Robert Fletcher
Dedicated
Robert's assistant: https://i.imgur.com/mvP7J3d.png
Roleplay posts: 376 
Age: 22
Physical Description: White hair, fancy clothes, strong jawline. Robert is fairly attractive, but thinks he's much more handsome than he actually is. He has scars on his chest from stab wounds that he never talks about, although women are usually impressed by them.
Clothes and Equipment: Expensive, custom tailored clothes. He's fairly rich and carries around a shiny knife. The clothes are armored, but the plates are well hidden.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Early mornings and late evenings
Registered: Aug 14, 2015 16:15:01 GMT -8
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Post by Robert Fletcher on Jan 23, 2020 21:32:05 GMT -8
Sleepwalking? That made sense, Robert supposed. He'd been too spooked and sleep deprived to think of it at first, but what other explanation could there be? Hadn't his little cousin Ryben sleepwalked when he was a kid? Yes, this had to be it...but some part of him just wasn't convinced.
"You could be right, Fiona," he said, "But I dunno. I've seen a sleepwalker before, and they don't stare like that. Maybe I'm just going crazy from the lack of sleep, I dunno. You're probably right. What else could it be? She must have been sleepwalking. Last night...last night she must have been mistaken. Or maybe she was just embarrassed, like you said. Who knows? Thanks, Fiona. I really appreciate it."
He tried to give her a grin, but couldn't quite manage. Something was still bothering him, and had been since he'd gotten up. Her flirty comments and the squeeze of her hand brightened him up, but he couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.
"Only...I think I might be losing my mind, Fiona. Because she's still staring at me. I can feel it. You know when you can sense that someone's looking at you? I've felt like that all day. Whenever I close my eyes, whenever I turn around, I feel like I'm going to see her sitting right there. Eyes wide open, not blinking, not moving, barely breathing. I don't know what it is, maybe it's just a lack of sleep making me paranoid. And no, I haven't told Dixie or Moira. They know I see other women, but they don't care to hear about it. You're the only one I could tell, Fiona."
Sighing, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it back. It really was comforting, having her here. Funny how they'd ended up as friends, considering their circumstances of meeting, but Robert reasoned that it really wasn't that strange after all. He was friends with his favorite bartender and tailor, so why not her?
"You're right, though. I'll break it off. Not worth the trouble. I just need some sleep, that's all."
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 23, 2020 22:18:54 GMT -8
The courtesan seems a little concerned at first as Robert tries to make sense of it. Something about him trying to convince himself seemed… odd. Like he’s desperate for that to be the answer, and when that’s the case… its never the answer. Still, she smiles and nods at his thanks though, always happy to be appreciated. She leans into him a little as she sits back, partly to get comfortable herself, but also as a comfort to Robert.
Then he explains it further, like he’s always being watched. She used to feel like that when she first started thieving, that paranoia that she would always get caught. Of course, she couldn’t say she empathised, she didn’t want to reveal her side business to him, or the fact that they are technically colleagues. She didn’t want to think about how he’d feel if he found out, even if she never stole a copper from him. She wraps an arm around him and gives him a little affectionate squeeze, while trying not to let her brow furrow too much.
“Its… probably just the lack of sleep,” she muses, leaning her head on his shoulder. She knew just how to make people feel better about themselves, and this normally works. “If it doesn’t pass, then I’d say you may not be going insane, there may be something afoot, but first, lets try and get you a good night sleep, okay?” she asks, before leaning up and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “And I’m glad I’m the only one you talk to about this. Its nice to be a special little friend.” A grin spreads across her cheek as she winks.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she finally says, giving him another squeeze. “Never sacrifice your health for a nice piece of arse. After all, you have mine to look at and its nothing but good for you.” She gives him a little prod in the side. “You’re wise to break it off. There’s plenty more beautiful women in your future, and not just the three of us either.”
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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 Jan 24, 2020 21:54:14 GMT -8
Loralyn's cuddle almost startled the vampire.
He had wooed many a woman before, both with and without using his powers. They would hang off his arm, lean against him, adopt wandering hands after a drink or two. Plenty enough times they would go so much farther than that. There were more than enough women who would indulge him. Some were marvelously beautiful, others witty, and a few were ridiculously talented in the bedroom. He never had a lack of them.
And then there was this little flower of a girl.
This tiny golden tulip had her head on his chest and was rubbing his shoulder. There was nothing hungry or greedy or vain about the action. It was just... warm. A feeling that the vampire wasn't used to.
"Me neither," he told her, though not entirely with the same svelte flirtation in his voice. There was an uncertainty to it that he tried to mask. Gathering himself quickly, the young man cleared his throat and began to turn them in slow, easy circles to the music. "Well, what I mean by that is... you just seem like a very special person."
