Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 22, 2019 12:59:22 GMT -8
Outcast Keep If there has even been a place more aptly named than Outcast Keep, then this storyteller has not heard of it. Outcast describes its location, nestled in the mountains of the north miles from any other population center it was constructed by some long forgotten kingdom and forgotten about. At least until a band of mercenaries took up residence in it to use it as their primary base of operations. This troop was called, what else, The Outcasts.
Lead by Sarim Nay an exile from Sakand, the Outcasts found the keep during an excursion to hunt a wyvern that had been terrorizing a nearby village. The Wyvern had taken to roosting in the belfry. After slaying the beast the band decided to take up residence in the unused keep, seeing it as an excellent spot to stockpile supplies, train new recruits, and set out to fulfill various contracts. While it was removed from civilization it was the kind of removed that made many places a reasonable trip, rather than a few places an easy one.
The nearby village was happy to have the protection of a mercenary band close by and the mercenaries were happy to have a place willing to trade them fresh produce, meat, and ale. Thus as is the way of such things an alliance was born and the village prospered along with the troop. Especially since the troop's proclivity to recruit anyone regardless of race or creed made the village more understanding. This lead to a boom in population as peoples who would not be accepted elsewhere to flock to it, not unlike distant Isra.
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 24, 2019 19:09:52 GMT -8
From the ridge, they could see figures on the parapets of Outcast Keep. Two of them, separated by the burden between them. It was a heavy burden, though not in the physical sense, its weight did not lessen as it was sent over the wall tumbling to the ground far below. With the benefit of distance, lies could be told about what those burdens were but the realities of war were hard to ignore. As supplies dwindle, rations need to be cut and to preserve as many lives as possible those cuts affect soldiers last. The first to have their rations cut are the elderly, the sick, and the infirm. Those who will pass quickly once the food gets scarce. They may even be the lucky ones, granted a peaceful death rather than one ending in quick brutal violence. Of course, you couldn’t keep the bodies in the keep. If they were left to rot they would fester and soon disease would run rampant behind the walls. High in the mountains, there was nowhere to put the dead, nowhere to bury them, nothing to do with them except chuck them over the walls and hope, pray, that succor would come before the wolves got to the bodies. It was a vain hope though and honestly those behind the walls were more concerned with the wolves coming for them. Saria stood still as a statue, as silent as the night as she watched each body drop. One, two, three, four. Her keen elvish eyes told her a little bit about each bundle and as the last dropped a single tear rolls from the corner of her eye. Had that one been just a bit smaller than the others? Who but an elf could say at this distance? The march back to Outcast Keep had been long and hard. When they’d stopped to rest she’d told them what she could of her people. Of how the keep was found and founded, of how the village grew and prospered, how it became known as a place where any would be accepted. Eventually, she spoke of how a rival mercenary band raided the village, of the sortie Captain Nay had led when they’d spotted the fires from their walls, of keeping the troops of the New Moon Brother’s long enough to get the survivors evacuated to the keep. Of the fight up the mountain path that had seen nearly a tenth of their forces killed or wounded before they closed the gates once more. “With our numbers so reduced, we knew we would need succor,” Saria says as they continue along the far ridge moving carefully to avoid attracting the attention of the enemy scouts. “Unfortunately, the only exit from the keep is not large enough for a full evacuation without drawing attention. The exit is narrow, only one may leave at a time and it is close enough to their camp that we would draw attention should we try to evacuate through it.” And indeed that was the case as the enemy encampment was within bowshot of their current position. While the small group was avoiding detection for now, with the scouts and sentries mostly focused on the keep, it was unlikely that a larger force would evade detection for long. “Still, perhaps with your aid, we can use it to stage an ambush. Or mayhaps even break the siege in a more straightforward way. Strategy and Tactics are not my forte, for that you will have to talk to Captain Nay.” She finishes in her hushed whisper as they come to a stop next to a large boulder, settled against the cliff. Moving to the back of it she motions the group to follow as she slips in between the gap that the leaning slab of rock makes with the cliff face. It does not look large enough to hold her yet with only a bit of work she vanishes into it. Clearly, this was their secret way back into the fortress. Treva Briarheart Alliandre Saleia Skylark
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Alliandre Saleia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 99
Age: 25
Physical Description: She is a tall (5'11") and fair-skinned young woman. Long black hair falls down the entirety of her backside, terminating in a slight ponytail for the last foot of hair. Her lithe and muscular form is heavily complimented by her choice in clothing, and she maintains a strict regime of cleanliness that makes herself constantly clean and nearly germ-free. Her blue eyes glow dimly in all but the brightest of lights.
