Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Dec 12, 2018 12:58:02 GMT -8
There was a difference between battle-hardened men and those who had never seen combat. It was a subtle difference, but to an experienced warrior like Grey, it was pretty easy to tell the mark of a man - if not by his attire and equipment, then by his demeanor and stature. And try as he might, Dutch would not appear as inconspicuous to Grey as he did to the locals. The biggest clue, however, was the silvered hilt of the man’s sword, hanging on his back. Grey studied Dutch for a moment, but turned his attention to Ladislav, as the latter confronted some Isran brutes at the tavern. There was a back-and-forth between the two commanders, prompting Grey to urge his steed alongside Ladislav’s, and he was prepared to draw his blade if push came to shove. But alas, through aggressive diplomacy the Vorutan was able to goad the Israns into tagging along. Grey was pleased about the new allies. If Ladislav was right and the Israns did run, they would at least cause a distraction that the Vorutans could use to their advantage. “Ladislav,” Grey began, getting the man’s attention. “Sometimes one man can make all the difference. Look there,” he motioned towards Dutch. “He has the aura of a warrior.” Grey seemed to imply that Ladislav should attempt to recruit the hooded figure.
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Dutch
New
Off to war with the Orcs
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 30
Physical Description: 6’ 0”, 185 lbs. Tall and broad shouldered. Dark brown hair, with a red-brown beard, braided with trinkets.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark green cloak, appearing black in the shadows.
Long bow and quiver hidden beneath the folds of the cloak.
Dark leather clothing beset with leather straps and pouches.
Leather boots, soft soled, well-worn and stained by the elements.
Registered: Dec 9, 2018 18:19:48 GMT -8
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Post by Dutch on Dec 12, 2018 22:52:21 GMT -8
The grey eyes peering from beneath the hood missed little, as the leader of the column initiated an attempt to belittle the pride of the local men. He had seen the uneasy glances from the locals as their own foreman decided to fall victim to the bait spread by the company man’s taunts.
Still seated upon his heels, Dutch’s hand fell to a pouch just behind his sheathed dagger. The pouch was heavy, filled with small spheres of steel. With a practiced motion, three spheres were deposited into his palm, and positioned in a fashion where, if thrown, only one would release at a time. Many years of training had left him practiced in accurately and decisively ending a poor situation without bloodshed.
His thoughts shifted momentarily, to a time when he could barely wield the sword on his back, and an old grizzled veteran had taught him the value of a life.
“Kill only when necessary, fight when forced, and always take the route that leaves the least amount of blood in your wake.”
The words echoed in his mind with the momentary hint of pain, as memories of the multitude of training sessions with the old man resurfaced. The spheres could render a man unconscious, could knock a knife from their grip, and if necessary, leave a man lifeless on the ground. The heavy steel spheres had been used to teach a young man to be aware of battlefield dangers, cognizant of arrows, and of the importance in remaining mobile.
Snapping back to the present, Dutch observed the heavyset local attempted to repair his sullied pride and muster the men of his village to action. Farmers, tradesmen, and boys shuffled around the street, each hesitant to commit to the challenge before them.
“Dead men hesitate.” Dutch muttered, recounting yet another lesson learned from the veteran.
The leader of the column returned to his place, joining the man who seemed to be his second. This man sat tall upon his steed, with a falcon, as dangerous as the man, perched nearby. This man was deadly, in a manner that a snake is deadly when provoked. This man was one to watch, and certainly better to be beside than against.
Dutch had a decision to make. The battle ahead of this group could prove to be a fierce struggle for survival, as Orcs were fierce and often went berserk in the midst of a skirmish. The locals would need assistance, and the company shouldn’t have all the glory.
The sellsword stood from his crouch, the soil sinking as he distributed his weight. Replacing the spheres in their pouch as the heavy local man went to seek his mount, Dutch was left to determine where he would acquire a mount of his own. This was fixing to be a long evening.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Dec 14, 2018 15:29:12 GMT -8
Ladislav looked over to Grey, his hackles (if he had hair) would've been clearly rising as he answered quite irritated, "That's Captain Ladislav to you, and you weren't needed for that negotiation. But yes, I can handle this man. Get back in line." If there was any question about the nature of the nature of the free company captain for Grey, hopefully his barbful reply would dispel them.