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Loralyn
Established
Roleplay posts: 17 
Age: 21
Physical Description: Loralyn stands at a modest 5'5" and is elegantly proportioned into a pear shape. Her hair falls in contained blonde ringlets that tend to bounce along with her motions.She has deep brown eyes that seem to constantly be assessing and analyzing a situation.
Clothes and Equipment: She is typically seen wearing gowns befitting of a tavern singer. She tries to keep herself as modest as possible while keeping her allure. She often wears heels to accentuate her height.
Registered: Dec 17, 2018 16:22:15 GMT -8
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Post by Loralyn on Jan 25, 2020 19:17:30 GMT -8
Loralyn let out a soft laugh at that, trusting her feet to guide her and Vasco to keep her steady as they drifted around the floor in slow lazy circles. She shook her head where it remained against his chest. "So you say but... Really. I am just me." She said softly as she hummed softly along with the tune that played. "All I am really is my fathers' daughter. I learn what he wants me to, do what he wants me to, go where he wants me to go. Tonight was the first... and probably the only night I'm doing something just... just because I wanted to. I'm no special person. I'm nothing like well... You." She said as she looked up at him.
"You've been all over, do so much more than I have probably ever thought possible. You're the special one."
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Solie
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: A visibly young woman, perhaps almost 20, with dark hair usually drawn into a tail or braids that bounces as low as her waist. Her complexion is fair, though a touch pale, and her eyes are a bright, brilliant amber. She stands roughly 5'3" and not very heavy - having been described as light as "throwing a pillow".
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Clothes and Equipment: Her attire is plain but sturdy for traveling, of simple cloth and leather in a tunic, trousers, bodice, belt, shawl and a feather cloak. A satchel crossing her back and pouches on her hips carry a number of items on her person for her travels. A few items of little use decorate her form - accents and jewelry woven or carved from wood or bone.
The few key items of note include a rather intricate mask wrought in the image of a wise owl with a rather threatening-looking beak that sits atop her head, adorn in very fine fowl feathers. It is clear to any with sensitivity to mana that it holds some magicks. Also, in contrast to her humble attire, there is a single ring on her left middle finger - forged seemingly by an expert smith in silver with a centerpiece shaped like an owl in flight with real amber stones set for the eyes. On the tips of her thumbs, fore and middle fingers are a set of steel rings that settle about the second joints that claw her fingers much like the talons of predator birds.
Beside the talons, she keeps a small number of thin and light steel blades shaped like feathers aligned along the back of her belt for swift access and easy throwing.
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Registered: Jan 8, 2020 23:28:54 GMT -8
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Post by Solie on Jan 26, 2020 20:18:04 GMT -8
Solie continued to bob and dance from her perch, slowing her movement enough to watch the dancing pair as they slowed their own but still bouncing along. They were so cute dancing in the square, she thought. Granted, the easy, round-about waltz was rather boring in her opinion - nowhere near enough energy for her taste, but the pair still looked rather lovely. Like a pair of doves, oblivious to predators airborne.
Oh, wait. No. Bad. None of that right now. It was broad daylight, and she had to dance! It wasn't often she found such a energetic sound like this, and it made every fiber of her being want to mo-o-o-o-ove. She floofed her feathers with a shake and kept on bouncing.
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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 Jan 30, 2020 9:55:05 GMT -8
The vampire quirked his lips to the side, half in a frown. "If all it takes to be special is to have free will, then all you need to do is break away from that which binds you," he told her. For a moment he felt a pinch in his stomach, knowing exactly why. How hypocritical he was, speaking as though he was free. He had no cage, like Loralyn, but his mother did have a long leash around his neck. The Av's voice rang in his head from days before:
"Perhaps you are in need of a getaway. Or to 'get away'."
He shrugged the thought away, as it was too troubling. A pinched brow did not sit well upon his handsome face. "And if I'm only special because of that, I'd hate to think what happens when you learn most everyone in Isra is the same. A little strange that you're kept the way you are. If he was so concerned for your safety, he should have taught you how to fight." The smile returned. "Would I be wrong to think that this has been the most exciting night of your life? Would be a shame for it to end here."
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Jochi
Established
Roleplay posts: 29
Age: 20
Physical Description: Lean, tan, long-haired, and strapping, this young man takes great pride in his personal appearance- and for good reason! He's often seen with an impish smile on his face.
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Clothes and Equipment: Jochi enjoys a wide assortment of colorful clothing, usually made of dyed cotton or wool, with an occasional expensive item made of silk.
He also carries a flute, his weapon of choice as a bard, though he is also armed with a long knife, usually used for skinning animals.
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Allegiances: Toragana
Registered: Oct 21, 2018 19:02:54 GMT -8
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Post by Jochi on Jan 30, 2020 10:00:12 GMT -8
As the bird flew around them, the flutist took notice and played his tune to its fluttering. He quirked a small smile behind his instrument and got onto his feet once it perched, walking around it with a little jig to his step. He had on a pair of fancy silk shoes that curled into spirals at the end, little bells attached to them in the same style as a jester's.