Clothes and Equipment: Silken robes cover most of her body, with her shoulders and chest protected by leather armor. Long black boots stretch up to meet matching black greaves at her knees. A glaive is usually slung across her back, its long haft inscribed with a flowing pattern of runes that enhance magical healing abilities. The glaive's blade is a dull green color, but incredibly sharp. A first aid kit is secured to her belt just beneath the end of her hair.
Registered: Jun 5, 2016 0:41:42 GMT -8
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Post by Alliandre Saleia on Jan 25, 2019 7:45:08 GMT -8
"It is fortunate that you have this small escape then." Alli whispered, mentally saying a prayer for those dumped over the walls so unceremoniously.
"I am not a strategist either, just a healer with a quick blade, I'll help wherever you all need me the most." She whispered right before Saria disappeared into the crevice. Alli adjusted her pack and slipped in behind her towards the darkness of the secret passage.
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Skylark
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Physical Description: Well below average height, and with a slim build, his body looks like it's barely finished being a child. His eyes shine darkly from beneath unkempt hair, their severity out of place on his otherwise youthful appearance.
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Clothes and Equipment: Usually wearing a cloak evidently a few sizes too large, it envelops his small form, everything he wears is tattered and old, looking like it's either hand-me-downs on their last legs, or other peoples waste he's scavenged. In contrast to his rag-tag clothing, he always wears gloves on his hands, regardless of the weather. He usually wears a mask under the hood of the robe, to hide his younger appearance.
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Player's online availability : UTC+8 Outside of working Hours
Registered: Jan 20, 2019 2:59:57 GMT -8
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Post by Skylark on Jan 25, 2019 20:21:49 GMT -8
Skylark watches as the bodies are thrown over the wall, a passing curiosity passing over his features, hidden well by the cowl of his cloak.
He walks a step behind the others, idly playing with his cloak as he walks, listening intently as Saria recounts the history of the keep and its people.
"It's good that a place like this exists, a place for all the people, not just those that fit in" his words sound sincere, speaking as if from experience. "I'm glad to offer whatever help I can to let it continue.
He slips in behind the other two, casting a wary glance over his shoulder before he slips through, enveloped quickly by the darkness.
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Treva Briarheart
Established
Roleplay posts: 30
Age: 23
Physical Description: Treva stands at an imposing five foot and two inches. Her figure is healthy if a bit on the thin side. Light brown mid-back length hair frames a stoic face that often shows her genuine happiness despite her attempt at a stoic demeanor.
Clothes and Equipment: ...
Most times Treva wears the armor of her order, a heavy leather with facades of fine mithral chain. Steel boots frame her shins and feet while a deep red-brown cloak falls from her neck, matching ankle length open front skirt around her waist.
Her shield is made from a strong dark wood and shelled by cold steel with silvered edges, the point of which can be used for offhand attacks. Carved into the front plating is the symbol of her goddess Xivri.
The haft of her mace is made with the same dark wood as the shield, and the flanges the same silvered cold iron. Runes inscribe each flange, telling of the level of craftsmanship but possessing no actual magical power.
Registered: Mar 6, 2016 12:40:12 GMT -8
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Post by Treva Briarheart on Jan 27, 2019 5:44:26 GMT -8
Treva whispers a prayer for each of the bodies as they fall silently from the parapets. Any band of men that could starve the weak and ill to death over something as fleeting as wealth or a plot of land were most certainly evil.
She remains silent as the others speak. She has nothing to add, her feelings conveyed already through their words.
Like the others, she managed to squeeze through the crack in the rock face. Her small frame helped, but her armor did not. Using her cloak and a blanket from her bedroll, she was able to make it through without the scraping of metal on stone that might reveal the valuable escape route.
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Kehy
Established
Apparently I have 2 Discord accounts. The correct one is #7784
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: Early 20's. Probably.
Physical Description: At first glance it's difficult to tell whether Kehy is a man or a woman. Or a furless bear. A second glance doesn't help either. The tan skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair seem common enough, but it's the little things like the angle of the eyes and cheekbones that say Kehy comes from afar. A little scar on the chin seems to be hinting at something. Though appearing fairly stout and at middling height at best, he(?) is surprisingly graceful and surefooted.
Clothes and Equipment: The clothes say definitely not from around here. There's a layer of body-tight clothes under there somewhere, but you'd have to get through the loose and flowing outer garments to find it. These clothes don't restrict movement at all, and the large loose sleeves of the outer layer are very good for concealing movement and weapons. It's a mosaic of browns and greens, but there is a very clear and obvious white ribbon collar tight around his neck, with strange runes written on the clasp.
