Telemachon
Established
. . A̢̡̰̤͖̥̘̿́̑́͂̂̒͜ͅ n̶̨̮̘̥̱̾̋́́̕̚͜͜ g̷̨̙̼̥̩̠͍̘̯͊̐͑͂̂̓͐̀͗̋ ḙ̖̱̳̗̾͒̋͜͠͠ r̢̺͖̯͉̉͑̀̊̂̌̅̐͗ͅ . .
Roleplay posts: 49
Age: Unaccountable.
Physical Description: Telemachon is a being of enormous proportions, on the very edge of human possibility for musculature, height and build. The man has jet-black hair and eyes that have no discernible iris, simply one large dark pupil. Clean shaven on his face his hair is short but spiked and messy. He appears youthful and well-built in most manners with a "baby face" save for wrinkles, heavy bags under his sleepless red eyes, a strong set of cheeks, and appearance as though he was repeatedly whacked with both sharp and blunt sides of a shovel. His skin varies from youthful and smooth to rough and aged in texture, naturally quite pale but usually in a light beige-copper tint from his travels.
Clothes and Equipment: He has thick and ornate armour seemingly writhing to new cruel shapes when one is not looking upon it. Upon close examination it would appear to be part of one whole piece, partially explaining the occasional creak as its wearer moves. His only permanent weapons are two long spikes coming from the armour on either wrist, but he easily materializes weapons akin to his armour as an innate skill.
Player's online availability : All the time, but I might not be on when it says I am :[
Registered: Apr 20, 2018 2:42:56 GMT -8
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Post by Telemachon on May 29, 2018 11:38:16 GMT -8
A grin spread across the shaking head of the 'outsider,' as he listened to the first words of the witch and ignored the rather obvious bait. As Atma spoke to the other tribe people he listened to the foreign tongue, taking in the words and syntax of the speech to reference it to the many, many other languages he knew for hopeful understanding to address the woman in her own tongue later.
The man threw his arms up to either side and give a few quick spins. "Never wandered, never letting go of the feeding breast of home, never seen the world you judge it, you claim to know those of it. In your sands there are but a few thousand counts of consciousness above animals and pets, in the grand world far off there are people in the millions living longer, wiser lives. In two souls there is more than in one, in any culture and land I find that greater than myself, and in more human souls I find more greatness than in the spirits of a handful desert dwellers - Holy desert or not. Dwell not in arrogance and lies, I have seen the world and these claims of an inner hole are born of jealousy and hate of the truth."
Telemachon paused, his speech having begun to slow earlier but now pausing as it turned to an angry incoherent mutter, the man's hands moving to clutch his head again. Then with a snarl he drove a sharp mailed index finger across his right cheek and extended it, a single drop welling at the front and hanging off. "You want faith? So be it. In no idol is my faith; my blood, my flesh. This drop, it shall not fall. My path is the truth, my path is right. All will align for it, fate itself will oblige. Use your witch-thoughts, sense there is naught arcane here. But I don't believe, I know it shall not fall. Winds may go upon it and in spite you may blow or use sorcery but with me it will remain. I need no desert for faith, I only need ultimate truth. But, I leave the future ever open for my faith, my will, it is greater than fate and it will change. In the future let me see something greater than the Empires of Old, show me that which is greater than me. Illuminate me, reveal my ignorance... or admit your own."
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Atma Yaela
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Appears to be mid-30's in age.
Physical Description: Numerous tattoos and a strange manner of dress hide what could be (or could have once been) a very attractive woman. Atma is 5'9, has a slight build,and piercing green eyes.
Registered: May 4, 2018 17:29:08 GMT -8
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Post by Atma Yaela on May 29, 2018 18:37:09 GMT -8
Atma watched Telemachon's display, and listened to his wandering speech as closely as she could be expected to. She looked at the outlander as if she was trying to work out something in her mind.
"And what do you expect now outlander? Do you expect that I'll throw down my staff and open the gates to fortune and knowledge? Am I to be so incredibly taken by your presumptuous ranting to tell me what I have seen? Surely I don't still believe you and your ilk to be violent and mindless after seeing you draw your own blood. Is that it now?"
The witch reached her free hand for the hood on the cloak and pushed it back. The hood falling behind her revealed more clearly Atma's tattooed face and horned headdress.
"Perhaps in another time, in another life, I could look upon you and your progeny with pity or disgust - you have certainly earned them both - but I cannot afford such a luxury. We cannot afford such a luxury. You are free to wander the sands until the desert or our Mother see fit to take you, but you shall not enter our ruins. Your blasphemous tongue, our Mother will forgive; but seeking to desecrate our holy ruins with your presence, we will not. That is my final word outlander."
