Mic Renfauld
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: 19
Physical Description: Weak, 5'11". Thin and scrawny. Fair hair and brown eyes.
Clothes and Equipment: 1. Well-worn light cotton shirt. Button-up.
2. Green overjacket. Good against the wind.
3. Leather travelling cloak.
4. A magical bicycle. Don't ask how it works.
5. Thick-soled travelling shoes.
6. Rune encyclopaedia.
Player's online availability : GMT+8
Registered: Feb 9, 2018 22:47:49 GMT -8
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Post by Mic Renfauld on Feb 10, 2018 20:29:31 GMT -8
He shivered, reaching down to put his backpack on the ground. Unclapsing the seal, the backpack spewed out its tightly-bound contents: twenty golden-capped jars. Mic grabbed them up with a frenzy, making sure none of the jars could roll away. He filled his hands quickly, clinking the glass together. With that, he looked down to check if all of the jars had been accounted for. Mic let out a sigh of relief at the sight: he hadn't loss but one of the jars. They were very important. Firstly as mementos of his father: but secondly, they were expensive runeology tools.
Mic's head darted up suddenly at the sound of footsteps. His heart jumped into his throat. His face cringed as the footsteps once far away, became closer and closer. The rattle of metal made him jump: A robber? A cutthroat looking for their next victim? The terror magnified in his mind, into a cacophony of fear. Adrenalin rumbled through him, as his hand went to one of his jars. His mind raced through what he could do. He hurled the jar at the figure, yelling a meek 'war-cry' to scare the thing away.
"Raaargh!"
The bottle was already hurtling towards the man before Mic heard "Just another friendly traveler."
Oh no. Oh no, oh nononono. I hope I didn't hurt him! In a split second his twisted face of fear went wide-eyed. His face froze and his heart seemed to stop. There was a momentous pause. He then meekly let out an apology.
"S-sorry."
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Sangrei Friedn
Established
Roleplay posts: 26
Age: 25-ish
Physical Description: Sangrei looks to be in his mid-20s, and has silver-white hair which has grown increasingly from a short crop. His eyes are dark turquoise and he stands at about 6 feet tall, but tends to slouch when presenting himself. His body has various scars, mostly nicks and scratches which have healed over, lightly visible. His most prominent wound is a healed gash stretching from his left shoulderblade to the middle of his back.
Clothes and Equipment: The only things that Sangrei carries at all times is his sword, Stahl Schmertz. Stahl Schmertz is a steel broadsword, standard issue from Sangrei's old corps. It has seen its share of wear and tear, and has been reforged and resharpened a number of times. He refuses to abandon the sword out of sentimental value, and it hasn't given out on him yet either.
Stahl's scabbard carries the weight of his allies; whenever Sangrei loses a comrade, he tears a strip of cloth from their clothing and adds it to the wrapping around the sheath.
Sangrei's general attire consists of casual clothing, usually local to the area he is in. He frequently carries a knapsack and wallet, though this is not always the case.
Registered: Jan 16, 2018 19:48:59 GMT -8
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Post by Sangrei Friedn on Feb 10, 2018 23:56:41 GMT -8
The loud shriek was enough forewarning to put Sangrei's prepared senses on alert. His left eye throbbed again, though this time of his own volition, and the edges of his vision were blurred with a bright white energy. The figure appeared to move in slow motion to him, throwing something, and he watched as the blur of an object appeared through the fog. He held the energy until the item was visible, appearing to be a jar of some sort. He could only assume it was either a weapon or just something the person just had on hand.
His brain, given the extra time to process the situation, could only interpret the yell as him having caught someone off-guard. If they had been some kind of fighter, this wasn't the attack they would have chosen. Thankfully, Mic's panic and the distance between them had actually put him the perfect distance to catch the jar. As his body caught up with his brain, the energy faded and his arms snapped up to ease the jar into a cradle without breaking it.
"Sorry, huh. Really gotta watch out for what you're doin', if I was any meaner I probably would've lopped your head off." Sangrei walked into sight for the young man, chuckling a bit at his fearful expression. "T's fine. 'm a fast guy. I assume you want this back."
He tossed the jar up into the air, catching it again. "And, no hard feelings, I probably woulda been surprised too. Yer out late though, lad. It's just about t'get dark and th'fog just rolled in. What're you up to out here?"
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Mic Renfauld
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: 19
Physical Description: Weak, 5'11". Thin and scrawny. Fair hair and brown eyes.
Clothes and Equipment: 1. Well-worn light cotton shirt. Button-up.
2. Green overjacket. Good against the wind.
3. Leather travelling cloak.
4. A magical bicycle. Don't ask how it works.
5. Thick-soled travelling shoes.
6. Rune encyclopaedia.
Player's online availability : GMT+8
Registered: Feb 9, 2018 22:47:49 GMT -8
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Post by Mic Renfauld on Feb 11, 2018 2:51:03 GMT -8
Despite the man saying it was fine, Mic still rapid-fire apologised, going red from embarassment and guilt. A million 'Sorrys' escaped his mouth, all combined into a single stream of absolute regret. He cast his eyes to the ground, before looking up again. He was glad that the man had caught the jar. He'd feel awful if he'd hurt him. He'd never wish that upon someone, even if they really did scare him. Mic looked Sangrei up and down, then took a glance at the jar. Once again, he was ever so happy that the jar hadn't broke, his Mother'd kill him if he'd break anything of his Fathers.
Mic stared a bit dumbfounded for a couple seconds, drinking in the situation. He blurted out one last 'sorry', before replying to the man.
"Oh, uh, I'm a runeologist." He let the answer hang for a second, expecting the man to know what it is. Runes had been the center of Mic's world, but he hadn't appreciated that it was a very niche profession. Then it struck him. What if he thinks I'm a crackpot? A phony mage?
Before Sangrei would be able to respond, he'd attempt blurt out another factoid. "I'm looking for a.." His memory failed him. Mic went a little red, reaching down to his backpack, continuing with "what was it..?", forgetting completely what rune he was looking for. He mentally punched himself: he looked like such a fake! He'd obviously think he was some make-believe magician, not even knowing what he was doing!
With all the catastrophising in his mind, he still managed to get out his Rune Encyclopaedia: leafing through the pages to the glossary, in which he found what he was looking for. "Misty woods... Fog Minor, Fog Major rune, important in:-" That's it! The Fog Major rune! It all came back to him now. Within an instant he'd forgotten about the stranger, caught up in his book-searching. He looked up again, realized what he was doing, and explained.
"I'm looking for a Fog-Major rune: they're in this forest somewhere. I gotta collect them in these jars," he said, before pointing to one of the jars. "These collect the runes."
He realized he'd missed something.
"I'm Mic.. by the way."
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