Luna Wakefield
Established
Roleplay posts: 21
Age: 11
Physical Description: Standing at 4'9 and supporting flowing white hair is the fair and glowing: Luna Wakefield. While Luna is no doubt a very young lady, her features can no doubt be called even younger, gaining her no compassion in the eyes of others.
While Luna has a mostly innocent look that appears to be constantly surprised and bewildered with much of what happens around her, it's clear that she is something...different. Her skin is an unearthly sheen of blue and white, and her eyes an icy blue. Though if one to touch her skin, they would find it cool to the touch, almost like snow; but otherwise soft and unvarnished.
Clothes and Equipment: Twisting around Lunas body is a simple blue green dress, rough linen to the touch. Pinned to it is -what one can only assume- a steel pendant, shaped as a circle with two points protruding from opposite sides. Underneath lies a sprawling mass of silk, that forms the comfortable layer of her clothing. Holding this mass of clothing away from the grasps of gravity is a worn leather belt, crinkled and varnished with age. Her feet are unadorned as Luna prefers it this way. Encircling her unblemished neck is an amulet, attached to a small leather string.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 18:17:36 GMT -8
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Post by Luna Wakefield on Aug 31, 2018 17:38:13 GMT -8
She slowly reaches and snaps it out of his hand. She then lifts her eyes up to meet the guards. They shift with a myriad of colors for a small moment, before settling to an icy blue. "B-but I want to see the Empress, not a room."
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Archbishop Alured Norian
Committed
Roleplay posts: 71
Age: 356
Physical Description: Seven-feet-tall wearing a heavy, black leather cloak. A wide brimmed hat sits upon his head, and he wears a curious, pointed mask, fit with black lenses that hide its eyes. Occasionally sickly-sweet smelling gas rises from small vents on their side of the "beak".
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When not wearing what he refers to as his ceremonial garb, he reveals himself to be an elf. His face is lined with age and his hair is short and slicked back, black streaked with gray. His eyes are orange, and despite his races propensity towards merriment, he wears a permanent scowl that exudes a cold aura of authority.
Clothes and Equipment: A heavy leather jacket, gloves, a wide-brimmed hat and a plague doctor's mask. He has with him on a strap a holy book, bound in black leather with silver linings.
His mask has enchantments that largely eliminate inhaled poisons, sight-based magics or effects or even the need for air. His jacket functions as a flexible suit of metal armor and hampers weapons as such. It cannot be slices, however crushing and large amounts of piercing damage may penetrate it. It can be fixed, but it takes time, and thus can't be performed during battles.
He carries no weapons and fights unarmed, although he has a knife for general purposes. His leather gloves function as gauntlets and can pack quite a punch.
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Allegiances: The Church of Varafel
Player's online availability : Frequent
Registered: Dec 22, 2017 15:51:51 GMT -8
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Post by Archbishop Alured Norian on Sept 23, 2018 21:51:48 GMT -8
This was, simply put, not going according to plan. When Alured had initially entered Isra, he had found its people a far cry from what he had been expecting. There was very little for he or his people to do here and while the Church of Varafel's popularity was increasing, it was slowly. Although certain steps had been taken to solidify a foothold here, it was simply too little. His elven heritage, coupled with magic given to him by the divine, meant that there was very little doubt in mind he would live long enough to see his plans come to fruition. That meant waiting centuries, perhaps longer, however, and while he may survive, there was no guarantee he would continue to keep the momentum of support alive. Human's lives were short, after all, with memories even shorter.
That meant, unfortunately, that drastic steps must be taken. With total support from the throne, it would mean his goals could be met in a matter of decades. Those who followed him now, they may very well live to see the entry of a new era. Support of that level, however, only came with one of two stipulations: Either the Lady Naoki was a worshiper of Varafel (a fact he very much doubted could be achieved.) Or the simple idea that he was Lord of Isra. The Lady of Isra was playing with the idea of selecting an heir. It was an admittedly uneasy decision.
