The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 8, 2018 8:33:36 GMT -8
Visitors must report to and post in Neamh Falls before entering and posting here.
The Hookies are the suburbs that surround the castle in central Thíos*. Composed of wood, metal and anything else available, it’s an unstable looking structure that seems to have its own language, groaning and sighing as people move throughout. Some parts of The Hookies are six stories high, with bridges and ropes tying it all together. Underground streams and pools slither through these suburbs, turning some roads into canals. The lower level comprises of shops and bars mixed with stables and farms, whilst the upper levels are resident housing. Here, the higher you live, the further you are from the stench. And therefore the wealthier you are.
Crime is rife in The Hookies, with illegal dealings happening all over, and brothels everywhere you look. Most people who live here work in the mines, doing – quite literally – the dirty work of the city. People here tend to be very superstitious, and as the situation worsens, radicals begin to rise.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 11, 2018 14:00:50 GMT -8
The spirit of flame passed through the gate with only small difficulty. Not since his last trip to Gauldin could he recall having to fill out quite so much paperwork to enter a place. Yet Allahab could understand somewhat why they would do so. They were hidden away here and fearful of outsiders that may disrupt their way of life so putting blocks and challenges in place to stop people from entering was not an uncommon tactic for such people.
However, it meant that he rather stuck out like a sore thumb with his swarthy complexion and bright colorful desert garb. As most underground dwellers were the people of Thios seemed to be quite pale by comparison and few people were inclined to wear as much frill and finery as the ifrit. He did, briefly, consider changing his garb to better match the local flavor but ultimately did not. Partly because it would make him easier to find whenever, whoever, was supposed to find him came looking and partly because he could do nothing for the color of his skin without more effort than he was willing to expend for this task.
Thus he walked as an outsider, as obvious as a sore thumb, into the heart of Thios. His kind are attracted to passion and nowhere did passion burn so brightly than in the slums of a city. Where people lived, died, laughed, loved, and struggled as a community. While the nobility and rich had such passions they were fewer in number and less prone to obvious expressions of it, something that was to their detriment in his opinion. Although perhaps he'd have been safer sticking to the well to do parts of the city, as an outsider he had to imagine that the question was not if he would be accosted but when. Still, he muses with a wolfish grin, that may provide some entertainment while he waits.
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The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 19, 2018 9:02:29 GMT -8
The people of Thios were drawn to the obvious stranger, as they would’ve been to an open fire. Outsiders were always a spectacle, and they had definitely decreased in rarity over the past few weeks. The Thians were growing brave. Especially in the Hookies, where their broad accents and boisterous personalities were flung about in all their questionable charm.
As the Ifrit wound through the rickety structures and causeways of the suburbs, all eyes were on him. Some simply with mild interest, some with narrowed suspicion, some younger ones with pure awe - and others with disgust.
The lower levels of the Hookies were a ramshackle of business and pleasure. Wooden carts were pulled up on the side of highstreets, boasting everything from foodstuffs to fine fabrics. Taverns that looked little more than sheds were built into the base of almost every teetering structure. Rogued women and men hung from their windows, in flowing fabrics that left little to the imagination. Every now and again a whinny would break through the bustle, as the pit pony stables also dotted these streets. The children played above, sprinting across the bridges that filled the ‘sky’line, crossing with clothes lines and other contraptions.
As the visitor’s journey continued, two sets of footsteps joined him. They followed him wherever he went. One pair were heavy and booted, the other was light and bare.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 19, 2018 15:33:26 GMT -8
The attention was not unexpected though Allahab was pleasantly surprised to find a surplus of friendly faces in the crowd. While there were the expected looks of suspicion and disgust, they were balanced out nicely by the more mild or positive emotions. Perhaps Thios had done a better job at avoiding xenophobia than most secluded cities he'd visited. If that was the case, he would applaud them he'd often found that the only thing humans couldn't fight effectively was their own nature.
Speaking of flawed human nature.
As predicted it wasn't long before he detected is expected tail. Familiar footsteps following him wherever he went. Well, it was time to get a gauge of the city in another way. One could tell a lot based on what caliber of criminal you were accosted by, the more dangerous they were typically the more lawless the city. Selecting an alleyway at random the ifrit cuts into it goes about half way down and then turns, folding his arms. One way in and little cover to hide would leave his pursuers exposed.
