Khepri
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 173 
Physical Description: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings spread outward from her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame.
Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features.
Though the woman seems like a nubile goddess, fingers that end in claws and feet ending in talons do add a frighteningly harsh reality to her image.
When the sun vanishes from the sky, all that is not human about the woman departs, leaving a small, defenseless dame behind.
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Clothes and Equipment: Khepri carries little, save for the string around her neck that holds a round gemstone absorbing sunlight.
When out of sunlight and without the gem, her wings become a heavy cloak.
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Registered: Nov 20, 2017 18:28:46 GMT -8
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Post by Khepri on Aug 16, 2018 11:48:30 GMT -8
Khepri tapped her long fingernails on the counter impatiently as she waited for Rudiger to read the menu. Was reading really that difficult? Roxanne had absolutely no problems when she was pestered to do it.
Right as the woman was about to ask if he was, perhaps, not as intelligent as her other hired hand and if he would need further schooling on the matter, he spoke up and ordered for them. Pleased with the development, Khepri smiled. "That sounds like it will be an adequate meal. We'll have to wait and see when it-"
Pausing, the Bird watched as the knight struggled with his wine. Her eyes darted over to her drink curiously. She lifted her glass, took a light sip, and cocked a brow.
"Someone seems to have a premature palette for wine. Rudiger, are you a man who does not drink?"
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Rudiger Dornmauer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 229 
Age: 30
Physical Description: Rudiger is tall at 6'3", and muscularly built from his profession. His skin is weathered from his life on the road, with the first wrinkles of age appearing at the sides of his mouth and his eyes, and thick calluses on his right hand from wielding his sword. His light brown hair has been sheered to a fade parted on the right side, and his strong chin that was once covered by thick goatee has been shaved to stubble, but his thick mustache has remained. His most prominent feature is a thick scar and his missing left eye, which he covers with a black eyepatch, which he lost in a fight with a bear.
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Clothes and Equipment: Rudiger wears a variety of cloths, depending on the situation. For battle, he wears a blue gambeson underneath steel plate armor, which encases him from head to foot. He wears a bellow faced sallet helm, which he learned to wear from the loss of his eye. He wields a hand and half sword, with a decorative eagle on the pommel. He also carries a kite shield, painted with his coat of arm, a black eagle on a red and orange checkered field.
When he's not in battle, he wears a white wool shirt, and thick woolen black pants. He always wears his tan riding boots.
He owns a dapple grey destrier, and a heavy wooden saddle with a high cantle and pommel covered in thick leather.
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Allegiances: The Grand Duchy of Voruta
Registered: Dec 6, 2017 14:20:22 GMT -8
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Post by Rudiger Dornmauer on Aug 16, 2018 18:09:49 GMT -8
Rudiger was somewhat baffled by Khepri's question as he turned to address her. She had seen him drink when they were at the Oasis of the Crossroads, though that proved to have rather turbulent effects on his stomach that particular night. Which was no thanks to Khepri that time. No, the reason he was having trouble was purely his own fault. But he couldn't very well have left that poor sod take that beating.
"Well, Little Miss," he jabbed softly at her height, "the business I had to attend outside to caused me to cut the inside of my mouth. So it hurts a bit when alcohol rubs up against the cut."
Setting aside his glass, he managed to flag down the bartender again, and ordered some water. Despite the dirty look from the bartender, he complied, and Rudiger began to nurse the cool glass in his hands as he waited for their food to arrive. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Khepri, it was just he was awful at small talk with something that didn't have four legs and snorted at you occasionally.
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 22, 2018 12:22:35 GMT -8
"Yes, YES! I know there are plenty other rubies out there but 'The Crimson Ascent' has a specific meaning to my kin! God! Don't anyone in here own just a touch of knowledge about ancient elven artifacts!?!" Vithkun exclaimed bashing his hands into the bar desk before plunging his head into his palms in frustration that this barkeeper didn't have any idea of what Vithkun talked about either. He had been in Isra almost long enough to apply for citizenship by now and only small hints had popped up.
He sighed and through his fingers he saw something that might just help him drown his frustrations.