Registered: Jan 24, 2019 19:44:46 GMT -8
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Post by Kehy on Jan 30, 2019 18:20:09 GMT -8
Kehy's normally cheerful face was grim as the bodies fell. He didn't need to understand the language to know what they were, or why they were being handled in such a manner. His fingers drew a symbol in the air, blessing the fallen as he silently followed close behind the others.
He hadn't understood a word of the explanation of the history or the significance. All he cared about was how he could best help these desperate people. Though so different from his own people, pain and suffering were universal languages, and what kind of person would he be if he didn't at least try to help?
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 31, 2019 16:22:10 GMT -8
Crawling under the boulder would take slightly longer than the four may have been comfortable with but it isn't long before the ceiling gives way and there is enough space to stand. Saria had already lit a torch revealing the tunnel to the party. It was clearly man-made, with solid stone walls and struts dotted around. Some of the older wooden ones had fresh planks hammered in it, reinforced by the Outcast's no doubt to keep their escape route usable. The half-elf leads the way further down the tunnel, the smooth path gradually sloping down and then curving around until they were pointed toward the keep. It is a long walk through the musty corridor but eventually the floor slopes up once more and the group soon find themselves exiting out of a trap door into a storage room within the keep proper. "Captain Saria, you have returned." As the four pull themselves out of the hole they would hear a guard, doubtless posted to watch the trap door, greeting the half-elf. A quick exchange of pleasantries is made before Saria introduces the group. "These are all I could gather up." She says and the guard frowns. "Only four?" The young man asks and she nods her head. "Yes, but two of them are magical healers so they may do the work of more than just four," Saria assures the young man before changing the subject. "Where is Commander Nay? I should deliver the report and our recruits with all due haste." This question makes the young man's features deepen and he points towards the door. "He is in the baily, there is an execution today. Red Salem..." Saria raises her hand to silence the young man. "Say no more, I can imagine the rest." Turning to the group she gestures. "Come with me." Leading the group out of the storage room and up a flight of stairs, they head out of the main doors and into the courtyard where a crowd of people has gathered. There were not many soldiers in the crowd, just a gaggle of villagers. Men and women whose features were starting to go gaunt from cut rations, eyes carrying the haunted look that only those recently re-introduced to the horrors of the world can have. Their attention was affixed on the mercenaries near the wall. A man with strikingly red-hair was kneeling before a headsmen's block, his eyes dark and filled with malicious hatred. Before him stood a veritable mountain of a man with ebony skin and grim continence that was more than a rival to the kneeling man's clear vitriolic hatred. "Red Salem, you stand accused of the rape and murder of Beatrice Twilsbury of the village of Dulth. As you were caught redhanded there can be no doubt of your guilt in this matter. Do you have any last words to say?" The red-haired man attempts to spit at the ebony skinned one but the wad falls short, then he speaks. "Ye fekkin hypocrite, ye act like we've never raped and pillaged before Nay. But we 'ave, nae yer getting soft just 'cause these gormless fecks are under our protection? That bitch should 'ave been grateful to take my seed!" Nodding to the man standing behind the red-haired man, the ebony-skinned one begins to move drawing the scimitar at his waist as he responds. "They are under our protection." He says as the guard plants a boot in the red-haired man's back, forcing his head to smack down onto the block. "During a time of war. As such, blood will be paid with blood." With a single determined motion the scimitar rises and falls, a final vile epitaph is a spat, a spray of blood stains the dirt, the thud of a head hits the ground. The crowd begins to disperse and Saria approaches. "Commander Nay, I am returned from my mission and I bring you these four recruits." The Commander looks up as Saria approaches, the half-elf electing to act as though there wasn't a body currently being dragged off to the wall for disposal. "Excellent." Turning to the group Salim salutes the four, going ramrod stiff and slamming his right fist against his heart. "I am Salim Nay, Commander of the Outcasts. Thank you for rendering what assistance you can in these trying times. What are your names and what skills do you bring to our cause? I would like to have it in your own words.
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Alliandre Saleia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 99
Age: 25
Physical Description: She is a tall (5'11") and fair-skinned young woman. Long black hair falls down the entirety of her backside, terminating in a slight ponytail for the last foot of hair. Her lithe and muscular form is heavily complimented by her choice in clothing, and she maintains a strict regime of cleanliness that makes herself constantly clean and nearly germ-free. Her blue eyes glow dimly in all but the brightest of lights.
Clothes and Equipment: Silken robes cover most of her body, with her shoulders and chest protected by leather armor. Long black boots stretch up to meet matching black greaves at her knees. A glaive is usually slung across her back, its long haft inscribed with a flowing pattern of runes that enhance magical healing abilities. The glaive's blade is a dull green color, but incredibly sharp. A first aid kit is secured to her belt just beneath the end of her hair.