Ladislav reined his horse over to the behooded man fresh out of his crouch, "Hail there. Looking for work, or to lay about with the infirm and cowardly?"
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Dec 14, 2018 15:41:09 GMT -8
If Ladislav's pride was an ocean, it would have flooded the world after his negotiation with the Isran brute. Grey could have offered a retort after the Captain's proud rebuke towards him, but he decided against it. Grey was not one to ruffle feathers, nor to antagonize his employers. There was no point, and only a fool would seek retribution against verbal abuse.
Grey found his place in the column and waited for Dutch's reply to Ladislav's offer. He hoped that the man would come - if not for the extra help, then having more variety among these Vorutans; the sellsword might feel a little better knowing he wasn't the only outsider.
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Dutch
New
Off to war with the Orcs
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 30
Physical Description: 6’ 0”, 185 lbs. Tall and broad shouldered. Dark brown hair, with a red-brown beard, braided with trinkets.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark green cloak, appearing black in the shadows.
Long bow and quiver hidden beneath the folds of the cloak.
Dark leather clothing beset with leather straps and pouches.
Leather boots, soft soled, well-worn and stained by the elements.
Registered: Dec 9, 2018 18:19:48 GMT -8
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Post by Dutch on Dec 14, 2018 16:49:51 GMT -8
"Lay about?" Dutch responded in a quiet but firm voice, encased in a steely tone. "The challenge to pride and courage may work for these locals, but if you think that is the proper way to motivate someone to a cause..." Dutch paused as he slowly sighed, "you are no true leader of men. I've seen your like, I've fought for and against your like, and it is a far cry from proper leadership."
Dutch relaxed slightly, muscles still coiled and tense. His voice carried far enough to reach the falconer in the column, but not reaching the ears of the locals, intent on preparing themselves to defend their questioned honor. "I will join this war party, purely to add another sword in the mix. I ask three things however... I keep what I kill, as that is my living, I am no subordinate of yours, and I will need a mount."
Dutch's eyes were hard and focused as he stated his terms to the captain, knowing that the majority of these men would not return from a true skirmish, and his presence would only better the odds of survival.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Dec 16, 2018 12:29:18 GMT -8
If the stranger thought Ladislav was going to be angered at his challenge of his style of leadership, he would be quite surprised. A barking laugh ensued "Ah, I see you're made of sterner stuff than those Isran dogs. You must forgive me, this isn't a settlement made of either of our kinds, but a softer, weaker one that must be cajoled to action with threats and stabs at their thin masculinity."
"As for the terms, they are reasonable and just. We'll round you up a horse and get you mounted. You!" he shouted, pointing to one of his men in line, "talk to the mayor and see this man is provided a decent horse." The subordinate rode off with a quick kick to his mounts sides back to the stone meeting hall, shouting something indistinguishable from this distance. The rotund mayor stepped out again after a few moments, his plump face still blooming from the earlier exertions. A few words were exchanged and the rider handed a slip of paper, more than likely a voucher of some sort, and rode off into the lanes of the villages.
Ladislav remained silent as the rider took his time getting the horse not bothering to question the man any more than he could quite evidently gather from his appearance, which spoke a great deal anyways. Soon enough the rider returned, leading a barrel chested piebald gelding by the harness and offering the reins to the cloaked man.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Dec 16, 2018 12:49:03 GMT -8
Grey, who otherwise wore an emotionless expression, cocked an eyebrow towards Dutch. The stranger replied to Ladislav’s offer with a brave rebuke - not unlike the one he had given the Isran captain. Grey expected a sharp and witty retort from his captain, but this was not the case - rather, Ladislav seemed amused and welcomed the fellow into his ranks. The back-and-forth ended on good terms, and the Vorutan party was bolstered by, what appeared to be, a seasoned veteran. The entire ordeal earned a smile from Grey.
Grey remained in the column as Dutch was properly outfitted and mounted. He was ready to put this village behind him and make some headway towards… wherever it was the orcs were at.
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Dutch
New
Off to war with the Orcs
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 30
Physical Description: 6’ 0”, 185 lbs. Tall and broad shouldered. Dark brown hair, with a red-brown beard, braided with trinkets.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark green cloak, appearing black in the shadows.
