|
|
Post by The Divine Empire of Vessia on Aug 21, 2019 11:25:24 GMT -8
Annstrasse is a street of Essenbourg situated near the College of Mages, an entrance to the building at it's end. A grand gate is the only way to get to the street; a precaution guaranteed by virtue of the many nobles living in it. Many of Essenbourg's festivities happen upon this street, a chance to both profit off of the many students in the College and for the wealthy to perform Noblesse Oblige.  After entering the Street one will notice the very old buildings, decorative vines, torches, statues and shrubbery being guarded by mixed patrols of private guards and State Troopers. One will also notice a non-minor presence of Inquisitors and Witch Hunters on the lookout for Magical nonsense spilling from the College.
 |
|
|
|
Post by The Divine Empire of Vessia on Aug 21, 2019 11:40:35 GMT -8
The Summer's End Gala is an annual tradition in Annstrasse, a time for students of the Colleges and anyone else to relax before heading to education or simply as an escape from the troubles of daily life. People from all across the Empire are invited, and most people of Essenbourg are invited by default. The streets get filled with Musicians, booths to taste wine, clearings for dancing, animal tamers, and all finalizing with a display of fireworks to make all the city's birds relieve themselves in fright.
Between local and foreign treats there are more than enough things to take up the time of any arrival. So many people from all across the Empire come that patrols are doubled, lest thieves and other ne'erdowells take advantage of the revelry. There is much caution surrounding the festival this year, given the death of the Emperor and the subsequent instability in the Empire that one may take advantage of now.
|
|
Hilda Vera de Rondón
Established
Named after the fallen city, Zephyra Silverfire lives disguised as Hilda Vera de Rondón.
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 18
Physical Description: She is a tall, lithe red-head girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and brown eyes that shine gold in the sunlight, often seen sparkling with a knowing, and mischief around loved ones. A soft sought-after beauty. Still considered a 'Plain Jane' to those outside her inner circle. She has a strong physique.
Clothes and Equipment: When out and about, Lady Hilda can be seen dressed in simple, yet fine gowns that most can tell her noble standing in spite of the neutral tones. In private time, the lady prefers to wear tunic and trousers with riding boots.
Lady Hilda has a sword, as well as a set of armor she had commissioned by a female blacksmith, who curates armors for women. Women who prefer to carry a sword more than anything, and go to war alongside the men, when called for or not.
Registered: Aug 19, 2019 12:36:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Hilda Vera de Rondón on Aug 23, 2019 10:23:12 GMT -8
A burst of deep loud hearty laughter escaped Hilda as she could no longer contain the swell of joy in her chest as she was pulled counterclockwise by the circle of dancers. The air was dancing with music. It carried the wonderful aroma of fresh delicacies, ladies perfumes and the musk of men and opportunistic stray dogs. The lady's face was flushed red with the excitement of it all, as well as from a little wine. It was as if she were being lifted up from a dark and sunken place of worthlessness and great personal loss. Life as she had known it was completely changed by war, and her family would never be the same. Having felt outrage at being forced to attend the celebration, she rejected "her duty to be seen in public", and whatever other nonsense she had blocked out from the merchant lord's rant. At last, he managed to get her out of the house by offering to let her wear a dress that had come in one of the shipments, one that he had caught her looking at. Never before would Hilda had ever agreed to wearing two skirts, let alone three. Yet in that moment, she could not help but to allow the indulgent feeling with a vengeance, to modeling something that would not yet be seen in the streets of Anntrasse... It was a simple, yet elegant, but not too extravagant floral gown of silver-tissue; beige with varieties of yellow color, and short silk sleeves with lace trim. Hilda had even given in and worn the dreaded, too-stiff, busk corset, but refused to give up the masculine high-heels for the ever-popular silk slippers. They were just not sturdy or enough, and limited her step a bit too much for her liking. Lord Vera's admiration and smart remarks of arranging her marriage had her running out of the estate rather quickly, but not quick enough to keep from hearing his mischievous cackle echo down the hall. Hilda was now glad for it. If she had stayed behind, how would she have ever known she would be having so much fun? |
|
Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
------
Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
|
Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Aug 23, 2019 19:20:15 GMT -8
Alverein knelt low, feeling the gaze of the crowd upon him. His cousin was a real riot, and cheated at cards, but Alverein couldn’t prove it and the bet had been made. The dark grey silk of the robe he wore rustled as he slowly stood, the blades nestled in his hands carefully kept from cutting him even as he held them close to his body, one of polished steel, the other the creamy white of moonlight. Even as the music rang out, he began to dance, ribbons of blue light following the tips of his blades as they moved. In the festival he was just one artist among many, even as he spun like a dervish, His blades singing through the air. It was another skill he’d learned in his travels, but one rarely practiced. Still, his movements were smooth and graceful, his steps lithe and sure. He danced a nearly forgotten dance from better days and he wove his blades like extensions of his being as his robe and sash swirled around him like a ethereal dance partner. And in the dance he lost himself, even if only for a while. |
|
Karolai Ferenc
Established
Roleplay posts: 24 
Age: Youth
Physical Description: Karl has a long, thick mane of arguably effeminate sand-blond hair. His eyes are a cold steel shade, while his skin a soft beige-pink. The man has soft cheeks and nose, but a pronounced chin and shapely ears. He is of toned but not exceptionally muscular build, on a frame that is likewise tall but not exceptionally so.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally will wear fine but not particularly ornate clothing, trying for the biggest synthesis of comfort and style that he can get. Will at his hip have a messer and/or hand crossbow for self defence.