The song changed, slightly slower this time, but still an exciting, high-energy tune that called for one's feet to tap and spin and stomp. Something about the glimmer in his eye said that he detected something about the owl, that perhaps it wasn't all that it seemed.
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Solie
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: A visibly young woman, perhaps almost 20, with dark hair usually drawn into a tail or braids that bounces as low as her waist. Her complexion is fair, though a touch pale, and her eyes are a bright, brilliant amber. She stands roughly 5'3" and not very heavy - having been described as light as "throwing a pillow".
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Clothes and Equipment: Her attire is plain but sturdy for traveling, of simple cloth and leather in a tunic, trousers, bodice, belt, shawl and a feather cloak. A satchel crossing her back and pouches on her hips carry a number of items on her person for her travels. A few items of little use decorate her form - accents and jewelry woven or carved from wood or bone.
The few key items of note include a rather intricate mask wrought in the image of a wise owl with a rather threatening-looking beak that sits atop her head, adorn in very fine fowl feathers. It is clear to any with sensitivity to mana that it holds some magicks. Also, in contrast to her humble attire, there is a single ring on her left middle finger - forged seemingly by an expert smith in silver with a centerpiece shaped like an owl in flight with real amber stones set for the eyes. On the tips of her thumbs, fore and middle fingers are a set of steel rings that settle about the second joints that claw her fingers much like the talons of predator birds.
Beside the talons, she keeps a small number of thin and light steel blades shaped like feathers aligned along the back of her belt for swift access and easy throwing.
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Registered: Jan 8, 2020 23:28:54 GMT -8
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Post by Solie on Jan 31, 2020 7:08:08 GMT -8
Solie kept on bobbing about, watching the flutist as he began to wander around the stall that she was perched on. She began to hop along in tune, following him around each corner and continuing to dance all along the way. She was completely in love with his music, more so at seeing the energy he exhibited as he continued to play.
She finally couldn't stand it - she had to dance with him. She fluttered down to the ground in the man's wake and began to hop along after him while still keeping to the tune. Her heart was on fire with the music, and she had to dance!
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Cairn Ó Fathaigh
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: 47
Physical Description: ==========
At a towering nearly ten feet, Cairn stands a few heads above average folk. With a powerful frame and bulging musculature, his stature alone presents an intimidating figure. His body, while nearly always covered by the black steel of the Dread Knights, is covered with the evidence of decades of battle. Time has not been kind to his face, either, as deep wounds scar his right cheek and forehead, blinding his right eye, speaking to a battle hard won. The grim fire behind his remaining expressive red-orange eye, however, belies a greater strength of will than one might expect of such a brutish figure, and he carries himself with an air of authority and power. A combed dusting of black hair rests upon his head, the sides cropped and cut close to the flesh, and a thick beard wraps about his chin, accentuating his powerful jawline.
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Clothes and Equipment: The armour that Cairn dons is different than the uniform black steel of the Dread Knights he commands, instead a custom-built suit of plate armour, its steel jagged and flanged so as to better turn blunted weaponry. His greathelm is built to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies; a grimacing ghoulish mask covers his face, while a pair of twisted bull-like horns reach outwards toward his enemies, threatening to gore any that come within reach. His massive flanged warmaul "Adjudicator" crackles with primal electrical energy as it's swung through the air, the huge head of the weapon as large as the average man's torso. It's wielded with a deftness and speed impossible of a man of lesser stature, a single strike often strong enough to send Cairn's enemies soaring through the air with an assortment of crushed bones.
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Allegiances: The Black Vale
Registered: Oct 26, 2018 19:09:52 GMT -8
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Post by Cairn Ó Fathaigh on Jan 31, 2020 22:22:44 GMT -8
A towering hulk of a man steps into the Central Plaza, entering from the direction of the Citadel, garbed in a suit of thick black armour with a blackened steel flanged warmaul slung across his back, the weapon taller than most grown men and the head thicker than a man's torso. His eyes drift about the crowd with an air of uncomfortable hostility, and those who notice his presence tend to walk more quickly, or else change direction entirely to avoid closing with him. He is not unused to folk being frightened at the sight of him -- he is three meters tall, and his visage is far from the least intimidating -- but he is unused to such crowds. Valkarin, the largest city in The Black Vale, must have less than a sixth of the population of the Free City, and there was no place in the Vale so densely populated as this Plaza.
He makes his way through the sea of people, acting on Ulfang von Haren's "orders" to explore, though he is certain that he will enjoy no part of this bizarre metropolis. A small woman bumps into him as he passes by and he affixes her with a stern glare, causing her to run off in a near-panic. Truly, these folk are not the hearty sort that inhabited the cold north. He grumbles with discontent. How is he meant to discover Isra if he can hardly move about in its streets without trampling some mousy lout or another?