"Uggh..." he said and stood up straight again leaning his hands on the bar desk. "Pour me some of that Daevaris vintage." he commanded and and placed a few coins on the desk twirling this glass and its contents around. He was a prince - an elvish prince. How come this was so much harder than it looked like? And how come people here were so 'common' minded. All they thought about was where to get the next pint of ale. 'Ale is but distilled dwarf piss', Vithkun thought, but this Daevaris wine was actually decent being of elven origin and he took a small sip wondering what his next move would be, because there was no way he would return empty handed. This gem was to be a gift when he proposed to his beloved Elrinda - but he was close to grudgingly admitting that it might - perhaps - have been a small mistake setting out on the journey alone.
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Khepri
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 173
Physical Description: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings spread outward from her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame.
Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features.
Though the woman seems like a nubile goddess, fingers that end in claws and feet ending in talons do add a frighteningly harsh reality to her image.
When the sun vanishes from the sky, all that is not human about the woman departs, leaving a small, defenseless dame behind.
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Clothes and Equipment: Khepri carries little, save for the string around her neck that holds a round gemstone absorbing sunlight.
When out of sunlight and without the gem, her wings become a heavy cloak.
_________________________________________________
Registered: Nov 20, 2017 18:28:46 GMT -8
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Post by Khepri on Aug 22, 2018 12:59:01 GMT -8
Khepri narrowed her eyes and leaned in towards the knight errant. "I might have to inquire as to what this business was, Rudiger Dornmauer, but there is much more to speak about."
She tilted her glass upwards for another sip, the sides of her lips lifting gently. She was surprised at the knight's rather elegant choice of wine. The hooligan had some class!
"Now, going onwards, Rudiger, the reason for which I summoned you here... you see, our dear, lunkheaded Roxanne has decided to take her attention away from yours truly to visit someone who's obviously less worth her time." Khepri spread her arms in a shrug. "Apes shall do what apes would like, even if it is the wrong decision. In any case, there is something interesting she mentioned. Your empress, I hear she is seeking an heir, or a suitor."
Gazing at the knight, the woman grinned, holding up two fingers. "I can do both!"
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 22, 2018 15:37:47 GMT -8
Redeeming honor never given appeared to be a noble quest from afar. Frankly it was not everything it was cracked up to be. It was dirty and long and almost every inn had some sort of bug infestation. Rushing off into the unknown by setting off one foot in front of the other down the road had led to a dead end. Dead not because she had fallen short of leads but because every single one had reassured her that this was something she could not do alone. There would have to be another and frankly it had displeased her to the point she had almost abandoned it all together. Where was she to find a high elf that would set out willingly with a Drow, much less to find an ancient jewel thought to be lost to time and almost a myth now. Luck be not a lady the night she stepped into the tavern but a head of silvery hair who was shouting rather loudly about how no one carried the knowledge that he needed. His voice was lovely, musical in nature a baritone that sang through the air. It grated on her nerves like nails dragging across a chalkboard from one end to the other and back again. Scraping and peeling filing down the very nails themselves until bare finger brushed board.
Hidden away in the corner of the wide room she was settled into her chair melting onto the table before her both arms folded and her forehead resting against the wood. Her cloak covered her snowy hair lest the strands gleam even in the dim light. Like freshly fallen powder that sparkled from the morning light they caught the attention of most men until they saw her face. Dark was her skin, pale and grey but not without a tint of lilac in her cheeks her rounded lips a darker shade covered in a smooth balm. She raised it now dark lined eyes with a sad curve to the lower line flashing. The iris was of a blue that varied between an October sky and almost white, changing with the tides of her emotion and with magic use.
Her gaze fell to the other elf and she stole away from her chair her cloak swirling around her. Darker than night the fabric collected no light within it. Reflected none of the world around her she might have slipped into the shadows unnoticed. It was not her goal to go unnoticed so she slipped her hands through the front her sleeves charcoal grey and slim disappearing under black bracers on her forearms. They were unadorned by decoration only tied tightly underneath in leather thong.
“You would do well to not speak so loudly as you draw attention to herself,” coming up beside the upstart sidling into place in order to raise her hand to the bartender she did not look directly at the pale one keeping her expression blank. He could barely see but the tip of her short nose past her hood.