Registered: Aug 22, 2019 15:48:22 GMT -8
|
Post by Karolai Ferenc on Aug 24, 2019 17:48:23 GMT -8
Karolai had for much of the recent time locked himself up in the familial castle, largely bored out of his mind. But the death of the Emperor had... changed things around the place. Constant worries, quintupled Guard patrols, and far more of the nonsensical checkups on his health and humours by the daily. His sister Dorika was likewise suffocated, but she didn't have the urgent pressure of an aging father trying to groom him for rule. Admittedly, their mother had for now taken to trying to get Dorika and Anastasia married now, prompting a friendly argument over who had a more difficult time with the family in which Karl frequently brought up the fact mother had already dragged along some girls for tea and made sure to coincidentally bring them by his sight. Well, he admitted it wasn't quite as brazen as what his sister had to deal with but it was nevertheless a problem.
But now there was respite. Father had left a key to one of the coffers about and Karol made sure he appropriated it. Saddles filled with gold and as many people as possible bribed to cover for the absence the lad took his sister and they went off for a free roam across the Empire. They remembered fondly when as children they went to the Summer's End Gala in Essenbourg and decide why not once more? Besides, now they could have at the wine and escape parental restraints they could most likely enjoy it even more. They stopped in one of the dynasty's houses in Essenbourg and after an hour of searching to find the key decided to change and then go to Annstrasse's event. Karol had gone for a simple ensemble, red tights that weren't so tight, a collared black jerkin, yellow Landsknecht sleeves all held together with a red fur tabard and belt the most ostentatious thing on him being the messer and hand-crossbow at his belt. Dorika went for something different, a large puffy dress with many stitchings and a large black collar altogether too hot for this environment; perhaps all an indication of a life one was used to having a nurse pick their attire for them.
The pair walked along the street, giggling as memories of childhood overwhelmed them and they were momentarily taken to a better time. They both sampled a vine Theodosian wine, the Westerling Bisphoric's grapes providing a unique but pleasurably bitter taste. They took in the music, the floating rose petals, the general satisfaction of men and women in the air. There was a dance, in fact there were many as the street was lined with so many bands that one could get one tune in the left ear and a wholly different one in the right. But the siblings happened upon one where there were some interesting characters indeed. Dorika quickly pointed out two individuals of interest to her, a young curiosity overriding manners as a finger was raised to point out the two people. Karol quickly pushed the offending limb down and tried to be stern and scolding but he couldn't suppress a chuckle.
"They're foreigners, Karli."
"Yes Dorika."
"Can we met them? Let's go over and talk with them I've only met a few people from outside Egyszerorszag and nobody from outside Vessia!"
"Me neither. But I think it would be wholly impolite to disturb them in their dancing my dear sister."
"Oh. Right."
The two watched their counterparts from the side, nursing their wine. Between the swarthy redhead and the twirling elf they had caught sight of quite the curiosities.
|
|
Hilda Vera de Rondón
Established
Named after the fallen city, Zephyra Silverfire lives disguised as Hilda Vera de Rondón.
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 18
Physical Description: She is a tall, lithe red-head girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and brown eyes that shine gold in the sunlight, often seen sparkling with a knowing, and mischief around loved ones. A soft sought-after beauty. Still considered a 'Plain Jane' to those outside her inner circle. She has a strong physique.
