Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Sept 13, 2018 22:09:46 GMT -8
The Ice-Capped Mountains Looked upon as guardians of Toragana, the great mountain range that circles the region is punishing to traverse, keeping most travelers away. Even with a guide, any typical traveler would hesitate before making a trip through such intimidating peaks. Still, the trip is possible, and the lands beyond worth the suffering.
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 15, 2018 14:30:51 GMT -8
To the mountains walked a lone figure, a monk apparently by his clothing. He didn't carry much with him besides the rather heavy-looking sack upon his back, and a tall studded walking-stick. He already felt the chill, but this did not show outwardly as he walked to the lands of the Giant's Hand .
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 21, 2018 15:04:12 GMT -8
Within the chilling ridge of the mountains, snow began to fall. The air was so cold it hurt, cracking skin and chilling the blood. The mountains themselves had a vendetta against life, and thus, made it miserable.
The air would only grow colder as the cloaked figure pushed on, and the sun drooped with every passing hour. The heavy snowfall already made visibility low, but now that the light was vanishing, navigating the mountains seemed all but impossible.
Cold, alone, lost. A perfect concoction for death, and a frightening one, if the monk was human enough to succumb to such things. Someone, however, was not so fond of finding bodies on the ridge. The monk would not be one of them, human or not.
Lit against the black sky and the pale snow was a figure bathed in amber light. They were swathed in layers and layers of cloth and fur, all of which swam across their skin like flames flickering across burning logs. They danced across the deep snow as though it were solid ground, leaving no footprints behind.
The flame headed straight for the monkish figure at a regular pace, spreading warmth as they approached. Should the monk visibly tense before they met, the figure would pause a respectable distance away. If he did not seem bothered, the figure, little more than half the traveler's height, would stop not inches from him, swarming them both in the warmth of the glowing, animated cloth.
Peeling back their hood, the figure would reveal a youthful face, unblemished and indiscernible. Their eyes were concealed by a red cloth, and in their place, pupils were stitched on to make it seem as though they were staring.
"A new visitor. Or a lost explorer?" they inquired in a voice far older than their tiny body should have mustered. It wasn't quite a woman's, nor quite a man's, but it was powerful.
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 21, 2018 15:51:52 GMT -8
The Monk trudged along, using his long staff to help him along. His Northlander skin was accustomed to the cold, but nevertheless it blued as he shivered. Yet, he had to persevere. His goal was to important, the lives of many might depend on his success. He entreated Father above to provide him strength, for he knew the proverb "Ask, and ye shall receive." Yet, though Blessings of God might mean he survived, it did not mean he was comfortable while he did so. Wind-born tears on his face froze alongside spittle on cracked lips. Every step was freezing agony, but he dared not cry out and show ungratefulness before his deity.
After a while the pain ceased to be replaced with a slightly less debilitating numbness. Nestor had long since learned that pain was weakness leaving the body and once a threshold of weakness was gone there was no more suffering to be had. However, he did momentarily pause as he spotted another figure on the mountain's range. The black clad figure made the Monk raise an eyebrow, examining them from afar. He was mildly annoyed at the warmth, as it meant that once the figure left he would need to once more acclimatize to the cold.
Nestor raised a hand in greeting, and after muttering a short prayer took off his hood and smiled. "Both, perhaps. I am travelling for I have to see the lands of Toragana and the best route to them. I do not think I have done very well so far!"
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 21, 2018 16:46:52 GMT -8
The childlike figure inclined their head curiously. "You have made it to the ridge; a feat in and of itself. These mountains are not kind to strangers, but that does not mean I can't be."
Smiling softly, the figure splayed their arms, commanding the auburn frock to swim around them. "I am Namgyel, and I am here to guide lost souls through the mountains, as I shall guide you. Further to the north is Giant's Hand, the nomad city. You shall find safe haven there, and perhaps a guide to help you through the rest of Toragana. Let us walk, shall we? We will be doing so for another night and day."
Namgyel turned and began to walk, gesturing for the man to follow. "What is your name, stranger? How is it that you have come to know of Toragana?"
