Grandma
Widely Known
Imperial Vizier of Isra
Roleplay posts: 1,017
Age: 90
Physical Description: ---------------------------------------------------------
An elderly and frail looking woman with white wispy hair. However, despite being old, her back is not bent by age nor are her eyes clouded by it.
Clothes and Equipment: ---------------------------------------------------------
She wears a deep purple robe that has sleeves that extend far beyond her hands. Her hands are covered with fine gloves of black silk and she wears one ring on each, one having a purple stone set in it and the other a piece of onyx. Carrying an ornate cane of orellium, Grandma can use it to increase her magical channeling as well as assist in deflecting others spells with it. The cane itself is black and covered in numerous ornate, but tiny runes. The cap on the cane is a purplish colored gem. On her wrist is a silver bracelet with a ruby in it that Grandma uses for telepathic communication with others in its network.
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Registered: Sept 12, 2015 8:27:42 GMT -8
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Post by Grandma on Jun 17, 2019 18:20:17 GMT -8
Squinting her eyes slightly, Grandma glanced around the cramped room before raising one eyebrow. Why was Iulia stuck in such a small and dingy office? Surely the guard could have given her a better one when Grandma had put her in charge of the task force.
“I will take a cup, thank you for the offer Iulia. Your office is rather… Cozy.”
Carefully navigating her way to the chair as to not knock anything over, Grandma lowered herself into the seat slowly. Waiting a moment as Iulia pours the tea, Grandma decides she might as well start the conversation—there was no need to play games with Iulia.
“So, tell me, how has your investigation been going? You’ve clearly been making some headway judging by the several arrests you made last week. I have my own thoughts on this matter, but I’m curious to hear how you think this investigation is doing given you’re about three months into it now.”
Tilting her head to the side slightly, Grandma waited for a response with a slight smile on her lips. In all encounters save for the first one, Grandma had been almost too friendly towards Iulia, showing no signs of the harshness revealed in the meeting that had started it all.
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Iulia Iotapa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 75
Age: 31
Physical Description: Iulia is a shorter woman of a trim and very fit build. She has medium-length brown hair, practically styled out of the way in a tight braid. Appearance-wise, Iulia is on the plain side of average.
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Clothes and Equipment: Iulia is never seen without a hat or other head covering of some sort. These tend towards practical and are extremely modest in style. Her usual headgear wardrobe rotates between a maroon beret with a small star insignia, or a black Breton cap. Iulia’s Isran Guard uniform consists of a standard tunic, jacket, crossbelt, and boots, but has a long skirt in place of the regular trousers. When not in uniform, Iulia tends towards long, dark-colored, and well fitted dresses.
As jewelry and other pieces of finery tend to get in the way of the more physical aspects of her work, Iulia tends to go without accessories of any sort when working. Her hands, well worn and scarred from boxing, are covered by gloves whenever appropriate. She possess a weighty and intricate pocket watch, a gift from her father.
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Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : as needed
Registered: Jun 28, 2018 8:07:17 GMT -8
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Post by Iulia Iotapa on Jun 18, 2019 1:33:09 GMT -8
"Yes, cozy," Iulia echoes.
The profound sense of unease that accompanies everything to do with the Imperial Vizier causes that same, dull stab in the back of her stomach that Iulia has come to expect. Her hands grip the dull tea cup filled nearly to the brim with a dark liquid. Licorice root tea supposedly works to help calm the stomach, and so the Investigator has taken to downing it greedily. It was odd that the recent arrests are billed as Iulia’s work. Her only involvement was enforcing already penned order. Granted, the people in question had not been easy to find or bring in. “Officers Larimer and Highchurch were instrumental in helping bring in the most recent five suspects in. My questioning of each has proven enlightening in a few regards. There has long been some amount of disapproval amongst the older population regarding Empress Naoki’s rise to power. It does feel a bit off, arresting poor tradespeople old enough to be my grandparents. So far, none of them have proven dangerous on their own.” The heat from the tea warms her hands nicely as Iulia pauses to take a deep drink. With warmer days finally coming to Isra, she has taken to going without her leather gloves. Fingers crisscrossed with scars steeple together as the Investigator moves forward in her chair slightly. “That said, there is a level of organization and connection between the individuals your office authorized me to arrest. A large number of the people in question lived near or on Moloch Street, with a few of them even residing in public houses near The Midnight Sun. Not a connection in and of itself, but something we are chasing down. Their potential anti-Imperial sentiments and close proximity to the Midnight Sun is curious.” Another pause for more tea. The pain in her stomach is residing slowly but surely. “That said, without a direct charge, we cannot hold Isran citizens in The Square indefinitely. I ordered the majority of the suspects returned to their homes or places of residence. We have a few of the more recent arrests still in temporary cells downstairs, but once they are processed and questioned, they will have to be sent home as well.” “I am concerned that if we act too quickly or aggressively against potential threats, that we may end up inadvertently push our friends here towards more fringe beliefs concerning the Isran Empire. All officers involved with the questioning have been ordered to phrase their questionings as a continuation of public safety and rebuilding efforts. We aren’t accusing anyone of anything, in fact we don’t even tell them they have been arrested. As far as the suspects are concerned, they came in of their own volition to make official statements and answer a few questions. None of us have had to use their manacles, even. It wouldn’t do for the public to think The Guard is rounding up seemingly random citizens and pressing them to admit to being insurrectionists, eh?”
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Grandma
Widely Known
Imperial Vizier of Isra
Roleplay posts: 1,017
Age: 90
Physical Description: ---------------------------------------------------------
An elderly and frail looking woman with white wispy hair. However, despite being old, her back is not bent by age nor are her eyes clouded by it.
Clothes and Equipment: ---------------------------------------------------------
She wears a deep purple robe that has sleeves that extend far beyond her hands. Her hands are covered with fine gloves of black silk and she wears one ring on each, one having a purple stone set in it and the other a piece of onyx. Carrying an ornate cane of orellium, Grandma can use it to increase her magical channeling as well as assist in deflecting others spells with it. The cane itself is black and covered in numerous ornate, but tiny runes. The cap on the cane is a purplish colored gem. On her wrist is a silver bracelet with a ruby in it that Grandma uses for telepathic communication with others in its network.