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Rudiger Dornmauer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 229
Age: 30
Physical Description: Rudiger is tall at 6'3", and muscularly built from his profession. His skin is weathered from his life on the road, with the first wrinkles of age appearing at the sides of his mouth and his eyes, and thick calluses on his right hand from wielding his sword. His light brown hair has been sheered to a fade parted on the right side, and his strong chin that was once covered by thick goatee has been shaved to stubble, but his thick mustache has remained. His most prominent feature is a thick scar and his missing left eye, which he covers with a black eyepatch, which he lost in a fight with a bear.
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Clothes and Equipment: Rudiger wears a variety of cloths, depending on the situation. For battle, he wears a blue gambeson underneath steel plate armor, which encases him from head to foot. He wears a bellow faced sallet helm, which he learned to wear from the loss of his eye. He wields a hand and half sword, with a decorative eagle on the pommel. He also carries a kite shield, painted with his coat of arm, a black eagle on a red and orange checkered field.
When he's not in battle, he wears a white wool shirt, and thick woolen black pants. He always wears his tan riding boots.
He owns a dapple grey destrier, and a heavy wooden saddle with a high cantle and pommel covered in thick leather.
____________________________________________________________
Allegiances: The Grand Duchy of Voruta
Registered: Dec 6, 2017 14:20:22 GMT -8
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Post by Rudiger Dornmauer on Aug 22, 2018 17:37:02 GMT -8
Rudiger had to shake his head when Khepri mentioned Roxanne. Isn't she quite the lucky one he mused whimsically. Wherever she had gone to get frozen at, Rudiger would gladly trade places with her. Better to freeze than to get one's rear scorched by Khepri's wit.
Rudiger was taking a drink of his water when Khepri proposed her plan, and he nearly spit out his water. Unless he had guessed very wrong in either fact, it seemed that neither the Empress Naoki or Khepri were adequately 'equipped' to produce an heir together. But, Rudiger had been wrong before, but he couldn't help but shudder at what could be hiding beneath the folds of Khepri's skirt.
Still Rudiger had several reservations for the plan, mostly focused around the very creature who was proposing it. Rudiger could hardly think of a worst candidate for consort role than Khepri. She was vain, arrogant, bull headed... the more he thought of it, she sounded very much like common member of the nobility. Still, that didn't mean she would make a good monarch. "And what makes you think you are remotely qualified to rule? It isn't just parties and relations all the time, there's diplomatic audiences, dealing with the commoners, and so much more than I'm going to refrain from listing."
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 22, 2018 22:51:54 GMT -8
"Aaand what is this..?" Vithkun said and cast a brief glance at the stranger deliberately slowing the pronunciation of his words. Of course he knew what it was, it was a drow - a darkskin - and probably the last thing he wanted to concern himself with right now. Having probably slithered out of a hole in the planks, she most likely sought to relieve him of his valuable - well she could try. If the shade of her nose didn't give her away, the grating, joyless banging on a bucket resembling a voice would tell him everything he needed to know. "Your presence makes the wine go bitter, soulless one, so please refrain from talking to me again." Vithkun said while only barely making it out to be directed at the drow.
He narrowed his eyes and couldn't let it go though even though he knew he should. Was she calling him a loudmouth? Such a crude and insulting thing to call one of his kin - a pure elf.
"For your information - and I'm not under any illusion that you will understand - my voice carries command and people want to listen to it. Unlike your own pitiful squeeking." he added as a smug smile formed on his face while taking another sip of his wine. Getting back at some cheeky drow was the next best thing that could have happened at the bar and he almost didn't regret going here.
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 23, 2018 4:28:58 GMT -8
Of all the pompous arrogant gits in the world the one beside her was the only one with a common goal. Therefore it was necessary to hold her tongue from the lashing it so desperately wanted to unleash upon him the instant that he proceeded to boost himself up by his words. That was until he compared her own voice to some sort of squeaking sound. Keeping her body situated forward if she had turned to face him she might have smacked him and seeing as he was her only hope, there was an internal shudder in there somewhere, it would be best if she did not lash out in his direction just yet. She did look to him now from beneath folds of the hood that surrounded her shoulders. Her pale hair just visible on the edges of her face as the blue within her eyes became like ice frozen upon his own face.
"Your voice carries nothing but the outright magnitude of your self righteousness," her own was seething, "Tell me, bright one, for what deeds do you believe yourself better than my kin or is it only the fairness of your coloring that you deem yourself so worthy?"