Clothes and Equipment: When out and about, Lady Hilda can be seen dressed in simple, yet fine gowns that most can tell her noble standing in spite of the neutral tones. In private time, the lady prefers to wear tunic and trousers with riding boots.
Lady Hilda has a sword, as well as a set of armor she had commissioned by a female blacksmith, who curates armors for women. Women who prefer to carry a sword more than anything, and go to war alongside the men, when called for or not.
Registered: Aug 19, 2019 12:36:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Hilda Vera de Rondón on Aug 25, 2019 16:50:13 GMT -8
Soon, the song and dance was over, and the crowd quickly merged into another. Although the shift was sudden the way the song melted into the melody of the next was as if two lovers had been apart too long and were coming together again in a sweet and passionate embrace. The crowd semi-parted for a solo dancer, and they all stood there, transfixed by the dance of blades.
She began to reminisce about her summer in Essenbourg, and almost didn't want to go back to the Kingdom of Rondon. Too many troubles awaited her back there. But Lord Vera was just about finished with all of his dealings here, and she would have no choice but to go back home with him. It had been nice to get away, if only for a while. Even if it had taken her some time to adjust to being stared at by locals for something as simple as the color of her skin, something that never really happened at home. It had been somewhat of an eye-awakening moment, to know that she would be seen differently here. Hilda didn't even look too much like Lord Vera, and she began to worry that their plan wouldn't work. But her worries were melted away by the strange enchantment of the city and its friendly people. She would have to make sure to return as often as she could.
As Hilda watched them handle the swords as if they were an extension of themselves, an idea began to creep into her mind. Swinging a sword around all by herself was all well and good, but, aside from getting used to the movements, it wasn't really getting her anywhere. Even if she were to visualize an opponent, she had so much more to learn form an actual teacher. But getting caught with a sword, let alone armor, was a bit too risky for Hilda. She feared Lord Vera would lock her up in a tower until he could marry her off properly, and she would rather die than to lose her personal freedom.
Hilda quickly moved forward when the song ended, her mind on getting to the dancer before all of their other admirers, when she froze mid-stride, face falling from a smile. It was something about the way that he looked, for it was only then that she realized it was a man. But he appeared to elegant, and different, to really just be a man, and it was then that she knew that he was an elf.
Lord Vera's deep voice echoed in her mind, the many rules she was to follow under his protection, "You shall not be seen with an elf". "Ever?" She asked. The House of Silverfire was quite friendly with them. That would be a strange change, indeed. "Ever," he affirmed. And that was that. He was very conscious of their public image and she shouldn't be caught dead doing anything that might batter it, or risk raising suspicion against the household by the Kingdom. Things were uncertain enough as they were. "Damn," she cursed between her teeth, heart beating quickly in her chest as she moved as far away from the musicians as possible. How unfair! Hilda wanted to kick and scream as she would as a child when things did not go her way.
'What is the matter, my lady?' a familiar voice came from behind. She spun on her heel to face her, but there was no one there. 'Ven aqui, mi caracol. No llores, mi vida. Dimelo todo.' The voice gave way to a whisper before completely fading, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. Face flushed, Hilda gasped from the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and held herself against the wall of a building. Luckily, people were not paying attention. She took a moment to breathe slowly, or else risk having a complete, too-public meltdown. It always did have the worst timing. She heard the man armored from head to toe before she saw him walk up, and felt relieved to recognize their crest on the breastplate. "My lady?" the concern in his voice was clear. By that time, she had the panic under control. "It is nothing," she tried to sound re-assuring, even as her voice slightly broke. "The dance merely took my breath away, is all!"
"I thought I saw smoke," the voice came from within the helmet.
"The heat must be getting to you," she waved a dismissive hand before ushering him away. "It is getting to me, a bit. I will admit. Let's get back to the festival!"