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Registered: Sept 12, 2015 8:27:42 GMT -8
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Post by Grandma on Jun 18, 2019 22:35:16 GMT -8
Sipping on her tea, Grandma listened in silence as Iulia brought her up to date on the investigation. Offering the occasional nod or raised eyebrow was the only interjection Grandma made until the Investigator had finished. Placing her tea down with an audible clink, the old woman began addressing the points she felt relevant.
“If your questioning is getting results, keep at it then. And you mustn’t allow their appearance to influence what you think of them, that would be an entirely unwise thing to do. Do you know who else looks old enough to be one of your grandparents? Me.”
Pausing, Grandma lets her point sink in for a moment before continuing.
“Anti-Imperial sentiments… That is exactly the type of thing I worry about. Simply having citizens grumble about the Empire is one thing, but when it gets bad enough for them to come together in groups and discuss it that’s an entirely different beast.”
Folding her arms, Grandma leans back in her chair slightly as she considers Iulia’s concerns with imprisonment. The solution was quite simple, but she doubted the Investigator would be happy with it.
“Your discretion in how you’re going about your questioning and ‘arrest’ is admirable. Until you get closer to the center of this conspiracy it would be unwise to openly reveal our hand. However, once get to what you feel is the center of this group, you must fully commit. Once they know for sure the Guard is after them, they’ll be significantly harder to locate unless we manage to arrest a sizable chunk of them all in one go. I have given you access to a very significant amount of manpower and I expect you to make use of it when appropriate.”
Scooting the chair forward a bit, the Vizier leaned in towards Iulia. Her eyes that had been lazily scanning the room bored into the Investigator. There was a certain weightiness to the Vizier’s gaze.
“When you are finally ready to make a move, you won’t be sending those you arrest to The Square. You are to send them directly to the Empress’s Eye and they’ll be detained there for as long as is necessary, direct charge or not.”
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
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Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
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Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Jan 3, 2020 22:32:49 GMT -8
Deep in the bowels of the Square, locked away behind iron bars, lays a thin figure of a woman all curled up on the bench-like bed, wrapped up in a ratty, old blanket. Her exposed skin is pale and sickly, her dark hair matted with sweat and grime, and the two cat-like ears that poke out of the blanket are flat and unmoving. If it wasn’t for the odd pained and delirious moan, some could easily make the mistake that she hadn’t made it.
The woman shifts and twitches, mumbling something under her breath as fever dreams run through her head, taunting her addled mind. The images come and go, almost melding together in a blur, but some come through though obscured, like peering through dirty glass. She could see a hooded figure running away with a bag of coins, but he was getting closer again… no, she was getting closer to him. There’s a muffled yell, and suddenly she could see her own fists pummelling him, her throat raw with sickness and rageful screaming, something about a thief. The words are lost to the memories of pain that lance through her chest, fists, and feet.
Muffled voices follow as her dream goes foggy and her vision swirls around her. There must be… two? No… three voices. Two men and one woman, but the woman is familiar. In the woman’s sickness-plagued dream, she couldn’t recognise her own voice as she pleads with two towering, imposing figures. More pain. More yelling. The Isran crest is the only thing that comes forward as her vision shifts to see the thief stumbling away, then a bloody, outstretched hand thrusting forward, then gripping at the painfully cold snow.
Suddenly she’s upright. The world had changed again, but her body ached even more. She could barely feel one of her feet, the dream had finally granted her a small mercy, but the other felt so cold. Her head felt heavier than an iron bar as she looks down, seeing her own feet shuffling through the snow, one now bare. What had happened to her boot? She had to search through so many garbage piles for that boot… There are other feet, both wearing thick, lightly plated boots. Oh what she wouldn’t do for a pair of good boots. When was the last time she had a good pair? Her memory goes fuzzy as she’s whisked off her feet.
The world goes blurry again, but a lance pain still shoots up her hands. She found herself staring at bricks and iron bars, and she’s shouting something. There’s a man on the ground, just as ratty as herself, holding his nose, while another cowers back. Where has the dream taken her now? What is this place? She feels something gripping at her upper arm, but she can’t fight it. Instead, she collapses, straining against something as she holds herself up on her palms, then the sound of liquid on rock fills the air, followed by a coughing fit that forces her onto her side.
Hallways. More hallways. Shouting. Is it her shouting? It sounds like her. She can’t move her arms or legs, something’s very wrong. The dream creates nightmarish faces as she passes them, is she being held up? Dragged? She feels like she’s floating on water, but somehow upside down and inside out. A door opens by itself in front of her and she feels picked up almost. One of her legs moves! Then the other! She can actually feel again, just in time for her frozen foot to get caught, but she doesn’t fall. Instead the cold, rocky floor seems to shift, then fly straight at her face!
She is suddenly awoken by a coughing fit, the pain becoming real all of a sudden. Her face scrunches up as the coughs rip at her chest, gross and wet to the ear. Some might consider being awoken from her nightmares a mercy, but the reality isn’t much better. She slowly cracks open one emerald eye as she shifts the blanket from her face, trying to make heads or tails of what happened, but her thoughts are cut short by another fit of sickly coughs.
The woman spits out a blob of cloudy mucus-y phlegm before she collapses back onto the old, hard bed. “Not like this…” she groans as she covers her face, wet with a slick coating of cold sweat. When was the last time she felt well? It must have been a month. She curls up and rolls onto her side before another cough takes her. Thank the merciful gods for blankets, she thinks to herself as she pulls the smelly rag tight around her. She still feels the biting cold, but at least it was tolerable, unlike the freezing hold of the cold, golden shackle around her left ankle, one to match the iron one around the other. “Hello?” she calls out, her voice groggy and thick. Where am I?
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 7, 2020 22:08:28 GMT -8
The Square, like all workplaces, had its pecking order. At the top stood the captains of the guard, with their shining medals and crisply-pressed uniforms. They gave the orders, and the orders were followed. Of course, they occasionally did some work themselves, mainly to keep up appearances. This work always seemed to be the lightest or least tedious, never anything dull or disgusting. These more unsavory jobs all rolled downhill, along with a great many other distasteful things. The more unpleasant the job, the further it rolled, dodged and passed along at every step of the way until it finally landed on someone unfortunate enough to be at the bottom. This someone happened to be Barnaby Twill. As the lowest-ranking guard on duty, he had nobody else to pass the worst jobs off to, and was often seen cleaning latrines or sweeping cell floors. It was a difficult life, but he still held out hope that someday he'd be promoted. After all, surely four and a half years of hard work had to pay off eventually.