Registered: Jun 5, 2016 0:41:42 GMT -8
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Post by Alliandre Saleia on Feb 1, 2019 8:54:04 GMT -8
Alli watched the execution impassively, though her very nature recoiled at both the man's crimes and the execution. She hated watching people die needlessly, though she understood the reasoning behind it, and did not let her expression divulge her thoughts.
She bowed to the Commander before answering his question.
"Alliandre Saleia, I trained in a monastery for many years, learning the art of healing, physical and magical, as well as the ability to hold my own in combat. I will admit to a lack of any organized military experience however, I have never been part of any army."
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Skylark
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Physical Description: Well below average height, and with a slim build, his body looks like it's barely finished being a child. His eyes shine darkly from beneath unkempt hair, their severity out of place on his otherwise youthful appearance.
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Clothes and Equipment: Usually wearing a cloak evidently a few sizes too large, it envelops his small form, everything he wears is tattered and old, looking like it's either hand-me-downs on their last legs, or other peoples waste he's scavenged. In contrast to his rag-tag clothing, he always wears gloves on his hands, regardless of the weather. He usually wears a mask under the hood of the robe, to hide his younger appearance.
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Player's online availability : UTC+8 Outside of working Hours
Registered: Jan 20, 2019 2:59:57 GMT -8
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Post by Skylark on Feb 1, 2019 19:12:05 GMT -8
Skylar fights against his own smile at the phrasing used by the executioner, 'red-handed' for a redhead was good, but smiling during an execution was not. He holds his face impassive, although his eyes revealed his thoughts on the proceedings.
He turns away slightly as the head 'thumps' against the ground, looking instead to the crowd to gauge their reactions.
When the commander approaches, he would attempt a salute, although, with the awkwardness of his movements, it looks almost satirical, rather than respectful. He lowers his hand to his other arm, scratching at it nervously as he answers.
"I'm uh" His voice breaks slightly, he clears his throat before trying again. "Skylar and I have some magic too... I guess I can do some healing, but it's not my specialty, I think I'd be more help out where the fighting is than looking after the wounded." His voice loses some volume as he continues. "What I do is kind of grizzly though, so it might be best to keep me away from doing it in front of civilians."
His arm drops to his side, hanging there awkwardly, and it almost looks as like he shrinks back into his cloak as if to signal he has finished speaking.
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Treva Briarheart
Established
Roleplay posts: 30
Age: 23
Physical Description: Treva stands at an imposing five foot and two inches. Her figure is healthy if a bit on the thin side. Light brown mid-back length hair frames a stoic face that often shows her genuine happiness despite her attempt at a stoic demeanor.
Clothes and Equipment: ...
Most times Treva wears the armor of her order, a heavy leather with facades of fine mithral chain. Steel boots frame her shins and feet while a deep red-brown cloak falls from her neck, matching ankle length open front skirt around her waist.
Her shield is made from a strong dark wood and shelled by cold steel with silvered edges, the point of which can be used for offhand attacks. Carved into the front plating is the symbol of her goddess Xivri.
The haft of her mace is made with the same dark wood as the shield, and the flanges the same silvered cold iron. Runes inscribe each flange, telling of the level of craftsmanship but possessing no actual magical power.
Registered: Mar 6, 2016 12:40:12 GMT -8
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Post by Treva Briarheart on Feb 2, 2019 23:06:08 GMT -8
Treva followed behind the half-elf with the others. Looking around the courtyard, she could see the weariness and hunger of the people. She frowned at their condition. She would see to their needs as immediately as she was able.
The execution of the criminal left her feeling uneasy. The crimes he'd committed certainly earned him a swift and just punishment, but Xivri would not approve of such a barbaric method.
After the leader had made his introduction, she followed Alliandre and Skylark with her own. "I am Treva Briarheart, cleric of Xivri. I hunt and destroy the unliving in my Goddess's name." Casting a glance past Nay to the tired villagers, she immediately continued, not waiting for a response. "I would like to have our pleasantries at a later time. Xivri provides me with not only the power to fight the undead, but to heal and sustain the living. I can create a limited amount of sustenance for these people, and help the sick and weak heal. It will not be enough for everyone, so I'd like to gather the worst off and tend to them immediately."
She looked back to Nay, expecting him to allow her to start presently. Not because she had no respect for the man, but because she had prioritized the villagers above all else.
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Kehy
Established
Apparently I have 2 Discord accounts. The correct one is #7784
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: Early 20's. Probably.
Physical Description: At first glance it's difficult to tell whether Kehy is a man or a woman. Or a furless bear. A second glance doesn't help either. The tan skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair seem common enough, but it's the little things like the angle of the eyes and cheekbones that say Kehy comes from afar. A little scar on the chin seems to be hinting at something. Though appearing fairly stout and at middling height at best, he(?) is surprisingly graceful and surefooted.