Not a minute later, Hilda was at a food stand, stuffing her face with samples. She always was an emotional eater.
|
|
Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
------
Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
|
Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Aug 25, 2019 17:33:29 GMT -8
After finishing the dance Alverein ducked away from the crowd, many of whom were giving him disgusted looks among the cheers and applause. He slid into an alley and slid a illusion and wall into place for privacy before he performed a quick change, getting into something a bit more formal. The last thing he did was fish his signet ring out of his pocket and slide it on. After all this time it wasn't as comfortable as it once was, a heavy weight on his finger of gold and sunrise colored sapphire. He slipped back into the crowd, smoothing his hair and ensuring that his ponytail was still held in place. He was here on business, and hoped that no one important had seen that, not that it really mattered. He placed a hand to his stomach as it growled at him, and spotting a food table headed towards it. |
|
Karolai Ferenc
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Youth
Physical Description: Karl has a long, thick mane of arguably effeminate sand-blond hair. His eyes are a cold steel shade, while his skin a soft beige-pink. The man has soft cheeks and nose, but a pronounced chin and shapely ears. He is of toned but not exceptionally muscular build, on a frame that is likewise tall but not exceptionally so.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally will wear fine but not particularly ornate clothing, trying for the biggest synthesis of comfort and style that he can get. Will at his hip have a messer and/or hand crossbow for self defence.
Registered: Aug 22, 2019 15:48:22 GMT -8
|
Post by Karolai Ferenc on Aug 26, 2019 17:59:37 GMT -8
Brother and sister watched the intricate movements of the elf and the rest of those present, both noting upon the departure of the crowd from the professionals and keeping an eye on the ginger girl. Similar to the two Egyszers she enjoyed the dance even when not participating and likewise wanted an audience with the pirouetting elf.
But it seemed it wouldn't be. Just as quickly as she began an approach she quickly turned and stormed off. In what one could diplomatically describe as a nosey fashion Dorika and Karolai had been closing the distance but even this wasn't enough to keep track of the woman in the bustling crowd. At the same time, the elf seemed to go on his own business and soon they found that they lost track of both of their interests.
"You lost them Karli."
"No, Dorika, I did not. You were to keep out an eye just as me."
"Of course you did, you always do and now I missed the once in a lifetime chance to speak with two people from outside the Empire."
The girl gave a fake pout in jest before nudging her brother to point out the Lady again. She was with a Guardsman, not one of the local hires on patrol but a bodyguard of some sort. After exchanging words they separated with the young woman going off to eat.
"Do you think she could speak Egyszer?"
"No, why would she? She'll speak Kohmon, most likely."
Dorika shrugged at the response, walking on.
"You heard Stefan's 'speeches', while humanity is the superior species Egyszers are the greatest of it, better than even Vessischers."
Karl rubbed his temple, his sister's manner of joviality at times ever so annoying. Ignoring what was said he went over to Hilda with Dorika and went to look at what was served where she had gone. Taking but a few morsels for himself and his sibling the nobleman spoke the common language with a learned but heavy accent. "A good evening, is it not? It must be if it attracted people from beyond the Empire's borders."
He ignored the first two tugs on his arm, but at the third turned with some annoyance to look at Dorika.
"Look, Karli."
She whispered in her native Egyszer, pointing to the apparently returned elf with her head.
"Afterwards, Dorika."
Karolai replied, shutting out the following hisses of protests that they could lose the fellow again. He really doubted the man would leave just after eating a few party treats. |
|
Hilda Vera de Rondón
Established
Named after the fallen city, Zephyra Silverfire lives disguised as Hilda Vera de Rondón.
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 18
Physical Description: She is a tall, lithe red-head girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and brown eyes that shine gold in the sunlight, often seen sparkling with a knowing, and mischief around loved ones. A soft sought-after beauty. Still considered a 'Plain Jane' to those outside her inner circle. She has a strong physique.
Clothes and Equipment: When out and about, Lady Hilda can be seen dressed in simple, yet fine gowns that most can tell her noble standing in spite of the neutral tones. In private time, the lady prefers to wear tunic and trousers with riding boots.
Lady Hilda has a sword, as well as a set of armor she had commissioned by a female blacksmith, who curates armors for women. Women who prefer to carry a sword more than anything, and go to war alongside the men, when called for or not.
Registered: Aug 19, 2019 12:36:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Hilda Vera de Rondón on Sept 3, 2019 8:01:10 GMT -8
Hilda glanced at her House's guard from the corner of her eye. Many years ago, Hilda would have been bothered at the presence of personal guards. When she was a child, she would often try to dodge them and see how long she could go before being tracked down and captured. She learned early on that she had to accept the limitations of her freedom as they were.
But nowadays, it seemed she had more freedom than she had before. Life was simpler as she was now than as she was then. If it were not for the people still trying to keep her in her place, she was almost certain she would give it all up for a life of adventure. Hilda longed to be able to earn Knighthood for herself one day. Travelling the country, serving the lords of the land, upholding justice and righteous balance, keeping the peace. What is not to love about that image? She thought.