When he got the orders to "move the prisoner from cell 4 to cell 9 and get her presentable," he thought his luck was changing. He'd never been asked to move a prisoner before! Surely this responsibility meant that he, Assistant Jailer, Third Class Barnaby Twill, was finally moving up in the world. Why else would they have entrusted him with such an important job? This thought filled him with pride, and it was with a spring in his step that he strolled down the stairs into the basement. Taking his wooden cudgel, he rapped it along the bars of the cells, mentally counting them down until he reached. One, two, three...reaching number four, he stopped, standing up straight and giving the bars a sharp bang with the stick.
"Prisoner," he said, puffing out his chest and trying his best to sound official. "On your feet. You are being moved by order of- heavens above, what is wrong with you?"
He stared into the cell, uncomprehending. Was this woman even alive? She had to be, he'd heard her calling out earlier...but surely death couldn't be far. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he quickly tied it over his nose and mouth, the way he'd seen the monks do when they'd dragged his next-door neighbor's plague-ridden corpse away when he was young. They'd been burning something. Incense? Did he need incense to ward off the disease this woman very clearly carried?
"S-stand up," he said, cringing at the tremor in his voice. It was beginning to dawn on him why he'd been chosen for this particular task, but he had little choice but to complete it to the best of his ability. Maybe if he did a good job, he'd impress his superiors enough to be promoted to Assistant Jailer, Second Class.
"Stand up, prisoner. Walk to the bars and let me see your hands. D-don't try and touch me, either. It'll be real bad if you try to touch me, understand?"
He banged the cudgel against the bars for emphasis, the impact stinging his hand. Was it supposed to hurt that much? Did it hurt that much if he were to knock it against a perp's skull? None of the other officers ever complained about hurting their hands when they went out cracking heads.
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
======================================================
Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
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Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Jan 7, 2020 22:46:04 GMT -8
Bang. Bang. BANG. BANG! The incessant banging rang in Andrea’s ears, even as flat as they are against her matted hair, that resounded through her skull and down into her chest, forcing up another blob of goo that’s coughed into the blanket. She rolls onto her back, revealing her face with her eyes screwed shut. “Stoooop,” she moans before another cough forces her onto her side. “That b-better be death knocking or I swear… swear I’ll… fuck, do something, I don- *cough cough*... I don’t know.” She cracks an eye open to regard the reaper himself, and the shape of the young guard slowly comes into focus, much to Andrea’s disappointment. “You aren’t here for my soul, are you? I think I gave it to Bill back in Brakensdorf... or... Sue?”
The guard's confidence seems to disappear almost immediately once he actually gets a good look at her, much to her amusement. She’d laugh if she knew it wouldn’t hurt like hell. “I’m hungover. What the f- *cough!* f-fuck do you think?” Still when someone in uniform and a big stick tells you to stand up, you stand up. She pushes the blanket aside, revealing her messy, crusty, appearance
She very slowly and with a lot of effort sits up and forces down the well of whatever was left inside her back down. She lets out a handful of coughs, then blocks one nostril to shoot out a tendril of disgusting, cloudy mucus out the other, straight onto the bench. ‘Take that, assholes,’ she thinks to herself in her clouded mind. If this little man isn’t here to kill her, then he can enjoy her sickness as much as she is.
Slowly, and dizzily, she gets to her feet and lets the blanket fall off her. Her clothes are torn and messy, with her shirt buttons mostly missing except for one or two in the middle, which let the shirt slide off one of her shoulders. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that one of her smaller breasts is no longer covered, and matches the pale, filthy skin all over the woman. The only thing pretty about the image is the small, muddy, golden hoop through her sad, dark nipple, that clings to the previously white fabric. Her pants are torn down the sides and stained with dirt and mud from weeks of living in the gutter. Its best not to look too closely.
Her one boot is without laces or buckles, with its tongue flopping with each shift, and her other foot looks almost black with mud, dried blood, and perhaps even a hint of hypothermia. Above it though is possible the most notable part of her sorry appearance, the golden shackle around her ankle doesn’t seem to be very dirty at all, as if most of it just slipped straight off of it.
The woman wobbles on her dizzy feet before stifling a handful of coughs, then she steps to the bars. The classic jail routine, she’d be lying if she said she’d never done it before. Usually it was just a small town jail where she woke up after one hell of a bender. Last time it was something about sleeping with the mayor’s wife? Or was it the mayor… or both? She couldn’t remember, but the thoughts are cut off after she extends her palms and feels the pain shoot up her arms. Her hands look worse for wear, especially her bloodied knuckles from one too many fights and living rough on the streets. Thankfully she had wiped her hands on the blanket, as the only remnants of her sickness seem smeared, if any at all.
She winces again at his banging on the bars. “Look, mate…” she begins, eyes still closed against the ringing in her ears. “Just, stop. I hear you, I’ll obey, just relax w- *cough cough cough!* Eugh… relax, will you?” She takes a few moments to let the pain subside just a little. “And am I allowed a healer? An apothecary?” She cracks open her eyes and looks to the man. “Its not the fucking plague, if that's what you’re worried about, you ninny.”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 8, 2020 18:55:51 GMT -8
Barnaby eyed the woman with a mixture of pity and disgust, backing up slightly as she coughed. She was a mess, inside and out. He wasn't even sure what she'd been brought in for, but if her story of a hangover was the truth, then it was most likely some manner of disorderly conduct. Still, he'd never seen a hangover quite so bad as this, and still held a measure of suspicion that it might be some kind of plague. Hadn't he heard stories of pestilence-stricken villagers claiming that they were healthy and spreading their diseases around? He'd even heard of cases so bad that soldiers were dispatched to maintain the quarantine. Barnaby didn't envy the poor saps sent to quarantine duty, and figured that they must be seriously disliked by their superiors to be sent on such an awful task. More often than not, the soldiers ended up coming down with the very illnesses that they were trying to contain.