However, despite everything, perhaps he could be suitable. Or, at least, seem to be suitable for a few centuries or so. The question is, how could he possibly convince her he was superior to her other suitors? He could use cold facts. Naoki had seemed down-to-earth. Calculating. Perhaps the iron truth that he was better than the competition would be enough to sway her. Or should he...woo her? He slowed to a stop, then, polished court shoes clocking on the cobblestone path as he considered it. Did he...even remember how to woo someone? How long had it been? The last time he had truly been with someone...he was a different person then. A different existence that what he was now.
Shaking the thoughts away he smoothed out his court doublet (a modest affair several centuries out of style) and reached up to adjust his mask...only for his gloved fingers to touch his bare cheek. She likely wouldn't recognize him. The only thing that he bore that resembled his usual self, was the holy symbol on a chain around his neck and an aura of grim agelessness. He continued, reaching crucible gate. Approaching the guard, he dangled the holy symbol in his view for a moment before letting it fall.
"I am Archpriest Alured Norian. I am here to apply to be a suitor."
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Sept 24, 2018 16:47:48 GMT -8
“Alured Norian.” The guard repeats it back to make sure he heard correctly. Gesturing for Alured to wait, the guard heads over to The Press, where he repeats the name once more. “Another suitor,” he says.
The Press Man nods and quietly appreciates the easy name. It takes him only several moments to set the type and press the pass. The first guard takes it from the press, shakes it a bit when he finds it to be hot and brings it back over to Alured.
Name: Alured Norian Purpose of Visit: Social/By Invitation Pass Valid For: 5 days
“Take this,” the guard says, handing him the pass. “And keep it with you at times within The Citadel. We’ll assume that you know how to behave yourself; go ahead.”
The guardsman gestures as the gate is opened, allowing Alured entry.
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Lord Arthur Perceval
Established
Governor and Commander of the East Isran Trading Company
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 40
Physical Description: Arthur is a good enough looking man, being born of noble blood in the Isran Empire. He is six foot flat and weighs in around one hundred and fifty pounds. His hair is black and curly, cut neat and kept tidy. He has no facial hair. The colors of his eyes are a deep blue, much like the sea.
From his time in the Navy, his body is cut lean and mean.
Clothes and Equipment:
The clothes upon his back are cut from the finest cloths in the Isran tailoring district, thanks to the bullion garnered from the expansive East Isran Trading Company has garnered him. An enchanted saber hangs from his left hip.
Allegiances: Isran Empire, East Isran Company
Player's online availability : Fridays, Weekends
Registered: Oct 12, 2018 19:19:12 GMT -8
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Post by Lord Arthur Perceval on Oct 14, 2018 13:46:10 GMT -8
Arthur Perceval and his escort approached the citadel gates at a walking pace. In the same fashion as before, he raises his hand in a salute to the guardsmen and holds out the identifying paperwork. His other hand rightens the coats placement on his body, tugging downward so it fit more snug.
"I am Lord Arthur Perceval, here to report upon the Company's findings and profits." He gave them a smile, patting the satchel bag.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Oct 14, 2018 14:11:17 GMT -8
The nearest guard nods in greeting to Lord Percival as he approaches and accepts the paperwork for examination. He gives it a much closer look than the guard at the Western Gate, and passes it to one of his fellows when he’s done. The second guard confirms, and gestures for the gate to be opened as the first makes an entry in the ledger.
“Go ahead, Sir,” the guard says, returning the paperwork. “You know the rules.”
He gives the guardsmen a significant look, reminding them that they are there as guests, and though they are permitted to keep their weapons, they must not heft them. Swords stay in their scabbards.
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Nika
New
The World's Worst Mage
Roleplay posts: 5
Age: 23
Physical Description: She has a miscast permanent invisibility ward that's stuck to part of her skull making the skull and hair invisible there leaving the eye and brain visible. She then has a permanent cold mist at her feet which leaves a path of frozen moisture in the air when she walks. She has brown hair and blue eyes with a pale Caucasian skin. Her pants constantly are muddy at the bottom and no amount of cleaning will get it to go away. One of her hands is constantly emitting smoke for some reason.
Clothes and Equipment: Cloak of Durability - Absorbs kinetic energy and is flame proof.
