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Post by libertalianarrator on Jul 9, 2019 17:26:32 GMT -8
Libertalia.
The city of Libertalia is located on the southern part of Libertalia island, leading from the old mines of the mountains all the way to the Liberty Docks. The bustling city is filled with everything anyone could want. Pubs, ale houses, feast halls, theatres, brothels, gambling houses, restaurants, shops of all kind, there's something for everyone in Libertalia. The underground quarter, all dwarven made, is home to almost all of the dwarven population, for obvious reasons, as well as halflings and the generally short. It's here where most of the equipment making, distilling and brewing, and other dwarven trades are conducted, as well as the mining operations. It has also become a convenient place to set up the Libertalia Public Vaults, established only ten years prior by the state, a sort of bank for people to keep their valuables, for a small fee. Before this, most had to make do with their own safes, bury their loot, or build their own hidden vaults away from the city. Not very secure... Above ground, among the usual grocers and tailors, one doesn't need to go far to find weapons dealers, spice merchants, livestock auction houses, drug dens and peddlers, if you want to buy something, anything, Libertalia has it. The city itself is intersected by a long main street leading from the docks, starting with a large statue dedicated to Captain Francis O'Malley, the city's founder, and ends in the O'Malley Manor, overlooking the city. Along the main street sit market stalls, travelling vendors, and candle lamps that keep the city glowing long into the night. Signs advertising the various businesses jut out from all along the road, and sign posts, some hastily scrawled, point down the side streets. Sailors may make for great navigators, but even the most experienced need a hand now and again.
Though some make their homes outside the city, many live within its borders, in houses or small, usually 4 floor, apartment buildings, each one different than the last. The general style remains the same, but there's no counting for who lives within, or how they choose to decorate.
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Nor Anad (Symphony)
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: unknown, physically around 32
Physical Description: ———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Nor is an undead knight summoned by his own willpower. His soul is tied to an ancient magic that summons power from mere willpower. He is an undead human-like being that is fit to be a knight. His magic is a double-edged sword, if he could not focus on keeping himself alive, his soul would eventually wear away and dissipate, killing him off forever.
Nor has dull grey, almost purple eyes. His complexion is usually sour, and expressionless. He has little care of what goes on around him, as interaction takes a small amount of focus from himself. His body is a visual input of his focus, the more dead and rotten it appears the more focus he loses.
He stands at seven feet tall, and has runes painted all over his body. These runes are marking of the ancient spell that ties him to the magic. Nor’s hair his a greyish brown, and usually is rather long.
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Clothes and Equipment: Nor wears a set of full plate armor, and barely takes off his helmet, unless it is required. His armor is mostly plain plate armor, with gambeson and chainmail underneath at the joints. On the crest a rune is carved into the metal and is the most defining feature, when Nor is in armor. When the rare chance Nor is out of his armor, he wears a green roughspun tunic and brown breeches. He wears a hood as well to mainly hide most his face. He wears a sallet helm with painted runes bearing his name.
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Allegiances: Only to himself
Player's online availability : Always in flux
Registered: Jul 29, 2019 17:16:07 GMT -8
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Post by Nor Anad (Symphony) on Aug 1, 2019 18:49:47 GMT -8
Nor sits in a local pub, a mug of ale by his hand. He looks aimlessly at the mug, his sallet still resting on his head. His mouth-guard was unhinged and the gaunt knight took a swig of the ale. He was a mysterious armored figure, wearing an old armor, similar to that of a knight's. He wasn't armed, though his presence was somehow threatening. Nor was a stranger in Libertalia and a stranger to the times. He spoke rarely and his way of speaking was of an older time. Whoever he was or whoever he is would be something he kept to himself.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Aug 2, 2019 5:12:43 GMT -8
The small pub he found himself in is the Albert Saghet Inn, a small establishment, but cosy, unlike the much grander Douglas Brewhaus closer to the docks. This is a place where people came to have a quiet drink over the rowdy, much more active Brewhaus.
The knight would be almost alone if it wasn't for the three old codgers in the corner, speaking in hushed tones as they smoke their pipes, a man in a hooded cloak who seemed to have fallen asleep, and the barkeep, none other than Albert Saghet, a tall man with a grand moustache and the sides of his head cut short.
"Don't see many like you around here," he finally says to the knighted fella. "In full regalia, I mean. You're certainly no sailor I've ever seen, so what brings ya to our little slice of paradise, pal?"
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Nor Anad (Symphony)
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: unknown, physically around 32
Physical Description: ———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Nor is an undead knight summoned by his own willpower. His soul is tied to an ancient magic that summons power from mere willpower. He is an undead human-like being that is fit to be a knight. His magic is a double-edged sword, if he could not focus on keeping himself alive, his soul would eventually wear away and dissipate, killing him off forever.
Nor has dull grey, almost purple eyes. His complexion is usually sour, and expressionless. He has little care of what goes on around him, as interaction takes a small amount of focus from himself. His body is a visual input of his focus, the more dead and rotten it appears the more focus he loses.
He stands at seven feet tall, and has runes painted all over his body. These runes are marking of the ancient spell that ties him to the magic. Nor’s hair his a greyish brown, and usually is rather long.