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 23, 2018 11:02:29 GMT -8
Apparently the drow was quite unable to understand a rejection camouflaged as an insult - much a like a dwarf, Vithkun thought. Those stone brains had equally limited wit on that account.
"Of course she wants to learn more about me which means I better buy her a drink." he said to the bartender offering her little in terms of attention. "No, no, not the Daevaris vintage, you'd be throwing that away, pour her an... ale. Dwarven." he said as he turned towards her with a smug smile.
"To answer your question I hope you can count past the numbers of your fingers - because the list is long." he said and tilted his head lifting his brows in a belittling manner. "First of all..." he said repeating the slow pronunciation he so enjoyed when wanted to pour the smugness to the edge. "I am an elven prince. I am of pure blood. I am tall. My voice is like music. My inborn magic is second to none... well... it should be clear by now. But enough about me, tell me more of your... bitternes!" he said as his grin turned into one of smug victory while relieving the glass of the last of the Daevaris vintage.
"Fill it up..!" he said and put the glass on the bar slightly annoyed and perhaps - a tad tipsy.
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 23, 2018 11:13:41 GMT -8
Had his comparison of her to a dwarf been spoken aloud she might have found it a compliment. Sturdy and hearty dwarves were stout creatures who needed not the fancy words of the elven kind. Having traveled with a few before they had tricked her once into trying their ale. Half a pint in and she was already reeling and almost landed in the floor. Determined to prove her worth she'd continued until the contents of her stomach ended up outside of it on the ground. They'd slapped her back and commended her with a hearty cheer and given her another to wash the taste from her mouth. It was truly a wonder she'd never died from alcohol poisoning.
Therefore when he ordered her an ale and made it dwarven she had a sort of smugness in the corner of her lips as they drew back. If he was going to challenge her ability to stay sober while he drank wine so be it. "Thank you," she told the bartender when he dropped off the glass. As the pale one next to her continued to admonish the reasons why his highness was to be congratulated she began to down the ale itself. Had this been a frat party they might have been shouting 'chug chug' at the rate she went until the amber had all slid past her throat. Slamming down the glass her speech would remain quite untouched by the alcohol. "You're a man who cannot hold his liquor, and to be proud of your height and voice is to be proud of gifts given to you by the gods themselves. If you have no merit of your own in which to boast than you are but a figurehead of the state and shall be ruled by those around you, your highness."
He asked for her bitterness and all the vile inside of her went into his title showing just how much she was even if she was attempting to control herself.
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 23, 2018 11:40:25 GMT -8
Vithkun watched with disdain when the drow downed the pint of ale that quickly and a shiver went up his spine thinking about the taste of that rot.
"So you really are a... dwarf." he said and started sipping his second glass of wine, apparently pretty disinterested in joining a drinking competition. "Wine is to be enjoyed not thrown in your mouth like piss in a pot. Also... I'd wager that will all exit the same place it entered - in not so long." he said unimpressed.
"Yes, indeed the gods are looking upon me and my kin quite favorably, but it might because we don't dedicate our lives to mocking them in every given situation." he said and frowned at the drow. She was starting to become unreasonably cheeky and it annoyed Vithkun that she she hadn't gone all red with anger and left him alone yet - even dwarves would understand by now. He had to get to her somehow.
"Ruled by those around me? Proposterous!" he said and chuckled almost spilling his wine. "And I bet your future looks awfully more bright than mine..?" he asked and waited in smug anticipation on her answer.
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 23, 2018 11:44:39 GMT -8
Empty threat and mockery that wasn't so bright did not bother her in the slightest. She'd been correct the first time when she had thought him as pompous. If her luck held out she might find another willing to aid her but as it were she'd been searching a year to find an elf without such prejudice and failed to do so. Her failure had made her slightly bitter a fact her had pointed out and she did not readily deny. Earning what she earned was part of the world around them.
"Though they do not favor you in finding the prize which you seek. You seem to know little of its whereabouts or how to obtain it once you did. It seems that I have little to worry about in regards to you finding it first since you do not even know the location it was lost."
"Sir," she called upon the man tending the bar with one hand her voice still clear and bright, "May I have another please."
"Besides," she told him as she held another full cup, "I would rather be a dwarf than your kind as I will not be the one holding back my hair later in order to keep the strands clean."
