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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 13, 2017 13:17:29 GMT -8
The flaming liquid splattered and sizzled against Lauri's shield, forming a burning dome as it ran down the sides and into the ground. Lauri ducked down, squeaking in fright and shutting his eyes as he anticipated his fiery demise, but soon realized that Gram had protected them somehow.
"T-the way to make an Elderwood tree grow faster is to bury somebody alive underneath it and water it with blood. The tree absorbs the iron in the blood, making it just as strong as if it had grown naturally, and the life force of the poor soul buried underneath nourishes it and lets it grow in about a month. Artificially-grown Elderwoods have a slight reddish tinge to them, but it's hard to tell unless you know what you're looking for. Some say they're even stronger than naturally-grown Elderwood, but it really depends on the region. A tree grown in iron-rich soil will be much stronger than one grown in poorer land. This forest is over a massive iron mine, which allows them to be as strong and tall as they are."
Meanwhile, the thieves continued to stare down at the pair. One reached into the open mouth of his mask, hand vanishing into the black void within. He pulled out a small white dove, which fluttered and chirped in his hand. Bending down, the masked man whispered something into its ear and let it free. The dove flew off, vanishing into the mist.
"There are more of us coming, newcomer. Both of you, leave us alone and you'll never hear of us again. When the other arrive, things will get much rougher for you."
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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 13, 2017 14:46:46 GMT -8
There was no winning. Not like this. Spitting a curse, he yanked the axe from the earth as soon as the flames dissipated and took several steps back, grabbing Lauri by one arm. He made a show of looking around, as though expecting more of those masked theives to descend upon them from above, which frankly, wasn't too hard to pretend.
"Come on, Lauri. Now," he snapped, pulling the smaller figure forceibly before he pitched his voice lower, making it seem like he was still arguing with Lauri. "We'll track them after they leave. Now pretend to struggle and let's back away. We can't win. Not like this."
He looked back towards the figures and raised his voice, snapping angrily at Lauri. "Now, dammit! Come on!"
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 14, 2017 11:16:57 GMT -8
"But...but..."
Lauri struggled for a moment, but followed Gram as he ran. If either one of the pair looked back, they'd see the masked figures give a satisfied nod before leaning forward and letting themselves fall off the branch. One by one, their cloaks unfolded into massive, bat-like wings as they took flight and vanished into the mist. Once they were gone, Lauri sighed.
"You want to track them? I can find them...or at least, I know where they went. They're not camping in the forest, they're too smart for that. You'll want to be careful, though...who knows what they're capable of. They've got those cloaks...and they know how to grow the seeds. They're ruthless."
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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 16, 2017 6:05:14 GMT -8
Once he dragged Lauri far enough away that they would disappear into the fog, he draged them to the granled roots of the nearest elderwood, finding shelter from their misbegotten thieves and taking them from sight. He knelt down, axe still riding one shoulder while the other hand rested on the pommel of the sword at his hip. Nodding grimly, his eyes bore into Lauri's.
"Though I can wield a blade, Lauri, I am no great warrior. My blade and I are but two souls that stand against these brigands. Can you fight? Would you risk feeding the elderwood seeds? We are too few. And outmatched. What would you do if I were to walk away from this?" he asked, not breaking his eyes from staring into Lauri's, his gaze intense.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Apr 18, 2024 8:43:39 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Sept 17, 2017 9:29:02 GMT -8
Suddenly, without a warning, a snake sprung out of a nearby bush! Launching its reptilian body at Gram Tyrfing, it produced its razor sharp fangs and threatened to dip them inside of the elf in a split second as it flew right at him.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 17, 2017 14:55:04 GMT -8
Unfortunately for @snake, the scaly creature would find itself nowhere near the elf. After all, the forest was massive, and the evil reptile had slithered its way into the opposite side of the woods as Gram. Therefore, when it leaped out from the bush, it found nothing to bite but a small and extremely worried squirrel, which chittered as it scurried up a tree out of the snake's reach.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 17, 2017 15:22:30 GMT -8
Once he dragged Lauri far enough away that they would disappear into the fog, he draged them to the granled roots of the nearest elderwood, finding shelter from their misbegotten thieves and taking them from sight. He knelt down, axe still riding one shoulder while the other hand rested on the pommel of the sword at his hip. Nodding grimly, his eyes bore into Lauri's. "Though I can wield a blade, Lauri, I am no great warrior. My blade and I are but two souls that stand against these brigands. Can you fight? Would you risk feeding the elderwood seeds? We are too few. And outmatched. What would you do if I were to walk away from this?" he asked, not breaking his eyes from staring into Lauri's, his gaze intense. Lauri hesitated, but nodded. He gripped his walking stick tightly, knuckles turning white under his fur. "I'll fight them, Gram. Even if I end up feeding their trees, it's better than sitting by idly and letting them grow. If you were to walk away, however...I suppose I couldn't blame you. This isn't your fight, after all. You're a newcomer here, and you've got no stake in this. If you'd like to walk away, that's entirely your choice. However, know that I'm going after them, whether you choose to stay or go." He started walking back towards his house, his footsteps fast and determined. "I have a sword in the house, as well as a crossbow. I keep them around in case of thieves like them, or when snakes or some other dangerous creatures come wandering in. It happens from time to time, you know."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Apr 18, 2024 8:43:39 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2017 3:12:51 GMT -8
Not only was the snake unsuccessful in attacking its original prey, it also scared away a nearby squirrel which would have provided a satisfying, fleshy meal. Hissing in anger, it slithered away from the scene, seeking its luck elsewehere.