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Deyla Sah
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 21
Physical Description: She stands a petite 5'0" with her chin back... Waves of chestnut hair flow about a lovely face. Unusual green eyes assess you from where she stands. A creamy complexion is her coloring, with hints of peach in her cheeks and a light smattering of freckles to indicate she didn't shy away from the sun like some young ladies. She has curves, though obviously not of a woman yet fully mature, with average bust and gently flared hips, shapely legs and toned arms.
Clothes and Equipment: Her clothing is of rich, rare silk from the once glorious Katashima. They are most assuredly medieval in cut and style, colors to match her coloring. Her weapons include a jeweled dagger and a staff of the sea. Other equipment includes misc items such as a bag of holding.
Registered: Oct 21, 2016 10:00:00 GMT -8
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Post by Deyla Sah on Jan 31, 2020 22:39:23 GMT -8
The quiet little woman felt overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the plaza, missing the quiet of the sea greatly but there were things to be sold and other things that needed to be done... She had been in Isra for several days and she was ready to leave, but that did not stop her from taking the time to get to know her surroundings for the future. Dey's staff tapped upon the ground as if to help her with her land legs, but even that could not stop her from stumbling forth and plowing into a massive figure who was as imposing as she had ever experienced.
Her eyes widened and she craned her head back to meet the gaze of the man who could easily huff and puff and blow her away. He did not frighten her, for she had been in the presence of giant creatures within the sea and he was not so grand as some of those beasts. In a pretty and melodic voice, she said, "Forgive my clumsiness."
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Cairn Ó Fathaigh
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: 47
Physical Description: ==========
At a towering nearly ten feet, Cairn stands a few heads above average folk. With a powerful frame and bulging musculature, his stature alone presents an intimidating figure. His body, while nearly always covered by the black steel of the Dread Knights, is covered with the evidence of decades of battle. Time has not been kind to his face, either, as deep wounds scar his right cheek and forehead, blinding his right eye, speaking to a battle hard won. The grim fire behind his remaining expressive red-orange eye, however, belies a greater strength of will than one might expect of such a brutish figure, and he carries himself with an air of authority and power. A combed dusting of black hair rests upon his head, the sides cropped and cut close to the flesh, and a thick beard wraps about his chin, accentuating his powerful jawline.
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Clothes and Equipment: The armour that Cairn dons is different than the uniform black steel of the Dread Knights he commands, instead a custom-built suit of plate armour, its steel jagged and flanged so as to better turn blunted weaponry. His greathelm is built to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies; a grimacing ghoulish mask covers his face, while a pair of twisted bull-like horns reach outwards toward his enemies, threatening to gore any that come within reach. His massive flanged warmaul "Adjudicator" crackles with primal electrical energy as it's swung through the air, the huge head of the weapon as large as the average man's torso. It's wielded with a deftness and speed impossible of a man of lesser stature, a single strike often strong enough to send Cairn's enemies soaring through the air with an assortment of crushed bones.
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Allegiances: The Black Vale
Registered: Oct 26, 2018 19:09:52 GMT -8
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Post by Cairn Ó Fathaigh on Jan 31, 2020 23:31:16 GMT -8
The half-giant growls under his breath as he bumps into yet another small creature, and his intense red-orange eyes burn with irritation. Clumsy girl. Still, he isn't here to create a diplomatic incident, and so he helps her upright again with a massive hand wider than her waist, and peers down at her with barely restrained contempt.
"Don't worry, small child. You aren't the first to be ignorant of her surroundings," he replies with a tinge of disdain, his ponderous, rumbling baritone intimidating enough to send shivers down the spine of lesser men, though certainly this is partially due to his size. He thinks for a short moment, and his face softens almost imperceptibly as he identifies an opportunity in this bumbling creature.
"Since you're one of few to not scurry off at the very sight of me, perhaps you could tell me: where should one new to this city go to...eh, experience it?"
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Deyla Sah
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 21
Physical Description: She stands a petite 5'0" with her chin back... Waves of chestnut hair flow about a lovely face. Unusual green eyes assess you from where she stands. A creamy complexion is her coloring, with hints of peach in her cheeks and a light smattering of freckles to indicate she didn't shy away from the sun like some young ladies. She has curves, though obviously not of a woman yet fully mature, with average bust and gently flared hips, shapely legs and toned arms.
Clothes and Equipment: Her clothing is of rich, rare silk from the once glorious Katashima. They are most assuredly medieval in cut and style, colors to match her coloring. Her weapons include a jeweled dagger and a staff of the sea. Other equipment includes misc items such as a bag of holding.