Patch of Healing- Found from an old medic kit, this healing patch is on her side covering a hole in her shirt caused by a miscast flame spell. The patch heals all her wounds in seconds and also cleans her by teleporting dust and grime away.
Staff of Casting- A slightly fraying casting staff that allows for spells to be cast quickly. It has a permanent flame effect on it.
Patch of Changing- Picked up off an old clown suit this patch changes the color of the users clothing. The only thing it doesn't effect is the white and red Patch of Healing.
Aura of Shielding- Gives protection from magical attacks that are by accident, but not ones that are actually meant to harm her.
The right sleeve of her shirt constantly stretches and has tears in it which no amount of mending will fix.
Registered: Apr 30, 2018 8:45:02 GMT -8
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Post by Nika on Oct 15, 2018 11:52:21 GMT -8
Nika arrives hurriedly to the gate and stops with a stumble her one eye glowing, and her arm smoking a tad more then usual.
She gives a small gasp, "Uh, this is the Citadel right? Hiring wizardressess?"
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Oct 19, 2018 21:00:59 GMT -8
“This is indeed The Citadel,” one guard responds, eyeing its latest visitor.
“Are you referring to The Enclave? You wish to join it?”
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Nika
New
The World's Worst Mage
Roleplay posts: 5
Age: 23
Physical Description: She has a miscast permanent invisibility ward that's stuck to part of her skull making the skull and hair invisible there leaving the eye and brain visible. She then has a permanent cold mist at her feet which leaves a path of frozen moisture in the air when she walks. She has brown hair and blue eyes with a pale Caucasian skin. Her pants constantly are muddy at the bottom and no amount of cleaning will get it to go away. One of her hands is constantly emitting smoke for some reason.
Clothes and Equipment: Cloak of Durability - Absorbs kinetic energy and is flame proof.
Patch of Healing- Found from an old medic kit, this healing patch is on her side covering a hole in her shirt caused by a miscast flame spell. The patch heals all her wounds in seconds and also cleans her by teleporting dust and grime away.
Staff of Casting- A slightly fraying casting staff that allows for spells to be cast quickly. It has a permanent flame effect on it.
Patch of Changing- Picked up off an old clown suit this patch changes the color of the users clothing. The only thing it doesn't effect is the white and red Patch of Healing.
Aura of Shielding- Gives protection from magical attacks that are by accident, but not ones that are actually meant to harm her.
The right sleeve of her shirt constantly stretches and has tears in it which no amount of mending will fix.
Registered: Apr 30, 2018 8:45:02 GMT -8
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Post by Nika on Oct 20, 2018 15:47:15 GMT -8
“This is indeed The Citadel,” one guard responds, eyeing its latest visitor. “Are you referring to The Enclave? You wish to join it?” The wizzardress nods enthusiastically her left hand sparking, "You bet! I heard it's a good way to be employed in my current condition! Right?"
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The Historian
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Age: 70s
Physical Description: Just an old old man.
Clothes and Equipment:
Magic briefcase filled with many books, materials, and important papers.
Registered: Apr 7, 2016 15:48:22 GMT -8
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Post by The Historian on Jan 2, 2019 17:41:06 GMT -8
"I have come in search of work. Are you accepting applications." The old man said with a hint of chagrin, "My personal business has gone nowhere and I seem to be running low on funds. It seems these old bones are past there adventuring days and a government job sounds appealing. Perhaps something at a desk, it is very cold, I don't envy your jobs but commend you." The smile he directed towards the gatekeepers was now genuine.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 4, 2019 22:14:37 GMT -8
The guards look between themselves. Those who come complimenting them usually have ulterior motives, but in this case, it seems not. The guard closest to The Historian nods and gestures. “Very well, this way. I trust you have no weapons.” Assuming a positive response, he is led into The Citadel, where he might speak to someone of authority.
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The Historian
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Age: 70s
Physical Description: Just an old old man.
Clothes and Equipment:
Magic briefcase filled with many books, materials, and important papers.
Registered: Apr 7, 2016 15:48:22 GMT -8
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Post by The Historian on Jan 4, 2019 22:26:20 GMT -8
"Only a sharp tongue and pointy pen, but I reckon you'd still stand a better chance in a fight." Old men usually got away with a little joking, "I can't very well viciously mock you to death."
