The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
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Post by The Raconteur on Nov 16, 2019 19:47:11 GMT -8
A giant sea of black, metallic sand, this desert is constantly covered in dark clouds but never rains.
Many adventurers will attempt to brave the sands in order to obtain the limitless treasure held within, but beware for this desert has a terrible secret.
The desert itself is a living, sentient metal bent on the consumption of all living beings. Any creature that steps within its boundaries is immediately and relentlessly accosted by the sands and its prey.
Worst of all, when you die in the sands, the sands claim you as a puppet, you become part of the sands, and the sands, part of you. Other adventurers that come across your moving corpse will find that you are much harder to kill than you ever were in life, covered in a salient black armor and unable to die save for by the most extreme injuries.
But if you forget everything else I've said, remember this: "Be wary of The Devoured One", for not heeding this advice is the fastest way to be a part of the sands forever.
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Maribel Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 27
Physical Description: As tall as her sister, Maribel stands at six feet with broad shoulders. Pale, as all vampires are, the blue shade of undeath tinges her complexion. Her hair is a light enough blonde to nearly be white.
Her figure is extremely athletic and robust, though not unfeminine. One might describe her as "Amazonian."
Normally, her eyes are black. When hungry, they become orange.
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Clothes and Equipment: Much more modest than her sister, Maribel enjoys neck-high dresses and shawls. If anything compliments her figure, it is normally covered by a cloak or a mantle.
The woman's favorite weapon is a bladed whip, which she uses with great mastery.
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Allegiances: Correa Familia
Registered: Dec 6, 2018 18:56:01 GMT -8
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Post by Maribel Correa on Nov 16, 2019 22:21:52 GMT -8
At the edge of the onyx sands sat a patient figure. Clad in dark robes, her body disappeared against the desert landscape, making it seem as though her pale face hovered in the air.
Though no wrinkles or liver spots touch her face, something in her cold, dead eyes whispers of many winters come and gone, cities built and burnt, rulers crowned and buried. A smile on her face hinted that perhaps the whispers were warnings; all that rose, she toppled.
In her gloved hands, there was a crystal ball. A beaming white light shot forth from its center and bore into the sky, a tower for all the right people to see.
Arriving first was the young one. Half-cursed, pretty, but arrogant. His skills were proficient, but his attitude saw to his ruin more often than not.
Next was the reluctant son. Through all the gifts she had bestowed upon him, he indulged in none. She could feel the heat of his hatred even when he plunged himself beneath the waves of the sea, but when she called, he came, just as loyal little children should.
The woman crossed her legs when they arrived, and her glossy eyes pitched onto the horizon.
"What a wonderful time for bonding awaits you both," hummed the matriarch, laughter bubbling up in her throat. "Treasures lay ahead. Treasures that won't let me scry them. I'm much too busy to be arsed, but this shouldn't be a problem for either of you, now, should it? My strong, handsome boys."
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Laszlo Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 54
Physical Description: Laszlo is a very large man at just below 220cm, only slightly more than ordinary proportions of a sailor simply multiplied by a noticeable factor. His outward appearance is that of a youthful fellow, great maintenance vying with harsh treatment on dominance over his face, the build of which can be described as that of androgynous beauty hammered to brutishness, or the inverse of a brute getting androgynous beauty sculpted on his face. The man has pale skin with further bleaching by some makeup in a relic of Laszlo's vain past contrasting with long strands of . But this only at a distance hides long scars across his lips. The man's eyes though naturally a light green shade will almost always be glowing a faint, cold white as he starves himself of blood. The rims of his eyes will be a dark red, as though inflamed, hungover, bruised and simply sleepless all at once. Laszlo will always smell pleasantly of flowers with but a hint of coastal spices.
Clothes and Equipment: Will vary drastically. He enjoys more brutal arms however, axes and the likes being a particular favourite.