Long bow and quiver hidden beneath the folds of the cloak.
Dark leather clothing beset with leather straps and pouches.
Leather boots, soft soled, well-worn and stained by the elements.
Registered: Dec 9, 2018 18:19:48 GMT -8
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Post by Dutch on Dec 18, 2018 17:02:54 GMT -8
Dutch removed the canvas bag from his back, and placed it on the horse's rump, behind the saddle, tying it in place with the leather straps. He nodded to the rider before taking the reins, adjusting the sheathed dagger at his waist to ensure it was out of the way, then effortlessly stepping into the stirrup and swinging his left leg over the gelding. The horse was seasoned, but not too old for the rigors ahead; he was strong and seemed to be well trained.
"Where would you prefer I rode?" Dutch asked, looking directly at the captain. "I have no preference myself."
Dutch was ready for the ride ahead, and anticipated trouble long before the night would close. The Falconer, mounted and at the head of the column likely felt the same, based off his stiff posture and ready eyes.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Dec 23, 2018 11:01:21 GMT -8
Ladislav looked over the column to see where the newcomer would fit in best. The rabble of Israns was finally collecting themselves into a disorganized and rowdy circle at the rear, perhaps the best place for them to be out of the way of the professionals. He nodded towards Grey, and said to the newcomer, "Ride with Grey over there. And be ready to take point when we get close to the homestead. I need sharp eyes and ears to cut through the dullness that the rabble will be dragging along."
He then turned his horse back towards the head of the column, lifting up his hand to get the attention of his company. With a quick wave of the arm towards the gate the column set off, followed more or less by the Israns behind.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Dec 24, 2018 7:54:19 GMT -8
Grey glanced with disdain at the rowdy Israns behind the column. We have the element of surprise, he thought to himself sarcastically. They would turn out to be nothing more than fodder, he presumed - barriers and obstacles blocking his arrows.
The warrior was pleased to see that Dutch would be riding at his side. He offered the man a friendly smile as he approached. The column began to move forward and Iseult, his falcon, circled overhead; she would alert the party to any dangers.
Putting his hand on his chest, the warrior would say “Grey,” introducing himself. He then glanced at the falcon above; “Iseult. You are?”
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Dutch
New
Off to war with the Orcs
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 30
Physical Description: 6’ 0”, 185 lbs. Tall and broad shouldered. Dark brown hair, with a red-brown beard, braided with trinkets.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark green cloak, appearing black in the shadows.
Long bow and quiver hidden beneath the folds of the cloak.
Dark leather clothing beset with leather straps and pouches.
Leather boots, soft soled, well-worn and stained by the elements.
Registered: Dec 9, 2018 18:19:48 GMT -8
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Post by Dutch on Dec 30, 2018 13:17:03 GMT -8
Dutch glanced at Grey as the introduction was offered while he positioned his mount beside the other warrior. “I am known as Dutch.” He offered in return, casting a glance upward into the heavens to acknowledge the falcon. “I hear we are after Orcs.” Dutch shifted slightly in the saddle. He had experience on horseback, but it had been months since his last mount had perished in a skirmish with highway bandits along his travels. His boots still bore the polished wear from the stirrups, yet they had the clear evidence of trudging through muddy terrain. He had rode with the cavalry, marched with the infantry, and even ambushed with the scouts and rangers of many different armies. Dutch was no stranger to combat, whether the foe be man, beast, or somewhere between.
"Have you ever fought Orcs? Has he?" Dutch asked Grey, nodding toward Ladislav.
Dutch settled back into the saddle, reaching to the waterskin hanging from the saddlehorn, pulling it to his nose to smell the contents. "Remind me to refill this at the next stream... I'm not sure if I trust this source." He let the waterskin fall back down, hanging from its strap.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Jan 9, 2019 13:52:26 GMT -8
The column evened out as the continued down the road, and the Israns behind fell into some sort of order, though only the Heavenly Horsemen could figure out if it was organized confusion or road hogging, as riders bumped into each other and the slower steeds fell to the rear. To put it bluntly, a herd of horses probably would've been more ordered than the Israns.
The column picked up to a trot the further they went down the road, and eventually turned onto a long lane way, though to call it such was a generous title. It was little more than a beaten path by horses and men. It was then that Ladislav sent word down the line to Grey and Dutch, "Move to take point."