His musings were cut short when he realized that he'd been staring at the little golden ring, his face flushing red as he looked quickly away. The shining gold of the piercing and the ankle bracelet looked startlingly out of place in the grimy cell, and he wondered if they were even allowed in the prison. Surely such valuables were supposed to be confiscated? Of course, everyone had heard stories of unscrupulous jailers pocketing valuables to sell for personal profit, but such a crime was unthinkable to Assistant Jailer Third Class Twill. Stooping to such abuses of power would fly in the face of everything the Guard stood for, and he would never be promoted if he displayed anything short of impeccable moral character. Of this, Barnaby was sure.
"You're allowed bread and water," he said. "Water shall be clear enough to see a copper coin at the bottom of a horse trough and bread shall be aged no less than three and no more than nineteen days as per Isran Jail Regulation One-one-oh-two-dash-four. Healers allowed only for immediately life-threatening conditions as detailed under Regulation One-one-one-six-dash-nine. Also, you'll have to hand over all of your jewelry you've got there. The one on your ankle and the...uh...ahem...the one on your, er...that golden ring. They will be kept for safekeeping and returned upon release."
He gestured vaguely towards her chest, face burning. Why hadn't whoever brought her in taken them? He supposed that such decorations were probably difficult to confiscate, but they had rules for a reason! He would know, he'd read the book of regulations cover to cover at least three times. This particular rule was to prevent bribery of guards or trading with other inmates, although he knew as well as anyone that it was frequently abused. Picking up a bucket of water from the bench behind him, he unlocked the door and slid the bucket across the floor to the prisoner.
"Wash your face off," he said, "and for goodness sake cover yourself up. I'm told that you ought to make yourself presentable. You've got a visitor coming, after all. Clean up and I'll move you to a different cell."
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
======================================================
Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
======================================================
Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Jan 8, 2020 19:18:47 GMT -8
The truth of the matter is that Andrea had been quite quickly processed due to her condition. Nobody up above wanted to spend more than one moment with the flu-stricken woman, not even enough to notice any body piercings. They had tried for all of five minutes to remove the shackle, but it just didn’t budge, and by that time she had already vomited once and coughed up most of her lung. She soon found herself in a cell.
“Bread and water, how gourmet,” the sickly woman grumbles as she falls back onto the bench bed. Well it's better than the last breakfast she had of snow and an apple core, which didn’t stay down for very long. She shuts her eyes against the regulation numbers and shakes her head, causing her ears to flop ever so slightly. “Guard, guard, let m- *cough cough!* Let me stop you there. I don’t care about your regulations.” She opens her eyes and looks to the man. “And this is immediately life threatening, because if I *cough!* If I don’t get a healer… euch… *snort*... I’ll probably drown in this shit. Its not getting better…” She shivers slightly as she speaks. “You ever live in an alley way in the winter? You’d pick up your death as well.”
As the bucket comes across, she peers inside and spots her own reflection. Ew, man. Gross. She coughs up another blob of goo and spits it into the corner before getting to work on taking off her shirt and breeches entirely, revealing a matching ring on the other side. She doesn’t seem to care about his presence as she starts to scrub her face. “You’re not having them,” she says as she uses her towel as a scrubber for the grime. “I know about places like *cough!* … like this. I’ll never see them again.” She starts trying to clear out the mess in her hair, but it proves rather difficult to get anything through it. She would need a proper bath for that. “And this?” She weakly lifts her pale leg. “I’ve been trying to get this off for years. Be my guest if you can *cough cough!* If you can *cough!* manage.
Her weak movements halt several times to regain what semblance of strength she could build, but she somehow manages to scrub off the worst of the grime. It takes a good long while, and the bucket is almost black, before she’s even partly presentable, though it would take a proper bath to call her even partly clean. “You got another blanket?” she asks as she shoves her grimey foot in the water, and winces at the pain that shoots up her leg. “Or old rags I can wear?” she lifts the old shirt and tosses it to the ground. “If I’ve got some kind of *cough!* visitor… you get my point?”
Who the hell would visit her anyway? Probably a debt collector who’s lied about their visit. Good thing she kept her gold. She pulls her foot from the bucket and gives it a half hearted scrub, revealing the cuts and scabs under the dirt, then she finally goes limp, her weak frame resting against the back wall. “Thanks for the bucket though. Felt like I was… I was wearing a second skin.” There’s still a layer of dirt, but… it’ll do. “Who wants to visit me?”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 19, 2020 14:26:17 GMT -8
Were all prisoners this demanding, or had Barnaby just gotten lucky with this assignment? He'd never known a convict to be so needy, but perhaps this was normal. This was the first time he'd ever interacted with a prisoner at any length, after all. Maybe they were always begging for things. He sighed, glancing away for a brief second as she removed the filthy mess of a shirt before thinking better of it and returning his gaze to her. No good could come of letting a prisoner out of his sight, especially with the door open like this. She might attack him and escape, off to go run amok in the city. He'd never get promoted if a prisoner escaped on his watch, and so he kept a close eye on her, decency be damned.
"We have regulations for a reason," he said. "They'll be kept securely, don't worry. There's a difference between us guards and you thieves, you know. The Isran Guard only accepts the best, most trustworthy applicants. Can't let you go bribing other prisoners to make you shivs out of footstools, so hand them over. You really ought not to complain so much, you know. It's unbecoming."
He almost told her to put the shirt back on, but a second glance at the tattered scrap of clothing told him that he'd get nowhere with that. Besides, he'd been told to get her "presentable", and that filthy mess was anything but. Sighing, he stepped out to a small cabinet and pulled out a set of shapeless, greyish prisoner's clothes.
"Here," he said, tossing them at her. "You'll have to be wearing a little more than a second skin to meet your visitors. We have standards, you know. What would people say if word got out that you were seeing visitors in that state? There'd be whispers. Can't have that."
When she asked who her visitor was, he frowned. Who was her visitor, anyways? Nobody had told him anything, but it didn't seem right to admit that to the prisoner. It was hard to maintain an air of authority if he didn't even know why he was moving her, after all.