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 21, 2018 18:21:04 GMT -8
The Monk gave a grateful nod to the stranger along with a relieved exhalation. "It is not too often that in such secluded lands you find friendly faces. Most of them are bandits and the sort, and I do dislike meeting them."
He began to pace along with who he now knew as Namgyel, listening to his words with the understanding of one who had empathy - even if not sympathy - drilled into his core. An eyebrow was raised at the moving frock, but he didn't bother commenting upon it. "The Giant's Hand? I understand that this is the closest to a unified central government of the land, the one with the largest authority amongst them, yes?" Quickly after the question was asked, he made an addendum. "Of course, my knowledge is limited from chicken-scratch of others that traveled here, quite some time too. Regardless, I fear not a long walk, 'no pain, no gain' is a common proverb is it not?" He hummed along for a little, thinking of what else to say, and how to say it.
"My name is Brother Nestor Mathieu, pleasure to make your acquaintance Master Namgyel. I have heard of Toragana after passing by a town where one of your caravans visited. I wish to explore it to spread the word of my faith, record knowledge of the land." A weary, somewhat pained sigh passed through the Monk. "Some of my explanation may face difficulty if you don't know a few things; Master Namgyel, do you see or interact with the world outside of Toragana much?"
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 21, 2018 19:40:33 GMT -8
"One of our caravans?" Namgyel mused. No caravans had ever been sent beyond the borders, to their memory. How curious. Perhaps one of their shamans had joined one and confused the monk?
Or... perhaps there was more to it than that.
Keeping this in the back of their mind, the small guide shook their head. "I am tied to the mountains and rarely happen upon travelers. We of Giant's Hand seek to change this. Sarita-Sonam, governor of Giant's Hand, has sent out messengers beyond our known lands to spread the word and invite foreigners. You must be the first of them to arrive. It is a pleasing result."
Setting their eyes out into the mountains, Namgyel searched for something before picking their way down a small incline. "Yes, there is strength to be found in suffering, as much as there is peace of mind to be found in rest. Balance, though hard to achieve, is the key to a good life."
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 22, 2018 7:00:35 GMT -8
Nestor shrugged, and decided to clarify. "This is all second-hand, it is most likely inaccurate, forgive me." Toragana was shrouded in mystery for him and his affiliates, so he did not pretend to be knowledgeable on it.
The Monk listened on as Namgyel spoke, assuming him for now to be male in his head for he did not correct Master to Mistress. "Well, you certainly have a good grasp on the common tongue! It seems you governor, Sarita-Sonam has done well however, for interested parties have certainly heard of your call."
Nestor rubbed his forehead wearily, repeating the exasperated sigh of earlier before he spoke on. "Well, if you aren't involved in the rest of the world I suppose no harm shall come in me telling you. There is a state out there, a place where I come from. It is going to face a horrible civil war soon. Many will die, men, women, children. Should things go truly awry, there may be an exodus of refugees who will seek new land to settle and call home, and Toragana is far away and - based on the difficulty in crossing this mountain - quite defended from the possibility of pursuit should a grudge be held. Should this worst case scenario happen, I am here to insure that we have a back-up plan, a place to carry on our legacy. I am to find a precise place to settle and to spread the faith so that their arrival won't case any conflict, and may be a peaceful thing should all go right."
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 22, 2018 9:46:08 GMT -8
Namgyel took in this information contemplatively. "There is much land within Toragana, however, there are many tribes who compete for it, as well. The Teng are isolationist, and will not bother anyone, but there are many smaller tribes that continue to fight and spread their influence. Then, there are the Tamorjin, a much larger tribe who is swiftly gaining power. They would accept your people, though they will be expected to bow their heads to their leader. They would accept nothing less."
As they continued, Namgyel's mind raced. "They might be able to find sanctuary in Giant's Hand... for a short time, but your people will have to venture out for resources. The city is not self-sustaining. It depends on the efforts of all the migrating tribes to keep it alive. Sarita-Sonam might be able to help you settle somewhere, but your people will also need to make great strides to find a home here."