Registered: Oct 21, 2016 10:00:00 GMT -8
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Post by Deyla Sah on Feb 1, 2020 6:12:18 GMT -8
"I am not a child," she said, lifting her chin. "And I am not frightened of you. I have seen much bigger creatures within the depths of the sea that would frighten most men." The way she said it was almost as if she was as unaffected by the sea creatures as she was by him. She allowed him to help her upright in the meantime, not swatting at his hand, but rather setting her staff aright so she could lean upon it. She brushed the dirt off of her skirt and eyed him as he spoke about experiencing a place she had only just begun to explore. "And what type of experience are you looking for, Sir Giant?" she asked in that sing-song way that she seemed to have about her. With his face softened, he didn't look as imposing.
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Cairn Ó Fathaigh
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: 47
Physical Description: ==========
At a towering nearly ten feet, Cairn stands a few heads above average folk. With a powerful frame and bulging musculature, his stature alone presents an intimidating figure. His body, while nearly always covered by the black steel of the Dread Knights, is covered with the evidence of decades of battle. Time has not been kind to his face, either, as deep wounds scar his right cheek and forehead, blinding his right eye, speaking to a battle hard won. The grim fire behind his remaining expressive red-orange eye, however, belies a greater strength of will than one might expect of such a brutish figure, and he carries himself with an air of authority and power. A combed dusting of black hair rests upon his head, the sides cropped and cut close to the flesh, and a thick beard wraps about his chin, accentuating his powerful jawline.
==========
Clothes and Equipment: The armour that Cairn dons is different than the uniform black steel of the Dread Knights he commands, instead a custom-built suit of plate armour, its steel jagged and flanged so as to better turn blunted weaponry. His greathelm is built to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies; a grimacing ghoulish mask covers his face, while a pair of twisted bull-like horns reach outwards toward his enemies, threatening to gore any that come within reach. His massive flanged warmaul "Adjudicator" crackles with primal electrical energy as it's swung through the air, the huge head of the weapon as large as the average man's torso. It's wielded with a deftness and speed impossible of a man of lesser stature, a single strike often strong enough to send Cairn's enemies soaring through the air with an assortment of crushed bones.
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Allegiances: The Black Vale
Registered: Oct 26, 2018 19:09:52 GMT -8
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Post by Cairn Ó Fathaigh on Feb 1, 2020 21:14:06 GMT -8
"I am...uncertain," replies the half-giant with a shallow frown, his brows furrowing as he looks about the crowded plaza. "I have no experience in this sort of environment. I am a man of the hunt and the battlefield, not..." he gestures about vaguely, "...this."
He looks back down to the girl, studying her again, looking at her in a new light as the significance of her words hits him. He has never visited the ocean himself, but he has heard of the great beasts that call it their home. She may be a kindred soul, as unlikely as she looks. His wide mouth spreads into an amused grin.
"You said you have faced great beasts in the depths? Come, tell me of these exploits, girl. You may be possessed of more mettle than you would at first appear," he growls with a deep, rumbling chuckle. It's then that he's jostled by another pedestrian, who he glares at, and who scurries off like most of the rest.
"It may be best to first find a place where we can be free of these damnable crowds. Tell me, are you feeling peckish, girl? I passed a tavern on my way into the city that looked sufficiently deserted."
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Loralyn
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Age: 21
Physical Description: Loralyn stands at a modest 5'5" and is elegantly proportioned into a pear shape. Her hair falls in contained blonde ringlets that tend to bounce along with her motions.She has deep brown eyes that seem to constantly be assessing and analyzing a situation.
Clothes and Equipment: She is typically seen wearing gowns befitting of a tavern singer. She tries to keep herself as modest as possible while keeping her allure. She often wears heels to accentuate her height.
Registered: Dec 17, 2018 16:22:15 GMT -8
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Post by Loralyn on Feb 1, 2020 21:22:10 GMT -8
Vasco's words gave her pause yet again and she drew her lower lip between her teeth. It wasn't... It wasn't really anything she'd ever thought too much about. In all the stories in her library- the ones her father had picked out for her- the ones with princesses and princes and knights in shining armor- always the princess, the lady, the daughter was carefully kept away in the tower. Kept safe and away, just like she was. She was just like all of them. It was no big question, it merely was, her father wanting just what was best for his only child. She knew and understood that. And why would she ever question her father? He was all she'd ever known.
"Teaching a lady to fight? That would be a bit absurd, don't you think?" Loralyn said giving a bit of a laugh at the very idea- fighting was for the princes and knights and men in her stories. Her eyes softened a bit again at his words and she looked up at him, reaching up instinctively to tuck a stray blonde hair back behind his ear. "But then... this entire night has been wonderfully absurd. Absurd and... yes exciting." She let another giggle out as she let her fingers tangle in his hair absentmindedly. "Exhilarating... But it's bittersweet too... thinking about how I know this will never happen again...I don't want this to end..."
Whether she was talking about the dance, the night, or just being in Vasco's company was impossible to tell.