Registered: Jul 12, 2019 19:50:11 GMT -8
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Post by Laszlo Correa on Nov 17, 2019 11:40:24 GMT -8
Laszlo stomped into the scene kicking up sand with every step, his feet going into the ground up to his ankles by virtue of the man's great weight. He was over-dressed most certainly, as though for the midnight balls of vampiric stereotype rather than for a venture into the desert. His kin would notice that some of his proportions were off, hinting at arms and armour concealed below the foppish attire. Perhaps it all suited him, perhaps it didn't, but he certainly looked comfortable in his dress, epaulets upon shoulderboards fluttering in the wind.
As he closed the distance with his "family" they would certainly hear the faintest growl under his breath — apparently he himself didn't notice it. Laszlo looked at the horizon, and with a shrug motioned the runt to follow as he went on to explore the secrets of the Voracious desert. "It'll be done." he called over his shoulder to Maribel, before taking a look at Vasco and momentarily amplifying his growl. It'd be a long journey, and he didn't want to make it feel any longer by making the poncey boy chat. Now, he only thought about the possibility of finding his heart's true desire out in this sun-blasted hellscape.
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 17, 2019 18:18:59 GMT -8
Salem hiding amongst a pile of large boulders listens to the two figures talking. They are to the left of her about 30 feet away. There are dark clouds above but the stars shine bright today. She can feel the stardust peaking through the clouds. The darkness does well to hide her from the other strangers nearby. Salem wears a black poncho and silk pants, the colors matching her wavy hair. On the side of her head sprouts magnificent dull golden ram horns.
Something about this desert feels abnormal as if there is something breathing within the heart of this sandy terrain. Salem touches the sand trying to sense something about the desert. She had heard of a desert where the stars are always visible and the skies are a permanent night. The cards provided their guidance of place many will fall to and only those that prove themselves will pass.
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The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
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Post by The Raconteur on Nov 17, 2019 18:30:48 GMT -8
As soon as Salem touches the sand, she senses a familiar warmth, not one from her fingertips... no, not exactly, it's more like a relative that has been gone for a while and simply returned with no explanation.
Otherwise, the ground is calm, as if ready to pounce as soon as anyone crossed the threshold.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 92
Age: 25
Physical Description: Tall, lean, and pale, Vasco is your typical, run-of-the-mill vampire. He's got a head of choppy blonde hair that drops down his back, often held together in a ponytail.
His eyes are a pale, icy green, yet in times of thirst they bleed an angry red.
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Clothes and Equipment: It goes without saying that Vasco prefers the color black. His armor, made mostly of leather, includes a small shoulder plate and a mithril vambrace on his right arm. Now and again, when he feels that making an entrance is more important than stealth, he dons a cape.
Vasco carries a rapier with him that carries a venom in the blade. Every time it breeches skin, a bit of it will enter the bloodstream, introducing a neurotoxin that will paralyze a small area.
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Allegiances: Correa Familia
Registered: Mar 23, 2018 21:15:53 GMT -8
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Post by Vasco Correa on Nov 17, 2019 18:37:52 GMT -8
The pretty boy- blonde, strapping, and devilish- tilted his head toward his brother when he growled, a smirk painting his face. Laszlo was no true friend of their kind, even if he was one himself, but Vasco felt no pity for the ugly beast. Poking and prodding his buttons would be his main source of entertainment for this trip, so all the better that he was already an irritable old fool.
Just as he was going to open his mouth to begin his insufferable verbal tirade onto his elder brother, a noise, so subtle but still so present. His tongue danced across his lips as he pinched his brow.
"Come out," he called across the sands. "I hear you over there. It's rude to eavesdrop, don't you think?"
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 17, 2019 18:44:05 GMT -8
Salem smiles at the warmth. It feels similar to the warmth she feels when seeing a friend from long ago but they both have drifted apart. She sighs before standing up and stepping away from the borders. "I think it's just coincidence that we crossed paths here" Salem speaks as she turns her body towards theirs. She didn't notice the man speaking to her before as the other two covered up his presence with their talking.