The Lady was impressed by the food stands at the festival. There was such a variety, and one stand in particular had a type of delicacy that could have formerly only been found in Zephyr, but were now rising in popularity and making their way around all of Rondon. Deep fried bites of codfish. The memorable flavor and its nostalgic after-effect left a warmth in her cheeks.
Hilda was addressed, and she turned to the commoner. Perhaps some people would have cared to see a lady to be seen speaking with a humbler disposition, but Hilda never payed it any mind. To her, all people were the same, and her wealth and birthright did not make her any better than anyone else. He spoke a bit too elegantly for his appearance, and he must have been well-traveled, for he was able to speak the language of trade as easily as his own language, which judging from the heavy accent, she assumed to be Egyszer.
"Well met, good sir," Hilda curtsied care-freely, giggling from the effects of the wine. "A fine evening to you. Ah! What gave me away? Must have been the accent, haha." And how it loosened her tongue. Or perhaps she was just lonely, being cooped up in that house all the time. "My first time attending this festival. Very impressive. I would have never thought to find food from home here, of all places." Her last words faded slowly as she noticed a certain elf come up to the stand, her heart taking off in her chest. "You!" All forms of manner as she pointed a finger up at the sword dancer. Suddenly self-conscious, Hilda stuttered as she attempted to recover from the lapse, tying her hands behind her back. "Y-you dance well."
"
|
|
Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
------
Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
|
Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Sept 6, 2019 17:01:28 GMT -8
Alverein raised an eyebrow, a small smile raising one corner of his lips.
"What can I say, I've had plenty of time to practice." He said, inclining his glass of wine towards her before taking a slow drink. He ran an appraising glance over the three of them. He couldn't tell if the young woman who'd spoken to him was higher nobility but she seemed to be at least higher then a commoner. The other two certainly had the bearing and manner of amused aristocracy though.
"I'll happily introduce myself but where I'm from the addressee introduces themselves to those they addressed first." He said formally, straightening slightly.
|
|
Karolai Ferenc
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Youth
Physical Description: Karl has a long, thick mane of arguably effeminate sand-blond hair. His eyes are a cold steel shade, while his skin a soft beige-pink. The man has soft cheeks and nose, but a pronounced chin and shapely ears. He is of toned but not exceptionally muscular build, on a frame that is likewise tall but not exceptionally so.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally will wear fine but not particularly ornate clothing, trying for the biggest synthesis of comfort and style that he can get. Will at his hip have a messer and/or hand crossbow for self defence.
Registered: Aug 22, 2019 15:48:22 GMT -8
|
Post by Karolai Ferenc on Sept 7, 2019 21:35:58 GMT -8
The siblings gave a simultaneous and humoured smile to Hilda, the foreign lady at least spoke common which was a good beginning. Her words were quick, showing naivety juxtaposed by the quite apparent fact fermented grapes were doing their work. "Where is home, m'lady?" Karolai queried. "They would not by chance teach you Vessisch there?"
Then, the foreign woman turned to the elf who was likewise the subject of their attention, calling out to him. He quickly joined the scene and Karolai exchanged a look with Dorika. They laughed, momentarily embracing as the issue of who to go to first resolved itself; they quickly realized the silliness of what was brewing animosity in them towards each other and Karolai give his sister a kiss on the forehead through chuckles.
They then turned to the elf to respond to his address, Karolai giving a bow and Dorika a curtsy. "Karolai and Dorika of the Szeros County." It was a lie, but a smooth and rehearsed one that wouldn't be revealed save for if one had been to Egyszer courts or archives before. "We didn't quite catch the name of our dear friend here yet, but it is nevertheless a pleasure to meet you!" |
|
Hilda Vera de Rondón
Established
Named after the fallen city, Zephyra Silverfire lives disguised as Hilda Vera de Rondón.
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 18
Physical Description: She is a tall, lithe red-head girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and brown eyes that shine gold in the sunlight, often seen sparkling with a knowing, and mischief around loved ones. A soft sought-after beauty. Still considered a 'Plain Jane' to those outside her inner circle. She has a strong physique.
Clothes and Equipment: When out and about, Lady Hilda can be seen dressed in simple, yet fine gowns that most can tell her noble standing in spite of the neutral tones. In private time, the lady prefers to wear tunic and trousers with riding boots.