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Clothes and Equipment: Nor wears a set of full plate armor, and barely takes off his helmet, unless it is required. His armor is mostly plain plate armor, with gambeson and chainmail underneath at the joints. On the crest a rune is carved into the metal and is the most defining feature, when Nor is in armor. When the rare chance Nor is out of his armor, he wears a green roughspun tunic and brown breeches. He wears a hood as well to mainly hide most his face. He wears a sallet helm with painted runes bearing his name.
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Allegiances: Only to himself
Player's online availability : Always in flux
Registered: Jul 29, 2019 17:16:07 GMT -8
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Post by Nor Anad (Symphony) on Aug 2, 2019 6:13:41 GMT -8
The knighted man looks at the barkeep speaking only one word, "Work...." As if to continue he hits his armored arm, "dangerous...." Nor was of course referring to the dangerous work that an adventurer would do. Nor's goal was to work in armed services, though learning more of this modern tongue was also a priority. With all the time he was spent 'asleep' he's missed much of the development of the languages of the world, the runes on his armor might signify he that he did not fully know the language. The knighted stranger had planned to keep to himself, though soon he would need a room. He had only gotten a drink from copying the speech patterns of another drinker, though most of the patrons were near sleep and Nor Anad would like a room....this was going to be interesting to see if he could learn how to get a room.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Aug 2, 2019 6:20:15 GMT -8
The barkeep raises an eyebrow. "Not much work for a knight around here," he says, idly cleaning a glass. "Can you work a boat? Mine? Fish? If you're looking for a rightin' job, y' might be out of luck, champ."
"BUT I'm sure there's someone out there who can use brawn over brains," he says with a chuckle. "So what will it be, pal? Another drink? A room?"
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Nor Anad (Symphony)
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: unknown, physically around 32
Physical Description: ———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Nor is an undead knight summoned by his own willpower. His soul is tied to an ancient magic that summons power from mere willpower. He is an undead human-like being that is fit to be a knight. His magic is a double-edged sword, if he could not focus on keeping himself alive, his soul would eventually wear away and dissipate, killing him off forever.
Nor has dull grey, almost purple eyes. His complexion is usually sour, and expressionless. He has little care of what goes on around him, as interaction takes a small amount of focus from himself. His body is a visual input of his focus, the more dead and rotten it appears the more focus he loses.
He stands at seven feet tall, and has runes painted all over his body. These runes are marking of the ancient spell that ties him to the magic. Nor’s hair his a greyish brown, and usually is rather long.
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Clothes and Equipment: Nor wears a set of full plate armor, and barely takes off his helmet, unless it is required. His armor is mostly plain plate armor, with gambeson and chainmail underneath at the joints. On the crest a rune is carved into the metal and is the most defining feature, when Nor is in armor. When the rare chance Nor is out of his armor, he wears a green roughspun tunic and brown breeches. He wears a hood as well to mainly hide most his face. He wears a sallet helm with painted runes bearing his name.
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Allegiances: Only to himself
Player's online availability : Always in flux
Registered: Jul 29, 2019 17:16:07 GMT -8
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Post by Nor Anad (Symphony) on Aug 3, 2019 19:05:27 GMT -8
Nor repeats part of what the barkeep said, "...room..."
He was unfamiliar with the language but with context clues from earlier he was able to pair the word drink with a drinkable liquid. Perhaps this room was the word he needed. As for the comment earlier Nor repeats the two words, "dangerous work...."
His dull purple-grey eyes could be barely seen from underneath his sallet. Nor was an odd fellow certainly nowhere from here, or even near here. The armored knight seemed very old, despite his appearance being a tell that would say he was around his younger thirties. His accent was slow and focused on pronouncing each syllable exactly, like someone who was new to the language would sound like. The stranger was certainly not drunk maybe a little hungry, however it could be assumed he did not know the words.
The man was obviously looking for some form of dangerous work, perhaps it was because he was in his armor, or because despite his slight gauntness he was focused, near what you would expect from a knight. He didn't let a word go by without him listening to it and trying to figure what it meant.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Aug 6, 2019 2:24:16 GMT -8
Albert raises an eyebrow as he hears the singular words. Yeah, this guy is definitely not from around here, nor does he speak the common tongue. Weirdo! Albert wonders where he came from, and what ship would bring such a relic-wannabe to Libertalia.
"A room? Ten coppers a night," he says, opening his hand. "As for dangerous work?" He looks the man over carefully. A fighter, armoured to the teeth, kinda freaky... "Talk to Captain Desdamona, down by the docks. She might have work for you."
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Nor Anad (Symphony)
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: unknown, physically around 32
Physical Description: ———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Nor is an undead knight summoned by his own willpower. His soul is tied to an ancient magic that summons power from mere willpower. He is an undead human-like being that is fit to be a knight. His magic is a double-edged sword, if he could not focus on keeping himself alive, his soul would eventually wear away and dissipate, killing him off forever.
Nor has dull grey, almost purple eyes. His complexion is usually sour, and expressionless. He has little care of what goes on around him, as interaction takes a small amount of focus from himself. His body is a visual input of his focus, the more dead and rotten it appears the more focus he loses.