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Laszlo Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 54
Physical Description: Laszlo is a very large man at just below 220cm, only slightly more than ordinary proportions of a sailor simply multiplied by a noticeable factor. His outward appearance is that of a youthful fellow, great maintenance vying with harsh treatment on dominance over his face, the build of which can be described as that of androgynous beauty hammered to brutishness, or the inverse of a brute getting androgynous beauty sculpted on his face. The man has pale skin with further bleaching by some makeup in a relic of Laszlo's vain past contrasting with long strands of . But this only at a distance hides long scars across his lips. The man's eyes though naturally a light green shade will almost always be glowing a faint, cold white as he starves himself of blood. The rims of his eyes will be a dark red, as though inflamed, hungover, bruised and simply sleepless all at once. Laszlo will always smell pleasantly of flowers with but a hint of coastal spices.
Clothes and Equipment: Will vary drastically. He enjoys more brutal arms however, axes and the likes being a particular favourite.
Registered: Jul 12, 2019 19:50:11 GMT -8
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Post by Laszlo Correa on Nov 17, 2019 20:59:18 GMT -8
The little hideaway woman did not go unnoticed. Between smell and hearing it was no difficulty for the type of creature that Laszlo and Vasco were to detect Salem. The growling stopped, and he instead turned. The vampire rolled his shoulders and clicked his knees together in anticipation of violence.
The chicken-shit called out, and Laszlo raised an eyebrow as he noted movement. His posture relaxed as he noted who exactly was before him. He had fairly recently imbibed blood, and was for now rather sane with his more cavalier nature at the forefront. "Well, if it is a coincidence then we will be on our way; it is a long path ahead." he paused, looking to Vasco and the throat begging for fingers upon it. Maribel probably wouldn't be happy if Laszlo's fantasies were to come true. "It is a harsh desert of course, if you so desire you can travel with us for whatever that is worth. I don't believe in the same coincidences, though, so if you don't come with us then it would be very unwise for me to catch sight of you again."
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 17, 2019 21:22:10 GMT -8
Salem ponders his offer "and what of your friends? Would the mind having an outsider walking alongside them?" Salem walks closer to them, her the paleness of her feet seems to almost glow under the starlight. The sand feels soft on the soles of her feet reminding her of a beach she used to venture long ago. Salem notices from the location of this man's voice that he is taller than the man who spoke before. There is a sort of rasp in this taller man's voice of one who has lived a life but is tired and bitter with the outcomes of the past. Salem is too familiar with what it's like to be bitter of the past. The past never did shine too brightly upon her.
Salem takes a few steps closer before extending out a hand in their general direction and introduces herself. "My name is Salem"
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 92
Age: 25
Physical Description: Tall, lean, and pale, Vasco is your typical, run-of-the-mill vampire. He's got a head of choppy blonde hair that drops down his back, often held together in a ponytail.
His eyes are a pale, icy green, yet in times of thirst they bleed an angry red.
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Clothes and Equipment: It goes without saying that Vasco prefers the color black. His armor, made mostly of leather, includes a small shoulder plate and a mithril vambrace on his right arm. Now and again, when he feels that making an entrance is more important than stealth, he dons a cape.
Vasco carries a rapier with him that carries a venom in the blade. Every time it breeches skin, a bit of it will enter the bloodstream, introducing a neurotoxin that will paralyze a small area.
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Allegiances: Correa Familia
Registered: Mar 23, 2018 21:15:53 GMT -8
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Post by Vasco Correa on Nov 18, 2019 13:30:04 GMT -8
Vasco eyed both Laszlo and the woman pointedly but shrugged. Why did he care if she decided to come along? Perhaps it would be better to have a woman on the journey to be bait for the raging bull should the younger vampire pinch the wrong nerve. He briefly laughed at the thought, raising his head as he began his journey into the sands.
Maribel had since disappeared long before Salem had wandered over, as though she had never been there at all.