Atma began to turn away, but stopped herself. "And when the subject is the ruins and relics of our beloved Mother, mine is the only word. You'll do well to remember that."
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Ittan-Momen
Established
Roleplay posts: 30
Physical Description: A roll of cotton
Clothes and Equipment: Cotton
Registered: Jan 22, 2018 21:21:40 GMT -8
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Post by Ittan-Momen on May 30, 2018 5:00:30 GMT -8
A wind blows through the stifling desert town, carrying with it a small rag of cotton high above, almost as if it were a cloud. The cotton spotted the strange and isolated town, and wondered what reason anybody would have to set up shop here. It seemed quite strange, but then again everything the two legged things did seemed strange. So the cotton gave it no furhter thought, and descended into the city to investigate.
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Arridia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 74
Registered: Apr 26, 2018 16:53:11 GMT -8
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Post by Arridia on May 30, 2018 17:32:39 GMT -8
Below the mysterious piece of cotton sits a small troop of Jackals, only 5 men strong. They are tasked with watching everything that comes in and out of the citys only entrance, a strong palisade supported on both sides by ruins.
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Ittan-Momen
Established
Roleplay posts: 30
Physical Description: A roll of cotton
Clothes and Equipment: Cotton
Registered: Jan 22, 2018 21:21:40 GMT -8
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Post by Ittan-Momen on May 31, 2018 4:57:50 GMT -8
The floating cotton sighted these humans, most likely miserable in the desert heat, and decided to see what they were like. Hopefully they were nicer than the humans he met a while ago. They had tried to poke him with sticks and it hadn’t been a very fun time. On the bright side they did teach him some of their weird language, although the cotton was no closer to understanding it.
And so he descended towards one of the men, spouting the words of greeting that he had learned from the human. “Goo dai wha bings you oo s-ri-u ilan.”
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Zhiode
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: Lithe, athletic body covered in platinum armor stylized similar to feathers. Broad feathered wings spread from her back. Yellow highlights adorn her forehead, chest, and abdomen.
Clothes and Equipment: Carries a curved shield, thin but long, which tapers to twin points at the bottom and a yellow marking on the center similar to her body, and a plain, one-handed broadsword, with a hilt forged of a yellow mineral and a silver blade.
Player's online availability : Sporadic, but mostly regular
Registered: Mar 23, 2018 18:40:35 GMT -8
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Post by Zhiode on Jun 1, 2018 14:19:12 GMT -8
A dazzling myriad of reflected light heralds the arrival of the Valkyrie Zhiode. She hovers five meters above the center of the town, her legs pressed together and her shield held in front of her chest.
"Greetings outsiders," she calls, her boredom loud enough to be heard easily across the city. "I am Zhiode, an emissary from the mighty nation of Ískaldur. King Chief Thrand Rangvaldrson has ordered me south to display the might of our people, and to note anything of worth from your weakling culture. Whatever facsimile you have for a Chief, please step forward now." Her head swivels, watching to see who in the city will respond.
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Huata of the Dittany
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Age: 19
Physical Description: Dark eyes and light skin, 6'0, boyish face, strong jaw, usually smiling
Clothes and Equipment: A simple twig staff, leather robes engraved with runes, a bow and arrow, and a pet falcon named Beaver.
Registered: May 15, 2016 21:25:47 GMT -8
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Post by Huata of the Dittany on Jun 1, 2018 17:10:09 GMT -8
When Atma summoned for Huata, Huata he came out drinking a special tea made from the herbs he had previously put in his nose. Apparently, he had been using them wrong the whole time.
"Fit huh? Well, I mean everyone here is in pretty good shape..."
"I think she means 'necessary.'" An elf politely corrected.
"Oh, right."
Huata looked around and asked if anyone wanted to accompany him. After a while he had assembled a fair mix of human and elven druids and a couple of guards. Everyone else decided they were content to stay and look after their goods and animals. Huata insisted that his falcon come as well.
The group allowed themselves to travel through the desert town. One of their first positive impressions was the way that the locals created homes in the rock face itself. This was an admirable and efficient use of nature to them. They refrained from asking too many questions as they traveled, since Atma seemed reticent. But they did make a few comments. "Our compliments on how you've learned to live in harmony with the desert. This is a trait our people hold in high esteem." One of the elves said.
"Also I like your clothing." A human added.
Huata periodically whispered to his falcon (which during their trek was revealed to be named Beaver), and astonishingly the falcon seemed to reply in distinctive chirps and clicks. "Many young druids learn to speak with animals at a young age." The same elf explained.