He stands at seven feet tall, and has runes painted all over his body. These runes are marking of the ancient spell that ties him to the magic. Nor’s hair his a greyish brown, and usually is rather long.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Clothes and Equipment: Nor wears a set of full plate armor, and barely takes off his helmet, unless it is required. His armor is mostly plain plate armor, with gambeson and chainmail underneath at the joints. On the crest a rune is carved into the metal and is the most defining feature, when Nor is in armor. When the rare chance Nor is out of his armor, he wears a green roughspun tunic and brown breeches. He wears a hood as well to mainly hide most his face. He wears a sallet helm with painted runes bearing his name.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Allegiances: Only to himself
Player's online availability : Always in flux
Registered: Jul 29, 2019 17:16:07 GMT -8
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Post by Nor Anad (Symphony) on Aug 6, 2019 11:18:41 GMT -8
The knight grabs a bag of loose change. The bag is worn and looked as if it was once decorated with colorful marking, though now it was extremely faded. The armored stranger empties the bag and the coin spills out onto the counter. He sorted through the various coinage and picked out a silver coin, putting the rest away into the bag. The coinage is a mix of strange coins, a mix of a few gold, several silver, and even more copper than the silver. The markings on the coins are a bit curious, covered in runes of an ancient time. The knight placed the silver in front of the barkeep as if to pay for the room. He repeated the name the barkeep spoke slowly in order to pronounce the name correctly, "Des-dah-mon-nah....work..."
He was certainly a strange fellow, it was almost as if he was from the past or from an older time.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Aug 14, 2019 2:01:52 GMT -8
The barkeep's moustache twitches slightly as he watches the knight empty his bag, making a mental note of what's going on, and just how weird he truly is. Once the coin comes out, he smiles. "Yep, I'll be taking that," he says as he takes the coin and pulls a key from under the bar, one with a small wooden keyring attached with the engraving of the number 10 on it.
Then he nods once more. "Yeah, Desdemona. Strange captain, but she seems to take in strange folk like you without issue." He lifts his hands to his head and spreads out his fingers. "Got tentacles on her head. Weirdo, but good people. Can't miss her."
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Nor Anad (Symphony)
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: unknown, physically around 32
Physical Description: ———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Nor is an undead knight summoned by his own willpower. His soul is tied to an ancient magic that summons power from mere willpower. He is an undead human-like being that is fit to be a knight. His magic is a double-edged sword, if he could not focus on keeping himself alive, his soul would eventually wear away and dissipate, killing him off forever.
Nor has dull grey, almost purple eyes. His complexion is usually sour, and expressionless. He has little care of what goes on around him, as interaction takes a small amount of focus from himself. His body is a visual input of his focus, the more dead and rotten it appears the more focus he loses.
He stands at seven feet tall, and has runes painted all over his body. These runes are marking of the ancient spell that ties him to the magic. Nor’s hair his a greyish brown, and usually is rather long.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Clothes and Equipment: Nor wears a set of full plate armor, and barely takes off his helmet, unless it is required. His armor is mostly plain plate armor, with gambeson and chainmail underneath at the joints. On the crest a rune is carved into the metal and is the most defining feature, when Nor is in armor. When the rare chance Nor is out of his armor, he wears a green roughspun tunic and brown breeches. He wears a hood as well to mainly hide most his face. He wears a sallet helm with painted runes bearing his name.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Allegiances: Only to himself
Player's online availability : Always in flux
Registered: Jul 29, 2019 17:16:07 GMT -8
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Post by Nor Anad (Symphony) on Aug 14, 2019 9:17:12 GMT -8
Nor took the key and inspects the marking on the key. He looks intently at it before making the connection that a similar or same marking could be found at his door to his room. The knight's dull and flat greyish purple eyes shift around, as if he is looking or double checking his surroundings. Nor of course was just looking for a hall where his door or room could be found. The unarmed but armored knight stood up, taking in a brief sigh. "Captain.... Des-deh-mona....docks....work..dangerous." He looks at the barkeep, his eyes focusing on the man. "Ten-ta-cals...head...."
Nor was hoping to find his room as soon as possible. His armor was starting to weigh him down and he preferred the privacy of a room. He planned to take off the plate and mail, may be leaving the gambeson on, or maybe switching to the set of clothes he had stored away in a small bag. Anyways he desired to rest along and with ease.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Nov 9, 2019 5:53:22 GMT -8
It had only been about ten minutes since Artu'Ras, more commonly known as Arthur the Av', had quite literally picked up Keph, the hungover fool, right off the cobblestoned streets of Libertalia and over his broad shoulders, as if the cartographer were a sack of spuds. He didn't complain, however, as the jolly natured Av' whistled a tune to himself as he carried his new friend along.
"Ahoy Arthur!" a voice chimes out, one of the guards by the looks of it. The swashbuckling fellow gives a wave as the Av' passes. "What've you got there, my man? Friend of yours?"
"Aye," The Av' says in passing. "Poor lad's got a headache that'd wake up the nastiest beasties of the deep." He pats Keph's thigh and chuckles. "He'll be right as rain wi' a belly full o' the wife's stew."
