Merric Ushar
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 156
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate for face, height is 6’2. Slightly larger than medium build with broad shoulders and stout legs.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally seen wearing black trousers with gold buttons and a shirt sewn from a matte material in the a sapphire blue that rivaled the stone other than the intensity of its shine. It is sewn with a diamond pattern with an approximately one inch width and is thick enough to withstand a cool day. A charcoal cloak with a clasp of silver and high black boots to his knees complete his normal attire. When armored he wears a scale plated mail that is completely black in color, it adorns his figure well and matches a helm of the same obsidian that is formed into the style of a wolf’s snout around his chin snarling and ready for battle. Upon his hip is settled a Morningstar at most times, an effective weapon its span is three feet with one handle and a sharply pointed spike at the end. It rests comfortable when he walks sliding easily along the long line of his legs.
Allegiances: Azea - Drow Homeland
Registered: Dec 31, 2018 17:04:55 GMT -8
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Post by Merric Ushar on Jan 5, 2019 6:50:58 GMT -8
Along the border separating Azea from the countryside of the human lands rested the devastation of an almost forgotten war. Abandoned in the minds of the young and barely permissible as a passing thought within the elders which no longer remained among those of true sight it carried only rumors now. Rumors of those born capable of feats of magic unheard of and rarely seen within the Drow, none currently existed that carried such a force and if they did it was a well kept secret.
The border itself was hundreds of miles wide, no true visible end from an outsiders point of view as they approached what appeared to be a forest burned carelessly to the ground. If one decided to cross the shortest section was just over twenty. One only had to follow long enough along one side for it to be revealed in pattern. No edge was so even, no fire burned so steadily and for so long that nothing survived to be reborn of the ashes, it was unnatural and surely the work of demons or some other atrocity they cared not to utter without flashing a guard against evil.
For the Drow it simply was, no ill-minded words slipped from their mouths at the sight for it was the culmination of their culture to regard it as a line of separation. A sign from the gods above that their differences could not resolved with the likes of dwarves, and humans, and most certainly not elves. No one crossed without reason and certainly for no long period of time unless they were exiled to a life without the support of their brethren. That was until Merric Ushar decided that what slight had been offered was not forgivable and what truth there was to be found was worth striving for. Crossing the barrier between his world and the unknown he did so where every step cast up the silt. It was if he called down a fog to encompass his form. One hand cupped the material of a cloak across his mouth shielding his lungs from the onslaught as he crossed. Noticing a variation in the substrate beneath his feet initially it was coddled ash, the sort of that was of an actual burning where the fire had left just a little behind. The center was nothing but the pure flakes that would scatter to the wind and crumble instantaneously when touched. The outer rim was once again of the appearance of a burning. So purposeful had been the design he now saw fit to question it where he had not before. Was their isolation simply because of fear of crossing such or was it born of fear of the other races?
The slow pacing crawl that was his footsteps were covered in return by a rather large she-wolf. The creature delighted in matching the pace by carefully placing one foot within the outline of his dwarfing the edge of his heal with the paws where one could see the front of his boot but not the back for her steps. The creature was darker than the ash but difficult to see within it if one could not catch the eyes that shone like amethyst, intelligent in observation at least, and its neck was adorned with a sapphire of considerable size where within was stored physical power and protection each generation adding to its intensity to ensure the continuing line of the wolf itself.
Its tail swept a trail breaking their passage. Merric needed no sign of it for the stars above were his guide and the sun gave him direction during the days. It’s warmth but barely gracing them now the air was getting colder, the few breezes that touched his skin spoke of ice and snow, vaguely familiar concepts to the Drow for it rarely ever became so chilled in Ushar.
Settling a mile from the edge of the ash barren itself he established a tent, a black monstrosity based in a square style with a center pole to the four corners which were held up by similar attachments. One of the few tricks both Drow and Elves had retained was the ability to conceal the true nature of an object. The tent itself had seemed but a small bit of cloth until he had tossed it outward unveiling the thinnest threads which he pulled to make it draw up into place. It was large enough for the wolf, himself, and a few others should they have wished to make room. For now he rested curled up with his head on the shoulder of the wolf and its own head curled around his shoulder. Their warmth would spread to one another. He needed no fire with his cloak about him but the tent itself was auspicious in nature and a keen eye who was curious as to the nature of the ash might spot it.