When they arrived at the palace's foyer, they bowed gratefully and partook of the bounty given to them as Atma left.
When the Sheikh arrived, he'd find them calmly enjoying their meals. Huata was attempting to feed a bit of meat to Beaver.
The head elven druid raised her hand while Huata was occupied. "Mostly knowledge, and possibly trade. We brought some goods for you and your people to examine if you wish. They are mostly back at our caravan, but I have some samples with me." She had with her several pouches. One contained semiprecious stones like hematite, turquoise, quartz, and various other crystals. The most valuable object appeared to be a small fossil, set in its stone, encase in a glass sphere. Another contained various vials of herbs and medicines. Yet a third contained dried fruit not native to the desert at all.
Huata raised his head up. "I have a strange question to ask. This food we're eating. Is it ok if we keep the seeds? I'm here not just as an ambassador, but as a representative of a group in my land called the Druidic Enclave. We are here on a... what's that word..." Beaver made an odd click. "Oh, right, scholarly, yah that's it, scholarly capacity. We want to learn about how you live in the desert, and if it was necessary, assist in any way we can. Our goal is to help various peoples live in harmony with their lands. Not that we'd presume to do so in your case. I think you have much more to teach us about living in the desert than vice versa."
Beaver flapped his wings.
"Oh, right. I'm also really interested in your animals, the ones that live in the desert. I'm always looking to make new friends, you see."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 2, 2024 23:10:54 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2018 17:21:58 GMT -8
The Sheikh listened intently as Huata finished his small speech. At some point interest flashed across his, but slowly melted away to an uneasy expression. He looked Huata up and down before replying to the stout man, "I would be delighted to allow you to take the seeds of our fruits, after all they are for share." He mentioned before continuing; "speaking of problems, we ac-" He was cut by the sharp ring of what sounded like a church bell clanging. His face was darkened by an expression, that seemed to send the temperature in the room plummeting. He turned and gestured for the Outlanders to follow him as he rushed out of the room, towards the exit.
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Huata of the Dittany
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Age: 19
Physical Description: Dark eyes and light skin, 6'0, boyish face, strong jaw, usually smiling
Clothes and Equipment: A simple twig staff, leather robes engraved with runes, a bow and arrow, and a pet falcon named Beaver.
Registered: May 15, 2016 21:25:47 GMT -8
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Post by Huata of the Dittany on Jun 1, 2018 17:26:23 GMT -8
The group noticed the literal chill that ran through the foyer, and their expressions changed from optimism to concern. They frantically sat up and followed behind the Sheikh like humanoid ducklings. The fact that their departure was correlated with some sort of village-wide alarm was especially disconcerting.
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Arridia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 74
Registered: Apr 26, 2018 16:53:11 GMT -8
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Post by Arridia on Jun 1, 2018 17:27:44 GMT -8
Her only answer would be the silence of the crowd below, as thirty to forty heads swirled to face her. The bright sun, revealed the crowds expressions easily. Not a trace of panic, were in those faces. Then two arrows would, come flying out of the crowd, to fast to notice who had shot them.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 2, 2024 23:10:54 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2018 17:30:49 GMT -8
The Sheikh led them through a series of twisting passages, through what the outsiders, could only assume were underground. After a few minutes of traveling in silence, they finally reached a small opening, that glowed with the intense heat of the sun outside. They emerged, from the tunnel, to glimpse a winged warrior, with two arrows headed her way.
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JacktheRatking
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Age: 12
Physical Description: A short, skinny boy, with a bit more body hair than normal.
His outward appearance is
Clothes and Equipment: A simple tunic, wooden staff, and satchel filled with seeds and nuts and other treats are all he typically carries.
Along with a dagger that may or may not infect its victims with plague. Be sure to hug others 3-4 days after being stabbed.
Registered: May 16, 2018 18:26:49 GMT -8
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Post by JacktheRatking on Jun 1, 2018 17:48:14 GMT -8
"Fruit sounds nice, and some water too, but i dont want to use up all your supplies..." jack said.
The other rats scurried on over to the pot of water and drank their fill
Jack reached in the small wagon Lorrie was towing along and pulled out a small sack of coins. "its not much, but if prices are reasonable here we wont starve. Id hate to use any of your money. You've already done a lot for us."
He sat down and smiled as one of the rats hopped up on his lap and curled up sleepily.
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Huata of the Dittany
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Age: 19
Physical Description: Dark eyes and light skin, 6'0, boyish face, strong jaw, usually smiling
Clothes and Equipment: A simple twig staff, leather robes engraved with runes, a bow and arrow, and a pet falcon named Beaver.