Indeed the old man was true to his words. He had not grown this old by telling lies, rather he sought to expose them.
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Kargth
Established
Knight of a time long past,confused of who and what he is he travels the lands seeking for answers.
Roleplay posts: 45
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: 7ft tall and built like an ox nothing can be seen under his armor.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing armor made of darkest metal and wielding a blazing sword Kargth is a sight to behold. His armor is etched with script with a language he does not understand. His sword blazing with magic he can not conceive of. The armor he wears is as much a mystery to himself as it is to others.
Registered: Jan 25, 2017 21:39:37 GMT -8
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Post by Kargth on Apr 29, 2019 21:18:44 GMT -8
A large steel portcullis stands before a set of double gates of fortified wood and iron. As large as the face of a house, these gates are presided over by no less than twenty men at all times, five on each flank of the gate both inside and out. Anyone who wants access to the Citadel must pass through here first and await for permission from the guards if they are not a member of The Free City or plan to cause harm. Kargth approached the great portcullis on foot. His armoured frame making dull thuds as he walked on the stone pavement. Beside him a wagon heavy with ironwood logs was being pulled by two mules. It creaked as it moved, the rough spun lashing straining to hold wooden frame together under the immense weight. At its helm was an older man, the closest the convoy had to a merchant. Beside him, watching the busy streets and people was Cyrene, Captain of the militia force of Fort Silence. Even here amongst the well-guarded and tended to roads of the free city she was scanning the crowds for possible dangers. Her right hand never straying far from her holstered sword at her belt.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Apr 29, 2019 22:47:43 GMT -8
The guards standing at the top of the Citadel Stairs look down on the Central Plaza below. Today has been a quiet day so far, but it’s looking like rain. Hopefully, it won’t start until their shift is over in a few hours. In the meantime, they’re passing the time with a bit of “I Spy.”
“I spy, something… round.” He passes the spyglass to his mate, who spends a moment looking before making a guess.
“Is it… fruit?”
“No.”
“Is it... the lass selling fruit?”
“No, you picked her earlier.”
“Hmmh. … Is it... wood?”
“Yes,”
“Oh, oh — is it a wheel?”
“Sure is. The caravan there, y’see?” He gestures.
Peering through the spyglass, the guard examines the caravan as it approaches. “... Yeah, lookithtat. Great big armored bloke at the front… Seems like they’re headed our way.”
“Gimme that,” The other guard takes the spyglass and trains it on the caravan. “Hmh, looks like it. Let’s see how they get those wagon wheels up the stairs– heh.”
“It’s my turn,” Taking the spyglass back, the guard chooses the next object. “I spy, something...”
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Kargth
Established
Knight of a time long past,confused of who and what he is he travels the lands seeking for answers.
Roleplay posts: 45
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: 7ft tall and built like an ox nothing can be seen under his armor.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing armor made of darkest metal and wielding a blazing sword Kargth is a sight to behold. His armor is etched with script with a language he does not understand. His sword blazing with magic he can not conceive of. The armor he wears is as much a mystery to himself as it is to others.