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Mulzara
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 27
Physical Description: Avatar is grayscale but accurate.
She has long wavy brown hair, a third of which is braided along the scalp. She has tan reddish grey skin covered with white tribal body paint and body scarification signifying each person she has defeated in combat. Above her underbite tusks sits a bull's ring piercing. Deep brown eyes peer into the darkness with a keen stare.
Clothes and Equipment:
She wears off-white bandages wrapped around her limbs along with loose linen clothes. A Borvilium circlet sits around her left ankle. A layered necklace of beads and fangs lays around her neck.
Allegiances: Targel
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 15:46:17 GMT -8
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Post by Mulzara on Jan 5, 2019 12:08:54 GMT -8
With her chieftain Morvo's blessing, Mulzara left her village in search of wildlife beyond the deserts and mountains she grew up in. She was a good mile along the path leaving the boundaries of the village, ascending the trodden path that wound its way through the rocks. For a moment, Mulzara paused and turned to stare back the way she came, down into the valley where her home laid. The stone buildings were carved into the walls, the streets dark of rock from a recent cleansing of the sands that often would cover the village. The Targel banners fluttered in the distance like beacons for her to run back to should she need to. Several of her clanmates were milling about, some doing their daily chores while others headed to the training grounds to practice. She thought she could make out Morvo standing at his abode, watching her journey from afar. The thought soothed her previous tremor of fear and homesick sensation, for she knew her path was chosen.
Now holding a sense of purpose in her heart, Mulzara turned her back to the village and set out beyond the valley's view. Into the shadows of the mountains she traveled, soon going past the end of the path to unmarked territory. She kept in mind that as long as she remained in the Southern mountains, she wouldn't have to worry about trespassing in another tribe's territory. The only tribe she had to fear now were the Belgon, who while did not own territory, roamed as nomads along the mountain range. She continued her trek, her hands and legs callused from years of training and mountain scaling, making the walk fairly calm. The heat of the cresting sun baked Mulzara's tan skin, taking from her much of her breath and sweat as she headed towards the nearest cave. Once secured of any threats, Mulzara ducked inside and waited the four hours necessary for the sun to descend the other side of the mountains, sipping from her water skin as she did so.
Once she could see the light outside dimming she exited the cave and continued her trek. A few days went by of this back and forth, with the only thing breaking up the monotony was hunting dinner and finding sources of water in the crevasses. When she finally breached the mountains' edge she was dismayed to see a vast desert before her. At first she thought that maybe she took a wrong turn, got lost and went towards the Crimson Sea at the heart of the mountain range. But then she noticed that the red sands broke off into a golden tan, and then a brilliant off-white. She had finally reached the Valheesius Desert her people were bordered on.
But still, sand was sand and Mulzara did not travel all this way just to see sand. Ready for the arduous journey ahead of her, Mulzara climbed down the slopes of the mountains and walked upon the clean sands, her bare feet only slightly stinging from the heat. Days went by with barely a puddle in sight, the buzzards circling high above her a constant reminder of her predicament. Everywhere she looked was sand, her limbs were growing weary, her skin was cracked and bleeding from lack of moisture. Mulzara begged the beings above for sustenance, but none came. Another day passed when the horizon unveiled a dark stretch of wavy air, a possible mirage teasing her of something to be found. Still she wandered towards it in vain hope of water, food, anything to keep her going. Hours dragged on before the line got any closer, to the point that Mulzara was tempted to run towards it. But her limbs were too heavy, and the strain would be too great. She knew her body, had trained for years to understand its needs and limits.
As she was about to give up hope, her gaze honed in on the dark horizon, seeing green tints that did not disappear as she grew near. Another hour, and the green became leaves and the horizon became a row of trees. Mulzara would weep with joy, if her eyes were not so crusted and she had water to spare. When her blood stained cracked toes hit the soil, she nearly dropped where she stood. So cool was the shade, pushing back the desert sun, and so moist was the soil. The soil! Mulzara did drop, and her callused fingers dug through the ground, ripping up roots and worms and dirt. Without a moment of hesitance she stuffed her maw, relishing the blessing of protein and moisture. But she knew it would not sustain her long, she had been without nourishment for too many days to last much longer.
