Ameer Kahnap
New
Roleplay posts: 2
Age: 50
Physical Description: ========================================
Standing at 5'7 and 142 lbs, Ameer has fit into old age like a glove. He has a darker complexion, medium length black and silver hair that is usually tucked in some form of headgear, and a full beard that he wishes to grow out more but is shot down constantly by most everyone in the caravan. He does walk with the help of a cane, sporting a giraffe head on the handle
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Clothes and Equipment: ========================================
While traveling between towns, Ameer will have more traditional clothing found in his homeland, long sleeved shirts and work pants with some form of pancho and headwear to protect him from the sun.
While on the job however, Ameer will wear his finest robes and attire. A fish scale leather shirt with a purple robes and blue sashes are his personal favorite
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Ameer carries a scimitar while traveling
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Allegiances: The Sargisian Caravan
Registered: Feb 28, 2019 21:49:24 GMT -8
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Post by Ameer Kahnap on Mar 1, 2019 19:06:34 GMT -8
The wagons wheels almost deafened out all other sounds around them, causing quite a russus as it moved down the cobble road. Ameer kept the horses at a steady pace still, there was no doubt the others were wondering why it was taking them so long to get back. The elderly man let out a huff before shaking the reigns again and wondering how long it would take to get to this place. He imagined it would have only taken an hour or so from what the map was showing, but it was rather old, it could have changed several times over by now and he wouldn’t have been any the wiser. Peering ahead of him Ameer saw the trotting Riding Bird with Anton riding and Cairo following behind. The two of them should of stayed behind, he was perfectly fine on his own… though he doubted anyone would of actually listened to him and sent them along anyways.
After what seemed like forever he finally saw the ranch up ahead. The seemingly huge pastures had just what he was looking for. “Fine horses” Ameer though as he spotted a group of harts in another pasture, he just hoped that the owner would be willing to sell them in a hurry. Reaching the front of the mansion Ameer stepped down from the wagon. “Alright Anton, just watch the cart. I’ll be back as quick as i can.”
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Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
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Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
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Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
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Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Mar 7, 2019 17:25:28 GMT -8
It was a beautiful clear day, and Alverein was enjoying it. He’d stoked the forge hot and broken out the old tools. With deft movements he fished the white bar of steel from the fire and began to work it again, his smooth elvish tenor carrying on the wind...
“Hey O! And a ringing and a dinging, Rang from old iron! Wily old iron! With a beat and a bang on the bones of the land, I conquered wily old iron!”
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Seeker Dietrich Konstantine
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Physical: 40
Physical Description: A hardened man, Dietrich is a devout man of the Church. Standing at six-foot-five with eyes of gold, turned when becoming a Seeker. His hair is still a chestnut brown, though is usually cropped short and hidden beneath his hat. His beard is little more than unkempt fur that grows longer about his chin and mouth.
Shrewd eyes are alert for the hints of Chaos, a hawk of the human variety.
Clothes and Equipment: His armor is richly decorated in writs of protection and battle prowess, especially his right pauldron, which holds his own marking. A long brown coat protects his body from the weather, worn over an embroidered chest plate, that protects him from physical attacks.
Two golden discs dangle from his neck, each anointed with powers to help Dietrich. One of protection, and one of detecting Chaos.
Across his chest is a bandolier of stakes, sharpened and blessed by Leandros.
Slung over his back, is his hand and a half sword. A double-edged blade with rich and intricate carvings of prayers, lined in silver and blessed by Leandros. Dubbed "Ashbringer", this swords specialty is being lit aflame by the wielders will.
Blessed Bolts are in his cards, holy lightning thrown from the hand.
Allegiances: Seekers of Leandros
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 19:43:37 GMT -8
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Post by Seeker Dietrich Konstantine on Mar 9, 2019 16:00:19 GMT -8
Dietrich had brushed himself clear of what snow had fallen on him, or that he could, while under the porch of the home. Taking off most of his armor would be a hassle for himself and the guests, so he decided to forgo that, and took the opportunity to inspect the life of this magi closely. To say he was disappointed would not be wrong, but he was also relieved. Glancing about the hall, he quickly checked the sitting room before taking a seat in what looked to be a seat the man wouldn't mind getting a bit dirty.
"As a Templar of Leandros, I can't fill myself with such heinous drink," Dietrich said as he took the glass offered to him, letting the comment hang in the air before a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "Utter nonsense, I'd be driven to madness. Or worse, to Chaos, without such comforts every now and then."