Lady Hilda has a sword, as well as a set of armor she had commissioned by a female blacksmith, who curates armors for women. Women who prefer to carry a sword more than anything, and go to war alongside the men, when called for or not.
Registered: Aug 19, 2019 12:36:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Hilda Vera de Rondón on Sept 8, 2019 19:28:42 GMT -8
"Oh! But where are my manners?" She giggled as she bowed to the dancer, as well as to the locals. "Hilda Vera de Rondón," she said, "is where I call home. My father, Lord Vera, is here on business." That lie used to be a difficult one to tell but now slipped from her tongue as if it had been the truth all her life. "Yes, of course, vessisch is taught, but I would not go so far as to embarrass myself by boorishly butchering such a beautiful language." Hilda had brought out a handheld fan and began waving it over her face in an attempt to cool herself down, attempting to appear humble. At that moment her only desire was to disappear into thin air after having humiliated herself so blatantly. Perhaps she would distract herself by throwing herself into yet another dance. Although it was now dark, the festival remained lively.
|
|
Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
------
Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
|
Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Sept 12, 2019 18:12:06 GMT -8
Alverein nodded in the direction of the siblings, something was… off about them. But this was a different empire. There was bound to be some friction. Then he turned to the young woman and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. This was unexpected.
“Lord Vera? Well, isn’t this an interesting coincidence.” Alverein mused with an appraising look. Ill fated fickle fortune’s folly is often the power of the day, but it seemed not this day. He dipped into a small bow. “Alverein De Nelethas of the Duchy De Nelethas at your service Lady Vera. I’m actually in town to do some business with your father. He came in contact with my own through certain acquaintances and since he heard your father was in the market for fine steeds here I am on his behalf, even if the business be my own.” He said with a small but genuine smile. “And finer horses you’d be hard pressed to find… anywhere, if you’ll forgive the boast.”
|
|
Karolai Ferenc
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Youth
Physical Description: Karl has a long, thick mane of arguably effeminate sand-blond hair. His eyes are a cold steel shade, while his skin a soft beige-pink. The man has soft cheeks and nose, but a pronounced chin and shapely ears. He is of toned but not exceptionally muscular build, on a frame that is likewise tall but not exceptionally so.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally will wear fine but not particularly ornate clothing, trying for the biggest synthesis of comfort and style that he can get. Will at his hip have a messer and/or hand crossbow for self defence.
Registered: Aug 22, 2019 15:48:22 GMT -8
|
Post by Karolai Ferenc on Sept 13, 2019 22:21:31 GMT -8
"The pleasure is ours!" came the reply to the lady and the elf introducing themselves. "Ah yes, de, a familiar article our tutors went through in a few of the languages we were given. Alas Rondi is not particularly common amongst educators here, Common and Wickan are the only languages from outside the Empire that get much attention. Most folk get by just on their ethnic language anyway, I wouldn't worry much about a few mispronunciations!" Karl said, clearing his throat as a look from Dorika told him he'd gone on a little too long on a tangent. He looked to the woman fanning herself, and raised a golden eyebrow. "I would have thought a Rondi woman would take joy in the heat more common to your home? I know Vessian winters are a frightful shock even to men from lands of ice and frost." A foot from Dorika put quiet but strong pressure onto his, making no visible reaction from Karolai. Perhaps she thought he was being obnoxious to the curiosities, but Karolai just thought she didn't get out of the castle enough.
As the elf spoke up about his business with Hilda's family, Dorika decided it was time to undo what she thought Karl had done. "Millions of people in the Empire and yet it is such a small world!" she remarked, chuckling at Alverein's mention of the quality of his horses. "I don't think anyone in present company would take offence but I would keep that down. I'm not one to argue but many prides will be injured at the mere suggestion." She thought to her father with the monstrous things covered in muscle he called horses, those he doted upon with loving names as "Mikki" and "Hanschen". Yes, old Otto would certainly have his hands upon steel by now.
|
|
Hilda Vera de Rondón
Established
Named after the fallen city, Zephyra Silverfire lives disguised as Hilda Vera de Rondón.
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 18
Physical Description: She is a tall, lithe red-head girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and brown eyes that shine gold in the sunlight, often seen sparkling with a knowing, and mischief around loved ones. A soft sought-after beauty. Still considered a 'Plain Jane' to those outside her inner circle. She has a strong physique.
Clothes and Equipment: When out and about, Lady Hilda can be seen dressed in simple, yet fine gowns that most can tell her noble standing in spite of the neutral tones. In private time, the lady prefers to wear tunic and trousers with riding boots.