Her gaze flitted about the trees. What would have been filled with wonder was instead a frenzy of searching. Any movement, any sound, she honed in on and followed, looking for easy food. As she crashed through the forest her foot caught on something, causing her to flail forwards and crash to the ground. Groaning in pain and exhaustion, Mulzara turned over slowly onto her side to look back at what she had stumbled on. Glinting almost mockingly in the light was the faintest thread, almost unnoticeable had blood not been dripping off of it. Almost simultaneously when she noticed this her ankle began to burn with the sting of a deep cut. Her tired eyes scanned her leg to see a long gash along the front of her ankle. Cursing in Orcish, Mulzara glanced about, seeing nothing but ash and foliage before her vision went dark. Between the pain, malnourishment, and exhaustion, she fell unconscious.
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Merric Ushar
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 156
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate for face, height is 6’2. Slightly larger than medium build with broad shoulders and stout legs.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally seen wearing black trousers with gold buttons and a shirt sewn from a matte material in the a sapphire blue that rivaled the stone other than the intensity of its shine. It is sewn with a diamond pattern with an approximately one inch width and is thick enough to withstand a cool day. A charcoal cloak with a clasp of silver and high black boots to his knees complete his normal attire. When armored he wears a scale plated mail that is completely black in color, it adorns his figure well and matches a helm of the same obsidian that is formed into the style of a wolf’s snout around his chin snarling and ready for battle. Upon his hip is settled a Morningstar at most times, an effective weapon its span is three feet with one handle and a sharply pointed spike at the end. It rests comfortable when he walks sliding easily along the long line of his legs.
Allegiances: Azea - Drow Homeland
Registered: Dec 31, 2018 17:04:55 GMT -8
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Post by Merric Ushar on Jan 6, 2019 5:01:25 GMT -8
Seeking retribution without awareness what started as a journey to recover stolen goods might end in a revelation that would turn his night to day. For now Merric was simply wishing to abide by the bidding of his father who would temporarily resume his position on the council during his absence which had been noted as a personal one. No one would have bid their only son on such a task if it had not been necessary, Merric believed it to be to retrieve a family heirloom but his father had sent him out of shame not yet expressed for his role in the recent proceedings. Outspoken was that man and never quiet on his opinion until now. This was a lesson that had to be learned by work instead of word.
Rising in the morning he had paused here for the sight of greenery in the distance. Not yet ready to pass beyond these lands it was the farthest he had ever been from them. Trailing the edges of the ash line as a child he used to play there throwing it up in the air and pretending he was a great sorcerer of sorts beaming as he told the servants they would bow to his might. They were other children and did not yet know their place and therefore took heed of his words with only the intent of playing in return until it was their turn to be the great sorcerer or sorceress. Merric smiled at the memory wistful of days gone by as he rescinded the tent placing it in the low pack he carried along his shoulder. No beast wished to cross this area and he had silver in which to buy a horse upon finding the nearest town. He’d received a map from the trader before departing swearing him to secrecy in the process. He was not one to wander blindly if he could help it.
The she-wolf waited patiently for him to finish his work padding behind him when he finished as they crossed the great divide into a world unknown to almost every Drow of Azea. The soil was not unusual, nor the plant life, and he was not skilled in the task of woodland magic to ask for some aid in his trek from that around him. He would have had to have spoken in Elvish and though he was able to grasp it when spoken to him he had a tongue too thick to utter it without more practice. Entering the main grove the she-wolf behind him moved to his side her shoulder brushing the edge of his hip fur raising defensively and hackles beginning to be born to the morning air. Merric paused now carrying his own brand of patience, she never reacted so poorly unless a scent or a trail were truly unrecognizable to her, and it was rare as she had been more well traveled than Merric himself.
