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Post by The Kingdom of Alban on Apr 2, 2016 19:04:51 GMT -8
 The Foothills.
The Foothills are the very outskirts of Dwarf country. This is where The Moors give way to more mountainous terrain. There are no true mountains in Alban, but some of the hills here come close. They are rich in ore and can be tilled with some success, though the dwarves prefer to scorch patches of The Wyld for their farmland. These lands are the most open to visitors. Though not welcoming the dwarves rarely kill on sight. Still it is not recommended for any none dwarf to travel without escort.
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King Averin Arach
Dedicated
Working on the whole king thing
Roleplay posts: 284 
Age: 21
Physical Description: Averin is a tall man, standing at six foot two. He has a build equal parts lithe and powerful. Broad shouldered, well muscled, but possessed of an undeniable grace. He reminds many of a tiger. He moves with a slow, languid, precision, that gives him undeniable aura of deadly skill.
Averin is a handsome man. With a square cut jaw, straight nose, and prominent cheek bones. His brown eyes are dark and alluring. Sometimes they sparkle with kindness, other times gleaming with baleful intent. His habitual expression is a half smile.
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Clothes and Equipment: Averin prefers to wear his silver steel half plate. One pauldron stylize to look like a hawks head. Combined with his large red cloak, he has a very distinctive look. His preferred weapon is a bastard sword. His blade is an oddity. The hilt is worn and weathered, and seems to be ancient. The blade though looks freshly forged. The shining metal gleams brightly in light, and it's edge razor sharp. Both his armor and sword posses some degree of magic, though exactly how much is known only to him.
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Registered: Mar 21, 2016 6:59:05 GMT -8
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Post by King Averin Arach on May 1, 2016 19:00:07 GMT -8
Once again Averin reflected on how well things had gone in Sword. The quest the Warlord had given them was, from the sounds of it, exceptionally dangerous. Still that he had been willing to talk and was apparently willing to fight with them was a good sign. The one day king stares down at the foothills of the dwarven nation. This was his country, his home and he had spent more time above it than on it. He hadn't even stepped foot in the city he was supposed to rule. It was odd that he was fighting to reclaim a place he was only seeing now. It was also odd how familiar it all felt to him. Everything he knew about Alban came from stories and books and though those paled to the real thing, he did feel like he knew this land. He just hoped he could save it and bring back honor to his family name. Leaning over the railing his shoulders sag as the weight of his burdens comes crashing down on him. He faced a nearly impossible task, was he truly up to it? Only time would tell.
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Ailionóra uí Muineacháin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86 
Age: Ancient.
Physical Description: As with all of the Fae, Ailionóra is tall and lithe, at a respectable 5'11", and although she is thousands of years old, she appears to be in her mid-twenties. She has long hair that falls to her hips, which is a mix of shades of auburn with golden highlights, and bright green eyes. She has a delicately-formed bone structure resulting in limbs and fingers that are just slightly longer in proportion than a human, and features that are wildly beautiful in an almost harsh and feral kind of way, along with the pointed ears possessed by all her kind. Her skin is lightly tanned from several lifetimes spent out in the Wyld, and heavily adorned with a great number of intricate tattoos in varying shades of green ink that she proudly displays.
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Clothes and Equipment: While safely at home within the Wyld, Ailionóra typically wears very little, allowing her to be closer to the nature within the Wyld. Her usual attire typically consists of a vest in any number of colors that bares her shoulders, back, and midriff, paired with a knee-length loincloth, and accessorized with gauntlets, upper arm bands, and various beaded necklaces and belts. She can occasionally be seen carrying a long spear, most often while out in the Wyld engaged in the Hunt. When outside the Wyld, she dresses a bit more conservatively, but still tends to wear dresses that display her shoulders and the tattoos on the skin there. When attending to important matters of Fae governance, either within the Wyld or when dealing with the Council of Alban, she often carries an staff composed of intricately twined pieces of wood, adorned with ever-blooming flowers and a few magic-focusing crystals of green and gold.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 10:51:15 GMT -8
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Post by Ailionóra uí Muineacháin on Jun 23, 2016 20:32:52 GMT -8
A trio of Fae came to hover anxiously at the border of the Wyld and the Hills. Perched atop their feline mounts, they looked out upon the open lands, awaiting the appearance of one of the Dwarvem scouts. As soon as they were spotted, the leader raised his spear and called out in a loud, firm voice.
"The King has returned! The Mór Crann asks that the Warlord join them as they march to Avelius!" Barely had their message been conveyed than they turned and loped back into the trees, disappearing easily amid the mammoth trunks.
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