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Dutch
New
Off to war with the Orcs
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 30
Physical Description: 6’ 0”, 185 lbs. Tall and broad shouldered. Dark brown hair, with a red-brown beard, braided with trinkets.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark green cloak, appearing black in the shadows.
Long bow and quiver hidden beneath the folds of the cloak.
Dark leather clothing beset with leather straps and pouches.
Leather boots, soft soled, well-worn and stained by the elements.
Registered: Dec 9, 2018 18:19:48 GMT -8
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Post by Dutch on Jan 13, 2019 11:15:47 GMT -8
Ladislov’s order was clear and concise as it came down the line. Dutch clicked his tongue and the gelding surged forward, barely needing the slight touch of reins on his neck to guide him around the column and pick up into a canter to gain the lead. Dutch didn’t even need to look back to know he was being watched by every cavalryman in the column.
Taking point likely meant the troop was approaching the skirmish area. The water would have to wait, as would the conversation. Dutch’s eyes started to intensely scan the terrain, looking for any disturbance in the earth, foliage, or outcroppings. He was no stranger to ambush, however preferred to remain on the attacking side of the field.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Jan 13, 2019 12:01:33 GMT -8
Grey found himself tagging behind Dutch at Ladislav's command. His equestrian skills matched the Vorutans, which were far and beyond that of the Israns. There had plenty of traffic in the area, and judging by the footprints and nature of the trail it appeared to have been made by equines. The warrior made a unique clicking noise with his tongue and Iseult, the falcon up above, soared higher into the sky and further ahead, ready to relay a warning back to her master if need be. The man drew his bow and readied an arrow in anticipation.
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Bria Hornraven
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 20s
Physical Description: 6'3 and 176, with medium brown skin and long, curly black hair. He has slight stubble. The right side of his face is heavily scarred and mangled, and tinted slightly purple due to the magic that caused his deformity. He has dark blue eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: He usually wears heavy robes, purple and black, with a purple mask covering the right side of his face. Underneath his robes, he wears common clothes and wouldn't stand out much. He has usually has a tome that he carries around on his person.
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Player's online availability : EST / Fairly often
Registered: May 5, 2019 8:01:27 GMT -8
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Post by Bria Hornraven on Jun 4, 2019 12:57:52 GMT -8
Bria wondered how he managed to spend this much time in taverns as he stepped in.
The place was small, quiet, which he happened to like. Not too much noise, no one would be that nosy, it was great. He ordered his food and went to go sit down, glaring around the tavern as subtly as someone like him possibly could. He was back in Voruta, his home country, and he wanted nothing more than to pass through without anyone recognizing him. Not that they would, with the mask and all, but he never knew how much people remembered of his family. The Hornravens were a notorious name, sure, but perhaps people had forgotten... Bria himself let out a small laugh as he thought that. Of course they wouldn't forget. People never forgot a good scandal.
So he leaned back, closed his eyes, and waited for his food. Maybe he could get a nap in? Sasha stayed perched on his shoulder, keeping an eye out for anyone who would approach.
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Rainier Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: 42
Physical Description: Rainier towers above most of his peers, standing at 6'7". His rather thin body, caused by years of abstinence, is hidden underneath the folds of his cassock.
His thin and angular face hides his true nature, making him appear stern with his roman nose, high and sharp cheek bones, thin lips, and prominent jaw. His green eyes twinkle with intelligence and humor known only to him. Like the other natural born members of the Fletcher clan, he was born with white hair, that would grow thick on his head if it wasn't tonsured.
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Clothes and Equipment: Rainier is a priest of the Church of Varafel by vocation, and thus is equipped like one. He has two cassocks, one white, and the other black, and he carries the spare in his satchel. He tries to keep his black leather shoes glossy for all occasions, but that often proves impossible as he walks everywhere. For rainy weather, he has a dark gray cassock.
His personal belongings are stowed in a grey canvas bag slung across his body, and include: his prayer book, his ink and spare quills, a journal, a pen knife, and his gold wire rimmed spectacles for when he has to read.
He also has a quarter staff he uses as a walking stick, and if needs be, for self defense.