With that, he carries on his merry way, trying not to jostle too much, and its not long before they're out of the tropical sun and into a narrow hall that ends with a set of stairs. Up they go, one at a time, up one floor, then the next, then the next, until they reach the fourth level, where the stairs end.
"One moment lad," Arthur says as he fishes through his pocket to find his key. "Now where'd I put it..."
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Keph
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 227 
Age: 18
Physical Description: Standing at 5'2 feet and sporting amazing snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed Master Adventurer: Keph d'Avon. Many question how he'd get such an odd hair color and he isn't quite sure himself. No doubt some oddity related to all the magic in the world, as it surely isn't dyed. While Keph is no doubt a young lad, he looks young even for his age; maybe it's the lack of a beard or that soft, innocent look of his? His demeanor certainly does him no favors in people giving him less years than he's worth.
While Keph has a mostly innocent look that appears to be constantly surprised an enamored with much of what happens around him, it's clear that he's seen some battle. The back of his right hand has a scar that any keen observer would notice to most likely have been made by the swift slice of a blade, the fact that his skin is mostly soft and untarnished makes it only easier to spot this out of the blue. Surprisingly, as innocent and soft as Keph appears he is actually quite athletic and his small size no doubt betrays these physical abilities!
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Clothes and Equipment: A dark brown cloak covers his shoulder, made out of a Platiusm he hunted himself and had an Isran tailor make out of its pelt. The cloak's hood was lined with a variety feathers.
A few spines are still leftover from the prey’s hide, and stick out from his shoulders, the spines, on one side, stab through a glorious shoulder pad made out of an assortment of colourful feathers, stuck onto a thin layer of leather, keeping it all in place. On the other, you have a carved, wooden mask, made by the young man. It has a few more holes than one would expect a mask meant for a human to have, a result of the thin spines having stabbed through it to keep it from ungracefully falling off his shoulder.
Under his cloak, he wears a padded, blue cloth coat, recently extensively repaired, as he refuses to replace this trusty piece of equipment. Not only warm, but fashionable, and provides protection against some cuts. If it's too hot? A white, thin linen shirt is found beneath the coat.
The coat, as nice as it was, was partly hidden under a variety of knick-knacks, bags, and other useful travel equipment:
-A satchel, which hangs from his shoulder and crosses his torso, on the outside of it a few trinkets such as a necklace with a variety of beast teeth and also a bottle of ink, with a quill sticking from its cork;
-The satchel’s belt had been made to function as a bandolier, a set of inky, black… eggs hung from it;
-On top of it all, a finely crafted hunting bow found within a bow holster and a quiver, both crossed in the opposite direction as his satchel, doing its part to conceal his nice clothes beneath his disorganisation.
His legs are kept concealed and warm with a pair of beige linen pants which are kept up by a sturdy leather belt, on them one finds an even larger variety of knick-knacks and tools than his overused satchel - a sword, a dagger, pouches, more trinkets, a small hide pack hanging from the side, and more eggs.
One could only wonder why he needed half of what he kept.
Registered: Mar 7, 2016 20:07:42 GMT -8
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Post by Keph on Nov 20, 2019 20:13:17 GMT -8
Keph protested with a few week whines. His fists formed balls and batted against the Av’s back to little avail. He was too weak to even seek his own death! Oh sweet release! Eventually, he’d tired himself out, unable to keep beating at Arthur’s back, he’d go limp on his shoulder.
Every step Arthur took was pain. Even the slightest of movements caused Keph’s brain to feel like it was the ball in a football match. A bit of vomit would sneak its way into the lad’s mouth which was promptly spat onto the streets of Libertalia - elsewhere people might give him a weird look, but here in Libertalia, every street probably has its fair share of vomit on it.
Somehow, through the pain, Keph would fall asleep. He felt like he was burning up and another bit of puke was about to be fired out, but the rocking motion, as painful as it was, ended up lulling him into an uncomfortable slumber. That was until they started talking.
Hands immediately covered his ears, trying to safeguard him from the racket Arthur and the guard were making! Weren’t they aware some people were trying to get some sleep? Their voices were an artillery strike!
Keph managed to slip his hand towards his satchel and took his quill. “Where are we?” He wrote. The message behind the Av, right over his shoulder.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Nov 24, 2019 14:36:16 GMT -8
The beating fists on the Av's back don't seem to bother the tall man at all, just going to show how little strength the mute man has. His fists bounce off the cloth wrapped back like raindrops off of a duck's feathers.
As the words drift around him, Arthur reads them as he continues to pat his pockets. "Home," he says as he continues his search. "We'll have you rested and back t' normal in no time, the wife's a miracle worker with post-drink regrets. Probably because she could drink with the best o' them before-" Finally he pulls out an iron key and grins. "Aha!"
Before he could use it though, the door is opened from the inside by a very pretty human lady, with frizzy ginger hair, stunning emerald eyes, and a joyful smile. She wears a white dress and an apron around her waste, and though generally rather slender, anyone could tell that she is very very pregnant. "I was wondering when you two would come stumbling home," she says with her hands on her hips. She gives a brief chuckle before standing on her tippy toes to smooch her husband. "How are the ladies?"