Clothes and Equipment: The clothes say definitely not from around here. There's a layer of body-tight clothes under there somewhere, but you'd have to get through the loose and flowing outer garments to find it. These clothes don't restrict movement at all, and the large loose sleeves of the outer layer are very good for concealing movement and weapons. It's a mosaic of browns and greens, but there is a very clear and obvious white ribbon collar tight around his neck, with strange runes written on the clasp.
Registered: Jan 24, 2019 19:44:46 GMT -8
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Post by Kehy on Feb 3, 2019 1:32:58 GMT -8
Kehy watched the preceding incident with a neutral gaze. It was only natural that under such stressful and trying conditions erratic and dangerous behavior would emerge. And that behavior must be curbed, apparently by any means necessary here. It was distasteful, but not unfamiliar. Once peace was restored, one could hope that such happenings would be a thing of the past. One could hope. Looking back at the party, he found himself sounding out the word "Commander" curiously, trying to puzzle out its meaning. It was obviously a rank of some sort, likely high up. Then and there he made it his goal to find meaning for the word during his stay. One word he did understand though was "name". He patiently waited for the others to say theirs, still struggling to familiarize himself with the foreign names. When a glance was cast to him, he respectfully bowed before gesturing to himself. "Name Kehy. Come from far far away." He stammered out in his broken language before giving up, slowly drawing out a few of his knives, keeping his hands visible; a difficult feat with his long loose sleeves. He carefully flourished them, hinting at his skill before stowing them, instead pulling off his back a strangely curved and recurved piece of wood, bent almost like a "C". Holding it in one hand, he pantomimed drawing and releasing a bow. After this he paused for a moment, biting his lip before deciding to throw judgement to the wind. What could it hurt to show them his last trick? From a string around his waist, he drew off a little engraved copper disk studded with a tiny garnet, one of many on the string. He balanced it on his finger before flipping it in the air where it burst into flames. As it fell, he easily caught it and the flames died down leaving his hand unharmed. The garnet on the disk however cracked and broke, rendering it useless. Once more, he bowed politely.
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Feb 4, 2019 12:38:29 GMT -8
Nay allowed each of the new recruits to speak in turn before turning his attention to Treva and Alliandra. "Priestess Briarheart is correct, if you can provide magical healing then it's best you get started. Focus on the soldiers first, the more we have on the walls the more likely it is everyone survives." The way he says this suggests that it will be a challenge for the two to do so but that he'd brook no insubordination in the matter in the matter. "Captain, show them to the hall." Nay nods at Saria and the half-elf escorts the two healers away.
Turning his attention to Kehy and Skylark, the commander frowns at the latter. "I don't need obfuscation soldier. Kind of grisly doesn't tell me what you can do so speak clearly on the matter." Then eyes tracking to Kehy he speaks to the young man in a few different languages. The commander didn't know a great many, but he starts with the handful of desert dialects from his native land hoping that he could find a common tongue with the apparently magical archer.
Meanwhile, the two healers were escorted into the main hall of the keep which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. There were perhaps two dozen within that were in dire enough condition to require bed rest, of course, minor issue that didn't stop people from attending their duties abounded. Of the patients, most were soldiers who'd taken some serious wound. A gut shot here, a deep laceration to the side there, a bit of shrapnel that would fester in the leg here. About a half dozen were villagers who'd been caught in the crossfire, a young woman whose face was wrapped in a bandage. A child of five whose arm was broken in and held in a sling. An elderly man who was hacking up a lung from some unknown illness that had grown worse due to the poor conditions.
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Kehy
Established
Apparently I have 2 Discord accounts. The correct one is #7784
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: Early 20's. Probably.
Physical Description: At first glance it's difficult to tell whether Kehy is a man or a woman. Or a furless bear. A second glance doesn't help either. The tan skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair seem common enough, but it's the little things like the angle of the eyes and cheekbones that say Kehy comes from afar. A little scar on the chin seems to be hinting at something. Though appearing fairly stout and at middling height at best, he(?) is surprisingly graceful and surefooted.
Clothes and Equipment: The clothes say definitely not from around here. There's a layer of body-tight clothes under there somewhere, but you'd have to get through the loose and flowing outer garments to find it. These clothes don't restrict movement at all, and the large loose sleeves of the outer layer are very good for concealing movement and weapons. It's a mosaic of browns and greens, but there is a very clear and obvious white ribbon collar tight around his neck, with strange runes written on the clasp.