"You'll find out when they get here," he said. "Now hurry up and put that on. We've got a schedule to keep, and you've got a new cell to move to. It'll be less damp."
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
======================================================
Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
======================================================
Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Jan 19, 2020 16:57:07 GMT -8
Though the woman had briefly considered making a dash of it, she could barely muster the strength to walk further than the end of the hallway, let alone sprint. If she was in her prime, oh absolutely, she’d run and jump circles around this clown, but her flu had chopped her endurance down to a nub. She’d be tackled and probably beaten before she’d clear the door.
“Shove your regulations up your tight *cough! Cough cough!* Tight little *cough! Cough cough cough!* Euch…. Ass,” Andrea wheezes as she hunches over, trying to wrestle that glob of goo that had nestled in one lung. Finally she’s successful and spits it down onto the ground to her side. “I’m gonna… call that one Jerry…” she wheezes before she sits up again. “You want me to hand these over?” she asks, plucking at both rings and lifting them. “My only… *snort* Only possessions left on this shit-hole of a world? Not on your life.”
“And I’m no fucking thief,” she continues, finally getting the strength to stand and snatch away the itchy looking prisoner rags. At least they’re clean...ish. “Not this time. Like I told your friends, I didn’t *wah-CHOO! Snort.* I didn’t steal shit. That asshole... “ she looks at her bruised, raw, and bloodied knuckles. “That asshole I kicked the… the shit outta. He’s the thief. You fucks let him get away.” She slips the shirt on, actually kind of glad to no longer be entirely in the buff and the minuscule amount of warmth it provided. “I’m keeping them. You’ll have to pick them off my cold, dead, fabulous corpse.”
She steps into the pants and pulls them up, now fully clothed for what felt like the first time in weeks. No tears, no holes, and no dirt. It’s like wearing a silken robe, even if it is just prison rags. “Besides,” she says as she pulls the drawstrings on the pants to tighten them around her slender waist. “I don’t see any other prisoners around here. *Cough!* Last one I saw… I think I broke his nose.” She looks to her shaky hand again.
She steps forward and holds out her hands, expecting shackles for them to move her in. “Keep saying visitors,” she murmurs. “Who the fuck wants to visit?” The same question as before, but this time with more venom and a little more exhaustion in her voice. Though the idea of a visitor slips her mind when she pictures her third cell. Less damp? A definitely improvement. Maybe three is the lucky number after all.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 30, 2020 15:18:12 GMT -8
Barnaby gazed at the prisoner in disbelief, shocked at her blatant defiance of the rules. She may have been a criminal, but he'd still expected at least a modicum of respect for the rule of law. Surely she didn't think that she'd be able to get away with simply refusing to follow the regulations. He hadn't realized that people like this even existed, taking the fact that society hadn't crumbled entirely to total ruins and anarchy as evidence of widespread abidance of the law. He opened his mouth to inform her that this was not how things were going to go, but stopped. What would he do about it? Any action he could take would inevitably involve having to touch her, and he still wasn't convinced that she wasn't stricken with the plague. There was always the option of beating her senseless with his cudgel, an old favorite among the guards, but that seemed a little extreme to him. Besides, if he got her blood on him he'd surely catch whatever it was she had. Despite going against every fiber of his guardsman's conscience, he wondered if he should just let it slide. After all, the guards checking her in should have searched her. Perhaps he simply hadn't seen the contraband. Nobody could prove that he had, after all. It seemed wrong...but he couldn't do his job if he got sick. How could he protect the population from evildoers if he was bedridden with the plague? This was the better option, for the good of Isra.
"I...I'll look the other way," he said, straining with each word as he struggled with himself. "Just don't cause any more trouble. And don't bother explaining your crimes to me, criminal. Save it for the imperial adjudicator."
He vaguely recalled having to send for a physician for one of the prisoners last week, something about a broken nose. Had that been her? He hadn't paid it much heed at the time. Prisoners got into fights and were injured all the time, and the less attention he paid to them, the better. His superiors had been very clear about that, especially when he'd asked them how one unfortunate prisoner had been beaten to within an inch of his life in a brawl upon arrival when there had been no other prisoners in the cell. He'd later found out that the warden's wife had borne a child that looked suspiciously like the poor man, who was later released on lack of evidence.
"I told you already, you'll find out when they get here," he said, trying his best not to touch her skin as he locked a pair of heavy iron shackles around her wrists. "Come along, then. Let's get moving."
He used the end of his stick to prod her down the hall, leading her to a new cell. True to his word, it was considerably less damp, with only a few spots of mold on the wall and a blanket that was more fabric than holes.
"Inside," he said,unlocking her shackles. He shut the door behind her, checking twice to make sure it was locked tight. "Your visitor will be here shortly."
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
======================================================
Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
======================================================
Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Jan 30, 2020 15:59:18 GMT -8
Andrea nods in weak satisfaction at her minor victory. “Thank you. Maybe you aren’t so *cough!* bad afterall.” If he had indeed taken her rings from her, she’d definitely have coughed on him, knowing full well how badly she’d have been beaten. If she was lucky, it’d be the end and she wouldn’t have to deal with this damn illness anymore! “You won’t get any… euch… trouble from me there, chief,” she mutters. “I don’t have the mischievous intent I once had.” Okay, maybe he is indeed an asshole after all.
She grunts at the prod and glares over her shoulder as she begins shuffling down one of the Square’s many corridors, grumbling something under her breath and stopping only to cough up a lung or two. Who needs them anyway.
When she enters the new room, she can’t help but feel just a little elated. She couldn’t feel the damp on the air in here! That made for a tremendous improvement, to say the very least, and the blanket didn’t look like a slice of hole-y cheese! She immediately picks it up and wraps herself up nice and tight as soon as the shackles came off, and she falls onto the bench-like bed to curl up, trying to get warm.
“Thanks,” she finally grunts as she noses her face through the blanket. “See you at *cough!* supper time.”
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Empress Naoki
Famous
Roleplay posts: 2,238
Physical Description: =========================
Empress Naoki is a curvaceous woman of average height, indeterminate age, and catlike features. Her hair is a dark auburn, often pulled back into a long braid. Her ears are both soft and fluffy, and her tail is never less than perfectly groomed. Amber eyes glisten in the shadows cast by her hair.