"Aye, s'my fault, may have pushed Keph a wee bit too far last night," Arthur says after reciprocating the kiss. "And they're doin' fine love. Satisfied, t' say the least."
"Don't I know that," the woman says with a chuckle as she steps aside. "Come on in. My miracle tonic is almost ready. Poor lad, looks like his first time."
Arthur carries the sack of potatoes that was Keph into his home and gently plants him on an old, soft couch. "There y' go lad. Safe as houses."
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Keph
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 227
Age: 18
Physical Description: Standing at 5'2 feet and sporting amazing snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed Master Adventurer: Keph d'Avon. Many question how he'd get such an odd hair color and he isn't quite sure himself. No doubt some oddity related to all the magic in the world, as it surely isn't dyed. While Keph is no doubt a young lad, he looks young even for his age; maybe it's the lack of a beard or that soft, innocent look of his? His demeanor certainly does him no favors in people giving him less years than he's worth.
While Keph has a mostly innocent look that appears to be constantly surprised an enamored with much of what happens around him, it's clear that he's seen some battle. The back of his right hand has a scar that any keen observer would notice to most likely have been made by the swift slice of a blade, the fact that his skin is mostly soft and untarnished makes it only easier to spot this out of the blue. Surprisingly, as innocent and soft as Keph appears he is actually quite athletic and his small size no doubt betrays these physical abilities!
_________________________________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: A dark brown cloak covers his shoulder, made out of a Platiusm he hunted himself and had an Isran tailor make out of its pelt. The cloak's hood was lined with a variety feathers.
A few spines are still leftover from the prey’s hide, and stick out from his shoulders, the spines, on one side, stab through a glorious shoulder pad made out of an assortment of colourful feathers, stuck onto a thin layer of leather, keeping it all in place. On the other, you have a carved, wooden mask, made by the young man. It has a few more holes than one would expect a mask meant for a human to have, a result of the thin spines having stabbed through it to keep it from ungracefully falling off his shoulder.
Under his cloak, he wears a padded, blue cloth coat, recently extensively repaired, as he refuses to replace this trusty piece of equipment. Not only warm, but fashionable, and provides protection against some cuts. If it's too hot? A white, thin linen shirt is found beneath the coat.
The coat, as nice as it was, was partly hidden under a variety of knick-knacks, bags, and other useful travel equipment:
-A satchel, which hangs from his shoulder and crosses his torso, on the outside of it a few trinkets such as a necklace with a variety of beast teeth and also a bottle of ink, with a quill sticking from its cork;
-The satchel’s belt had been made to function as a bandolier, a set of inky, black… eggs hung from it;
-On top of it all, a finely crafted hunting bow found within a bow holster and a quiver, both crossed in the opposite direction as his satchel, doing its part to conceal his nice clothes beneath his disorganisation.
His legs are kept concealed and warm with a pair of beige linen pants which are kept up by a sturdy leather belt, on them one finds an even larger variety of knick-knacks and tools than his overused satchel - a sword, a dagger, pouches, more trinkets, a small hide pack hanging from the side, and more eggs.
One could only wonder why he needed half of what he kept.
Registered: Mar 7, 2016 20:07:42 GMT -8
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Post by Keph on Dec 4, 2019 19:18:30 GMT -8
Home? Keph looked around him. Everything looked foggy and even the faintest of light was blinding. He rubbed his eyes. Even through the post-drinking haze, he could tell this wasn’t his home. He didn’t try to don on the logistics of how Arthur would cross the sea in a matter of hours to get him to his home, he was too tired for that.
The mute grumbled. His wife better be good with miracles, because his headache was going to definitely need one.
The groggy-eyed drunk greets Arthur’s wife with a weak wave. You two? Had they met? Oh no. Here it comes again! Keph planted his hands over his mouth, forcing the vomit back to the pit. He might not be the most courteous of individuals, but he wasn’t so rude as to vomit on someone’s floor.
The moment his back touched the comfy couch, he once again lost consciousness.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Dec 15, 2019 16:24:28 GMT -8
The Av' and his wife take a moment to observe the passed out Keph, then Arthur let's out a chuckle. "Poor lad, had the proper Libertalia welcome. He won't be the same after all that."
The wife slips an arm around Arthur's waist and chuckles to herself. "None of us are. It's what made this place home for me, after all," she says before tugging on Athur's chin to bring him down into a smooch. "And I'm glad I did." The pair share a moment before heading off to give Keph some privacy, and perhaps a little for themselves too.
It's a few hours before they see any life from Keph, and at the first sign, the Av's wife gets to work. It's not long after when she has a nice, hearty bowl of stew prepared for the young man, as well as a bucket. "Good morning, my little drunken friend," she says with a sweet smile, holding the stew as she sits at the end of the couch. "Any better?"
Arthur is, for now, nowhere to be seen.
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Keph
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 227
Age: 18
Physical Description: Standing at 5'2 feet and sporting amazing snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed Master Adventurer: Keph d'Avon. Many question how he'd get such an odd hair color and he isn't quite sure himself. No doubt some oddity related to all the magic in the world, as it surely isn't dyed. While Keph is no doubt a young lad, he looks young even for his age; maybe it's the lack of a beard or that soft, innocent look of his? His demeanor certainly does him no favors in people giving him less years than he's worth.