Registered: Jan 25, 2017 21:39:37 GMT -8
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Post by Kargth on Apr 29, 2019 23:20:43 GMT -8
The guards standing at the top of the Citadel Stairs look down on the Central Plaza below. Today has been a quiet day so far, but it’s looking like rain. Hopefully, it won’t start until their shift is over in a few hours. In the meantime, they’re passing the time with a bit of “I Spy.” “I spy, something… round.” He passes the spyglass to his mate, who spends a moment looking before making a guess. “Is it… fruit?” “No.” “Is it... the lass selling fruit?” “ No, you picked her earlier.” “Hmmh. … Is it... wood?” “Yes,” “ Oh, oh — is it a wheel?” “Sure is. The caravan there, y’see?” He gestures. Peering through the spyglass, the guard examines the caravan as it approaches. “... Yeah, lookithtat. Great big armored bloke at the front… Seems like they’re headed our way.” “Gimme that,” The other guard takes the spyglass and trains it on the caravan. “Hmh, looks like it. Let’s see how they get those wagon wheels up the stairs– heh.” “It’s my turn,” Taking the spyglass back, the guard chooses the next object. “I spy, something...” Kargth halted the wagon in front of the great gate. “Stay here” Kargth growled to Cyrene. “Are you sure commander? I can speak for you if you wish” “I should be fine.” Kargth replied. “I have… improved at your tongue more than you think.” Kargth walked forward alone up the stairs towards the gate proper and approached one of the guards who seemed most important at ground floor. “My people and I come from a…land to your north. We wish to arrange a deal of trade … between your nation and our … community. We have brought our main… export to examine.” Kargth said slowly with as much thought to his words as possible. “Can you…arrange us entry to speak to your…” Kargth paused searching for the word. “Leader of money?”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Apr 30, 2019 16:07:50 GMT -8
The guard listens patiently and nods. “Northerner here for a trade deal!” he calls.
From beyond the gate, someone shouts affirmation and the portcullis begins to rise. As it does, the guard gives Kargth a quick primer on Citadel rules.
“You can take your weapon in,” he says, gesturing to it, “But don’t touch it.”
He pantomimes grasping the hilt of his own sword, hoping that this foreigner knows enough Common to understand. “Especially in the presence of anyone important,” he adds. “Leaders.”
Soon enough the gate is open, and a page boy arrives to escort the guest. “This way, please, sir,” he gestures for Kargth to follow him and starts into The Citadel.
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Robert Fletcher
Dedicated
Robert's assistant: https://i.imgur.com/mvP7J3d.png
Roleplay posts: 376
Age: 22
Physical Description: White hair, fancy clothes, strong jawline. Robert is fairly attractive, but thinks he's much more handsome than he actually is. He has scars on his chest from stab wounds that he never talks about, although women are usually impressed by them.
Clothes and Equipment: Expensive, custom tailored clothes. He's fairly rich and carries around a shiny knife. The clothes are armored, but the plates are well hidden.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Early mornings and late evenings
Registered: Aug 14, 2015 16:15:01 GMT -8
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Post by Robert Fletcher on May 13, 2019 19:43:56 GMT -8
Robert strolled through the gates of the citadel, handing a folder full of reports and a box of chocolates for the Empress to a convenient pageboy. He'd been in a rather melancholy mood lately, ever since the untimely demise of his faithful assistant, but life had to go on. Hazel really had been the one making sure he got everything done properly and making sure he had the right papers to sign, and his work had suffered greatly without her. She'd always been the organized one, and now it seemed that he could never find what he was looking for in his office. It was such a shame, really. She'd usually been so careful...how was it that she'd suddenly been struck and trampled by a runaway horse in the middle of the night? A real tragedy for sure...but accidents happened. After a week of frustration and disorganization, he'd finally made the decision that he'd have to find a replacement. As difficult as it was to imagine someone else in Hazel's spot, he really did need someone to keep track of things for him. Luckily enough, that very day, a red-haired young woman had appeared, inquiring about a job. She seemed pretty sharp and of good character, so he'd taken her on, and had found her to be nearly as organized as Hazel had been. She was rather serious, and her smiles never really seemed to reach her eyes, but Robert barely noticed. He was happy as long as she was helping him dig his way out of his monumental backlog of work, and her passion for paperwork seemed unmatched. Every time she was in his office, she always seemed to be reading over some manner of document. It really was impressive, he thought. As he crossed through the gates, he looked back at her, finding her gazing around at all the guards and fortifications.
"Never seen anything like it, huh, Moira?" he asked. "That's ok, you'll get used to it pretty soon. Come on, we've got work to do. Maybe we'll even see the Empress walking around."
Moira blinked, casting one last glance at the guards before turning back towards him.
"Work," she repeated. "Empress. Right, let's get going then. You've got a lot of things that were due yesterday, Mr. Fletcher."
She followed him into the citadel, head on a swivel as she took in the sights.