Registered: May 15, 2016 21:25:47 GMT -8
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Post by Huata of the Dittany on Jun 1, 2018 18:31:00 GMT -8
As the group once again emerges into the blazing hot sun, they immediately spot a strange, majestic angel-like creature. Judging by the responses of the locals, this creature was not friendly.
The druids all take defensive stances, raising their staffs in front of them. Mana energy swirls about the head of their staffs, and around some of them the earth begins rumbling slightly. The guards fan forward, raising their targes and spears to protect the rest of their party. Huata backs up, not relishing a fight. But then Beaver lets out a screech, clearly not fond of the angelic form, and its feathers start to glow scalding red as it draws energy from Huata's body. Huata allows this to happen, trusting Beaver's ability to judge characters.
It only took a few seconds for them all to be ready to defend themselves.
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Zhiode
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: Lithe, athletic body covered in platinum armor stylized similar to feathers. Broad feathered wings spread from her back. Yellow highlights adorn her forehead, chest, and abdomen.
Clothes and Equipment: Carries a curved shield, thin but long, which tapers to twin points at the bottom and a yellow marking on the center similar to her body, and a plain, one-handed broadsword, with a hilt forged of a yellow mineral and a silver blade.
Player's online availability : Sporadic, but mostly regular
Registered: Mar 23, 2018 18:40:35 GMT -8
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Post by Zhiode on Jun 2, 2018 12:40:48 GMT -8
Zhiode regards the newcomers, her helmet preventing anyone from seeing her expression of disdain, though her posture makes that clear regardless. The arrows slam into her back with a resounding clang, biting into her armor and scoring small furrows beneath her wings before spinning back to the streets below. She never turns, never looks back to see where the arrows had originated. The inclination of her helmet indicates that her attention is focused solely on the newcomers. Another sniff of disdain precedes her next dialogue.
"Am I to presume that one of you is responsible for these people? As I already told them, I have been instructed to speak with whoever leads this weakling culture."
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Telemachon
Established
. . A̢̡̰̤͖̥̘̿́̑́͂̂̒͜ͅ n̶̨̮̘̥̱̾̋́́̕̚͜͜ g̷̨̙̼̥̩̠͍̘̯͊̐͑͂̂̓͐̀͗̋ ḙ̖̱̳̗̾͒̋͜͠͠ r̢̺͖̯͉̉͑̀̊̂̌̅̐͗ͅ . .
Roleplay posts: 49
Age: Unaccountable.
Physical Description: Telemachon is a being of enormous proportions, on the very edge of human possibility for musculature, height and build. The man has jet-black hair and eyes that have no discernible iris, simply one large dark pupil. Clean shaven on his face his hair is short but spiked and messy. He appears youthful and well-built in most manners with a "baby face" save for wrinkles, heavy bags under his sleepless red eyes, a strong set of cheeks, and appearance as though he was repeatedly whacked with both sharp and blunt sides of a shovel. His skin varies from youthful and smooth to rough and aged in texture, naturally quite pale but usually in a light beige-copper tint from his travels.
Clothes and Equipment: He has thick and ornate armour seemingly writhing to new cruel shapes when one is not looking upon it. Upon close examination it would appear to be part of one whole piece, partially explaining the occasional creak as its wearer moves. His only permanent weapons are two long spikes coming from the armour on either wrist, but he easily materializes weapons akin to his armour as an innate skill.
Player's online availability : All the time, but I might not be on when it says I am :[
Registered: Apr 20, 2018 2:42:56 GMT -8
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Post by Telemachon on Jun 2, 2018 16:26:38 GMT -8
The foreigner's face went grim as the desert witch spoke, and his posture altered to bring his full mass to bear. "Do not mangle my words like you mangle truth and morality. It was in your request for faith I drew blood." The point made he brought his other hand to squeeze the bloodied one with a grunt and the bleeding was over. Then he relaxed, and gave another primal grin, the muscles of his battered face moving roughly.
He giggle again, clawing at his hair with a few droplets coming down moments later. "Your word is simply that; a word. What I wonder will happen if I do not abide?"
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Huata of the Dittany
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Age: 19
Physical Description: Dark eyes and light skin, 6'0, boyish face, strong jaw, usually smiling
Clothes and Equipment: A simple twig staff, leather robes engraved with runes, a bow and arrow, and a pet falcon named Beaver.
Registered: May 15, 2016 21:25:47 GMT -8
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Post by Huata of the Dittany on Jun 2, 2018 17:39:12 GMT -8
It was pretty obvious the locals wanted nothing to do with the angelic figure, and that she was trespassing on their territory unprovoked. It also had the audacity to call a culture that it had intruded upon as weaklings. This seemed like good enough reason to attempt to arrest the creature.