While Keph has a mostly innocent look that appears to be constantly surprised an enamored with much of what happens around him, it's clear that he's seen some battle. The back of his right hand has a scar that any keen observer would notice to most likely have been made by the swift slice of a blade, the fact that his skin is mostly soft and untarnished makes it only easier to spot this out of the blue. Surprisingly, as innocent and soft as Keph appears he is actually quite athletic and his small size no doubt betrays these physical abilities!
_________________________________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: A dark brown cloak covers his shoulder, made out of a Platiusm he hunted himself and had an Isran tailor make out of its pelt. The cloak's hood was lined with a variety feathers.
A few spines are still leftover from the prey’s hide, and stick out from his shoulders, the spines, on one side, stab through a glorious shoulder pad made out of an assortment of colourful feathers, stuck onto a thin layer of leather, keeping it all in place. On the other, you have a carved, wooden mask, made by the young man. It has a few more holes than one would expect a mask meant for a human to have, a result of the thin spines having stabbed through it to keep it from ungracefully falling off his shoulder.
Under his cloak, he wears a padded, blue cloth coat, recently extensively repaired, as he refuses to replace this trusty piece of equipment. Not only warm, but fashionable, and provides protection against some cuts. If it's too hot? A white, thin linen shirt is found beneath the coat.
The coat, as nice as it was, was partly hidden under a variety of knick-knacks, bags, and other useful travel equipment:
-A satchel, which hangs from his shoulder and crosses his torso, on the outside of it a few trinkets such as a necklace with a variety of beast teeth and also a bottle of ink, with a quill sticking from its cork;
-The satchel’s belt had been made to function as a bandolier, a set of inky, black… eggs hung from it;
-On top of it all, a finely crafted hunting bow found within a bow holster and a quiver, both crossed in the opposite direction as his satchel, doing its part to conceal his nice clothes beneath his disorganisation.
His legs are kept concealed and warm with a pair of beige linen pants which are kept up by a sturdy leather belt, on them one finds an even larger variety of knick-knacks and tools than his overused satchel - a sword, a dagger, pouches, more trinkets, a small hide pack hanging from the side, and more eggs.
One could only wonder why he needed half of what he kept.
Registered: Mar 7, 2016 20:07:42 GMT -8
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Post by Keph on Dec 24, 2019 10:26:12 GMT -8
The formless man swims through a varied mix of nightmarish alcohol-created horrors. Even though he’s in a timeless void, somehow he still manages to find himself dizzy. Then, light bleed through his eyelids, a horrifying, infernal red. A switch turns on somewhere in his dazed mind and he wakes.
He immediately sits up and takes a deep panicked breath. His brain is still getting re-accustomed to existence. A familiar yet unwelcome sensation rapidly greets him. He quickly takes the presented bucket and thanks Arthur’s wife by taking every possible precaution in not dirtying her floor - namely shoving his head as deep in as he could, as another (and luckily the last) wave of puke is forced out by his stomach. It’s mostly dry, painful.
Shakily, the bucket is placed back on the floor. He lies back down, wrist wiping away any bile that found itself on his lips. The housewife’s sweet smile and her offering of porridge quickly makes him reconsider going back to sleep and he sits back up.
His usual appetite isn’t quite there yet. He eats little-by-little, taking care not to overwork his still recovering body. The food stays down, if he weren’t such a hardened adventurer he might shed a tear!
It takes him a while to respond. He keeps eating, taking several testing bites while making a wide variety of expressions as he confirms that his stomach (and liver) were in fact still working. One, two, three, four, and several spoonfuls after. His belly complains, but doesn’t rebel.
He smiles back and throws up a thumb. He keeps his mouth closed, not wanting to bother her with the scent of death.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Dec 30, 2019 15:56:36 GMT -8
As the funny little man eats his meal, the red haired woman lifts herself from the end of the couch, with much effort due to her very pregnant belly, and takes the bucket to be emptied. She doesn't take too long, as she's back with both the empty bucket and a pitcher of water for Keph, knowing just how dehydrated he must be.
"You certainly went overboard, didn't you, Mr. Keph?" She asks as she sits herself back down. "You won't be meeting the Captain in this state. I'm sure she's used to it, but it's not very impressive." Well the Libertalian aren't ones to mince words. "I've asked Arty to fix you up a bath in the next room, it should be warming up. That should clear your head, and get rid of the smell."
She gives him a lovely, tender smile, one that seems almost practiced to perfection. "Leave your clothes out here, and I'll have them washed for you. Did you bring any luggage with you to Libertalia? I can have it picked up, you're in no condition to go trapesing about the streets with baggage. You can keep them here until you find somewhere a little more permanent to stay."
The woman quickly realises that Keph's memory of the night before may not be all that clear. "I'm Brea, by the way," she says before giving a slight chuckle. "I'm not sure if you remember that or not. We met yesterday, but by then you were a few ales and a rum or two in. I'd be surprised if you remember anything." She nods to the small table beside the couch, her frizzy hair bobbing just a little. "Your ink and quill. I remember that you're a mute, right? Can't leave you without a way to speak, can we?"