Trodding off and returning but a moment later with news that she could not fully express a short sound like a starter emerged from her mouth, danger but not danger, it spoke of, and Merric with curiosity now peaked followed her through the underbrush until they came upon a peculiar sight. An orc, an orc female at that, close to his own height if he was judging correctly but not of the green skin that was commonly found in the west. Only the tusks had made the confirmation that it was not some species he was unfamiliar with. Orc kind sought their land before, being brave enough to attempt an incursion, but it had been some time and while he remembered them as brash they carried their own honor. Traveling alone was rare for such a species but he was reassured by the she-wolf that no one else lingered nearby. Fears elevated of an ambush he approached, chapped lips and fresh blood, it seemed this female had a journey of her own plagued by hardship. Grimacing at the sheer magnitude of indifference that flowed towards the race he found he could not just ignore this one. In her unconscious state her features were softened, her breathing long and steady, and a vulnerability as muscles slacked.
Besides the wolf had not brought him closer to ignore the charge that she settled him with the crystalline eyes focusing on him now as she sat awaiting his judgment, “She’s dangerous,” he told the wolf speaking aloud acting as if he were incredulous with her looks while all the while flipping the woman over noting the incision along her leg. She was clear of the wire now but the faint dripping caught his eye, “As is this place,” he surmised. Dragging the orc was not beyond his capabilities, he might in fact be able to create a litter in order to make the task more suitable to the pace he had wanted to set but if she woke and she had been moved she might react as if he were hostile. It had been a trap placed, perhaps for a long time and perhaps new, “See if you can find any recent passing.”
The she-wolf did as bid and he propped the woman against a round trunk using Drow rope, thin as twine and dyed as black as night, around the edges of her shoulders. It was nigh impossible to break and would hold her should she regain consciousness and act as he believed she would. Attending to her wounds what small scrapes had occurred after she fell might heal naturally but the leg was concerning, therefore he set about drawing the tissue together by his scroll. It was difficult to conjure the wording but when he was finished he was proud of the work and the sweat on his brow from the effort. His water skin still full, he drew it and wet her lips gently while lifting the edge of her chin. He hoped perhaps it would wake her and if not he would carefully allow the cool liquid to slide back keeping her from choking.
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Mulzara
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 27
Physical Description: Avatar is grayscale but accurate.
She has long wavy brown hair, a third of which is braided along the scalp. She has tan reddish grey skin covered with white tribal body paint and body scarification signifying each person she has defeated in combat. Above her underbite tusks sits a bull's ring piercing. Deep brown eyes peer into the darkness with a keen stare.
Clothes and Equipment:
She wears off-white bandages wrapped around her limbs along with loose linen clothes. A Borvilium circlet sits around her left ankle. A layered necklace of beads and fangs lays around her neck.
Allegiances: Targel
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 15:46:17 GMT -8
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Post by Mulzara on Jan 7, 2019 14:32:58 GMT -8
Waves of nausea, a pounding headache, and the strangest sensation of being suspended is what Mulzara awoke to, though she was honestly surprised she had woke at all. The last thing she recalled was a gnawing hunger and devastating thirst followed by pain and blacking out. Stranger still, was the trickling of liquid spilling down her throat and across her chin. Her initial instinct was to grab the source of water and chug it, such was the burning desire to sate her thirst. But as she did so she felt a taut tugging across her shoulders, restraining her from acting. Her eyes fluttered open to see a man pouring a waterskin into her agape mouth.
The man was strange to look at, with pale grey skin and stark red eyes reminding her of the legends of vampires. Even more peculiar was his hair, which cast in the poor lighting of the forest appeared as fine and delicate silk strands much unlike her brethren's thick and unruly hair. His body was clasped in materials fit for a chieftain, with vibrant colors and intricate design. Is this man a chieftain? She peered intensely at him in silence, still drinking as he poured.
In the corners of her peripheral she saw no guards, heard no rowdy clamor nor the footsteps of nearby escorts. If he is indeed a chieftain, why is he alone? She had only heard of this happening once in Duradin; when a chieftain had been so cowardice as to surrender in the challenge for glory. Although he survived, his tribe had mutinied and exiled him out of Duradin for bringing the tribe such dishonor. Perhaps this man's tribe has shunned him as well? She would have to wait and see. For now, she cherished the compassion he had shown in giving her water, even if it was while tied to a tree.