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The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 19, 2018 17:14:35 GMT -8
Around the corner of the alleyway pops a small head full of dirty, messy hair. Two blue orbs peer out from beneath the curls. They were large, deeply set into the face of a boy. Unkempt but quite charming. He couldn’t have been more than eleven. But the glint in his eyes matched those of the knives that adorned his belt. His feet were bare and surprisingly clean, considering he’d been traipsing after the ifrit for quite some time.
The other pair of footsteps had apparently fallen silent. The moment was quiet, the bridges creaked in the distance, and the canals murmured, carrying rumours across the city.
“What you sellin’ lady?” the boy asked in a low voice as he began to approach slowly, trying to hide his limp. “I aint’un seen such nice clothes for a while. Must be lotsa pockets.”
He thought himself to be threatening, but he didn’t know that he was the bait of an unlikely double act. Still, his pouch of silver at the end of the week was enough to make him ignore any doubts he had.
“Anythin’ fer sharpening knives?”
Up above, the rope bridges seemed to sway ominously.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 20, 2018 14:48:10 GMT -8
The ifrit cocks his head and looking down. Typically speaking if he'd turned himself into a woman, he'd know about it. A major physical change like that would involve consuming his current physical shell entirely and constructing a new one took quite a lot of time and effort. Still, stranger things had happened than a spontaneous change of gender so he checked. No, he was still in the body of a large, swarthy, and muscular man. Which made him wonder if being called lady was meant to be an insult? Or perhaps it was meant to be intimidating? If so the boy had clearly not looked at himself in a mirror lately.
"A whetstone."
Is the ifrit's mild reply as he turns and begins to walk away from the boy. He'd been hoping for something more... sporting than a child with delusions of grandeur. What had happened to the other set of footprints? Absently he lets the palm of his left hand fall onto the pommel of his scimitar. There was, he suspected, something afoot so what better way to cause things to progress than to ignore them? Force a persons hand by doing the unexpected.
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The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 20, 2018 15:24:33 GMT -8
The boy didn’t pursue as the ifrit continued on his way.
Up above, the bridges began to sing a strange song. Of someone - or something - creeping their way across. Surprisingly quiet and barely discernible from the more distant groans of its kind.
“I ain’t seeing thats as an answer.”
The voice apparently came from nowhere. It was gritty, seeming to get caught on a cog with each syllable.
The boy stood, hands in front of him, watching his favourite part of the story unfold.
A change in the air came as something moved quickly. The atmosphere itself was being sliced in two as a knife began rushing toward the ground, set on meeting its mark which was directly between Allahab’s feet, planning to barely skim his nose.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 20, 2018 15:34:26 GMT -8
A knife whisps by Allahab's face and buries itself in the ground between his feet. An impressive feat of accuracy though as far as intimidation went, well, an arrow would have been more concerning. A thrown knife could hurt but in the ifrit's experience, you had to be quite strong or quite lucky to kill someone with one. Although, on reflection, anyone who could skim his nose and land a knife between his feet may, in fact, be good enough to hit him in his eye which would do the job.
"The boy asked if I had anything for sharpening knives." Allahab says dryly. "A whetstone would do just that. I think that is a perfectly acceptable answer."
Bending down the irfit pulls the knife from the ground and absently flicks it into the air, catching it by the tip. He felt a pang of regret for not being able to act more frightened. Joining in on the theatrics by playing the suddenly worried traveler would have been great fun. However, he was about to embark on a dangerous journey and if this was some kind of test for his worthiness he instead had to act the part of the confident and competent warrior.
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Vidkun Wewelsberg
Established
In Treue Ritterschaft
Roleplay posts: 48
Physical Description: No memorable features in particular. Most who see him recall him as 'suave,' but beyond that descriptions have ranged from dark-blond hair to jet black, from brown to blue to amber eyes, from a clean shaven face to one with thick-set stubble. The only things they can recall about him it the man in question being quite tall and athletic, with appearance that is undoubtedly 'dashing.'
Clothes and Equipment: Whatever's needed.