<exits>
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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 18, 2017 5:51:31 GMT -8
At first, the taller, dark haired elf did not respond to Lauri's proclamation. Instead, he continued to look at the smaller, rotund guide with the same, cryptic glare. It wasn't until Lauri had begun to walk away that he heard the footsteps of the elven man eat the ground between them in a few long strides that Gram spoke again. He was smiling now, though it had no warmth.
It was a hungry smile, the kind that wolves had.
"You've a fire in you, Lauri Eldertongue. Let's see if we can forge that mettle into something worthwhile," the elf said, giving Lauri a nod. "You are the guardian of this place, Master Lauri. We arm ourselves, and then, you lead the way."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 18, 2017 17:45:23 GMT -8
The pair returned to Lauri's home, where the rotund figure retrieved a short sword from above his doorway. Heading further inside, he drew a crossbow and a small quiver of bolts from a closet. Strapping the crossbow to his back, he headed back outside to meet Gram.
"Alright. They've headed this way, out towards the eastern edge. I can tell where they flew, because I know what trees they disturbed on their way. They think they're sneaky, but nobody can hide from me out in this forest."
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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 19, 2017 5:51:05 GMT -8
Gram followed, keeping an eye up towards the dark canopy of the Edlerwood; he'd been taken by surprise once and he'd be damned if he'd let it happen again.
"You said they are not staying in the forest. That they are hiding outside of it. What makes you say that? What lies beyond the eastern edge?" the elf inquired, standing aside from the door to allow Lauri to lead onward.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 19, 2017 8:20:52 GMT -8
Lauri chuckled, hustling through the forest as though he were following a path. He leaped nimbly over branches and roots, moving with impressive agility for someone of his girth.
"They're not in the forest, Gram. I can tell you that much. There's no smoke in the air, no campfires. The ground hasn't been disturbed at all, there's no tents. Nobody's hiding up in the trees, either. And I know they're to the east because they went to the east when they thought they couldn't be seen. On the eastern edge of the forest is a mountain range, with a series of flat plateaus. I'd bet anything that they're hiding up there. I hope you don't mind climbing mountains, Gram?"
He continued running, covering the ground with rapid strides of his stubby legs.
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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 20, 2017 7:17:45 GMT -8
"Far easier than climbing trees," he growled, glaring at the nimble little guide. Still, where he lacked the creature's grace, he made for it in ground eating strides and stamina. Sweat was beading his brow despite the chill, his ribs still aching from the previous bout of running. By his Forefathers, he was out of shape. Too much time idling by the forge, it seemed.
What had he been thinking coming here alone? He was no warrior. But he kept running all the same, with axe in hand at sword at his hip.
"How much...of this forest...can you sense...?" Gram asked, somewhat dumbfounded by Lauri's great senses of the place.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 20, 2017 19:24:38 GMT -8
Lauri glanced back, effortlessly leaping over a rock without so much as a peek down.
"Once you spend enough time in a forest, Gram, you become a part of it. You can't just be a visitor, though. You have to live in it, work in it, sleep in it. Let the forest dictate your schedule, your mood, your mind. I can sense anything that happens in this forest, since I'm as much a part of it as these trees or that rock. It's quite a trick, but takes a lifetime of dedication. The forest guides me, and has its ways of letting me know when it needs me. That's why I can find the seeds so easily, you know. It'd be awfully difficult to just walk around searching for them."
After an exhausting (for Gram) run, the odd pair finally broke through the forest's edge. It had been difficult to tell the time of day in the dense forest, but it was now clear that night was about to fall. Off in the distance, Gram would see a mountain, with a thin trail of smoke rising from a high-up plateau.
"There it is, Gram. Are you ready? They'll probably camp there for the night, so we need to get there before they go."
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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 22, 2017 6:00:32 GMT -8
"By my Father's hammer, Lauri," Gram wheezed. "You sound like a bloody wood elf. So, you talk...to the trees, and...they talk to you? If you were...such good friends...why didn't the forest...warn you about the trap?"