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Merric Ushar
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 156
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate for face, height is 6’2. Slightly larger than medium build with broad shoulders and stout legs.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally seen wearing black trousers with gold buttons and a shirt sewn from a matte material in the a sapphire blue that rivaled the stone other than the intensity of its shine. It is sewn with a diamond pattern with an approximately one inch width and is thick enough to withstand a cool day. A charcoal cloak with a clasp of silver and high black boots to his knees complete his normal attire. When armored he wears a scale plated mail that is completely black in color, it adorns his figure well and matches a helm of the same obsidian that is formed into the style of a wolf’s snout around his chin snarling and ready for battle. Upon his hip is settled a Morningstar at most times, an effective weapon its span is three feet with one handle and a sharply pointed spike at the end. It rests comfortable when he walks sliding easily along the long line of his legs.
Allegiances: Azea - Drow Homeland
Registered: Dec 31, 2018 17:04:55 GMT -8
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Post by Merric Ushar on Jan 7, 2019 15:54:32 GMT -8
Her waking was his first good sign and relief that the female orc would survive the venture of recooperating. Her injuries had been minor outwardly it was the lack of water and food that had caused her eventual fallout to where he had found her. No words came from her mouth but a slight struggle as she attempted to raise her arms. The very reason he had tied them in place was uncertainty of her allegiances. Drow and Orc had been friendly before, and traded, and even had some agreements settled between them. An alliance had been spoken of recently within the council as their two countries were outcasts among one another nestled close enough together that their own deserts touched, theirs of sand and his of ash.
“Slow down,” he spoke in common hoping that she would understanding the lilting speech that came from him, and even he tilted the water skin back slightly, “You shall lose the contents of your stomach should you keep going in that manner.”
Her waking moments allowed him to observe her reactions to him, before he was simply looking at her darkened skin, the lines painted upon it with such care, her braids which had been done artfully along her skull. She wore strange jewelry that was studded along her face and the loose jewelry and clothes upon her form spoke of comfort instead of fashion. Unaware of how she observed his strange dress she might think him Chieftan and in part she was correct, he was akin to a lord of sorts in other circles and a chieftan among her people under a greater leader.
Awake now he knew her to be feisty, strong but not unwilling to accept help, with the brightest eyes he had seen in some time with wonder at the very look of another. His own flashed brilliantly but dangerously the red dulled by the brightness of the day. He returned the water skin should she have slowed and accepted it.
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Mulzara
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 27
Physical Description: Avatar is grayscale but accurate.
She has long wavy brown hair, a third of which is braided along the scalp. She has tan reddish grey skin covered with white tribal body paint and body scarification signifying each person she has defeated in combat. Above her underbite tusks sits a bull's ring piercing. Deep brown eyes peer into the darkness with a keen stare.
Clothes and Equipment:
She wears off-white bandages wrapped around her limbs along with loose linen clothes. A Borvilium circlet sits around her left ankle. A layered necklace of beads and fangs lays around her neck.
Allegiances: Targel
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 15:46:17 GMT -8
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Post by Mulzara on Jan 9, 2019 10:18:45 GMT -8
Mulzara had never been one for politics, only being told when a major change came about among the clans and where the territories were. She was unaware of any such allegiance between her people and the Drow, but also knew not of any war with them. This was no man's land, as far as she knew, which left them in neutral standings of each other. The man spoke, his voice soft and soothing for being so outlandish, but it was in language she had never taken the time to learn. Nothing more than the absolute basics, that is. Morvo was and is a wise man, and instructed all of the Targel tribe to learn what was considered the most important words of each local language. This way, all orcs of their home would be prepared to encounter friends and foes, and would be able to act properly around outsiders.
As the man spoke, Mulzara was able to hear, “Slow ----. You ---- lose --- ------- – ---- ------- ------ you keep ----- – ---- ------.” The male was requesting that she slowed, and something about her losing and keeping something. Is he bargaining with me? What would I lose or keep if I did as he asked? As she pondered this the man returned the waterskin to her lips, this time slowly lifting it to her. Perhaps that is what he meant; to be slow in action and in drinking. Mulzara could understand wanting a potential threat to move slower, it made it easier to determine their next actions and halt dangers. Taking it as a hint and a sign of goodwill, Mulzara complied, gently tilting her head to ease in the oncoming water, though she honestly wanted to guzzle it all down at once. Before he could take it away from her.