"I am Vasco. Be sure to remember that, all people need to take note of their future legends- and that scowling prune is Laszlo. Disregard his expression, I'm sure it got stuck like that since he was a boy."
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 18, 2019 15:18:00 GMT -8
Salem's nose wrinkles a little in confusion as Salem can only sense the outlines of things and people, she can't exactly make out features very well. "Vasco and Laszlo, pleased to make your acquaintance. The woman who was talking from before? I assume she went ahead? If that's the case we wouldn't want to fall behind" Salem says taking a deep breath and whispering a spell of shielding for her and those around her. Salem doesn't know that the woman was a never really there. Salem heard her voice but wasn't able to sense her and just assumed she had some way of blocking being sensed. Salem hasn't dealt with projections very often and hasn't learned how to deal with a person who isn't there but can be heard.
Salem wonders if she should put her outstretched hand down as she has not felt anyone reaching forward for a handshake. She is unsure of what to do, would it be rude of her to put her arm down? Should she wait a little more? She never knows.
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The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
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Post by The Raconteur on Nov 18, 2019 20:12:22 GMT -8
The three adventurers then enter the sands proper, and after the slowest reached about twelve paces inside, all three feel rumbling. For any who have even vaguely heard stories of this place have heard of at least three things: the sands are alive, there is an enormous beast known as The Devoured One, and lastly these creatures...
The Consumed, an army of peudo-undead controlled by the sands.
Hands and weapons rise out of the sands between the adventurers and the border, making a wall made of flesh and flecks of metal. These creatures then start meandering slowly after you.
There must be at least a dozen.
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 18, 2019 20:21:24 GMT -8
Salem quickly senses the vibrations of these creatures and suspects there are at least a dozen of them. After a few seconds, she figures out their location and casts ensnaring spell stopping the unknown creatures in their place providing her some extra time. A being lives within the sands and if she's lucky enough hopefully she can communicate with it. She sits down on the ground and places her hands and forehead to the sand and tries to connect her life force with that of the desert.
Salem can connect with those she comes in physical contact with that allow her to. When connected she is able to telepathically communicate with them until they are physically no longer touching. Hopefully, the desert will allow her to speak to it.
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The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
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Post by The Raconteur on Nov 18, 2019 20:53:17 GMT -8
A deep maleficent voice belows from the depths of the sand, directly into the mind of Salem. "You, demonspawn. Why do you think you have the right to speak to me?" A strange sense of increased intensity washes over you and then, what can only be described as an epiphany. "You are an Astrologer aren't you? Come to make a deal?"
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 18, 2019 20:57:48 GMT -8
Salem focuses on the deep words of this entity. "Yes, I have come to make a deal. For this is the only land I know of with eternal night. I haven't found anything where the stars shine as powerful as they do here. I wish to reside here within the desert, I am not sure however of the others I am traveling with. I have met them only a few moments ago and am unsure of their desire. What do you seek?" Salem responds telepathically back to the entity. A rumble in the ground can be felt as the desert's voice echos in her head.
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The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
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Post by The Raconteur on Nov 18, 2019 21:06:06 GMT -8
Suddenly, all of the Consumed stop in place and point in unison and all three hear a chorus of mouth scream: "ENTER THE OASIS AND DESTROY WHATEVER IS KEEPING IT ALIVE!"
The voice of the sands talks only to Salem once again. "Then we can talk about pacts." The voice paused, as if deciding what to do with the others. "They may accompany you, but if I see a shred of defiance or hesitation, I will swallow them whole."
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 18, 2019 21:25:25 GMT -8
Salem is a little confused about this. "the oasis, isn't that a part of the desert? Why do you wish for its destruction?" Salem asks the entity. Unless living things are not what they want inhabiting the sands. "if it is the oasis you wish to be gone then we will make it so, is there anything else we should know of your land? Even if we destroy the oasis how will we know that you will keep your end of the bargain when you could easily consume us?"