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Deyla Sah
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 21
Physical Description: She stands a petite 5'0" with her chin back... Waves of chestnut hair flow about a lovely face. Unusual green eyes assess you from where she stands. A creamy complexion is her coloring, with hints of peach in her cheeks and a light smattering of freckles to indicate she didn't shy away from the sun like some young ladies. She has curves, though obviously not of a woman yet fully mature, with average bust and gently flared hips, shapely legs and toned arms.
Clothes and Equipment: Her clothing is of rich, rare silk from the once glorious Katashima. They are most assuredly medieval in cut and style, colors to match her coloring. Her weapons include a jeweled dagger and a staff of the sea. Other equipment includes misc items such as a bag of holding.
Registered: Oct 21, 2016 10:00:00 GMT -8
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Post by Deyla Sah on Feb 2, 2020 6:43:42 GMT -8
"I am...uncertain," replies the half-giant with a shallow frown, his brows furrowing as he looks about the crowded plaza. "I have no experience in this sort of environment. I am a man of the hunt and the battlefield, not..." he gestures about vaguely, "... this." He looks back down to the girl, studying her again, looking at her in a new light as the significance of her words hits him. He has never visited the ocean himself, but he has heard of the great beasts that call it their home. She may be a kindred soul, as unlikely as she looks. His wide mouth spreads into an amused grin. "You said you have faced great beasts in the depths? Come, tell me of these exploits, girl. You may be possessed of more mettle than you would at first appear," he growls with a deep, rumbling chuckle. It's then that he's jostled by another pedestrian, who he glares at, and who scurries off like most of the rest. "It may be best to first find a place where we can be free of these damnable crowds. Tell me, are you feeling peckish, girl? I passed a tavern on my way into the city that looked sufficiently deserted." "I understand... I am of the sea," she said softly... though not so soft as to be drowned out by the folks walking around. "The sea is my life. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I am a fish." She chuckled, but was completely serious. She liked his smile, it made him seem easier to talk to, since he was recruiting her to help show him around a place as foreign to her as it was to him. Then she tilted her head and went on to say, “Aye, I have seen beasts bigger than buildings, and some that were smaller with sharp teeth. I’ve seen ships that were sunken during raging storms and how the sea makes them it’s own. I’ve done a lot of swimming on my own.” She was sorely missing the sea right about then as they stood in the crowded metropolis. “My name is Deyla, and I wouldn’t mind getting out of this crowd. You do look overwhelmed.” She straightened and tightened her grip on her staff, ready to go where he would go. She was worried about getting trampled at the rate he was getting bumped into by random passersby. |
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Cairn Ó Fathaigh
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: 47
Physical Description: ==========
At a towering nearly ten feet, Cairn stands a few heads above average folk. With a powerful frame and bulging musculature, his stature alone presents an intimidating figure. His body, while nearly always covered by the black steel of the Dread Knights, is covered with the evidence of decades of battle. Time has not been kind to his face, either, as deep wounds scar his right cheek and forehead, blinding his right eye, speaking to a battle hard won. The grim fire behind his remaining expressive red-orange eye, however, belies a greater strength of will than one might expect of such a brutish figure, and he carries himself with an air of authority and power. A combed dusting of black hair rests upon his head, the sides cropped and cut close to the flesh, and a thick beard wraps about his chin, accentuating his powerful jawline.
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Clothes and Equipment: The armour that Cairn dons is different than the uniform black steel of the Dread Knights he commands, instead a custom-built suit of plate armour, its steel jagged and flanged so as to better turn blunted weaponry. His greathelm is built to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies; a grimacing ghoulish mask covers his face, while a pair of twisted bull-like horns reach outwards toward his enemies, threatening to gore any that come within reach. His massive flanged warmaul "Adjudicator" crackles with primal electrical energy as it's swung through the air, the huge head of the weapon as large as the average man's torso. It's wielded with a deftness and speed impossible of a man of lesser stature, a single strike often strong enough to send Cairn's enemies soaring through the air with an assortment of crushed bones.