Registered: Apr 26, 2017 17:29:36 GMT -8
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsberg on Sept 20, 2018 17:13:03 GMT -8
With all his paperwork filled Vidkun walked along the Hookies. He walked along with arms behind his back in a professional manner, one foot placed after another making no sound but the slightest clink of his spurs. As the man walked about he was surveying the locale. It wasn't quite clear, for he made a light-hearted attempt to conceal this. But, a professional would notice his eyes momentarily darting here and there, lingering for a while on objects of interest or he ears turning just every so slightly to over-hear some noise better. After a while his right hand reached into a pocket before emerging as a fist. He held it at breast height but slightly ahead of his torso, his left arm remaining behind his back.
Perhaps unwisely, or perhaps quite wisely indeed, he did not exactly follow the advice of staying out of the heavier dark and more isolated parts. In the dark things that in an understatement be labeled 'creepy crawlies' lurked, and as a Hunter of Witches, as a Hammer of Daemons, as servant of Him and mankind His people, these things were what interested him. Perhaps some cult would spring up on him, perhaps a vile vampire or foul incubus - he looked forward to it.
To what observers were present it might seem odd how well adjusted to the light the man was. He was human but walked proudly through the dark as a dominant tom-cat would patrol his territory. After a while he got tired of simply walking and waiting, and so quietly he sang.
Dies Irae......
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The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 22, 2018 11:17:37 GMT -8
“Maybe we should slice off yer ears, you don’t be usin’ em” the hidden voice continued to leer at Allahab. It followed him, joined by the odd rustle of cloth or strain of wood. “We are wanting to know what you’re sellin’. They might be givin’ you a permit, but that don’t mean nothing here. Unless you sellin’ yourself, then we ain’t got much taste for foreigners here.”
The misfits were clearly misunderstanding Allahab’s intent. But that didn’t matter so much. They tended to look for any excuse to cause trouble.
Speaking of, a few twists and turns away, the sound of soft singing floated through the streets. Whatever interruption Vidkun had been expecting, this was probably far from it. There was a small clatter as even smaller hands rummaged for a rock in the dirt nearby. The chosen one was then flung towards the singing stranger. Not with much force, as the arms from which it came were quite feeble.
A dirty, tiny face peered from a poorly disguised doorway. The hair that framed it was once blonde, though had given way to dust. She wore rags and her feet were also bare.
“Hey Mister” the little girl called, her voice laden with a heavy lisp. “Do you know any other ones? That one is a bit shit and I don’t know what you’re even sayin’!”
This could be considered one of the warmer welcomes of The Hookies.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 22, 2018 16:05:53 GMT -8
Allahab felt, mildly, like they were having two very disparate conversations but he did have a theory. They had assumed that since he had a permit to enter he was a merchant of some kind. Because of this, they were trying to ascertain his wares before they robbed him. At least, he thought that was what was going he wasn't percisely sure. It was equally possible that there was some cultural aspect to this encounter he was missing.
"I am here to sell my sword. But I doubt you could afford that."
The fact that they'd not noticed, or decided not to care, of how unconcerned he was by all of this was telling. Confidence or arrogance was in abundance here, either way, he was quite certain it was misplaced. While he was aware that there was a certain level of arrogance intrinsic in believing you could defeat an opponent prior to the fights beginning, being nearly impossible to kill by most normally considered means tended to breed it.
"If you are looking to fight, shit or get off the pot. Otherwise, I am leaving."
The ifrit says with a rich laugh that is as smooth and rich as chocolate. He once again walks towards the other end of the alley from which he entered, towards the street where it would be hard for them to attack without drawing more attention.
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Vidkun Wewelsberg
Established
In Treue Ritterschaft
Roleplay posts: 48
Physical Description: No memorable features in particular. Most who see him recall him as 'suave,' but beyond that descriptions have ranged from dark-blond hair to jet black, from brown to blue to amber eyes, from a clean shaven face to one with thick-set stubble. The only things they can recall about him it the man in question being quite tall and athletic, with appearance that is undoubtedly 'dashing.'
Clothes and Equipment: Whatever's needed.