Clothes and Equipment: =========================
Naoki's wardrobe is to her as a frame is to a painting. Sometimes embellished with detail to be attractive in its own right, but never the focus. Usually simple but elegant, tightly fitting and highly revealing, used only to frame the beauty within.
Additionally, Naoki is, when clothed, often adorned with a small collection of accessories. She wears an earring, a brilliant cut amethyst, in her right ear. The silver signet ring of Isra is worn on her left pinky, marking her as High Lady of Isra. Directly adjacent, she wears the golden signet ring of The Isran Empire as its Empress. On the inside of her left thigh, there is a tattoo depicting a rose entwined with tentacles.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Excessively often. Timezone: ET (-5)
Registered: Sept 12, 2015 13:02:17 GMT -8
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Post by Empress Naoki on Jan 30, 2020 19:06:08 GMT -8
Some time later...
Heavy bootsteps echo down the tunnel as Empress Naoki descends into The Square’s holding zone. Snowflakes still hang on the floof of her ears and she hasn’t bothered to take off her gloves; she isn’t staying long. Walking before her is the on-duty Captain, sweating under the heat of the eyes on the back of his head. He had hoped to follow her down the stairs, but she insisted that she lead him to the correct cell -- she isn’t familiar with the prison, after all.
He dutifully leads the way down the hallway, past several empty cells. This section of The Square sees few prisoners and is somewhat presentable as a result.
“Here they are, your Highness.” The Captain gestures to the cell where the is being held. It’s the only occupied cell in the block, so he’s fairly confident it’s the correct prisoner.
The Empress waves him out of the way and approaches the bars. One hand in the other behind her back, she looks down on the prisoner. Her eyes flick between their face, ears, tail, then fixate on the anklet and linger there for a moment. The Empress says nothing, and frowns.
“Bring the anklet up to the bars,” she says, gesturing. “Let me see it.”
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
======================================================
Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
======================================================
Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Jan 30, 2020 19:33:31 GMT -8
The prisoner had seemed to be in a light sleep, broken only by the wet coughs of her illness which interrupt the fever dreams that plagued her. The voices cause her to snort, cough, and slowly open her bleary eyes, which scan the room in a blurred haze. Who said that? Who’s there?
Her faculties start to come back to her as she sits up, pulling the blanket around her, which results in another coughing fit and a blob of goo spat into the corner. “Good evening to you too,” she grunts as she takes as deep a breath as she can. She blinks a few times before looking Naoki over, then frowns in confusion when she sees the tail and ears. “Huh,” she mumbles before narrowing her eyes. “If I’m not wrong… you’re the empress.” Well done, Andrea, you sick fool. She had heard that the empress of this country is like her but shorter and with bigger tits, but she usually brushed it off. The description isn’t wrong, however. “I expected a bigger crown.”
She grunts as she pulls herself off of the bench and hisses when she puts her dirty feet on the ground. “My kingdom for a carpet,” she manages to say before she hobbles towards the bars. “‘Scuse the smell. No baths in the street.”
As ordered, she lifts the pant leg of her ragged prison garb and puts the golden anklet against the bars. “Like I told your guards,” she begins. “It doesn’t come off. Not my choice, been trying for years. Could make a fortune selling it.” She gives a weak chuckle before covering her mouth to cough.
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Empress Naoki
Famous
Roleplay posts: 2,238
Physical Description: =========================
Empress Naoki is a curvaceous woman of average height, indeterminate age, and catlike features. Her hair is a dark auburn, often pulled back into a long braid. Her ears are both soft and fluffy, and her tail is never less than perfectly groomed. Amber eyes glisten in the shadows cast by her hair.
Clothes and Equipment: =========================
Naoki's wardrobe is to her as a frame is to a painting. Sometimes embellished with detail to be attractive in its own right, but never the focus. Usually simple but elegant, tightly fitting and highly revealing, used only to frame the beauty within.
Additionally, Naoki is, when clothed, often adorned with a small collection of accessories. She wears an earring, a brilliant cut amethyst, in her right ear. The silver signet ring of Isra is worn on her left pinky, marking her as High Lady of Isra. Directly adjacent, she wears the golden signet ring of The Isran Empire as its Empress. On the inside of her left thigh, there is a tattoo depicting a rose entwined with tentacles.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Excessively often. Timezone: ET (-5)
Registered: Sept 12, 2015 13:02:17 GMT -8
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Post by Empress Naoki on Jan 30, 2020 20:57:01 GMT -8
Empress Naoki considers making a quip about the gold coin, but there is a matter of greater import at hand. Bending at the knees, she looks closely at the anklet, inspecting it. Reaching out with one gloved hand, she gingerly tests its thickness between two fingers and rotates it around. Craning her neck ever so slightly, she sees printed on the inside that which she did not wish to see.
Withdrawing her hand, The Empress slowly stands, looking for the first time at the person wearing the anklet. She isn’t entirely sure how she feels about this development, and so maintains a fiercely neutral expression.
“How much do you remember?” she asks, with no further context than that.
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
======================================================
Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
======================================================
Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Feb 3, 2020 23:01:59 GMT -8
The prisoner leans heavily agains the bars as the empress pokes and prods at her ankle, not quite enjoying the sensation of someone having a fascination about it, but being a little too weak to care at this point. She lets out a few wet coughs into the blanket .and sniffles up a little drop of goo that had slipped from her nose.
She has her eyes closed when Naoki finally speaks, then opens them one after the other. “Remember?” she asks before pulling away from the bars. Empress or not, this chick better let her take a seat if she wants her to think. She slumps onto the bench and holds her head in her hands for a brief moment.
“I remember your guys cough!... guys arresting me thinking I beat a guy up for no reason,” she begins. “That guy stole the only coins I had left, he deserved it, but no… lets arrest the homeless chick.” She rests her head against the cold wall, feeling some relief from the cool stone. “I remember when I first got sick during the first snows. Been on the street a month. Before that? A string of bad luck. Lost my job and bed. All my cash. Never gamble drunk. Or high. Know what? Cough Don’t gamble.” she says, as if she’s in any position to give any sort of advice. “Lady luck can suck my titty. She ain’t a lady, she’s a back stabbing harlot.”