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Allegiances: The Black Vale
Registered: Oct 26, 2018 19:09:52 GMT -8
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Post by Cairn Ó Fathaigh on Feb 2, 2020 13:59:57 GMT -8
"I am...uncertain," replies the half-giant with a shallow frown, his brows furrowing as he looks about the crowded plaza. "I have no experience in this sort of environment. I am a man of the hunt and the battlefield, not..." he gestures about vaguely, "... this." He looks back down to the girl, studying her again, looking at her in a new light as the significance of her words hits him. He has never visited the ocean himself, but he has heard of the great beasts that call it their home. She may be a kindred soul, as unlikely as she looks. His wide mouth spreads into an amused grin. "You said you have faced great beasts in the depths? Come, tell me of these exploits, girl. You may be possessed of more mettle than you would at first appear," he growls with a deep, rumbling chuckle. It's then that he's jostled by another pedestrian, who he glares at, and who scurries off like most of the rest. "It may be best to first find a place where we can be free of these damnable crowds. Tell me, are you feeling peckish, girl? I passed a tavern on my way into the city that looked sufficiently deserted." "I understand... I am of the sea," she said softly... though not so soft as to be drowned out by the folks walking around. "The sea is my life. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I am a fish." She chuckled, but was completely serious. She liked his smile, it made him seem easier to talk to, since he was recruiting her to help show him around a place as foreign to her as it was to him. Then she tilted her head and went on to say, “Aye, I have seen beasts bigger than buildings, and some that were smaller with sharp teeth. I’ve seen ships that were sunken during raging storms and how the sea makes them it’s own. I’ve done a lot of swimming on my own.” She was sorely missing the sea right about then as they stood in the crowded metropolis. “My name is Deyla, and I wouldn’t mind getting out of this crowd. You do look overwhelmed.” She straightened and tightened her grip on her staff, ready to go where he would go. She was worried about getting trampled at the rate he was getting bumped into by random passersby. "A fish, you say?" asks Cairn, an incredulous undertone in his gravelly voice. "You do not look like any fish I have yet seen. Where are your scales? Your fins? Gills, for that matter?" His red-orange eyes narrow at her perplexedly. Surely she jests. Cairn has never been excellent at picking up on sarcasm, as the mountain language he came to accept as his first was very, very literal. Still, if what she claims is true... "Ah, but fish or not, you must be a mighty warrior, small one, if what you say is true. My name is Cairn Ó Fathaigh, Son of the Storm. I am born of Sciobtha, the highest peak of the mountain range your kind calls the Ravenridges, far north. You shall tell me of the terrors of the deep, and I shall tell you of Uafáis Stoirme, the greatest beast to ever grace the skies, and we will drink and be merry! This is the experience I am looking for," he proclaims. The man seems much more upbeat now that he's met another who he perceives as sharing his enthusiasm for the hunt. Cairn pauses in thought for a moment, running his gloved fingertips slowly through his coarse beard in thought. "You know," he finally remarks, "you may get lost in this crowd, your head being so low below the rest. Perhaps you would prefer if I carried you perched upon my shoulder, fish-woman? That way you would not get lost, and we could traverse this ocean of flesh more efficiently." He offers her his gargantuan hand, his expression considerably brighter than when they first ran into one another. He is really quite conventionally attractive when he smiles, though his broad facial features are no less intimidating to most. To meet one who is not only unafraid of him, but speaks so freely and flippantly to him with no quaver or aversion of the eye, is a welcome change from the fearful sheep-like attitude that he perceives in the inner-city Israns. |
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Deyla Sah
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 21
Physical Description: She stands a petite 5'0" with her chin back... Waves of chestnut hair flow about a lovely face. Unusual green eyes assess you from where she stands. A creamy complexion is her coloring, with hints of peach in her cheeks and a light smattering of freckles to indicate she didn't shy away from the sun like some young ladies. She has curves, though obviously not of a woman yet fully mature, with average bust and gently flared hips, shapely legs and toned arms.
Clothes and Equipment: Her clothing is of rich, rare silk from the once glorious Katashima. They are most assuredly medieval in cut and style, colors to match her coloring. Her weapons include a jeweled dagger and a staff of the sea. Other equipment includes misc items such as a bag of holding.
Registered: Oct 21, 2016 10:00:00 GMT -8
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Post by Deyla Sah on Feb 2, 2020 16:10:52 GMT -8
He seemed to be in doubt of her story, which she knew would be a possibility since she did not look like a fish. “I would have to show you how I am a fish, but I need to be around a body of water,” she said without batting her eyelashes. She did not sound like someone who was lying. But his enthusiasm was contagious and she gave a wide smile in reply to his next words. “If that is what you wish, aye, I will tell you my tales and you will tell me yours! Well met, Cairn Ó Fathaigh, Son of the Storm. I am glad that I could help you experience what you were wishing to.” And she meant it.
His mention of her short stature in not so many words caused her cheeks to heat a little. It was true that she was petite for her kind. She had never been offered to be carried in her adulthood, it was a first, but he had a point that losing her would be easy in this kind of crowd so she nodded. “Aye, you are right.” She put her little hand in his big hand, not lost on the fact that he was handsome, especially when he seemed to be cheered up as he was by the prospect of getting away from everyone else. It was rather charming, she thought.
With his help, she would soon be perched upon his shoulder and it would be a different perspective than being so close to the ground, she thought.