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 23, 2018 12:13:22 GMT -8
Her reaction was not as anticipated - she persisted in such a... disgraceful way that Vithkun felt compelled to make sure she understood just how lowly she was. But her insults were slowly getting to him none the less and he was starting to become more 'direct' in pointing out her shortcomings.
"The... prize?" he asked not quite sure whether to laugh or get angry. Had she been listening in on what he said? "You have no idea of what you're speaking I assume, but I can tell you that this prize is destined to land in my hands - and later on in the diadem of my to be wife - most likely putting me next in line for king." he said not for a moment believing she had any real knowledge about The Crimson Ascent apart from her spewing out a few words she'd overheard.
"... And no one from your own kin would probably miss you , am I right? You're probably a disgrace even among your so called 'peers' and have to make friends with rats, dwarves and other forsakers of the light..!" Vithkun said flashing a grin once again as he finished yet another glass of wine, thinking himself even more lovely, intelligent and attractive than usual along with the alcohol influencing his mind.
"I pity you..! Or I would if I had but the least interest in such a dirty, forsaken elf as yourself." he said and pointed at her. "You should grow a beard and dig a hole like the stone-brains!" he said as he started gently rocking back and forth on the chair due to inebriation. The glass had been quickly refilled and another sip was taken.
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 23, 2018 12:26:12 GMT -8
He'd barely make it through his words. Insulting her personally did very little to anger her. Did he believe he could not say something to her she had not heard before? As a child she had been forsaken and traveling in strange lands had earned her every title that was below the belt that one could mutter. Many said such under their breath miscalculating or perhaps even hoping she could hear them with her pointed ears.
Her right hand had been settled on the top of the mug of dwarven ale. Taking a small sip while he pointed in her direction his single finger was not far from her face. Placing the mug back down on the counter she slid it backwards slightly so if she bumped the counter it would not be disturbed. With that her right hand came up attempting to grasp his finger.
Her hands were small but capable as she began to bend it back slightly towards an unnatural angle,"You would do well to hold your tongue when you know not to whom you speak. You may be a prince in your lands but you are not a prince of mine nor would anyone here move to protect you. You speak so loudly as to interrupt the whole tavern to where they might cheer to see you put in your place. I seek the very same as you but I do not blather it so loudly," she hissed the next part her voice lowering, "Do you tell them of the jewel, your highness. Do you tell them it is a ruby with no other match in this world. With no imperfections within the facet of its cut and with drow magic imbued within it. You place yourself in danger to speak so openly."
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 23, 2018 12:45:39 GMT -8
"What..? Comparing sizes are we..?" he asked amused as he saw her fist close in on his index finger. However he was taken aback by her next quite underhanded move. "Ahh..! Aauuch... Re-release me..!" he commanded, however it quickly turned into a whimper. Vithkun looked around what little he could, and rightly so people here looked more amused than anything else. Had it been back in the court she had sure been 'removed', but right now he was trapped in a heinous finger bend only hurting more as he tried to pull it away.
"You..! You dust licker..!" he exclaimed, though the words seemed far less authoritative uttering from this disgraceful position. However he did hear her words. True, it had drow magic imbued to it - its only imperfection if you asked Vithkun - or any of his kin. "Wh-why do tell me this?!?" he finally asked the drow. "And why do you care?!?" he added venomously spitting out his questions as she persisted in keeping his finger in that highly uncomfortable position.
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 23, 2018 12:58:57 GMT -8
"Dust licker? My my you are slightly creative if nothing else. That one I have not heard before." Amused actually instead of insulted by his words perhaps his position was one that made it so easy to withhold her anger now. His whimpering was doing much to relieve it as well. Pushing back his finger lightly in order to make his shoulder cave he'd found some of his own hatred. His change in tone alerted her to the fact he was taking her more seriously than before. It was a slight improvement.
"I tell you this because you are not suitable to seek it. Dark magic lies in the harrowed halls where it is kept. Traps you cannot pass even if you wished to do so," he should be down to her level now where she could meet his gaze directly. Her hood had fallen from her face revealing more of her features and her snowy hair, "I do not tell you this because it pleases me to see you fail but because there is also requirements only one of your kind can meet."
