved into a fine glitter of golden dust, which vanished as soon as it hit the mossy dirt.
Cheesecake would find that the candy didn't seem to lose its flavor or break down at all, but for some reason she wouldn't be able to bring herself to swallow it, no matter how much she tried.
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Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 121
Age: 25
Physical Description: Riley Fletcher is a red-haired human standing 6 feet in height, with the body of a trained soldier. His hair has been described as "red and floppy" and his clothes always seem to be their cleanest. Cheesecake is a fairy standing 6 inches in height, wearing a pink skirt. She has short blonde hair with a tiny cowlick that never seems to go away no matter what.
Clothes and Equipment: Riley's normal attire includes his red armor and green-tinted plate pieces and his green scythe with an amber blade. The scythe was a gift from the archfey themselves. Riley will be the first to admit a scythe isn't actually a viable weapon but the archfey, living in another plane of existence and having no idea what humans consider weapons, gifted him one thinking that because "it's super awesome-looking" it must be a proper weapon.
He keeps a longsword and shield as a backup for when the archfey are proven wrong. Along with his weapon, Riley carries with him standard adventuring gear as well as healing potions for when they're traveling. Cheesecake's small size means she's not able to carry much more than her rapier (essentially a metal toothpick).
Registered: Aug 23, 2017 9:00:03 GMT -8
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Post by Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake on Sept 6, 2017 13:45:13 GMT -8
Not caring about being able to swallow it, Cheesecake continued to happily suck on the candy before fluttering back to Riley, who looked at her with a perturbed face. He flicked her stomach, causing her to spit the candy out into her hands. She angerly squeaked at him, flailing her fist around as her cheeks puffed up in fury.
"Because you don't know where that's been, who left that there, why it was left there, or for whom it was for!" Riley scolded, "What if it was poisoned? Or a lure left by a plant creature? What if it's cursed and you'll never be able to stop eating it."
Cheesecake retorted with her own chirp before plopping the candy back in her mouth and fluttering up to Riley's head, rubbing her sticky hands on his hair to clean them. Riley sighed and continued to walk, the whimsy of the forest wearing off.
"I just worry about you, you know? The last thing I want is for something bad to happen to you."
Riley continued to walk through the forest.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 6, 2017 15:50:29 GMT -8
As far as Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake wandered, he wouldn't end up running into anyone out in the vast forest. The imposing trees were silent, and the fog seemed to only thicken. As they moved, the odd pair would hear the soft plop of something tiny falling on the ground. Looking around, they'd see a bright red candy apple lying on the ground, looking sweet and inviting in its wax paper wrapper. A soft giggle came from up above, although the shadows and mist blocked the pair from being able to see anything. Meanwhile, the candy that Cheesecake was chewing became seriously stuck to her teeth, making speech nearly impossible.
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Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 121
Age: 25
Physical Description: Riley Fletcher is a red-haired human standing 6 feet in height, with the body of a trained soldier. His hair has been described as "red and floppy" and his clothes always seem to be their cleanest. Cheesecake is a fairy standing 6 inches in height, wearing a pink skirt. She has short blonde hair with a tiny cowlick that never seems to go away no matter what.
Clothes and Equipment: Riley's normal attire includes his red armor and green-tinted plate pieces and his green scythe with an amber blade. The scythe was a gift from the archfey themselves. Riley will be the first to admit a scythe isn't actually a viable weapon but the archfey, living in another plane of existence and having no idea what humans consider weapons, gifted him one thinking that because "it's super awesome-looking" it must be a proper weapon.
He keeps a longsword and shield as a backup for when the archfey are proven wrong. Along with his weapon, Riley carries with him standard adventuring gear as well as healing potions for when they're traveling. Cheesecake's small size means she's not able to carry much more than her rapier (essentially a metal toothpick).
Registered: Aug 23, 2017 9:00:03 GMT -8
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Post by Riley Fletcher and Cheesecake on Sept 6, 2017 16:02:06 GMT -8
Cheesecake managed to hear the falling food and turned around. At first she was going to dive for it again but when she went to give a squeak of excitement before realizing her mouth was sealed shut. She tried harder to chew the food and swallow but found she was unable to. Eventually she began to panic and floated down in front of Riley, pointing to her mouth and desperately trying to say something. Riley looked at her confused.
"What? Cheese, you okay?"
The fairy shook her head vigorously. Eventually Riley realized what was going on. He sighed and held his head with two fingers by the bridge of his nose.
"The candy's cursed, isn't it?"
Cheesecake slowly nodded sheepishly.
"Well, shit. Looks like we need to find our way back to town. C'mon, let's head back the way we came...." Riley replied as he grabbed Cheesecake from the air and stuffed her into his armor for safekeeping. He had hoped the healing properties of the armor would help her predicament but he figured life wouldn't be that easy. Riley attempted to trace his steps back the way he came in hopes of leaving the forest and finding civilization.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 7, 2017 10:01:25 GMT -8
Lauri chuckled, dropping another sugar cube into his drink before taking a sip. He considered Gram's question for a moment, before answering.
"There's quite a difference between scavenging for a profit and looking for materials, Gram. Scavengers are like ghouls, come to rob the forest and sell it for a quick coin. They don't care at all about the forest, except what they can get out of it. Artisans like you, on the other hand...that's different. You're taking something old and worn, and making something new. I don't mind when people make things out of Elderwood, usually. Sometimes, though...people take the seeds and try to grow their own. There are ways to make Elderwood grow much faster, in a matter of weeks...but it's a horrible thing to do."
He sighed, visibly upset at the thought.
"As for myself...well, I've got a little vegetable patch by my house. Sometimes people bring me things, too. Cakes, bread, pie...things like that. I don't eat meat, not really...sometimes I'll go fishing, though. It's not a fancy life by any means, not like in the cities...but it's enough for me. My neighbors are very kind."
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