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Registered: Apr 24, 2018 7:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Rainier Fletcher on Jun 4, 2019 14:04:09 GMT -8
The clacking of wood on wet flagstones signaled the arrival of yet another stranger to this remarkably well kept inn. It must be one of the products of the Isran settlements or gentrification of those in the Duchy who could afford it. Which the traveler certainly didn't mind, having spent most their life in the Empire and wanting a bit of comfort in a semi-familiar setting.
The door to the tavern creaked open, revealing a rather foul tempest that had been brewing for some time and that finally decided to unleash its wrath. And it so happened that the hooded man was caught in the beginnings of its throes, leaving his outer cassock and hood soaked just from the few minutes it took him to get off the road and indoors. But perhaps it was Divine Intervention that the heavens let their displeasure be known.
It was very rare that he had traveled from the lands of Isra proper, seeing as he was beginning to get on in years as he revealed when he lowered his hood and revealed several wrinkles and white hair. Though the hair was preternaturally white due to the Fletcher blood flowing through his veins, it certainly would be gray now after having spent far too much time with his cousins on their own ramblings.
But now he was called back to his spiritual vocation, and apparently that time spent abroad had queued up quite the need for spiritual healing. As he arrived on the quays at Port Silverion and immediately felt a drawing from deep in his soul to head south and east, though he was bone tired and sick from the journey. But he did his duty, as that was the only just thing to do, and hot footed his way down the Imperial highway, feeling the pull grow heavier and stronger, more anxious as he got closer and closer to this very spot. As he approached this area he asked the locals about goings on with demons and ghosts and things that went bump in the night, and those few who deigned to talk to an outsider informed him of the Hornraven residence. It made sense to him now at least why he was being drawn here, as he sidled up to the bar and ordered a cup of mulled wine. At least being a priest he could enjoy a few glasses of alcohol to help warm the bones.
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Bria Hornraven
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 20s
Physical Description: 6'3 and 176, with medium brown skin and long, curly black hair. He has slight stubble. The right side of his face is heavily scarred and mangled, and tinted slightly purple due to the magic that caused his deformity. He has dark blue eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: He usually wears heavy robes, purple and black, with a purple mask covering the right side of his face. Underneath his robes, he wears common clothes and wouldn't stand out much. He has usually has a tome that he carries around on his person.
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Player's online availability : EST / Fairly often
Registered: May 5, 2019 8:01:27 GMT -8
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Post by Bria Hornraven on Jun 4, 2019 14:22:16 GMT -8
Bria looked up as he heard the approach of a new visitor. A priest, judging by the clothing, and at that Bria rolled his eyes. He never liked the holy types, they always seemed to be able to sniff him out from a mile away. There were only so many times you could take someone trying to save your soul before you started to get annoyed by it. Still, though, a priest in this part of town, in a tavern, was interesting to him. Not that priests couldn't exist in Voruta and drink to boot, but it was just odd to see one looking so downtrodden.
Bria eventually looked away though, not wanting to be rude. He had gotten his food and was now starting to eat, occasionally stealing glances at the holy man. There was a small scratching at the back of his head, an annoyance at most, but he took it as a sign that the night would be rough. He'd have to get out of here, fast, but he knew he would look suspicious as hell running out of the tavern as soon as a priest walked in.
So he waited.
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Rainier Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: 42
Physical Description: Rainier towers above most of his peers, standing at 6'7". His rather thin body, caused by years of abstinence, is hidden underneath the folds of his cassock.
His thin and angular face hides his true nature, making him appear stern with his roman nose, high and sharp cheek bones, thin lips, and prominent jaw. His green eyes twinkle with intelligence and humor known only to him. Like the other natural born members of the Fletcher clan, he was born with white hair, that would grow thick on his head if it wasn't tonsured.
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Clothes and Equipment: Rainier is a priest of the Church of Varafel by vocation, and thus is equipped like one. He has two cassocks, one white, and the other black, and he carries the spare in his satchel. He tries to keep his black leather shoes glossy for all occasions, but that often proves impossible as he walks everywhere. For rainy weather, he has a dark gray cassock.
His personal belongings are stowed in a grey canvas bag slung across his body, and include: his prayer book, his ink and spare quills, a journal, a pen knife, and his gold wire rimmed spectacles for when he has to read.