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The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
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Post by The Raconteur on Nov 18, 2019 21:31:16 GMT -8
"Firstly, the Oasis is not of me, it is an abomination, a cyst, and like all abominations must be destroyed." Suddenly, the sensation you felt when touching the sand earlier becomes clearer, you know why it felt so familiar... "Secondly, stars, even banished ones, do not lie."
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Salem Carroway
Established
Roleplay posts: 19
Age: unknown but her appearance is in the mid 20s
Physical Description: Her skin is fair and pale like those who venture little into the sun. Atop her head sits strands of wavy black hair as black nothingness. A pair of dull golden ram horns sprout from her head. Her ancestral ties with the beasts of this lands fill her with gratitude for the earth. One can not be without the other. Over her eyes is a cloth painted with red strikes and an eye to guide her. Her eyes are not important for she can see with other means. THe clothe keeps her focused on her path instead of other directions. Her height is shorter than most individuals at about 5'2 making it easy for her to slip through crowds. She resembles the youth of someone in their mid twenties but no one knows of her true age. She could've lived for centuries or barely lived a couple of decades, one doesn't know.
Clothes and Equipment: atop her body, she wears a black wool poncho and black silk pants that hug close to her legs. A small hole is cut into her pants to allow a short tail to stick through. It is not much for her to carry. Salem is never one to stay in the same spot for too long. She carries a small rucksack with a few necessities, a book enchantments and spells, as well as a deck of tarot cards.
Allegiances: to the stars, moon, and heavens above
Registered: Nov 17, 2019 14:25:34 GMT -8
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Post by Salem Carroway on Nov 18, 2019 21:36:09 GMT -8
Salem nods and accepts the offer before slumping into the sandy floor as the magic she used to trap the consumed and to communicate with the desert has taken a toll on her. "we...must destroy...the oasis" Salem tells the others between jagged breaths before wobbly standing back up. "The desert may offer us a deal if we do. It would be foolish to not take the deal." Salem says after a few moments of catching her breath.
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Laszlo Correa
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 54
Physical Description: Laszlo is a very large man at just below 220cm, only slightly more than ordinary proportions of a sailor simply multiplied by a noticeable factor. His outward appearance is that of a youthful fellow, great maintenance vying with harsh treatment on dominance over his face, the build of which can be described as that of androgynous beauty hammered to brutishness, or the inverse of a brute getting androgynous beauty sculpted on his face. The man has pale skin with further bleaching by some makeup in a relic of Laszlo's vain past contrasting with long strands of . But this only at a distance hides long scars across his lips. The man's eyes though naturally a light green shade will almost always be glowing a faint, cold white as he starves himself of blood. The rims of his eyes will be a dark red, as though inflamed, hungover, bruised and simply sleepless all at once. Laszlo will always smell pleasantly of flowers with but a hint of coastal spices.
Clothes and Equipment: Will vary drastically. He enjoys more brutal arms however, axes and the likes being a particular favourite.
Registered: Jul 12, 2019 19:50:11 GMT -8
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Post by Laszlo Correa on Nov 18, 2019 22:12:25 GMT -8
Laszlo neither shook the hand nor kissed it nobly, knowing most likely he'd by accident in the former case break it and in the latter bite off a chunk. He didn't have time to say something, turning his attention to the risen undead. He didn't know what drove these things, but if they were the typical walking corpses of necromancy he reckoned he could take them apart limb by limb with just his hands. But the vampire didn't get a chance to unleash his violent will, the woman that he picked up with Vasco doing something of magic. Should she fail, he braced himself for going ahead with the violence anyway.
She finished whatever she was doing, and made an announcement to the false kin. Laszlo took it with some skepticism, chuckling roughly before replying. "You want us to fight all the denizens of a settlement on a maybe? To listen to the words of a mysterious force raising undead before our eyes? It may be you who is foolish, girl." he turned to see what input Vasco might have, for once listening to what the snot bubble might say.
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