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 22, 2018 11:45:25 GMT -8
Nestor nodded appreciatively at the words of Namgyel initially, though his expression was somewhat more grave moments later. "That is... disquieting. Isolationist tribes, that is good. Live and let live, our people will be happy to simply stand by and let our futures go their own paths. We're a martial folk, we have a powerful Order of Knights under our belt. But they are a stubborn, and prideful folk. The very reason of this war from which we might seek refuge is because we as a people do not want to bend the knee to a King and foreign cronies of his. We won't attack those who are not a threat, but we shall not cower before any that wish to dictate our lives."
The idea that the fate of his kinsmen would be to escape one war before heading straight into another gave him a bad taste in his mouth, a very bad one. "Worry not, we shan't be beggars. They shall most likely found a settlement somewhere near water, let crops and cattle take hold after ploughing up the land. They shall most likely have to convert their crops from corns and potatoes to cereals and grains, but it is not a large issue. But we are not a nomadic people, we stick to one locale if we can. We would contribute to this city if we can, though naturally we would expect whatever political benefits come to people from doing so." Nestor gave a feint smile, doing his best to synthesize a truthful and honest, but yet also an enticing image of the exodus arriving.
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 22, 2018 14:26:58 GMT -8
"It is my wish that we could help you more, but these lands are not peaceful. Many clans like the Teng have focused solely on their defense and closed themselves off to the rest of Toragana. Whispers of the Huilin, another large tribe, float around. To the far north lie some whose names have been lost to time. Hundreds of others exist. To the west of Giant's Hand, there is a desert and plateau; to its east, gilded fields; around it all, this stretch of mountains." Namgyel gestured around them as they pointed out important geographical landmarks. Either one of these might benefit this man's people one day.
"All tribes contribute from participating in Giant's Hand, though the power of the city is mostly contained within its own walls. There is some political sway to be had with the tribes, but it must remain neutral for the nature of its being."
The guide did not seem troubled with Nestor's news, though some amount of concern was drawn across their young brow. "I could help, but my role is only as a guide. If you bring your people here, I will show them the way, but you will have to appeal to others- tribe leaders and the governor- to move forward."
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 22, 2018 17:15:31 GMT -8
Nestor followed Namgyel, keeping his silence for some time. "Much of the future relies upon the reception of my kinsmen when they first arrive. They are sadly wary, suspicious, skeptical, cynical. If they encounter one unfriendly tribe, they shall deem those bearing any similarity to be a distinction without a difference and mark them for the same extermination that is deemed for their other foes. That is again why I travel here. I wish to seek out potential allies, those that might be willing to bind themselves by honour and thus reduce chances of hypothetical conflict between the people."
The system of the Giant's Hand was quite interesting to Nestor however, and at its mention he perked up somewhat. "But why do tribes contribute to this neutral entity? What would happen if one decided to no longer do so? What if for example one tribe found it more efficient to go straight to an economic partner for trade rather than go to a middleman?"
Curiosities aside, the Monk once more had to balance honesty and repute. "They will naturally seek out allies among the other tribes of man. However, a wide range of opinion resides within them. As they plow and irrigate more land it may take away from the grazing lands of nomadic folk, an almost inevitable point of contention, and as more mouths to feed appear contention becomes conflict... which once again is why I come. I hope to find the area furthest away from other tribes to insure that for at least my life no blades will be drawn."
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 22, 2018 19:28:49 GMT -8
"It is my hope that you will find them, Brother Nestor. To be chased out of one's home is no gentle experience-" The guide's tone dropped, just a smidge, barely noticeable unless one was paying attention, "-and to have no home to go forward to, less so. It sounds as though you have lost so much already. You have my condolences."
Namgyel lead them off of the ridge, where they really began to descend, but in a winding trail that made the journey easier than going straight down. Mathieu might have observed that, while within Namgyel's sphere of influence, his steps were a bit lighter.
"The tribes come because it is beneficial to them. Not all come, but many who understand the value of achieving resources through trade instead of dead soldiers will happily find purchase in the city. Even traders from the Teng will come, bearing resources that are unavailable to outsiders anywhere else. Going to war with them is not advisable without several armies under one's wing. It is much easier to throw coin at them than arrows.
"As for this 'middleman' partnership, ambush and deception are rife within these lands, but such atrocities are illegal within the city walls. Simply put: it is safe. Moreso than anywhere else."