Over the next few moments her immediate need for water was sated, the thirst pains dulled as another pressing matter brought itself back up to attention. Food. Hunger wracked through her body as her stomach let out an enormous gurgle of alarm. She felt no shame for this sound, having never been taught modesty a day in her life. Instead she gave the man a look of insistence, hoping he would be willing to part with more supplies for her survival. Though it was a lot to ask of a complete stranger, especially one that wasn't even of kin.
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Merric Ushar
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 156
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate for face, height is 6’2. Slightly larger than medium build with broad shoulders and stout legs.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally seen wearing black trousers with gold buttons and a shirt sewn from a matte material in the a sapphire blue that rivaled the stone other than the intensity of its shine. It is sewn with a diamond pattern with an approximately one inch width and is thick enough to withstand a cool day. A charcoal cloak with a clasp of silver and high black boots to his knees complete his normal attire. When armored he wears a scale plated mail that is completely black in color, it adorns his figure well and matches a helm of the same obsidian that is formed into the style of a wolf’s snout around his chin snarling and ready for battle. Upon his hip is settled a Morningstar at most times, an effective weapon its span is three feet with one handle and a sharply pointed spike at the end. It rests comfortable when he walks sliding easily along the long line of his legs.
Allegiances: Azea - Drow Homeland
Registered: Dec 31, 2018 17:04:55 GMT -8
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Post by Merric Ushar on Jan 9, 2019 13:56:38 GMT -8
No speech came from the dusky one. No signs that she understood other than her tilting her head slightly as if in agreement, he sensed appreciation in the very insistent looks she gave knowing that without aid she might have perished here soon enough. One unable to speak or communicate, especially of her race, was a rarity. A rarity that would be threatening to the people of the main lands her silence to humans not aggression but not benign simply because of the in-expression of it. Bringing down the water skin he felt no fear in releasing her, seeing as her weapons had been placed aside, and she had yet to show any true aggravation at his aid nor ill intent in her glance. He capped it and set it aside upon the ground his pack lowered down next to the tree beside her. Feeding her by hand was insulting to her own capability but he was not yet certain of an ambush.
The she-wolf that had been tasked with finding that information returned, pushing into the clearing through a large thorned bush a few clumps of fur being loosened and falling in the process. Other creatures of the same coloring in the area it was not unusual and not yet worrisome that their trail might be found to this point. It was leaving the edges of the boundary line that would require more caution. A short burst of air came from its snout as it turned its head back and forth shaking it as if to say no. Merric looked pleased at the outcome as he smiled to the beast saying something in a soft spoken language that was deeper and held a strain of magic, he was only expressing his appreciation but to the Orc who had been taught only sparse common it was doubtful she spoke Drow.
Common once again branded his spoken word as well knowing of the other language as well as he addressed her, "I have no intention of harming you nor do I believe that is yours in return. I will free you, and I have some bread that might ease your hunger."
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Mulzara
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 27
Physical Description: Avatar is grayscale but accurate.
She has long wavy brown hair, a third of which is braided along the scalp. She has tan reddish grey skin covered with white tribal body paint and body scarification signifying each person she has defeated in combat. Above her underbite tusks sits a bull's ring piercing. Deep brown eyes peer into the darkness with a keen stare.
Clothes and Equipment:
She wears off-white bandages wrapped around her limbs along with loose linen clothes. A Borvilium circlet sits around her left ankle. A layered necklace of beads and fangs lays around her neck.
Allegiances: Targel
Registered: Jan 2, 2019 15:46:17 GMT -8
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Post by Mulzara on Jan 12, 2019 15:18:40 GMT -8
The man pulled the waterskin away from her and was approached by a furred beast that reminded her of the imported rugs found among the Krevis tribe. So deep was their Borvilium vein and so lavish their wants in life that they had begun imitating foreign cultures in decoration and fashion. Mulzara had never seen such a creature in person, even from afar. To see one living and breathing mere feet away from her position was wondrous and a little unnerving at the same time. The animal was massive in size, much larger than what she recalled the furs to be. Perhaps the furs had belonged to pups rather than adults. The idea made her skin crawl and slightly mournful for the loss of such young life. But rarely was it time to weep, and now was definitely not the time to show weakness.