“I remember a lotta things,” she continues. “Wondering the roads in the countryside, looking for a nice field to kick back in. Working in Inns and taverns. Singing, dancing, entertainin’. Cough! Finding passage on any cart that would take me anywhere and everywhere.” She closes her eyes as the fog in her memory clears. “I remember skirting Vessia, they didn’t like my ears much. Running from angry horned dudes up north after a few too many meads… didn’t appreciate my cough! cow jokes, with their helmets and such.” Taingaard no doubt. “Drinking with the sailors and… cough! Cough cough! cutthroats of Libertalia for a year or two. Going shot for shot with the cough! queen bitch. O’Malley. cough! Damn pirate beat me. Woke up in her b- cough! Bed though. Still a w-win.”
She curls up into a little ball. “Island hopping. Fence hopping. Bed hopping,” she continues. “And about a million cough... Million things in between, with a million people in a million places.” Her eyes open and she looks to Naoki with a slight scowl. She had been so interested in the curse that is her anklet, and considering the ears and tail Andrea has a feeling she knows what she wants. “Or do you mean what I can remember from before all that?” she asks. “Before I got a name, or became an actual person? All the cough! ...shit I tried for years to forget?” She reaches down and lifts the right pant leg of her prisoner rags to reveal burn scars, lessened by the hands of amateur healers and time, but still unmistakable. “I reckon we both know what I remember,” she says in a low, raspy voice, as if she doesn’t really want anyone to hear. “If it's all the same to you? I would rather it stayed buried and forgotten.”
The woman slumps onto her side and pulls herself into a little ball, feeling colder all of a sudden. Things were starting to bubble to the surface that she thought she had forgotten. Damn it, of all the prisons she had to be thrown into, this one had to have somebody like her. “You gonna let me see a healer?” she finally asks, desperate to stop coughing up stuff that she isn’t entirely certain isn’t bits of lung.
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Empress Naoki
Famous
Roleplay posts: 2,238
Physical Description: =========================
Empress Naoki is a curvaceous woman of average height, indeterminate age, and catlike features. Her hair is a dark auburn, often pulled back into a long braid. Her ears are both soft and fluffy, and her tail is never less than perfectly groomed. Amber eyes glisten in the shadows cast by her hair.
Clothes and Equipment: =========================
Naoki's wardrobe is to her as a frame is to a painting. Sometimes embellished with detail to be attractive in its own right, but never the focus. Usually simple but elegant, tightly fitting and highly revealing, used only to frame the beauty within.
Additionally, Naoki is, when clothed, often adorned with a small collection of accessories. She wears an earring, a brilliant cut amethyst, in her right ear. The silver signet ring of Isra is worn on her left pinky, marking her as High Lady of Isra. Directly adjacent, she wears the golden signet ring of The Isran Empire as its Empress. On the inside of her left thigh, there is a tattoo depicting a rose entwined with tentacles.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Excessively often. Timezone: ET (-5)
Registered: Sept 12, 2015 13:02:17 GMT -8
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Post by Empress Naoki on Feb 4, 2020 0:11:38 GMT -8
As she listens to the prisoner’s tale, The Empress is entirely still, down to the tip of her tail. Much of what the prisoner says, while interesting, is irrelevant. Her question is essentially a binary one, to confirm what seems more and more likely with each passing second. At the sight of the scars, one of Naoki’s feet slides backward, as if to run, but she catches it and maintains composure. After the prisoner is finished, The Empress is silent for a long moment, her face unreadable.
Naoki then abruptly turns her attention to the pouch on her hip, in which she begins to rummage. “Warden! Open this door! Release my sister.”
The warden does a double take but rushes to comply. “...Y-yes, your Highness.”
As the warden is fumbling with his keyring, Naoki finds what she’s looking for and extends her gloved hand through the bars to offer it to Andrea. It is a small gemstone, smaller than one’s smallest fingernail, of a muddy reddish-pink sort of color. Amethyst, or perhaps garnet, polished into a marble.
“It is a curative. Swallow it whole and sit back down.”
Crafted long ago by Naoki’s best artificer, the magic imbued in the gemstone is far more powerful than its size might imply. Once inside an individual -- by whatever means, the curative magics trigger violently, repairing tissue, expunging infection, eradicating disease, and potentially even regrowing lost digits. They were intended for use in situations where one may have sustained an otherwise-fatal blow, and the healing magic is entirely indiscriminate. Naoki was told that it is not necessarily an altogether pleasant experience to be healed in such a manner, but it doesn’t take long and is obviously preferable to the alternative. Fortunately, in the years since, Naoki has never had cause to use one, so she doesn’t know what it might be like. Part of the reason she offers it to Andrea now is simply to see it work, and the other part is that she isn’t inclined to NPC call for a healer.
Because it seems like there’s an awful lot wrong here. Not only with Andrea herself, not only with her health, but the ramifications of this new development are many and complex. This is a time of much stress for Naoki, and finding out that one of her ‘sisters’ survived is not helping matters. Frankly, Naoki would just like to go home and curl up with something warm for a nap, but it doesn’t seem as though that’s in the cards for today. At least she can fix these health problems Andrea has -- at least she can do that.
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Andrea Lanne
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Physical Description: ======================================================
Andrea is a tall, athletic woman, standing at 180cm (6 foot). Her skin is a light olive colour, interrupted by light brown freckles that cross from one cheek to the other over her nose, and across her shoulders and chest like groups of stars on a clear sky.
She has a traditionally pretty face, with high, but soft cheek bones, emerald green eyes that shine like a field in the morning dew, full lips that are usually pulled into a mischievous grin, that often shows off two elongated canine teeth, and a pair of very faint stripes across both cheeks, usually dismissed as an odd birthmark or an abnormality in her skin pigment. Atop her head are a pair of cat-like ears instead of those of a humanoid, that poke through her dark, wavy hair that falls just past her jaw line.
Her body is thin and toned, athletic in nature, owing to her active lifestyle, and most of all, attractive. Her body seems accustomed to flexibility, allowing her to perform complex movements with grace, and durable enough for long nights of drinking, dancing, and entertainment. Her toned arms allow her to hang from ledges, perform gymnastics, and other daring stunts, while her long legs seem built for dancing and running all through the night. Her chest remains on the slightly smaller side, but that doesn’t stop her from showing them off when she’s having a good time.