Registered: Apr 26, 2017 17:29:36 GMT -8
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsberg on Sept 22, 2018 17:38:48 GMT -8
Vidkun neatly side-stepped the projectile, a deeply hurt and offended look upon his face, one trained to make regret and remorse in the viewer. The expression he had about his face did not change, though his left eyebrow arose. "You know girl, you're awfully rude for someone who won't be able to close the door before I get to you...." After the implicit threat he gave a broad laugh, leaving it to the imagination whether the laugh was over his threat being a joke or him finding humour in potential killing.
With that he cautiously moved over, his right hand moving behind his back. Ever so silently he moved the hand's fingers and unseen a blade flicked out of the handle of the knife he was holding. A vile thing, it was a stiletto with just a light amount of serration and a gut hook - not to speak of the poisons upon it - to make it both very painful, and very deadly. But though Vidkun had no intent of doing something so evil as killing a child, he was interested in the properties of it as a weapon made of hagbane silver. An odd metal, all sorts of things were crafted of it to slay creatures of the dark like vampires and werewolves; however it was just as good at dampening magics about itself when drawn and if the tales he heard of odd disappearances, radicalization and other esoteric tragedies were true then he could take no risks.
"How about this one?" he asked, before straightening out and putting on a smile.
The sound of song drifted from my neighbors And set my feet a-tapping oh! Ana's mother had her eye on her daughter but, Ana she managed to fool her, you know. 'Cos who's going to listen to mother saying no, When we're all busy dancing to and fro!
Ana was smiling, the fiddle's chords won us over, As people crowded round to wish her luck. Everyone was hot but it didn't seem to bother, The handsome young man, the dashing buck. Cos who's going to mind a drop of sweat When he's all busy dancing to and fro!
The words were song cheerfully, starting quiet at a comforting piano until at the fourth line a sudden sforzando brought the piece to mezzoforte. As Vidkun proceeded in his song he made waves and occasionally slapped a knee with his free hand, but perhaps more impressive was his legs. The metal caps on his boots clinked upon each other and the ground in an almost melodic fashion as parts thicker or thinner met. He moved side to side, kicking off of a wall before jumping and kicking his spurs together twice in the air before he landed and continued. On he twisted and danced, until with finality he did a pirouette to land with one leg and his free arm outstretched, a wide smile upon his lips.
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The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 23, 2018 14:18:39 GMT -8
“You ‘erd him!” the boy called shrilly from the shadows.
Suddenly there was a body to put to that invisible voice. It barrelled towards the ground quite inelegantly, after stepping out from its hiding place and off the ledge into the alleyway. The thud with which it landed was impressive. These were the booted footsteps. Big, black leather boots with gunmetal accents. They planted a few feet behind the ifrit. This man was both large and small at the same time. He couldn’t have been more than 5ft5, but the sheer size of his own muscles gave him quite the presence.
As a barrel himself, he was very used to simply rolling his opponents over and pummelling them if a nifty knife shot didn’t work. But, that seemed unfair. He was a man of honour after all. So, instead of a knife in the back, what was coming was a hurling, very heavy mass of burly man. He sped toward his opponent with a grunt as soon as he landed, he couldn’t help but notice that he was quite a bit bigger than he remembered. Still, he would bring him down. Through sheer force. Or determination. Or a miracle.
A walk away, the little girl was watching her show with her chin in her hand. As Vidkun hopped and bopped he wouldn’t have been able to tell what she was thinking. She just stared, and blinked, and chewed on her already bloody lip. She hadn’t felt threatened by him when he had approached. Being brought up here really gave you a nose for picking out the bad ones.
With his big finish - the pirouette – the girl broke out into gleeful laughter and clapped her hands together in applause. It took her a little while to calm down after. There was a pink flush to her cheeks and a brighter shine to her eyes. But then, she was sad.
“I’m sorry sir I don’t got no penny to give you” she said, her voice brimming with sorrow.
For, she thought this man was a beggar of some sorts. He was dressed up in such a nice costume, on his way to perform in the city.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 23, 2018 15:01:33 GMT -8
The thud of the new combatant hitting the ground gets Allahab to look behind him. Ah, so he'd been above on one of the bridges it also becomes apparent that this was the pair of boots from earlier. So he was working with the child, what then was the normal con? Well, it mattered little what the normal modus operandi was for the two.