Fur as dark as charcoal marked its smokey body along the paws and muzzles, making it blend with the shadows it stalked. The bits of light that did filter through glinted off its fangs and claws, showing it to be the deadly predator it truly was. Its rippling lean muscles only added confirmation to this fact. The beast slowly approached the kind man but as she was about to warn him the animal stopped in its tracks and shook its large head. Is this creature a spirit of the forest? She had only heard of such things from the shamans of Zhura, the ones who believed that spirits could be spotted as much larger versions of those they walked among. These beings took the animals' forms that embodied their personality the most, and came to guide people on their paths. Though it was varied among spirits whether they lead that person to their glory or doom.
Almost as if to confirm her thoughts, the man's composure held no trace of fear as he murmured to it. This time she understood none of his words, though it wasn't unheard of for foreigners to speak many languages. Then he had returned his attention to her, speaking once more in the semi-familiar terms, “I ---- no --------- – harm--- you --- – I ------- ---- – ----- – ------. I ---- free you, --- I ---- ---- bread ---- ----- ---- ---- hunger.” Her brow furrowed as the man's tongue quickly rolled the Common words, barely giving her time to catch them all. But she contemplated the words she did understand, giving her an idea of his offer. As far as she could tell, through actions he took and her broken understanding of the language; he meant no harm to her, was offering freedom, and some bread for her aching stomach. Using body language to cross the barrier of tongues, Mulzara slowly nodded her head in response.
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Merric Ushar
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 156
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate for face, height is 6’2. Slightly larger than medium build with broad shoulders and stout legs.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally seen wearing black trousers with gold buttons and a shirt sewn from a matte material in the a sapphire blue that rivaled the stone other than the intensity of its shine. It is sewn with a diamond pattern with an approximately one inch width and is thick enough to withstand a cool day. A charcoal cloak with a clasp of silver and high black boots to his knees complete his normal attire. When armored he wears a scale plated mail that is completely black in color, it adorns his figure well and matches a helm of the same obsidian that is formed into the style of a wolf’s snout around his chin snarling and ready for battle. Upon his hip is settled a Morningstar at most times, an effective weapon its span is three feet with one handle and a sharply pointed spike at the end. It rests comfortable when he walks sliding easily along the long line of his legs.
Allegiances: Azea - Drow Homeland
Registered: Dec 31, 2018 17:04:55 GMT -8
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Post by Merric Ushar on Jan 15, 2019 21:09:54 GMT -8
Mulzara's guesses, although incorrect, were based off of educated guesses and Merric would have been impressed at the imagination behind them. Frankly in his home country most were used to his shadow, the wolf trailing all of the Usharan's with no intention of harming another unless they harmed their companion. Their relationship was not one of a master and slave, or a man and his dog, it went far beyond threaded in trust and understanding that their intelligence was almost equal and should the wolf have spoken Drow it might have implied its true beliefs.
The rope settled around her shoulders would loosen the instant that he made contact with it. He slid his fingers around the side of her arm finding it a more respectable place and drew it back with only his pointer and middle slipping it back against his palm with his thumb and other fingers holding it in place. Standing and taking a step back he flicked it the material rising and falling landing his side almost impossibly so as it had been stretched behind the tree a moment ago. He wound it using his forearm as a system of measurement and walking towards his pack keeping the rope free of his steps so he did not impede him wrapping it. His back to the orc the decision may have been poor but the eyes of the wolf never left her, not threatening yet, but capable as its haunches came forward and it settled down all muscles tense. Its senses were far beyond that of Merric's and while no ill intent came from the other female it would not settle until certainty had been acquired.
Tying the rope with its own end he dropped it beside the pack searching inside for a loose brown wrapping that held his rations. Each was packaged for daily use with the intention of being suitable for some weeks time depending on how hospitable he found not only the cuisine across the border but the treatment of his dark skin and hellish eyes. Like packing paper it was thin and crumpled when touched but was nigh impossible to keep wet and thus protected it well. Drawing a full piece it was square and baked flat with an X carved into the top as a serration pattern to allow easy breaking. Should Mulzara have rose or followed he did not blink at her action handing her the bread no matter her position, "Eat it slow, judging by your exhaustion I doubt you have had much recently and you do not need to lose what little is in your stomach now."
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