Registered: Jan 24, 2019 19:44:46 GMT -8
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Post by Kehy on Feb 5, 2019 20:30:58 GMT -8
Kehy frowns as he listens closely, trying to find any familiar words. He perks up, hearing a word in a similar language. "Ah, close, close" he murmurs, though the accent and inflection is clearly different, there's enough of a similarity that he can decipher it. A smile of relief clacks his lips. "Been long long time since anyone has understood me. Wonderful, thank you!" A wave of sudden confidence washes over him, his grin stretching wider and eyes sparkling. He stands a little straighter, looking the commander in the eye. "I am Kehy-rama Longsson of Aisure. I archer in Aisure horse-troops, half-done magic training when I... left." His face falls a little, regrets written across it. "Aisure no more. First no water long time. Then bandits and raiders, then..." He spreads his hands, shrugging sadly. "Nothing left of village, of kingdom. No more Aisure. But there is Kehy. And Kehy will help you"
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Skylark
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Physical Description: Well below average height, and with a slim build, his body looks like it's barely finished being a child. His eyes shine darkly from beneath unkempt hair, their severity out of place on his otherwise youthful appearance.
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Clothes and Equipment: Usually wearing a cloak evidently a few sizes too large, it envelops his small form, everything he wears is tattered and old, looking like it's either hand-me-downs on their last legs, or other peoples waste he's scavenged. In contrast to his rag-tag clothing, he always wears gloves on his hands, regardless of the weather. He usually wears a mask under the hood of the robe, to hide his younger appearance.
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Player's online availability : UTC+8 Outside of working Hours
Registered: Jan 20, 2019 2:59:57 GMT -8
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Post by Skylark on Feb 6, 2019 5:29:35 GMT -8
Skylark looks down as the captain reprimands him, thoroughly chagrinned, though he does not respond until the two women are far away, eyes following them worriedly as they are escorted away. He then waits for Kehy to finish, before he speaks, somewhat more confidently than before. "It's magic that kills people, though it does so in a way that some might consider..." He pauses, glancing warily the way the two women had left, ensuring they hadn't returned. "unholy..." He pauses, making sure the captain understands the gravity of his words. "If you are to make use of me, it might be best to do so with those who are more" He raises a hand uncertainly in the air as if searching for a phrase he couldn't put to words. "morally flexible?" he finishes, sounding more like a question than a statement.
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Alliandre Saleia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 99
Age: 25
Physical Description: She is a tall (5'11") and fair-skinned young woman. Long black hair falls down the entirety of her backside, terminating in a slight ponytail for the last foot of hair. Her lithe and muscular form is heavily complimented by her choice in clothing, and she maintains a strict regime of cleanliness that makes herself constantly clean and nearly germ-free. Her blue eyes glow dimly in all but the brightest of lights.
Clothes and Equipment: Silken robes cover most of her body, with her shoulders and chest protected by leather armor. Long black boots stretch up to meet matching black greaves at her knees. A glaive is usually slung across her back, its long haft inscribed with a flowing pattern of runes that enhance magical healing abilities. The glaive's blade is a dull green color, but incredibly sharp. A first aid kit is secured to her belt just beneath the end of her hair.
Registered: Jun 5, 2016 0:41:42 GMT -8
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Post by Alliandre Saleia on Feb 7, 2019 11:46:19 GMT -8
Alliandre nodded at the Captain.
"Yes sir!" She said, following the Priestess to the infirmary.
"Yikes..." she whispered, taking in the rather gruesome sights before her. "What supplies do you have left? I have some herbs and stuff with me...maybe enough for what is here but I assume this won't be the last of them, so we're gonna need some more."
She set to work immediately, pulling some herbs from her pouch and seeing to the gut shot person first, her hands occasionally lighting up with magic as she sought to save the patient.
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Treva Briarheart
Established
Roleplay posts: 30
Age: 23
Physical Description: Treva stands at an imposing five foot and two inches. Her figure is healthy if a bit on the thin side. Light brown mid-back length hair frames a stoic face that often shows her genuine happiness despite her attempt at a stoic demeanor.
Clothes and Equipment: ...
Most times Treva wears the armor of her order, a heavy leather with facades of fine mithral chain. Steel boots frame her shins and feet while a deep red-brown cloak falls from her neck, matching ankle length open front skirt around her waist.
Her shield is made from a strong dark wood and shelled by cold steel with silvered edges, the point of which can be used for offhand attacks. Carved into the front plating is the symbol of her goddess Xivri.
The haft of her mace is made with the same dark wood as the shield, and the flanges the same silvered cold iron. Runes inscribe each flange, telling of the level of craftsmanship but possessing no actual magical power.