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Vithkun Almear
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 437
Age: 84
Physical Description: Vithkun is a tall guy extending about 1.9 m in height and has long flowing white hair as is often seen in his family. He would appear to be around 30 years of age.
Clothes and Equipment: He is royalty and likes to show it which is why he wears a thing braided silver band on his head which value can likely not be descriped in mere numbers. In his travels he will go for his plated armor, one which is both extremely light and quite durable, enabling him to retain much of his agility. For more formal matters he prefers robes in various colors and patterns.
He carries his sword with him most of the time and it is a slim long sword forged by the elves. The metal - like his armor - is hard but light and the sharpness of its edge knows few peers. He carries a dagger of similar quality too.
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:46:39 GMT -8
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Post by Vithkun Almear on Aug 23, 2018 13:27:32 GMT -8
Vithkun cursed in elvish as she put extra strain on his finger joint. What was she rambling about? Not suitable to seek it? This was all still nonsense to Vithkun as there were no way someone gifted by the gods wasn't able to pursue - and obtain - whatever treasure he sought. And especially a prize that was originally gifted to his people by the gods themselves.
"H-how can you say that?!? You're just bluffing, there's no way a leftover like you could know information from my clan!" he said fighting the pain at the same time. However with her last words it finally dawned to him, she was looking for someone who could dispel the magic so she could stab him in the back when they finally reached the Crimson Dawn jewel, and Vithkun couldn't help but release a slightly pain struck laughter.
"Hahaha, so you figured you couldn't do it by yourself and tried to find someone to get you through the dangers in the hopes of claiming some kind of reward?!? I see, I see! So amusing!" he chuckled though by now she had also caught his interest - especially if she really knew where it was hidden, which she did imply quite openly. "If nothing else..." he said and fought the pain. "... a dwarf like you probably knows her way around underground better than I do..!" he teased, though the pain from the finger lock was becoming straining.
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Myralthrine Host
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 478
Age: 56
Physical Description: Avatar is accurate, 5'6 height.
Clothes and Equipment: Wanderers cloak in a material resembling vantablack in that it does not appear to be a real color. Beneath it she generally wears black leather boots to her knee, charcoal breeches and shirt, both fitted, and black bracers upon her forearms. She carries a morningstar upon her hip and satchel that crosses over her shoulder and chest.
Allegiances: None
Registered: Aug 22, 2018 10:13:41 GMT -8
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Post by Myralthrine Host on Aug 23, 2018 15:10:19 GMT -8
Enough was enough. The impertinent bastard could keep his magic and all that he held dear to him. He would never find the stone for it had been ordained that both the light and the dark would have to combine in order to obtain it. A missive left by the original drow who had bestowed the gift. He believed it to be a gift from the gods but she knew it had been a gift from her people. A sign of the friendship once shared between them before their differences had split them apart. Opposites had not attracted then and they were not now as he took to calling her a dwarf again. Myra knew there was much in this world worth fighting for. Every race had such a capacity for good within them but right now as for her she did not have any more left for Vithkun. All she had was a solid left hook that was flying towards his face. It came out of nowhere as her hand had been hidden in her cloak and it was difficult to see movement in the color as it was hard to concentrate on. She had his finger before her in her right and him pressed downward slightly with it. She shifted her left foot forward in the motion as well in order to aid her blow in its severity. She was aiming for what he believed to be his very pretty face. Should he have had the good sense to block the blow or go below it. As he was not going to pull out of her grasp easily, she would release his finger, lowering his hand first, and attempt the same with her right. Should she make contact she would release his finger and stand before him her breath heavy and wild, "You are a worthless, spineless, pompous, arrogant, pale-faced," the instant that that one came from her mouth she felt some regret as she did not like to insult things people could not help but she did not stop, "bumbling imbecile. You could not find your clothes in the morning should someone not lay them out for you the night before and make sure you are properly dressed for your little tea parties. You had a silver spoon inserted into your mouth since birth and no one dared strike you for fear of breaking your teeth with it. But I do dare!"
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Khepri
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 173
Physical Description: Smattered in golden feathers, Khepri glimmers from dawn to dusk. Vast, dark wings spread outward from her broad hips, supporting an otherwise petite frame.
Black hair, straight as a waterfall, surrounds a round face. She has sharp, dangerous eyes that mimic the time of day, plump lips that tell you what you want to hear, and honey-sweet skin to ease her features.