He also has a quarter staff he uses as a walking stick, and if needs be, for self defense.
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Registered: Apr 24, 2018 7:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Rainier Fletcher on Jun 4, 2019 14:41:19 GMT -8
To say that he was being pulled to this spot was probably the most accurate way to describe it. The divines worked on a grand plan, and sometimes when one was called they were only given a vague idea of what they being pulled towards. He counted himself lucky that he had been guided this far and not by faith alone had stumbled across the Empire for the rest of his years.
What that meant for him was that now he had to figure out what or who he needed to see. He studied the room from the bar, holding the cup of mulled wine in both hands, sipping on it slowly as the room filled with patrons trying to escape the rain. Which certainly didn't seem to help... but in a way it did. You see, most of the residents of Voruta were rather uniform in their plainness, wearing drab and cheap yet durable clothing for working in the fields or at the forge or in any number of professions.
But one certainly was not, and in the most obvious way. The man in the mask must be who he was here for. He turned back towards the bar, and ordered another cup of wine, plain this time, and carried both cups over towards the man's table, "Care if I join you good sir?" his tenor voice lilting a little on the sir.
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Bria Hornraven
Committed
Roleplay posts: 65
Age: 20s
Physical Description: 6'3 and 176, with medium brown skin and long, curly black hair. He has slight stubble. The right side of his face is heavily scarred and mangled, and tinted slightly purple due to the magic that caused his deformity. He has dark blue eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: He usually wears heavy robes, purple and black, with a purple mask covering the right side of his face. Underneath his robes, he wears common clothes and wouldn't stand out much. He has usually has a tome that he carries around on his person.
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Player's online availability : EST / Fairly often
Registered: May 5, 2019 8:01:27 GMT -8
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Post by Bria Hornraven on Jun 4, 2019 14:46:07 GMT -8
Shit. Bria looked up from his food, scanning the holy man up and down. He didn't want to be rude, so instead of turning him away, he simply replied, "I don't mind, though I don't see why you'd want to join me." Probably because he looked weird, Bria acknowledged, and the aura of unholiness that seemed to permeate his entire being. It tended to attract the holy types.
Sasha didn't seem too bothered, letting out a croaked, "Hello!". That part wasn't magical, in fact, but still rather creepy.
"Sorry, she's gotten somewhat talkative recently," Bria said, waving his hand. "Don't know what's gotten into her."
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Rainier Fletcher
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Age: 42
Physical Description: Rainier towers above most of his peers, standing at 6'7". His rather thin body, caused by years of abstinence, is hidden underneath the folds of his cassock.
His thin and angular face hides his true nature, making him appear stern with his roman nose, high and sharp cheek bones, thin lips, and prominent jaw. His green eyes twinkle with intelligence and humor known only to him. Like the other natural born members of the Fletcher clan, he was born with white hair, that would grow thick on his head if it wasn't tonsured.
___________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Rainier is a priest of the Church of Varafel by vocation, and thus is equipped like one. He has two cassocks, one white, and the other black, and he carries the spare in his satchel. He tries to keep his black leather shoes glossy for all occasions, but that often proves impossible as he walks everywhere. For rainy weather, he has a dark gray cassock.
His personal belongings are stowed in a grey canvas bag slung across his body, and include: his prayer book, his ink and spare quills, a journal, a pen knife, and his gold wire rimmed spectacles for when he has to read.
He also has a quarter staff he uses as a walking stick, and if needs be, for self defense.
____________________________________
Registered: Apr 24, 2018 7:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Rainier Fletcher on Jun 5, 2019 14:23:13 GMT -8
Rainier bowed at the waist somewhat gracefully, well as gracefully as one could in a billowing cassock and holding two cups of wine. A rather tired smile greeted the dark bird as he looked up from his hunched position, "And hello to you Miss Raven? I see you're an intelligent one."
He set the plain wine in front of Bria, offering as he sat opposite him, "As a thanks for your hospitality. I know it can be a bit odd being approached by a cleric, but truth be told I'm just tired of eating alone. And you don't need to apologize, I appreciate being able to talk to any of the Mother's creations, especially one as smart as her."
He raised his own cup of wine to his lips, before he started suddenly, "I nearly forgot, how silly of me. I am Father Fletcher, but feel free to call me Rainier."
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