Along her right leg, however, is evidence of burn scars that run from her ankle up to her thigh. Though slightly faded with time and basic treatment, both medicinal and magical, they are still very present to the naked eye.
Finally, she has a tail to match the ears sprouting from the top of her head, black furred and connected at her lower back, just before her toned rump. It's usually as unkempt as her wavy hair, but as dextrous as her skilled hands. Asking her to lift it, however, is one of the primary causes of black eyes all across the country side.
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Clothes and Equipment:
Currently, after a string of bad luck, bad decisions, and bad people, Andrea has been left with every little, other than the tattered clothes on her back and the golden, branded anklet, or more accurately ornate shackle, around her left ankle, covered in old chips and scratches from several attempts to remove it, but freshly polished to a shine. There’s a word inscribed on it, one very few people would recognise.
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Registered: Jan 3, 2020 21:47:43 GMT -8
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Post by Andrea Lanne on Feb 4, 2020 0:29:00 GMT -8
Andrea cracks her eyes open again and blinks as Naoki essentially yells at the very large, yet very small warden. She commanded such fear? Andrea figured it would be more respect. Then again, only cowards seemed to show fear instead of respect when it came to powerful figures. Perhaps the warden is more mouse than man after all.
Sister, though? Perhaps that had been something she had tried very hard to forget. Perhaps it’s just the term for who she is to Naoki. Andrea didn’t care, and didn’t even try to make sense of it, because if the empress says you’re her sister, then you’re her goddamn sister, if only to get your freedom. They could iron out the details later.
Did that imply family? Did Andrea have, or even need family? Hm.
Still, when ordered, she sits up and stumbles to the bars once again and takes the gem. She looks it over, then to Naoki with a sleepy, but curious look in her eye. If Naoki had wanted to poison her, why would she be releasing her? That didn’t make sense. Perhaps it really is a curative. It would be a win-win anyway, either she’d be cured, or she’d die, and at this stage of her sickness she didn’t care which one.
She sits down and looks it over one more time, then looks up to Naoki. “See you on the other side… sis.” With that, she swallows the little gem.
It only takes a few seconds before she could feel something. There’s a warm sensation in her belly, one she hadn’t felt in months that seemed to kill the nauseating feeling, but then it grew warmer and seemed to spread through her body. She began to shake, from her hands at first, then it quickly travels up her arms and only seems to stop when she crosses her arms in front of her. Her stomach is beginning to burn from the heat, and she curls over in an effort to stop it, but it doesn’t seem to help at all, and the burning had begun to spread up through her torso and up into her throat.
The woman collapses onto the ground, shuddering and almost convulsing as the magic scrubs and scrapes away every little bit of sickness from her body, killing any hint of the virus from her blood stream, blood vessel by blood vessel in an exceptionally painful manner. She gurgles and coughs as the burning spreads through her lungs, expunging the infestation from every nook and cranny and driving it from her lungs. She rolls twice as her legs jerk, until she finds herself on her knees, shaking and shuddering, looking down at the ground.
With several tremendous coughs, she expels the infection from her lungs in a very unpleasant display of phlegm, dried blood, and who knows what else, which is soon followed by her helplessly grabbing a bucket that had been placed for a completely different purpose. She didn’t care, as not a second after she had gotten it under her did she expel everything from her stomach, pushed up and out by the magic of the gemstone. She breathes heavily as the heat of the gemstone begins to dissipate, clearing and scrubbing the last of the infection.
For once, her nose, throat, and mind seemed so much clearer, but at what cost? The room now stank and she desperately needed a good wash and possibly new clothes, as it seemed the infection hadn’t purged everything from one end. “I’m… gonna need a new set of rags…” she says as she looks up, then goes wide eyed before coughing once more, this time coughing up the gem which had lost any sort of glow, fully used up.
She stands and looks at her hands which were no longer bloodied, now just dirty. “Am I alive?” she asks, her voice seems much clearer now. “I… feel alive. And filthy… Ew…”
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Empress Naoki
Famous
Roleplay posts: 2,238
Physical Description: =========================
Empress Naoki is a curvaceous woman of average height, indeterminate age, and catlike features. Her hair is a dark auburn, often pulled back into a long braid. Her ears are both soft and fluffy, and her tail is never less than perfectly groomed. Amber eyes glisten in the shadows cast by her hair.
Clothes and Equipment: =========================
Naoki's wardrobe is to her as a frame is to a painting. Sometimes embellished with detail to be attractive in its own right, but never the focus. Usually simple but elegant, tightly fitting and highly revealing, used only to frame the beauty within.
Additionally, Naoki is, when clothed, often adorned with a small collection of accessories. She wears an earring, a brilliant cut amethyst, in her right ear. The silver signet ring of Isra is worn on her left pinky, marking her as High Lady of Isra. Directly adjacent, she wears the golden signet ring of The Isran Empire as its Empress. On the inside of her left thigh, there is a tattoo depicting a rose entwined with tentacles.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Excessively often. Timezone: ET (-5)
Registered: Sept 12, 2015 13:02:17 GMT -8
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Post by Empress Naoki on Feb 9, 2020 19:32:39 GMT -8
Naoki waits for the noises to stop before peeking her head back around the corner. The smell is telling, but curiosity compels her to look.
...
She isn’t glad that she did. Seeing the result of what transpired in the cell, Naoki ducks back around the wall with a hand covering her mouth.
The warden, for his part, stands transfixed in terror. Despite the circumstances, he cannot help but utter a high-order explosive of disgust. The Empress will not begrudge his conduct, as he took the words from her mouth.
“I will see you... Later,” Naoki calls around the corner. “At the citadel! … Once you’re clean. We will speak then.”
A significant look at the warden implies that he is to be responsible for this, but in actuality, The Empress will send over some of her own people. One of them will be an Enclave magi who knows a cleansing cantrip (ideally a strong one). Afterward, they will have orders to transport her to The Citadel to meet with The Empress. There isn’t necessarily any “catching up” to do per se, but the discussion that’s to be had that can wait until then.
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