Registered: Mar 6, 2016 12:40:12 GMT -8
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Post by Treva Briarheart on Feb 8, 2019 1:17:41 GMT -8
Nodding to the commander, Treva acquiesced to his suggestion that the soldiers be healed first. Whether or not she'd actually adhere to it would have to wait until she saw the situation in the keep.
She followed Saria and Ali into the makeshift infirmary and took stock of the room. Despite her desire to help the villagers, she had to agree that most of the worst injuries were the soldiers.
As Ali headed directly to the man with the stomach wound, Treva would see to any of the men who suffered primarily from cuts or breaks. Xivri blesses her followers with powerful healing magics that could knit these simple injuries in short minutes -- though to those with the afflictions, it may seem like longer. The healed men would be physically whole once more, and filled with a feeling of exuberance. There was no other benefit, but their lightened attitudes may help with falling morale around the keep.
After finishing those soldiers without complications, she would find the boy and heal his arm. She wouldn't leave the boy to suffer long in this battle between adults.
The man with shrapnel in his leg would still require some surgery to remove it, and Treva guessed Ali might have more experience with such wounds, given her expertise with herb and root. She wanted to save some of her remaining power for the injured villagers, but she estimated she'd be nearly out and exhausted after finishing in the keep. She might have enough left to conjure food and water for half a dozen or so, but that would be pushing it.
Before that, though, she'd find a mostly quiet area and sit down to pray. Beseeching Xivri for protection, she'd cast a blessing on the entire room. Rather than the direct healing she'd been using, the blessing would be like a slow drip, ceaselessly filling a bucket. Any who slept here tonight would wake up refreshed, as if they'd had a full night's rest in their own beds. She also prayed that it would still matter in the morning.
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Feb 10, 2019 6:09:47 GMT -8
Commander Nay returns Kehy's smile when one of the various desert dialects is close enough to facilitate more direct communication. While Nay himself had grown up in Sakandi, he'd known many people from the desert tribes who'd never had a chance to learn the common tongue. As such, he was familiar with the frustration those people could experience trying to learn a more familiar language.
"My condolences for your loss Kehy, I am sure with your help there will still be Outcasts in the future. Though unfortunately, we will not be able to use you to best effectiveness. I know how devastating horse bound archers can be, but the mountain path makes a horse charge untenable."
To Skylark, Key frowns as the man explains with slightly more detail the exact nature of his magic.
"Necromancy then?" That was the most common branch of magic that people shied from speaking of. "Regardless, you may have a point don't do anything overt in front of the villagers. However, my soldiers will not question the nature of the magic if it means getting out of this alive." Mercenaries tended toward pragmatism after all.
To both of them, he gives their next orders. "I want the both of you to get whatever rest you need and to get familiar with the keep. We are having a strategy meeting tonight that you will be attending, I am hoping fresh eyes may come up with a plan for survival that has thus far eluded us." Under normal circumstances, he would never ask strangers to attend his war council but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Dismissed."
Meanwhile, in the great hall, Saria nods as Aliandre speaks. "Herbs and bandages are one thing we don't lack for." She says with a sigh. "My rangers are able to slip out to gather basic supplies. Herbs are easy enough to get through the tunnel, I just wish we could squeeze enough food through it to keep the people fed." Dragging a dear carcass through the small opening wasn't practical and taking the time to butcher it and bring morsels of food through would likely lead to the tunnel being discovered. On top of that, the army below was already driving most of the local game out of the valley.
Nothing prevents the healing from going as intended and those who receive help are quite grateful. The young boy even going to far as to hug Treva when his arm stops aching. The application of exuberance is a welcome one and helps to lift the general malaise that had fallen upon the great hall. It didn't take the sharpest eye to recognize that morale was a problem within Outcast Keep, but who could blame them? Food stocks were dwindling and once they were gone so was their very way of life.
When they are finished Commander Nay makes an appearance. "Thank you for your help." He says in grave tones. "You have a few hours, I suggest you use them to rest up. There is a meeting in the command room this evening and I ask you to attend. We are hoping fresh eyes will help us find a way out of this. Saria will fetch you when it is time." With that the Commander takes his leave.
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Kehy
Established
Apparently I have 2 Discord accounts. The correct one is #7784
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: Early 20's. Probably.
Physical Description: At first glance it's difficult to tell whether Kehy is a man or a woman. Or a furless bear. A second glance doesn't help either. The tan skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair seem common enough, but it's the little things like the angle of the eyes and cheekbones that say Kehy comes from afar. A little scar on the chin seems to be hinting at something. Though appearing fairly stout and at middling height at best, he(?) is surprisingly graceful and surefooted.