Once they reached a lower shelf of the mountains, the guide looked outward, scanning the horizon. A wasteland of snow stretched out before them. "I can promise you no favorable outcome, but Sarita-Sonam is the one who called for foreigners: I doubt she will spite your arrival."
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 23, 2018 16:14:16 GMT -8
"It is indeed." The Monk confirmed with much sorrow, but brightened just a little. "But, our side may yet win against their tyranny! Yet, even if this is the case my work here won't be for naught. It is the duty of the adherents of my faith to build hospices, churches and other such works. Let us hope for the best, eh?" He said, enthusiasm on his face even if he knew it was unlikely optimism.
As Brother Mathieu walks along with Namgyel he does most certainly note that his body is not tiring as fast as expected. "This is some sort of magic you use, aye? Not many where I come from practice the paranormal save for the Clergy, it doesn't seem to come very often. Those that do have the affinity for it however - without falling for the seduction of dark powers - find much respect bestowed upon them. I am glad I have you to perform this for me Namgyel, I can feel my travels better already!"
When Nestor's companion began to explain the nature of the Giant's Hand, Nestor took a small pad of paper from a recess in the cloth sacking he called robes and scribbled a few hasty notes, looking up from them as the stranger spoke. "So empty, and lifeless, but beautiful is it not? Though I suppose you might be accustomed to it... ah yes, regardless, I shall seek out this Sarita Sonam and ask her of this land, thank you Namgyel!"
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Giant's Hand
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Registered: Aug 11, 2018 12:28:30 GMT -8
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Post by Giant's Hand on Oct 23, 2018 16:57:52 GMT -8
"Monks, not quite like yourself, though not unlike yourself, often practice magic here. Shamanism is also steeped within the history of many tribes. Few practice witchcraft, but you might still find them if you make a little effort."
Namgyel directed Nestor out into the wasteland, head turning back and forth as they scanned. "My magic is a mixture of several practices. Throughout the years, I ventured throughout Toragana and learned from countless masters. It is the journey my people take to find our path in life. Mine lead me here, saving those who would otherwise fall to these mountains."
When blackness descended upon the mountain completely, one would find it hard to see even one foot in front of their face. Namgyel's enchantments did help, if barely.
"If I could see as you do, Brother Nestor, I am sure I would think the same. I will take you to the ravine leading to Giant's Hand. From there, the path will be clear. The guards will have no reason to deny you if you tell them what you told me."
The night did not change in scenery or the chill it offered. It wasn't until the break of dawn that the clouds thinned, though not enough to disappear. It was overcast and flurried throughout the day, never quite giving them a reprieve. Most of the day was filled with crags, rocks, and snow until they reached a wedge between the mountains. To both sides, the mountains formed a deep gorge stamped down with a path oft traveled.
"This is Giant's Vein. Follow to the north, and you shall reach Giant's Hand. None shall dare try to ambush you there, as the land is sacred. I can follow you no further, as I must return to my own path. Farewell, Brother Nestor."
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Nestor Mathieu
Established
Si Deus obiscum qui contra nos?
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description: Aging but strong, he has a rugged face with features soft by nature but hardened by time, coupled with some scars across his relatively tall (6'5) frame. His head carries surprisingly well maintained buzzed black hair, along with slight whiskers.
Clothes and Equipment: He possesses an innocent walking staff. His clothes are unimpressive Priest garb, little more than a sack to cover himself from the elements and indecency with.
Registered: Nov 15, 2016 5:01:41 GMT -8
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Post by Nestor Mathieu on Oct 24, 2018 3:29:07 GMT -8
Nestor listened to Namgyel recount the nature of his esoteric learnings with much interest. It might seem like just an interesting aside of one's life to most, but in but a few sentences very much about the land was revealed.
He walked along with his mysterious benefactor for some time, offering praise and thanks for guiding him once they reached the point from which Namgyel could go no more. "By aiding me you jave aided many Namgyel, you should feel pride and satisfaction in this." With that Nestor bowed, and the two parted ways.
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Mangas Khan
New
Roleplay posts: 1
Age: Unknown (Although he has no graying or white hair)
Physical Description: A colossal man, towering even his men of the mountain brethren. Muscled like an ogre, however fat like one too.