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Keph
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 227
Age: 18
Physical Description: Standing at 5'2 feet and sporting amazing snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed Master Adventurer: Keph d'Avon. Many question how he'd get such an odd hair color and he isn't quite sure himself. No doubt some oddity related to all the magic in the world, as it surely isn't dyed. While Keph is no doubt a young lad, he looks young even for his age; maybe it's the lack of a beard or that soft, innocent look of his? His demeanor certainly does him no favors in people giving him less years than he's worth.
While Keph has a mostly innocent look that appears to be constantly surprised an enamored with much of what happens around him, it's clear that he's seen some battle. The back of his right hand has a scar that any keen observer would notice to most likely have been made by the swift slice of a blade, the fact that his skin is mostly soft and untarnished makes it only easier to spot this out of the blue. Surprisingly, as innocent and soft as Keph appears he is actually quite athletic and his small size no doubt betrays these physical abilities!
_________________________________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: A dark brown cloak covers his shoulder, made out of a Platiusm he hunted himself and had an Isran tailor make out of its pelt. The cloak's hood was lined with a variety feathers.
A few spines are still leftover from the prey’s hide, and stick out from his shoulders, the spines, on one side, stab through a glorious shoulder pad made out of an assortment of colourful feathers, stuck onto a thin layer of leather, keeping it all in place. On the other, you have a carved, wooden mask, made by the young man. It has a few more holes than one would expect a mask meant for a human to have, a result of the thin spines having stabbed through it to keep it from ungracefully falling off his shoulder.
Under his cloak, he wears a padded, blue cloth coat, recently extensively repaired, as he refuses to replace this trusty piece of equipment. Not only warm, but fashionable, and provides protection against some cuts. If it's too hot? A white, thin linen shirt is found beneath the coat.
The coat, as nice as it was, was partly hidden under a variety of knick-knacks, bags, and other useful travel equipment:
-A satchel, which hangs from his shoulder and crosses his torso, on the outside of it a few trinkets such as a necklace with a variety of beast teeth and also a bottle of ink, with a quill sticking from its cork;
-The satchel’s belt had been made to function as a bandolier, a set of inky, black… eggs hung from it;
-On top of it all, a finely crafted hunting bow found within a bow holster and a quiver, both crossed in the opposite direction as his satchel, doing its part to conceal his nice clothes beneath his disorganisation.
His legs are kept concealed and warm with a pair of beige linen pants which are kept up by a sturdy leather belt, on them one finds an even larger variety of knick-knacks and tools than his overused satchel - a sword, a dagger, pouches, more trinkets, a small hide pack hanging from the side, and more eggs.
One could only wonder why he needed half of what he kept.
Registered: Mar 7, 2016 20:07:42 GMT -8
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Post by Keph on Jan 15, 2020 15:35:20 GMT -8
Keph hadn't quite thought of just how thirsty he was. Once he sees the pitcher, water lightly swashing inside, his tongue passes over his dry lips, barely hydrating. Suddenly, he felt as if he had spent the prior day in the hottest of deserts. Not one to be rude, he waits until the woman - slowed by pregnancy - finally makes her way to him. After pitcher exchanges hands, the water is gone in an instant, not a single droplet going to waste.
The young man cocks his head, finger tapping at his chin. Mouth opens in an 'O' as sudden realisation draws, he could somehow taste the stench as it left him, prompting a cough - that just made it worse.
Arthur did mention a Captain, didn't he? He might as well meet her, seeing as he had no other way off this drunken rock. Yet, she was right. He was in no condition to be meeting anyone.
Keph reflexively returned the smile, incapable of keeping a straight face at such a sweet display. A nod was given to the proposition of a bath and a shake of the head to the idea of him having something as bothersomely bulky as luggage.
At her greeting, Keph gives her a small wave of the hand in return. His hand moves to grab his quill, noticing that it had been displaced. Did he drop it? Panic emerges, but dissipates at Brea's account. He scrambles over the back of the couch, rushing over to the table, carefully, almost fatherly, he takes the ink and quill.
「It is nice to meet her, again, miss Brea. He is Keph and will be taking that bath now. His clothes will be left outside the door.」
He begins to tie the bottle to his satchel, where it's always left, but figures it best to keep in hand, seeing as it was all to be washed.
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Post by libertalianarrator on Jan 19, 2020 17:21:06 GMT -8
The kind hearted woman chuckles a little as Keph chugs the whole pitcher down. She settles down with a small relieved sigh at the end of the couch and rests a hand on her tummy, then shifts her attention back to Keph. She’s smelled worse breath, but that doesn’t stop her nose from twitching slightly. She’d have to rustle up something for that too, and thankfully she has just the thing, but she needed a quick rest before she’d get back up again.
“No luggage? I’ve never seen someone from Isra arrive with so little,” she muses. “Then again, we don’t get many visitors from your lands. Most think us still to be pirates, but that’s simply not true. A pirate would have left you on the street, but not my Arthur.” She shakes her head, causing her hair to bob. “We’re good folks on this island.”