Beaver darted forward, and as he did so his feathers suddenly erupted into flames. Using energy taken from its master, it had become a mini phoenix, burning brightly in the ebbing sun and coated with defensive fire. Counting on the angelic figure's arrogance and her own armor limiting visibility, Beaver expected he would serve as a sufficient decoy for what was to come next. Whether she haughtily stood her ground or, god forbid, charged forward, she would be immediately intercepted by a surge of sand coming from beneath the ground, that would coil up in tendrils around her feet. As she was the tallest thing in the vicinity, it was entirely possible she'd spot both attacks and fly up to get out of the way...
... which is when several thick coils of animated water, also summoned by the druids, would intercept her wings. They would start by flaring out and arcing in a large heart shape while traveling at super high speed. With her focus on Beaver and possibly the sands, it was highly unlikely she'd see this final attack coming. If this strategy was successful, the elements would attempt to capture her and bring her down to the ground, where she might learn how to properly greet a foreign culture in the future.
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Arridia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 74
Registered: Apr 26, 2018 16:53:11 GMT -8
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Post by Arridia on Jun 2, 2018 20:13:58 GMT -8
The two parties met and merged as they saw each other on just another regular dune. The Sand Cat and the Crocodiles greeted each other, before continuing through a couple more miles of unidentifiable desert. Finally before them towered meters of rock, the only opening, a small gap the size of a wagon, blocked of by a wooden palisade. The Sand Cat and The Crocodiles exchanged whispers, their faces turning darker with each word.
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Amaya Thundra
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 198
Age: 24
Physical Description: She has pale blue hair that is rather jagged and cut short (she cuts her own hair with a knife). Her eyes are a golden color that looks much like lightning ripping across the sky. When her powers are active, it looks like lightning is running through her veins. Her ears are pointed and long. She stands at about 6 foot and her nails are normal unless she is feeling beastly when they can grow into talons. Otherwise, she appears as a normal human. Also... horns.
Clothes and Equipment: It looks as though she is constantly wearing a tattered black cloak, but it is actually her wings folded over her body that are pretty durable against attacks. She wears light armor underneath her wings typically and dresses lightly. Though she is not a fan of dresses and skirts or any clothing that restricts her movement, if it necessary or particularly unique, she can be convinced to wear it. She wields a broad sword in case of emergency but prefers to fight hand to hand.
Allegiances: Edan; To a lesser degree her father, Ixdraynael
Registered: May 31, 2018 19:40:04 GMT -8
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Post by Amaya Thundra on Jun 2, 2018 20:20:57 GMT -8
Amaya who had been walking along enjoying the weather and taking in the scenery, or rather lack of it, cocked a brow as they suddenly stopped. She gave them a moment before walking towards them. "What's wrong? Is that wood barring our passage?" She asked already sizing up the obstacle.
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Arridia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 74
Registered: Apr 26, 2018 16:53:11 GMT -8
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Post by Arridia on Jun 2, 2018 20:27:05 GMT -8
They turned, worried expressions plastered on their faces, seeming to darken the bright light around them."No," the lead Alligator answered, "these gates just haven't been abandoned for as long as I remember."
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Amaya Thundra
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 198
Age: 24
Physical Description: She has pale blue hair that is rather jagged and cut short (she cuts her own hair with a knife). Her eyes are a golden color that looks much like lightning ripping across the sky. When her powers are active, it looks like lightning is running through her veins. Her ears are pointed and long. She stands at about 6 foot and her nails are normal unless she is feeling beastly when they can grow into talons. Otherwise, she appears as a normal human. Also... horns.
Clothes and Equipment: It looks as though she is constantly wearing a tattered black cloak, but it is actually her wings folded over her body that are pretty durable against attacks. She wears light armor underneath her wings typically and dresses lightly. Though she is not a fan of dresses and skirts or any clothing that restricts her movement, if it necessary or particularly unique, she can be convinced to wear it. She wields a broad sword in case of emergency but prefers to fight hand to hand.
Allegiances: Edan; To a lesser degree her father, Ixdraynael
Registered: May 31, 2018 19:40:04 GMT -8
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Post by Amaya Thundra on Jun 2, 2018 20:30:53 GMT -8
It was impossible to tell her facial expression under the hood but she merely sighed as she looked over at the gates. "The guards were killed then? Or they abandoned their posts." She said as she walked forward, passing between them. "What are these gates for?" She asked as she shifted her hands under her cloak, cracking her knuckles.
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