Lady Hilda has a sword, as well as a set of armor she had commissioned by a female blacksmith, who curates armors for women. Women who prefer to carry a sword more than anything, and go to war alongside the men, when called for or not.
Registered: Aug 19, 2019 12:36:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Hilda Vera de Rondón on Oct 26, 2019 17:56:58 GMT -8
"Ohohohoho! Muy Bien, caballero." Blushing, Hilda forced a laugh as genuinely as any laugh could possibly be faked so as to not injure Korelai's pride, nor embarrass his adorable little sister, Dorika. Boys were not the sharpest when it came down to a lady's personal etiquette. How was he to know that she merely fanned herself out of self-humiliation and mortification? Even the warmth from the sweet Vessian wine in her hotblooded veins. Luckily, Dorika had noticed as much, as they gave each other a look that lasted less than half a second but spoke volumes, a look that could only be shared between two knowing ladies. It was because of her presence that the atmosphere did not become completely unbearable. Even so, she could not help but notice and yes, even admire the young man. Something to do with the warmth in those eyes as she held them.
"Oh, my stars," she smiled in Dorika's direction before turning to Alverein, then back to Karolai. "A small world, indeed! I won't deny that your horses are a fine specimens, but I must agree with Lady Dorika. You must have learned from my father by now, as I have no doubt in my mind that he goes on and on about how my peoples take immense pride in our Rondi Thoroughbreds. Nuestra Pura Raza! Of course, there is only one way to truly find this out." Hilda smiled through slightly pursed lips as she subtly referred to the horse races that often took place between merchant lords and tradesmen, a popular sport among their people created for situations such as these.
|
|
Alverein De Nelethas
Established
Roleplay posts: 47
Age: 687
Physical Description: Having lived through more than his fair share of trials in his life, Alverein appears slightly more weathered than the average elf of his age, appearing more towards his Middle Ages then he might otherwise. His hair is a mix of black and grey, the salt and pepper effect having barely come into contact with his beard. The very top of his left ear is missing and a cross-like scare marks his left eye, though thankfully he didn’t lose the eye itself.
------
Clothes and Equipment: His usual outfit is a white shirt tucked into dark pants with his usual boots which are grey with elven glyphs worked into it in silver.
His weapons are storied blades in their own right, having existed long before he was even an idea, and probably continuing to do so long after he is naught but dust and half forgotten legend.
The Eclipse Blade, Teuvel Tel Fadien Teuivae: with a handle of dark iron bound in leather, and a scabbard of the same, until drawn Teuivae can seem like an ordinary sword of no great importance. Once drawn however it's magical nature is quite evident. The blade changes with the phase of the moon, variably seemingly made of a metal the color of moonlight and the night sky. The materials change the percentage of the weapon constructed as the moon waxes and wanes, becoming made of more moon-steel while waxing until being fully so on the nights of the full moon, and the shadowy stuff of night while waning until being fully so during a new moon.
The blade of Neverwinter has a cross guard shaped like the Sigil of the city who shares its name, both taking their name from the man who lead to the creation of both, an egg sized ruby being set into the iris on both sides.
The Neverwinter Shortsword: On his opposite hip rises the paired number of the blade, a shortsword created years after as much as a ceremonial twin as one for the battlefield. It shares a common look with its elder, though is not as distinct.
In his other hand more often than not however his black staff stands, a simple construction of wood so dark it almost seems to absorb light when it is not cracking with violet Eldritch energy.
His armor is an archaic custom creation of his, based off of several designs and made to provide equal parts defense and maneuverability for a magic user and crafted from mithral and materials harvested from a black dragon.
His cloak is of fine make, and lined with dark grey winter wolf fur. The natural abilities of the beast it's made from protects him from temperatures well below freezing.
At his back is his bag of holding, though you’d never be able to pick it out as magical from a dozen average satchels. Beaten and travel-worn, it’s been there more often than not, and he owes most of what little he has left to it’s magical depths.
The Key of Khrazan is what he owes for the rest of what he still has, when inserted into a door's lock and turned it opens a gate between that door and a pocket of space like a bag of holding that's 30ft wide x 120ft long x 30ft high. Inside is furnished with wood walls and a stone floor. Once the door is closed it will open back up to normal place it would access until the room is opened up from inside. If the door has been shut the only way to contact it from the outside world is by placing the key's matched doorknocker against the door and knocking with it.