Clothes and Equipment: His face is unknown and unseen by most as he is always seen wearing an iron mask depicting a demon. He wields a giant Kanabo the size of a totem. And is brandished in traditional Toragana armor, however due to his immense size parts of his arms, chest, neck are left exposed.
Allegiances: Himself, and his ambitions
Registered: Nov 26, 2018 18:33:14 GMT -8
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Post by Mangas Khan on Nov 28, 2018 12:03:15 GMT -8
Rumors begin to stir amongst shepards that the khargals are making moves
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The Tamorjin Tribe
Established
Roleplay posts: 26
Allegiances: The Tamorjin Tribe
Registered: Sept 17, 2018 9:45:33 GMT -8
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Post by The Tamorjin Tribe on May 5, 2019 16:43:18 GMT -8
Within the mountains, several forces were at work, all drawn by the same power.
On one side, a centaur and wolfman with no other soul to accompany them. On the other, a pack of six: the Qara'Möngke, powerful Men of the Mountain, renowned among even their own. Leading them was the son of the previous khan, hungry for blood upon the orders of the man who killed his father.
The khan's witch had given Altan a dousing tool to help him find the sage that was hidden away in the mountains. It came in the form of a locket filled with incense that called spirits forward, pulling it toward his goal.
For the the wolf and the lamb, all they had were the diminishing splashes of blood and the trail of blue bodies to guide them, with an occasional whisper that she tried to decipher. A staff lay deep below the snow, holding a rock with the power of the sage.
A fearsome race lay itself out before them. Only one would succeed.
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Riya
Established
Roleplay posts: 29
Age: 27
Physical Description: Riya is lithe for a centaur with a shorter, more agile stature. She sports a rather pale, greyish complexion for her skin, hair, and fur, helping her blend with the snow-speckled mountains.
She has cloven, sure-footed hooves that help her navigate cliffsides and steep rocky outcrops.
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Clothes and Equipment: Normally clad in thick cotton or linen, Riya refuses to wear the skin of animals, though wool safely procured from sheep does not seem to bother her.
She owns a staff made of white birch. At its head, a thin slab of Jasper has been placed, and tied to loops within the wood are various corvid feathers.
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Allegiances: Toragana
Registered: Dec 16, 2018 16:37:03 GMT -8
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Post by Riya on May 5, 2019 16:52:20 GMT -8
This scene was too familiar to the previous day for Riya to feel comfortable. Her lungs, her muscles, it all ached worse than when she was in her panicked sprint, but at least the man who trailed her this time wasn't trying to kill her. The centaur pushed forward, hearing the whispers of the sage's power grow closer, though its exact location was unkown to her.
They had come this far following the red-stained snow and the hardened cadavers of both her assailants... and her dearest allies. She pushed past them, never once allowing herself to linger. It would be a disgrace to lose sight of her goal by grieving when they had died for this reason.
She had not mentioned the voices to Karga, though since he was a shapeshifter, one of nature, there was a good chance he had been hearing them as well. Normally, they were just gibberish, an old language that died long before even the wolfman was born. Now and again, however, a word was tossed their way that helped guide them, or so Riya hoped.
Something stopped the centaur in her tracks, suddenly.
One word:
"Beware."
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Karga Oldfang
Established
Roleplay posts: 29
Physical Description: A wiry man, slim and built for speed and endurance, his gifts give him unnatural strength, speed, and grace, his movements almost unnatural in their fluidity.
He is a handsome man with chiseled features with short silver-gray hair, a beard of the same color, and eyes color of liquid platinum.
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Clothes and Equipment: Elegant silk and cotton garments, often opts for a simpler design and has leather wraps for his arms and legs and a simple leather cord tying a silver claw that hangs over his heart.
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Allegiances: The Pack of the Silver Dusk
Registered: Dec 2, 2018 0:12:51 GMT -8
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Post by Karga Oldfang on May 5, 2019 16:58:38 GMT -8
Karga slid to a stop, crouching down. He was barely a ghost in the snow, his form utterly still as he scanned their surroundings. The smell of blood was in the air and in his nose while the voices of the world whispered on the wind. His gleaming eyes flicked from movement to movement, watching for the danger he knew was coming.
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