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Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
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Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
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Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
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Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Mar 9, 2019 16:35:16 GMT -8
Alverein looked between the two as he took a drink from his own glass. He sighed and set it down before standing and walking to a different door then the one they had entered through and pulled a key from his pocket.
“I’ll be just a moment gentleman.” He used the key on the door and walked inside, returning a moment later and relooking the door with several leather bound books under his arm. “You asked for the bloodlines of my herd.” He said with no small hint of hesitance in his voice as he placed them down on the table and returned to his chair.
The books contained detailed family trees and notes on bloodlines, from various places and with a few questions where the bloodlines had a couple of empty marks. The herd contained bloodlines blue enough to be considered royalty were they humans, old elvish lines that had been enhanced much like the vorutan breeds, good vorutan stock, stallions from nobles stables, and others. Some of the lines were of questionable origins but the results couldn’t be argued as they had bred true and strong if the notes were to be believed.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Mar 19, 2019 15:38:19 GMT -8
A little exclamation, "Ah!" escaped from Darius as he set down his glass of brandy to eagerly take up the proffered breed books. His eyes seemed to gleam unnaturally bright as he began flipping through the pages with glee, making little humms and sighs as he recognized certain studs and mares whose offspring he was warden of. Certainly if he hadn't been chosen for master of the horse, Darius would've been a very unfulfilled man in life. Eventually he produced a piece of parchment and a "pen", freshly arrived from Isra for none too pretty a coin, from a pocket inside his shirt and scribbled down some names of some particularly good looking candidates.
Jakub in the mean time had been busying himself with swirling and sipping the contents of his glass, relishing the burning sensation as opposed to the frozen wastes outside. He seemed a bit lost in his thoughts, remembering the burning sands of the Aridian debacle, and maybe almost wishing he was there instead of here. Even if one was always parched or being shot at by some damned magic, you weren't at least freezing.
He realized he was being a rather poor guest, and turned to his host, "Excuse me for my silence. Pressing matters on the mind. Tell me Sir, how long have you been in the Duchy?"
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Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
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Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
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Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
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Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Mar 28, 2019 18:24:39 GMT -8
Alverein paused, his glass halfway to his lips as Jakub's question was asked. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as memories washed over him of the series of events that had led him to this forgotten corner of the kingdom, of the fires of the calamity, the death of his homes, the murder of a king and theft of a throne and crown.
"About half a century, maybe six decades or so. The time slips away these days." He said as he set his glass down carefully.
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Seeker Dietrich Konstantine
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Physical: 40
Physical Description: A hardened man, Dietrich is a devout man of the Church. Standing at six-foot-five with eyes of gold, turned when becoming a Seeker. His hair is still a chestnut brown, though is usually cropped short and hidden beneath his hat. His beard is little more than unkempt fur that grows longer about his chin and mouth.
Shrewd eyes are alert for the hints of Chaos, a hawk of the human variety.
Clothes and Equipment: His armor is richly decorated in writs of protection and battle prowess, especially his right pauldron, which holds his own marking. A long brown coat protects his body from the weather, worn over an embroidered chest plate, that protects him from physical attacks.
Two golden discs dangle from his neck, each anointed with powers to help Dietrich. One of protection, and one of detecting Chaos.
Across his chest is a bandolier of stakes, sharpened and blessed by Leandros.
Slung over his back, is his hand and a half sword. A double-edged blade with rich and intricate carvings of prayers, lined in silver and blessed by Leandros. Dubbed "Ashbringer", this swords specialty is being lit aflame by the wielders will.
Blessed Bolts are in his cards, holy lightning thrown from the hand.
Allegiances: Seekers of Leandros
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 19:43:37 GMT -8
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Post by Seeker Dietrich Konstantine on Apr 22, 2019 22:15:08 GMT -8
The Seeker glanced between the two parties, stealing momentary glances as he drank from his own glass. His interest was piqued at the question, though he tried to keep the physical signs at bay. Dietrich chuckled when the elf answered, shaking his head.
"His kind is a long-lived sort, Lord, never do they seem to age while us men grow weary and old, I doubt you'll be gettin' a straight answer in the numerical sense."
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Apr 23, 2019 17:24:00 GMT -8
Jakub shot the Seeker something of a dirty glance, already well knowing the quite obvious with the fair features and pointy ears: the man was an elf. There was no hostility towards Alverein of course, elves had lived in the Duchy since before he was even alive and as long as they behaved themselves and didn't use magic... or make it too obvious for the average peasant to catch onto, they would always be welcome.