Though the woman seems like a nubile goddess, fingers that end in claws and feet ending in talons do add a frighteningly harsh reality to her image.
When the sun vanishes from the sky, all that is not human about the woman departs, leaving a small, defenseless dame behind.
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Clothes and Equipment: Khepri carries little, save for the string around her neck that holds a round gemstone absorbing sunlight.
When out of sunlight and without the gem, her wings become a heavy cloak.
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Registered: Nov 20, 2017 18:28:46 GMT -8
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Post by Khepri on Aug 23, 2018 16:45:04 GMT -8
The young woman crossed her legs and scoffed at the knight-errant. "What makes you think I'm not? My magic works to inspire or sway others, for one. Warriors going to battle in my name would be several times more successful than ordinary. I was also the High Courtesan of the Gilded Aerie. That means nothing to you, of course, but its significance means that I was the one pulling all the strings in the puppet show that was the Aerie's political game! It's no easy feat, you understand." She shrugged, splaying her fingers.
"However, I do not aim to rule Isra itself, no. My goal is to have my offspring be the true heir! I would only be managing a high position within the court... to get what I need done. And no doubt, a child made of your Empress and myself would have incredible knowledge on how to manage a court and this entire city. She would be born prepared. The sooner the better, don't you think?"
Another sip of wine went down. "You seem perplexed, Knight Errant. It is to my knowledge that only a man and a woman can produce children, am I correct?" She grinned. "Not so for those like me. Perhaps... not possible in this form, but normally, I have few constraints!"
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Rudiger Dornmauer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 229
Age: 30
Physical Description: Rudiger is tall at 6'3", and muscularly built from his profession. His skin is weathered from his life on the road, with the first wrinkles of age appearing at the sides of his mouth and his eyes, and thick calluses on his right hand from wielding his sword. His light brown hair has been sheered to a fade parted on the right side, and his strong chin that was once covered by thick goatee has been shaved to stubble, but his thick mustache has remained. His most prominent feature is a thick scar and his missing left eye, which he covers with a black eyepatch, which he lost in a fight with a bear.
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Clothes and Equipment: Rudiger wears a variety of cloths, depending on the situation. For battle, he wears a blue gambeson underneath steel plate armor, which encases him from head to foot. He wears a bellow faced sallet helm, which he learned to wear from the loss of his eye. He wields a hand and half sword, with a decorative eagle on the pommel. He also carries a kite shield, painted with his coat of arm, a black eagle on a red and orange checkered field.
When he's not in battle, he wears a white wool shirt, and thick woolen black pants. He always wears his tan riding boots.
He owns a dapple grey destrier, and a heavy wooden saddle with a high cantle and pommel covered in thick leather.
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Allegiances: The Grand Duchy of Voruta
Registered: Dec 6, 2017 14:20:22 GMT -8
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Post by Rudiger Dornmauer on Aug 23, 2018 16:59:16 GMT -8
Rudiger wasn't the most knowledgeable person in the world, and he very well knew that and would admit it without hesitation. And when it came to Khepri, he knew even less. And he had even less knowledge of the mating rituals of Khepri's kind, as she hadn't been one to enlighten him about those types of things. And yet, Rudiger wasn't quite sure he would want to know about how that worked.
Luckily, he was saved from asking when a waiter came by with both their plates of food. Rudiger waited for a few seconds as the fritta cooled so he didn't injure his mouth any worst than it was, all the while his senses being assaulted by the biting aroma of the pepper. Realizing only then that Khepri had asked him a question, Rudiger answered, "That's the way it usually works, yes, a man and a woman are required to bring a child into the world."
Taking a bite, Rudiger again found that he couldn't eat tonight either. The pepper assaulted the wound in his mouth ferociously, making him nearly spit that out as well. Trying to exercise some control, he slowly reached for his cup of water while still chewing, each bite another wave of agony. He managed to choke the piece down, and then took a long drink of cool, relieving water. He swished it about his mouth for a few seconds, before swallowing the peppery water as well.
He pushed away his plate, deciding to try and spare himself some agony, because he doubted Khepri would with her plan to become Consort. Hell, why don't I try to become Consort?
...Because you are a broke Knight Errant that knows very little about how to rule.
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