Clothes and Equipment: The clothes say definitely not from around here. There's a layer of body-tight clothes under there somewhere, but you'd have to get through the loose and flowing outer garments to find it. These clothes don't restrict movement at all, and the large loose sleeves of the outer layer are very good for concealing movement and weapons. It's a mosaic of browns and greens, but there is a very clear and obvious white ribbon collar tight around his neck, with strange runes written on the clasp.
Registered: Jan 24, 2019 19:44:46 GMT -8
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Post by Kehy on Feb 10, 2019 21:27:53 GMT -8
Kehy nods at the orders before bowing again, a tune on his lips as he sets off to explore. The excitement of finding someone he could talk to was infectious, and he could hardly contain himself. Indeed, once he found a nice place to rest in the hall, he pulled out his little flute and began playing a cheerful number, the notes resonating and bouncing off the walls. It seemed so out of place in such morose environment, but Kehy's joy was genuine, and slowly smiles began to appear on the weary faces around him.
He paused for a moment to take a drink of water, watching the world around him with open eyes. These were tired people, full of pain and sorrow, but they wished to be happy. If playing a little music would raise their spirits, what was the harm? His next tune was a little softer, kinder and more sympathetic, and by time he was done, some of the folks had drawn close to the stranger, offering what little food and drink they had. He introduced himself, struggling again with the language barrier. He'd been trying for years, but the common tongue evaded him. Eventually he was able to convey that he wished to learn his way around the keep, and found himself being guided along by a few of the locals. Fortunately, what he lacked in language skills, he made up for in location memory, and soon had the layout of the place memorized. Afterwards, he returned to the mess hall and his music, filling the air with something other than complaints and misery.
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Skylark
New
Roleplay posts: 9
Physical Description: Well below average height, and with a slim build, his body looks like it's barely finished being a child. His eyes shine darkly from beneath unkempt hair, their severity out of place on his otherwise youthful appearance.
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Clothes and Equipment: Usually wearing a cloak evidently a few sizes too large, it envelops his small form, everything he wears is tattered and old, looking like it's either hand-me-downs on their last legs, or other peoples waste he's scavenged. In contrast to his rag-tag clothing, he always wears gloves on his hands, regardless of the weather. He usually wears a mask under the hood of the robe, to hide his younger appearance.
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Player's online availability : UTC+8 Outside of working Hours
Registered: Jan 20, 2019 2:59:57 GMT -8
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Post by Skylark on Feb 11, 2019 3:32:50 GMT -8
Skylark doesn't respond verbally to the mention of necromancy, but his left hand involuntarily clenches at the word, and his eyes narrow visibly, clearly the captain's guess had struck home, at least partially. He grabs at his left arm with his right, drawing it into the folds of his cloak.
"I'll be there tonight then, though i'm not much for the strategy of war." His words are sullen, a stark contrast to his usual mix of jovial and worried tone. "I'd be more use out there then i would at the meeting", he finishes, almost to himself as he turns around, walking away from the commander without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
He walks for a time around the keep, keeping to himself, mulling over what he might have to do in the coming days. As night descended he would stop, and realise he hadn't the slightest idea where he was, or how he got there, all he knew was that he could smell the rot of death nearby. He was clearly somewhere he shouldn't be.
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Alliandre Saleia
Committed
Roleplay posts: 99
Age: 25
Physical Description: She is a tall (5'11") and fair-skinned young woman. Long black hair falls down the entirety of her backside, terminating in a slight ponytail for the last foot of hair. Her lithe and muscular form is heavily complimented by her choice in clothing, and she maintains a strict regime of cleanliness that makes herself constantly clean and nearly germ-free. Her blue eyes glow dimly in all but the brightest of lights.
Clothes and Equipment: Silken robes cover most of her body, with her shoulders and chest protected by leather armor. Long black boots stretch up to meet matching black greaves at her knees. A glaive is usually slung across her back, its long haft inscribed with a flowing pattern of runes that enhance magical healing abilities. The glaive's blade is a dull green color, but incredibly sharp. A first aid kit is secured to her belt just beneath the end of her hair.
Registered: Jun 5, 2016 0:41:42 GMT -8
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Post by Alliandre Saleia on Feb 12, 2019 9:38:00 GMT -8
Once Alli saw the efficacy of Treva's healing, she left Treva to it, focusing on the injuries that, even with treatment, likely meant these soldiers were out of this particular fight. For the gut-shot wound, she cleaned everything up and packed it as tightly as possible. Her healing magic, while no where near as potent as Treva's, was still sufficient to ensure that the man did not suffer during her work. Alli left brief instructions on what the man should be ingesting and then moved on to those that required more physical interaction...
By the time she was done removing arrowheads and bone fragments, Alli's arms were stained red up to the elbow, and she wearily nodded her acknowledgement of the Commander's orders before heading off to find some food and a quiet place to catch a quick nap.
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