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Captain "Johnnie" O'Malley
Established
Roleplay posts: 33
Age: 36
Physical Description: Captain O'Malley has a fairly muscular physique from years of rigging and sailing, but still maintains a feminine beauty. She sports high cheek bones, full lips, and a perfect jawline, topped with somewhat messy brown hair, more often than not pulled into a pony-tail behind her head.
So she's really quite attractive, if you dig scars and tattoos of course. Over her right eye and nose are four scars that go from just above her eyebrow to a little under her cheek bone, though that doesn't take from her stunning green eyes.
Her scars continue all around her body, from a slash here and there, to one or two puckers along her shoulder and legs from errant arrows. Though battle worn, she continues the good fight.
Her body is also heavily tattooed, the most visible being a heart just between her eye and ear, along the cheek bone, a decorative piece not unlike a choker around her neck with four points that point outwards, and a tattooed necklace with a heart shaped pendant just above her cleavage.
Over the rest of her body are a myriad of other tattoos, though hidden while wearing long sleeves and clothes.
Clothes and Equipment: Captain O'Malley usually wears a green bandanna over her brown hair that matches her father's green and leather coat which she wears with pride, regardless of the holes and marks in the leather. Under the coat she wears a high collared cloth shirt with a long draw string which she leaves partly open, revealing the locket tattoo and cleavage beneath.
Her pants are soft to the touch and easy to run around in, and a matching green to her shirt and bandanna. Her boots and gloves are a matching pair of light brown, with the boots sporting steel caps, and her gloves having steel studs along the knuckles.
Finally, she wears a fancy belt, and sometimes an eyepatch over her left eye, especially when combat is a possibility.
Allegiances: Libertalia
Registered: Jul 9, 2019 18:50:09 GMT -8
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Post by Captain "Johnnie" O'Malley on Oct 12, 2019 20:21:42 GMT -8
The Libertalian Delegation, such as it is, makes it way through the city streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the big city. Their captain, Johnnie O’Malley, leads the pack with a confident stride, followed closely by her first mate, the gorgeous elf woman Alaris Fontaine, and her bodyguard, the tremendously sized, iron suited golem Iron Bill. The reactions of those around them seem to vary between awe, fear, disgust, but also excitement. To the untrained eye, they must seem like pirates with vaguely matching uniforms, like something out of a sailor’s fearsome tale, or a romantic novel of adventure and thrills on the high seas. Its not overly long before they find themselves at the Citadel’s gates, locked out from the realm of politics and intrigue that lay beyond. While the crew seems to mill about, sizing up the guards and gate as some sort of force of habit, none go for their swords as they're under strict orders not to cause problems, just protect and look fancy. That’s what delegations do, right? They certainly don’t look overly fancy, but the majority to look fierce, as any ‘queens guard’ would. Johnnie herself heeds no mind to the guards, her confident stride only coming to an end as she looks up at the gate. She puts her hands on her hips and lets out a low whistle. “Faaaancy,” she says before looking to her first mate. “Its like they don’ want political visitors. I like them already.” This elicits a silent giggle from the elf, who nods in agreement. The blonde haired captain looks over the fanciest looking guard, knowing that those with more pomp and circumstance about their uniform in these parts tend to be the ones in charge. Generally, at least. “Name’s captain O’Malley, representing the Admiralty and Island of Libertalia and all of her people. I’m here t’ speak with Empress Naoki, she should be expectin’ us.”
Now away y’ go, fancy pants, and open yer wee door. [Continuation of: the Ocean Gate, and the Free Docks.]