She honestly looks a little shocked at his scramblings, reflexively guarding her stomach, but soon relaxes when he scurries to the table. “For a lad who’s so hungover, you move pretty damn quick,” she says, craning her neck to watch him. Ah! Here’s that little magical ink display. At least now she could read it, the last time she’d seen it it was mostly the scribblings of a mad chicken.
“Its lovely to meet you again as well, Keph,” she says with her sweet little smile. “A good idea, my friend. As I said, your clothes will be washed in a moment. In the meantime, you may use one of our towels. Or go natural, if you feel comfortable, we don’t really mind.” She soon stands with a grunt, her hands at her back to support herself for a moment. “Hell, Arthur rarely wears trousers around the apartment anyway.”
She makes note of where the bottle lives, knowing its of the utmost importance to Keph, and gestures to the bathroom. “Just through there, it should be ready by now.”
As if on cue, the very tall Av’ steps out and grins at the pair. “Nice and warm,” he announces, stepping to the side. “And our best soaps. Use them wisely, Keph, it's not everyday we break them out.”
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Keph
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 227
Age: 18
Physical Description: Standing at 5'2 feet and sporting amazing snow white hair is the one, the only self-proclaimed Master Adventurer: Keph d'Avon. Many question how he'd get such an odd hair color and he isn't quite sure himself. No doubt some oddity related to all the magic in the world, as it surely isn't dyed. While Keph is no doubt a young lad, he looks young even for his age; maybe it's the lack of a beard or that soft, innocent look of his? His demeanor certainly does him no favors in people giving him less years than he's worth.
While Keph has a mostly innocent look that appears to be constantly surprised an enamored with much of what happens around him, it's clear that he's seen some battle. The back of his right hand has a scar that any keen observer would notice to most likely have been made by the swift slice of a blade, the fact that his skin is mostly soft and untarnished makes it only easier to spot this out of the blue. Surprisingly, as innocent and soft as Keph appears he is actually quite athletic and his small size no doubt betrays these physical abilities!
_________________________________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: A dark brown cloak covers his shoulder, made out of a Platiusm he hunted himself and had an Isran tailor make out of its pelt. The cloak's hood was lined with a variety feathers.
A few spines are still leftover from the prey’s hide, and stick out from his shoulders, the spines, on one side, stab through a glorious shoulder pad made out of an assortment of colourful feathers, stuck onto a thin layer of leather, keeping it all in place. On the other, you have a carved, wooden mask, made by the young man. It has a few more holes than one would expect a mask meant for a human to have, a result of the thin spines having stabbed through it to keep it from ungracefully falling off his shoulder.
Under his cloak, he wears a padded, blue cloth coat, recently extensively repaired, as he refuses to replace this trusty piece of equipment. Not only warm, but fashionable, and provides protection against some cuts. If it's too hot? A white, thin linen shirt is found beneath the coat.
The coat, as nice as it was, was partly hidden under a variety of knick-knacks, bags, and other useful travel equipment:
-A satchel, which hangs from his shoulder and crosses his torso, on the outside of it a few trinkets such as a necklace with a variety of beast teeth and also a bottle of ink, with a quill sticking from its cork;
-The satchel’s belt had been made to function as a bandolier, a set of inky, black… eggs hung from it;
-On top of it all, a finely crafted hunting bow found within a bow holster and a quiver, both crossed in the opposite direction as his satchel, doing its part to conceal his nice clothes beneath his disorganisation.
His legs are kept concealed and warm with a pair of beige linen pants which are kept up by a sturdy leather belt, on them one finds an even larger variety of knick-knacks and tools than his overused satchel - a sword, a dagger, pouches, more trinkets, a small hide pack hanging from the side, and more eggs.
One could only wonder why he needed half of what he kept.
Registered: Mar 7, 2016 20:07:42 GMT -8
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Post by Keph on Feb 1, 2020 23:26:06 GMT -8
「Keph is a traveller, a traveller can't afford to let luggage slow them down」
The young man merely smiled at her words. While her kindness truly did warm his heart, he wasn't sure kindness excluded one from being a pirate. He was quite sure performing the act of piracy is what dictated if one was a pirate or not. He kept his mouth shut, not that much debate would've left it otherwise. He doesn't bother Brea with having to take care of his bottle of ink, deciding it best to take it with him. It wasn't that he didn't trust her with it... well, maybe it was exactly that, but then again he wouldn't trust his closest friend with it. He swings the string around his neck, letting the bottle and quill hang from his neck. Brea would most likely not notice, but Keph had gone to great lengths to assure that the ink would be safe. The string having been fabricated from some of the toughest silk, produced by Siamese twin arachnids and the bottle's glass had been forged in the breathe of a cyclops dragonid. One malperformed salute later and he was off to the washroom. The clothes had been left outside the door just as he said they would, left in a mess of a pile, his uniform more knick knack than cloth. ==================////==================
Oh how nice the water felt. Keph had lost track of time. He lay in the bath water, which had a pungent green color. He knew it would be best to get out and refill the bath if he wanted to soak in it, but he could not convince his limbs to leave the bath.
His bottle floated above the bath, it and the odd squid circlet that adorned his wrist all that embellished his birthday suit.
Joyful humming could be heard through the door.
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