He has several rings and a few other trinkets on him at all times, mementos from his former life.
------
Registered: Dec 1, 2018 1:08:20 GMT -8
|
Post by Alverein De Nelethas on Nov 26, 2019 20:08:50 GMT -8
“My sincerest apologies, I meant no offense. I’m sure your stallions are quite fine. In fact, I’m sure I’ll be purchasing some to add to my own before I return to my home.” Alverein said with an only slightly mocking bow. He had no use or respect for no less wounded pride. “And as much fun as a race might be, business must be tended too. Now that I have located a reliable guide to lead me to my destination I must be off. Good day gentleman, lady.” He said, clicking his heels together and turning to Hilda. “At your pleasure, may we go to your place of residence? I would love to meet this friend of a friend who is your father.”
|
|
Karolai Ferenc
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: Youth
Physical Description: Karl has a long, thick mane of arguably effeminate sand-blond hair. His eyes are a cold steel shade, while his skin a soft beige-pink. The man has soft cheeks and nose, but a pronounced chin and shapely ears. He is of toned but not exceptionally muscular build, on a frame that is likewise tall but not exceptionally so.
Clothes and Equipment: Generally will wear fine but not particularly ornate clothing, trying for the biggest synthesis of comfort and style that he can get. Will at his hip have a messer and/or hand crossbow for self defence.
Registered: Aug 22, 2019 15:48:22 GMT -8
|
Post by Karolai Ferenc on Nov 28, 2019 1:04:33 GMT -8
"Hmmm?... much good, Knight?" Karolai said, trying to make sense of what was said. The response he got only confused him further, and in attempt to once more get him quiet his sister whispered to him: "very good, sir." as clarification. The pair then turned their attentions to the exchange between the other two, Dorika giggling at the mention of her family's equestrian tradition. It seemed that language, culture and seas might separate people and yet really they will be ever the same. This part at least got to Karolai as well and even he couldn't help but smile faintly at Vera's words.
"Oh none was taken. It's just friendly advice, I don't think anyone in present company would be so prideful as to be hurt by words. But some people... well, they're a little more humourless." Dorika explained, glancing over at a few nobles she recognized in the scenery. Yes, they most certainly would fit the descriptor of "a little more humourless". Alverein turned to Hilda and inquired to her about matters more important than chit-chat, to which the siblings had a difference of opinion. Karolai knew it was better not to pester people, but Dorika having so rarely left the familial castle was upset at having one of her few true experiences cut so abruptly and pleaded to her brother to do something. Alas, he would not. "Well, thank you for your time!" he said, bowing and after a flick to the forehead getting his sister to curtsy. "I hope you enjoy your stay here, the place isn't at its best but there's always wonder in it if you care to look." With that and a few pulls on the arm of his sister they went off to look elsewhere for something to happen.
|
|
Hilda Vera de Rondón
Established
Named after the fallen city, Zephyra Silverfire lives disguised as Hilda Vera de Rondón.
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 18
Physical Description: She is a tall, lithe red-head girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and brown eyes that shine gold in the sunlight, often seen sparkling with a knowing, and mischief around loved ones. A soft sought-after beauty. Still considered a 'Plain Jane' to those outside her inner circle. She has a strong physique.
Clothes and Equipment: When out and about, Lady Hilda can be seen dressed in simple, yet fine gowns that most can tell her noble standing in spite of the neutral tones. In private time, the lady prefers to wear tunic and trousers with riding boots.
Lady Hilda has a sword, as well as a set of armor she had commissioned by a female blacksmith, who curates armors for women. Women who prefer to carry a sword more than anything, and go to war alongside the men, when called for or not.
Registered: Aug 19, 2019 12:36:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Hilda Vera de Rondón on Nov 29, 2019 16:03:16 GMT -8
Hilda's blood boiled when the elf dismissed the two natives without her consent; they turned away before she could even protest. But she was able to hold her tongue and keep composure upon remembering that she was not who or what she once was. They did not owe her anything with her current title as Lady, which was quite the demotion. Nevertheless, how incredibly rude! Using the fan to hide her face, how she strained to keep up the bright smile, she gave the siblings a deep curtsy. "Oh, and what a pleasure it was! I am fairly certain we will be seeing each other again. Ta-ta!" She wrapped her arm around the elf's and grasped his arm with a firm grip, waving a fan over her face with the other as she glanced at him sideways. "What fun is yet to be had between you and I, Lord Alvarein."
|
|