"Yes, I am well aware of their ways Sir," Sir Jakub answered tersely, some hostility in his voice for the seeker underestimating his knowledge of these things. He had his own Witch Hunter who he often spent wintery afternoons with discussing various fauna magical and non that roamed the woods these days. It helped make the long dark nights all that much more bearable.
Darius piped up from over his book, "Sir Alverein, do you mind if I take a closer look at these ones?" He offered the elf his scrap of parchment he had been writing on, with five names of stallions on it. So far from their bloodline they should do nicely, but a closer inspection would always help.
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Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
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Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
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Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Apr 23, 2019 19:06:35 GMT -8
Alverein paused in his movement to light the pipe he’d filled during the brief exchange before blinking and snapping his fingers and igniting the tobacco with a momentary investiture of will.
“I have been in the duchy for sixty seven years, four months, and twelve days.” He said conversationally, giving the witch-hunter a chill look. “I find that being specific in dates isn’t often a necessity in casual discussion, and often unnerves people, as does the length of my extensive memory.” He continued in a frostily neutral tone.
In the quiet after his comment he took the offered notes and perused them, three of them he was willing to part with easily enough, and he’d heard the nobility treated their horses almost better then family in this part of the world. At the forth his lips twitched downward slightly. He’d been hoping to hold onto him a bit longer but that was business. The last however was a different matter.
“These four you can examine and purchase readily enough if you’re interested, however I regret to inform you that Noceur is not for sale.” He said respectfully, meeting Sir Jakub’s eyes evenly.
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Seeker Dietrich Konstantine
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Physical: 40
Physical Description: A hardened man, Dietrich is a devout man of the Church. Standing at six-foot-five with eyes of gold, turned when becoming a Seeker. His hair is still a chestnut brown, though is usually cropped short and hidden beneath his hat. His beard is little more than unkempt fur that grows longer about his chin and mouth.
Shrewd eyes are alert for the hints of Chaos, a hawk of the human variety.
Clothes and Equipment: His armor is richly decorated in writs of protection and battle prowess, especially his right pauldron, which holds his own marking. A long brown coat protects his body from the weather, worn over an embroidered chest plate, that protects him from physical attacks.
Two golden discs dangle from his neck, each anointed with powers to help Dietrich. One of protection, and one of detecting Chaos.
Across his chest is a bandolier of stakes, sharpened and blessed by Leandros.
Slung over his back, is his hand and a half sword. A double-edged blade with rich and intricate carvings of prayers, lined in silver and blessed by Leandros. Dubbed "Ashbringer", this swords specialty is being lit aflame by the wielders will.
Blessed Bolts are in his cards, holy lightning thrown from the hand.
Allegiances: Seekers of Leandros
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 19:43:37 GMT -8
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Post by Seeker Dietrich Konstantine on May 14, 2019 12:17:12 GMT -8
Dietrich's eyes moved between those from Voruta and the elf, his hands twining together, resting his chin upon them.
"My apologies, Lord, I haven't had the pleasure to meet many of the lands of Voruta, I hope you can forgive my inclination to assume that type of knowledge isn't common, even amongst the noble class." He gave an easy smile, hoping for no hard feelings.
"I'd like to speak of my own purchase as well, Alverein, whenever you are able, of course."
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on May 17, 2019 19:42:53 GMT -8
Lord Jakub nodded as he met the elf's eyes without so much of a hint of irritation, mainly because he felt none, "That works fine for us. We only needed three for the time being anyways. Be it far from me to tell you which studs to depart from." He finished off his cup of brandy with a quick tip of his head back, before he turned to Darius, "See to it that the three are cut out at Sir Alverein's earliest convenience."
In the meantime, he felt no desire to exit the warmth of the living areas and he was certain Darius felt the same. Feeling free to pour himself another glass of brandy, he asked the Elf, "See some potential in those two, eh? Perhaps when the weather is fairer we can have something of a competition, my finest studs against yours."
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Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
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Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
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Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Jul 27, 2019 16:55:08 GMT -8
Alverein smiled a bit wryly.
"As the seeker so aptly pointed out, my kind are extremely long lived. As I do indeed like to travel, even if I have not done so much of it as of late, and have found myself in war before." His hand twitched in an aborted movement towards the scar that ran down the left side of his face. "I find myself always in the need of a good mount. The last is of my personal line. Finer steeds you would be hard pressed to find anywhere. Even if I did consider selling one, it would be at a price that would make even some nobles balk." He replied apologetically. "And maybe a race would be agreeable in the future. It isn't like you don't know where to find me." He finished with a small smile.
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