Turning back Allahab continues on his way going at the same unhurried pace but his ears are open. As the stocky man approaches for his tackle the ifrit waits until the man is too close to change course. Then he simply drops into a crouch lowering his center of gravity as far as he can. Baring a display of exceptional resources the stocky man should go from tackling the ifrit, to running his hips smack into the ifrit. This would more than likely send him sprawling ass over tea kettle across Allahab's back. In a worst case scenario, it would just mean that the ifrit would be a lot harder to bowl over.
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Vidkun Wewelsberg
Established
In Treue Ritterschaft
Roleplay posts: 48
Physical Description: No memorable features in particular. Most who see him recall him as 'suave,' but beyond that descriptions have ranged from dark-blond hair to jet black, from brown to blue to amber eyes, from a clean shaven face to one with thick-set stubble. The only things they can recall about him it the man in question being quite tall and athletic, with appearance that is undoubtedly 'dashing.'
Clothes and Equipment: Whatever's needed.
Registered: Apr 26, 2017 17:29:36 GMT -8
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsberg on Sept 23, 2018 15:53:48 GMT -8
In truth Vidkun was just a little annoyed the girl didn't feel any sort of threat or fear of him initially. In parts of the world the sight of him would command authority and fear, or at least respect. Still, down here there probably weren't many Witch Hunters nor anything analogous. Lucky(?) him, he didn't have to swallow his pride for it was replaced by pity quite promptly.
He walked over to the girl and squatted, and amiable and comforting smile about him, the same trained one he had given earlier in the city. "Worry not!" He said, eyes bright. "I don't want money, the only reward I need is your bright smile. But you know...." Vidkun trailed off, putting a thoughtful finger on his lips as though there was a matter of great secrecy and urgency that he was concealing, and he was about to put great trust and importance into her. "There is another thing you could do for me. Do you know anything of the local happenings?" he did not refer explicitly to the disappearances and such he had heard of, for it was possible the girl was unaware of these things as a simple child, and Father Above knew that she didn't need more worries in life. Regardless, with a simple movement a thick golden coin materialized in his right hand having quite quickly replaced the previously concealed knife.
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The City of Thíos
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Registered: Sept 7, 2018 15:33:24 GMT -8
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Post by The City of Thíos on Sept 23, 2018 16:46:29 GMT -8
The barrel of a man reacted slowly to the Ifrit’s next move and bowled over him in a jumble of limbs. He did, however, gather himself enough to roll onto his feet. And as he prepared to swing around and face Allahab, on the same level as him, he reached across his body to procure a knife. He used the arm that clasped it as his driving force, as it led his way around in a show of surprising speed, aiming for a slice of his face. The man bared his teeth, which he did for both aggression and concentration.
Under the doorway a few streets away, the little girl brought her knees to her chest as Vidkun approached. She grew slightly suspicious again, though not a shred of fear laced that feeling. The girl did not understand a lot of the words that the man spoke to her, but she gathered the general idea of what he was trying to ask. She wiped her nose on the back of her dirty hand before speaking.
“Um, I ain’t sure what you mean mister. I don’t think there’s much to do ‘ere. The city is that way” – she pointed a skinny arm to the obviously towering castle rising from the darkness to the north – “they got lots of nice things up there. You can sing to them they all have lots o’ money. I only been a few times but it smells like flowers. I thinks.”
The gardens within the castle were in fact the only time she had ever smelt flowers.
“Here. I dunno. We got taverns and ponies. The ponies are really cute but ma says I shouldn’t pet them because they got diseased and they gonna die anyway. We got fights down by the big canal. And we got girls. They all in there” she pointed into the building that she was sat in the entrance to. Her tone was so matter-of-fact it could be unsettling. She was so young, yet so accepting of what she was a part of.
“I like the ponies” she said. Her final suggestion.
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Allahab Alddayim
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: Good Question
Physical Description: Allahab's most common appearance is that of a tall lean man with darkly coloured skin and darker eyes. His hair is long and black, his face covered in dark scruff. His jawline is angular his nose aquiline and his cheekbones high. There is a distinct sense of power about him and of imminent danger, partially because of the distinct smell of smoke that follows him wherever he goes. Of course, as an Ifrit he is capable of changing his appearance and his true form is that of a vaguely humanoid pillar of smoke and flame.