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Oct 13, 2019 12:19:02 GMT -8
The Libertalian Delegation, such as it is, makes it way through the city streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the big city. Their captain, Johnnie O’Malley, leads the pack with a confident stride, followed closely by her first mate, the gorgeous elf woman Alaris Fontaine, and her bodyguard, the tremendously sized, iron suited golem Iron Bill. The reactions of those around them seem to vary between awe, fear, disgust, but also excitement. To the untrained eye, they must seem like pirates with vaguely matching uniforms, like something out of a sailor’s fearsome tale, or a romantic novel of adventure and thrills on the high seas. Its not overly long before they find themselves at the Citadel’s gates, locked out from the realm of politics and intrigue that lay beyond. While the crew seems to mill about, sizing up the guards and gate as some sort of force of habit, none go for their swords as they're under strict orders not to cause problems, just protect and look fancy. That’s what delegations do, right? They certainly don’t look overly fancy, but the majority to look fierce, as any ‘queens guard’ would. Johnnie herself heeds no mind to the guards, her confident stride only coming to an end as she looks up at the gate. She puts her hands on her hips and lets out a low whistle. “Faaaancy,” she says before looking to her first mate. “Its like they don’ want political visitors. I like them already.” This elicits a silent giggle from the elf, who nods in agreement. The blonde haired captain looks over the fanciest looking guard, knowing that those with more pomp and circumstance about their uniform in these parts tend to be the ones in charge. Generally, at least. “Name’s captain O’Malley, representing the Admiralty and Island of Libertalia and all of her people. I’m here t’ speak with Empress Naoki, she should be expectin’ us.”
Now away y’ go, fancy pants, and open yer wee door. [Continuation of: the Ocean Gate, and the Free Docks.] “Mmmh, yes!” The officer nods. “You’re expected.” He gestures, and after a short delay the great doors of The Citadel behind him groan as they hinge open. From behind one of them, a pageboy emerges, a mere lad dressed cleanly in a tunic bearing Isra’s Sun. “This way, please!” He motions for the Captain and her party to follow him as he starts into The Citadel, bound for The Throne.
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Khepri
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 173
Physical Description: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings spread outward from her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame.
Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features.
Though the woman seems like a nubile goddess, fingers that end in claws and feet ending in talons do add a frighteningly harsh reality to her image.
When the sun vanishes from the sky, all that is not human about the woman departs, leaving a small, defenseless dame behind.
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Clothes and Equipment: Khepri carries little, save for the string around her neck that holds a round gemstone absorbing sunlight.
When out of sunlight and without the gem, her wings become a heavy cloak.
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Registered: Nov 20, 2017 18:28:46 GMT -8
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Post by Khepri on Oct 29, 2019 9:47:15 GMT -8
Too much time had passed.
One entire year in the Lands Below had taught her a hundred more things than she would have learned in the Aeries. All the same, she had overstayed her visit. It was time to go home.
Time to take back all she lost.
And yet, as she rallied her small army and made her way to the docks, a shift took place in the air. An ache spread through her chest, washing over her body like a great wave collapsing atop her. She dropped to her knees, heaved, then all went dark.
When she awoke, all was not there.
Roxanne, Regal, Rudiger, gone, as if they never were.
But more than that... something inside. Something that she was had gone. A sorrow, heavy, and dreadful, kept her attached to a bed at an Isran clinic for days, inconsolable. Broken.
She would not dally for so much longer. Khepri's wounds had ached enough and yearned to heal, cried out for a home. Some way, somehow, she lifted herself from her nest of sorrow.
Now, she stood at the citadel in a white dress, a gossamer cloth that hung by her neck, no sleeves or skirts to conceal the sides of her body or restrain her vast wings. It was pinched at the waist by a golden ringlet, and dangling right below her stomach was her prized little gem, glowing like a star.
Her hair had been braided and threaded with the same cloth, so it all fell down her back. Her lips were darkly rouged, eyes speckled with golden scales.
She looked the part and was ready.
"I'm Khepri Goldenfeather," she told the guards. "I'm here to see Empress Naoki."
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 468
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Registered: Apr 3, 2016 10:52:37 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Oct 29, 2019 12:03:37 GMT -8
More than happy to take down her information, there’s only a short delay before the guardsman returns to hand Khepri her pass.
Name: Kepree Goldenfeather Purpose of Visit: Social/By Invitation Pass Valid For: 5 days
“Keep this on your person and return it to someone on your way out!” he instructs her, raising his voice to be heard as the gate groans open behind him. “Don’t go wandering about by yourself and let the boys take care of you!”
Just on the other side of the gate, a pageboy with Isra’s Sun emblazoned on his tunic enthusiastically salutes Khepri and gestures for her to follow him. “This way please, your ladyship!”
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