By the time they reached the forest's edge and saw upon them the rising plateau, Gram planted the axe in the ground and used it to lean on, sweat more than beading his brow, making his tunic beneath the chainmail cling to him. "First, I catch my breath. Then...we stop a sacrifice. Could give them some time to settle. Not sure if they see better at night but, would give me some time to work on some runes."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 22, 2017 10:52:38 GMT -8
Lauri sat down on a log, barely even breathing hard. As Gram spoke, he rummaged around in his backpack until he found a small wooden whistle. He blew into it, but it didn't produce a sound besides a soft whoosh. Nodding with satisfaction, he put it back into his bag and turned to Gram. "Alright, we can wait. Don't you worry though, Gram. We won't have to walk all the way there, I've taken care of that. Can you ride? If not...well, I hope you're a quick learner." A soft thumpthumpthump started in the distance, slowly growing louder and louder. The ground started to shake as the thumping approached, until two massive rabbits burst out of the treeline. They both stood as tall as a horse, and were adorned by impressive racks of antlers on their heads. "Gram, meet Pine and Aspen. They're Jackalopes, they'll be taking us to that mountain over there."
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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 25, 2017 7:07:30 GMT -8
Gram took the time to lift the axe up, snatching a tool tucked into his belt to scratch something along the surface of the axe's head, a rune that looked almost like some sort of stylized letter 'n'in the blocky fasion of the previous rune he'd carved into the dirt. He was puffing aside some of the bits of steel to get a better look when he heard the soft sound in the distance and trusted in Lauri.
But that did not mean he let go of the axe.
To his marvel (and despair), these great loping beasts emerged from the forest as he sighed and shook his head. "Rabbits. Giant. Horned. Rabbits," he muttered. "Let the Clan never hear of this. Keep this up, and I'll lose my steel and turn into a tree hugging forest elf..."
He muttered to himself and shook his head, but when the time came and his rune was firmly crafted and willed into the axe, he looked to Lauri and this enormours creatures before sighing and hopping on, gripping the fur tightly. "Happen to kno any giant flying friends what might want to eat any of those winged thieves?" he asked, hopefully.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 25, 2017 16:27:07 GMT -8
One of the jackalopes leaned over, sniffing at Gram's face. It licked him, then sat down beside the two and let out a sound oddly reminiscent of a purr. Meanwhile, Lauri petted the other jackalope, rubbing its head and feeding it carrots.
"I'm afraid not, the birds don't get very big around here. Not many bugs for them to eat, you know. Not a whole lot of seeds, either. Still...somehow, these guys get pretty big. I don't know how or why, but I don't mind it at all. It's quite handy sometimes, whenever I need to get around anywhere. They're quite smart, and awfully sweet, too. Aren't you, Pine?"
He rubbed the jackalope's nose, causing it to sniffle.
"Have you ever ridden a jackalope before, Gram?"
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 92
Age: 25
Physical Description: Tall, lean, and pale, Vasco is your typical, run-of-the-mill vampire. He's got a head of choppy blonde hair that drops down his back, often held together in a ponytail.
His eyes are a pale, icy green, yet in times of thirst they bleed an angry red.
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Clothes and Equipment: It goes without saying that Vasco prefers the color black. His armor, made mostly of leather, includes a small shoulder plate and a mithril vambrace on his right arm. Now and again, when he feels that making an entrance is more important than stealth, he dons a cape.
Vasco carries a rapier with him that carries a venom in the blade. Every time it breeches skin, a bit of it will enter the bloodstream, introducing a neurotoxin that will paralyze a small area.
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Allegiances: Correa Familia
Registered: Mar 23, 2018 21:15:53 GMT -8
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Post by Vasco Correa on May 25, 2018 19:43:35 GMT -8
The dense canopy of leaves provided temporary relief from the sun, which burned with the intensity of an oven onto the lands beyond. It was here that a figure clad heavily in layers over layers of black clothing took refuge, venturing deep into the woods to try and find its darkest corners.
There was mumbling beneath the cowl that was carefully wrapped around the stranger's face, hiding every inch of his features. What the words were, it was uncertain, but he did not speak them nicely.
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Juniper
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 147
Age: 21 (In the human equivalent, at least)
Physical Description: Kaelie is a tall girl, standing at about 5'11 but she's anything but lanky. She has a full figure and is relatively lean and toned as she practices acrobatics often. Despite her stature though, she's quite good at making herself small. She has freckles and blue green eyes as well as pointed ears. She prefers to keep her auburn hair up because otherwise it will come down to just above her knees.
Clothes and Equipment: Kaelie despises skirts and dresses as they restict her movement so she typically is found wearing trousers, tights, and shorts. She prefers not to wear anything too restricting. She prefers brightly colored clothes and is never seen without a wide choker around her neck.
Allegiances: Edan
Registered: May 24, 2018 21:35:15 GMT -8
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Post by Juniper on May 25, 2018 20:01:23 GMT -8
Beyond where this figure dared not to venture though, a girl twirled in the sun with abandon, not a care in the world as her loose fitting clothes flowed around with her movements. The flowers and leaves of the trees whispered along with her dance as she moved through the field with a soft sigh. To be free of the court and it's strict rules, roles, and requirements was a relief. Oberon would hardly miss one of his many subjects after all.
The woman laughed, a gentle tinkling sound that carried on the wind to the darkened forest, sounding like all the world as human, though she was anything but.
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