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Clothes and Equipment: He tends to wear desert garb of fine make, richly dyed. He tends to prefer vests and loose pants and he carries a scimitar and a handheld crossbow.
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Registered: Aug 22, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
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Post by Allahab Alddayim on Sept 23, 2018 16:57:35 GMT -8
Feeling the burly man go over his back Allahab straightens as he watches the man bounce to the ground. Reaching across his body he observes as the man rolls to his feet. The ifrit draws his scimitar from its sheath as the man whirls to face him. The sword comes up as the man draws his blade and with a casual move, Allahab slaps the flat of the blade against the man's forearm as he tries to slice his face. Stepping back in the same motion as the swing he uses his superior reach, due to greater height and a longer weapon, to flick the sword back up toward the muggers face.
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Vidkun Wewelsberg
Established
In Treue Ritterschaft
Roleplay posts: 48
Physical Description: No memorable features in particular. Most who see him recall him as 'suave,' but beyond that descriptions have ranged from dark-blond hair to jet black, from brown to blue to amber eyes, from a clean shaven face to one with thick-set stubble. The only things they can recall about him it the man in question being quite tall and athletic, with appearance that is undoubtedly 'dashing.'
Clothes and Equipment: Whatever's needed.
Registered: Apr 26, 2017 17:29:36 GMT -8
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsberg on Sept 23, 2018 17:56:15 GMT -8
To be quite frank the girl was not very helpful to what he wanted. There was some information that he catalogued away in his head in the unlikely chance it might come up as pertinent. He took off his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully, looking down at the ground in thought. Vidkun reached into a pocket and pulled something out, fumbling about unseen. A few moments later, he extended his right hand and upon his palm sat the gold coin, on top of which was... a pony?
"For you." He said. Once presumably she took the proffered gift he would give her a light pat on the head with a cold leather glove before he stood up and took off. As much as he pitied the girl he had other things to attend to, he could not stop for every poor lass.
So, left with little choice for what was in mind he strolled along once more. Still musically in mind, he every so often did a jump with his boots clanging together, a light spin, or some other artistic movement both to entertain himself and to make himself look like an easy target. All the while, he looked about for something interesting that was going, or a particularly nasty looking tavern.
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Alva
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: 26
Physical Description: Alva is tall for a Thían, standing at 5ft6 with a slender, yet robust build. She tends to cover most of her skin, hiding the scars and marks from her more foolish decisions. Including a few tattoos. Her hair is red, and falls past her shoulder blades, and her eyes are a light green. It is rumoured that due to these unusual traits, she is not fully Thían by bloodline. She is very traditionally attractive, though some of her facial features would be described as 'too strong.' Alva wears neutral, form-fitting clothes with leather accents, as most of the city-dwellers do. But she is usually seen draped in a cloak, wearing boots that climb far up her legs and sporting a choice selection of throwing knives that she's not afraid to use.
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The bastard daughter of Thíos' previous leader, Alva is well-known within the city and is often regarded with hidden contempt. But most are too afraid of her to voice that. She is close with her half-brother, the Unlord of Thíos, and has far more influence than one would assume. Especially of late, as things begin to fall apart, she seems to be keeping them together with her bare hands. Despite her strange demeanour, questionable habits and the fact that she is a loose cannon. Her undeniable ability to 'get things done' is what keeps her around.
One of the reasons Alva is so well-known is due to her participation in the Dallfit circuit, a Thían tradition of blindfolded knife-fighting.
Allegiances: Undefined
Registered: Sept 8, 2018 1:27:45 GMT -8
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Post by Alva on Sept 27, 2018 16:02:15 GMT -8
Beams groaned and ropes swung as Alva coursed up above. Disturbed clothes fluttered to the streets from their lines, which was the usual announcement that something was occurring. She was mostly convinced that Rook was in pursuit. But as she went, she had little space in her mind for worry of him keeping up. It’d be a nasty fall if he couldn’t.
Down below, a little girl held her new toy pony tightly to her chest whilst watching the back of the strange man who had gifted it to her. Her sight was obscured by a falling scarf. The light material danced through the air before landing in a puddle. The muddy water spread like blood. She looked up to the bridges and blinked twice, watching the shadows move. Still cradling her new toy, she quickly stumbled to her feet and stepped inside, taking once last glance at her new friend before closing the door behind her.
Alva stopped in her tracks to listen, standing on a bridge that swayed quite intensely from her sudden halt. She closed her eyes. It helped.
The sound of a sword whipping sharply through the air. Something you didn’t hear very often around here.
She dropped to the ground which was quite a way, breaking her fall by sliding down a length of rope, burning her hands. Her boots slammed into the cobbles, sending stagnant water spraying. The street was relatively quiet. People had begun to disperse. Alva glanced around quickly. Over her shoulder she would make eye contact with a man who seemed very out of place. Her watch was questioning, and already somewhat confrontational. She said nothing and continued on her way. If Vidkun had been looking for trouble, Alva was the kind of person who invited it. And Rook, for that matter. Who she hoped would not fall from the sky.
A little further along the street she spotted a shady figure standing at the entrance to one of the narrower passage ways. She recognised him – and unsurprisingly – that was where the suspicious noises had been echoing from. Before the boy could tell what was upon him, Alva grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. To keep him out of trouble if anything else. He struggled for a few moments before realising who his capturer was. And instead, let out a defeated groan.
In the alley, Alva watched the two men face-off. One had their back to her. He was large, foreign, and obviously the reason Ant had called for her. Opposite him stood someone she knew unfortunately well. He was bleeding from a slice across his cheek and holding up his knives defensively whilst light on his feet, ready to prance away at the slightest notice. His concentration broke enough, however, to notice her standing, silhouetted between the walls.
He snarled, lowering his arms slightly. His expression was an odd mixture of annoyance and the apprehensiveness of someone who had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.
“I thought we had an agreement” he said.
“We do” she replied. “This is an exception.”
The boy in her grasp made to bite her arm. Her response was to throw him at the wall, where he sank into a pile of discarded garbage after hitting it. He smiled at her sheepishly from his throne.
Alva rolled her eyes.
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Vidkun Wewelsberg
Established
In Treue Ritterschaft
Roleplay posts: 48
Physical Description: No memorable features in particular. Most who see him recall him as 'suave,' but beyond that descriptions have ranged from dark-blond hair to jet black, from brown to blue to amber eyes, from a clean shaven face to one with thick-set stubble. The only things they can recall about him it the man in question being quite tall and athletic, with appearance that is undoubtedly 'dashing.'
Clothes and Equipment: Whatever's needed.
Registered: Apr 26, 2017 17:29:36 GMT -8
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Post by Vidkun Wewelsberg on Sept 27, 2018 17:40:50 GMT -8
As Vidkun's movements went on they changed, becoming quicker and more complex yet also more playful: a person could easily recognize the jumping of a children's game across squares in his movements. A light humming was kept as he moved, the man clearly quite cheerful. Yet just as the hunter went into a cartwheel his indistinct eyes locked with a green and clearly noteworthy pair. He stopped his movement as he was in the midst of it transitioning to a one-armed handstand as his other hand went into the depths of his clothing and swiftly emerged with a pistol-crossbow drawn. An eyebrow was raised as the woman ran past, and it apparently meant there was currently no intention of harming Vidkun. Thus the weapon was once more stowed away from any sight and he went gracefully back to his feet. Though it wasn't precisely what he was looking for in the previous moments, his trained intuition said the near future lay in the troublesome looking red-haired lass. As quickly as the crossbow was hidden the knife from before was drawn and again held behind Vidkun's back as he followed Alva.
If we all were friendly I'm sure you would agree That the world would be a better place For you and for me And if everyone was kind I'm sure no-one would mind So let's all be nice~
The words were sung quietly but in a slightly higher pitched voice, pronounced seriously despite the apparent irony on the singer's face as he flipped and twirled his knife behind his back. It seemed he followed the girl into quite the scene, and Vidkun's left eyebrow came-up in examination as he said "Oh my...." Violence was unfolding and more potentially forthcoming. With the look of helplessness not needed anymore the man pulled his neckerchief up to cover most of his face and silently donned a push-dagger on his free hand.
The hunter walked some steps, edging into the periphery of the scene but just staying just outside of the immediate conflict as an observer.
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