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Cairn Ó Fathaigh
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: 47
Physical Description: ==========
At a towering nearly ten feet, Cairn stands a few heads above average folk. With a powerful frame and bulging musculature, his stature alone presents an intimidating figure. His body, while nearly always covered by the black steel of the Dread Knights, is covered with the evidence of decades of battle. Time has not been kind to his face, either, as deep wounds scar his right cheek and forehead, blinding his right eye, speaking to a battle hard won. The grim fire behind his remaining expressive red-orange eye, however, belies a greater strength of will than one might expect of such a brutish figure, and he carries himself with an air of authority and power. A combed dusting of black hair rests upon his head, the sides cropped and cut close to the flesh, and a thick beard wraps about his chin, accentuating his powerful jawline.
==========
Clothes and Equipment: The armour that Cairn dons is different than the uniform black steel of the Dread Knights he commands, instead a custom-built suit of plate armour, its steel jagged and flanged so as to better turn blunted weaponry. His greathelm is built to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies; a grimacing ghoulish mask covers his face, while a pair of twisted bull-like horns reach outwards toward his enemies, threatening to gore any that come within reach. His massive flanged warmaul "Adjudicator" crackles with primal electrical energy as it's swung through the air, the huge head of the weapon as large as the average man's torso. It's wielded with a deftness and speed impossible of a man of lesser stature, a single strike often strong enough to send Cairn's enemies soaring through the air with an assortment of crushed bones.
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Allegiances: The Black Vale
Registered: Oct 26, 2018 19:09:52 GMT -8
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Post by Cairn Ó Fathaigh on Feb 3, 2020 0:59:25 GMT -8
Cairn lifts the diminutive maiden by the arm with almost no effort, placing his other gargantuan hand upon her back to keep her from dangling uncomfortably by her extremity. In this way, he almost cradles her as he deposits her upon his shoulder, the broad, upturned spur of his pauldron making for an adequate seat upon which to balance. He has no trouble carrying her; to him, she may as well be a feather.
"Are you comfortable, fish-woman?" he asks aside. Upon receiving confirmation, he begins walking eastward, aiming to break from the crowds. The tide of people parts as he gets to moving, more for fear of getting trampled than any great degree of respect.
He wades his way through the plaza, his bulk inadvertently shoving a careless pedestrian aside every now and then, but finally they're free of the social hub of Isra, and with that distastefulness passed, he slows his pace, scrunching up his nose as he makes his way down a side street toward the outskirts of the inner quarters and speaking in a low growl, "Walking through this city is like trying to navigate a rat-infested cellar. Why are there so many people here? Whatever the reason, I am glad my homeland will never be this populous."
He tromps down the side street, heedless of whatever crowds may block his way, although this route is apparently far less popular than the Central Plaza. Finally, they eventually arrive at a homely-looking tavern, the well-maintained Victorian style building of stone and oak inviting the weary traveler and rambunctious scoundrel alike. There are eight windows facing out into the street, four on the first floor, and four just under the cross gabled roof. Steps lead up to a porch where a pair of benches sit on either side of the main entrance under a protective underhang, made for conversing in comfort in the fresh air. Above the main double-doors made of a dark wood hangs a sign that reads, "The Scarlet Dragon", with a stylised side profile of a red, fat-bodied, long-necked dragon with two spread wings wrapped about the words. The tavern seems lulled at this time of day, being a primarily night-time business.
Cairn offers Deyla a hand to step down off his shoulder, and places her gingerly upon the ground with surprising care.
"This place looks good enough for an evening of epics, don't you agree, fish-woman?" asks Cairn, looking the place over appraisingly. He'd passed by once before, but it was in the tow of his Lord, and he hadn't had much time to properly examine it. Peering up at the structure now, it's apparent its homely charm is entirely intentional rather than a byproduct of humble ownership, and while it may not be as high-end as the Midnight Sun, its carefully crafted facade and high-quality build makes it clear that the establishment definitely caters to the well-to-do.
(We should probably transition to a different location thread after your post)
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Deyla Sah
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 21
Physical Description: She stands a petite 5'0" with her chin back... Waves of chestnut hair flow about a lovely face. Unusual green eyes assess you from where she stands. A creamy complexion is her coloring, with hints of peach in her cheeks and a light smattering of freckles to indicate she didn't shy away from the sun like some young ladies. She has curves, though obviously not of a woman yet fully mature, with average bust and gently flared hips, shapely legs and toned arms.
Clothes and Equipment: Her clothing is of rich, rare silk from the once glorious Katashima. They are most assuredly medieval in cut and style, colors to match her coloring. Her weapons include a jeweled dagger and a staff of the sea. Other equipment includes misc items such as a bag of holding.
Registered: Oct 21, 2016 10:00:00 GMT -8
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Post by Deyla Sah on Feb 3, 2020 12:58:15 GMT -8
She wasn’t certain how to feel by the time she was on his shoulder, having not been seated so high up before. Hell, she had never even ridden a horse before, and it showed a great deal of trust on her part to let the large one help her up in the first place. Once she was situated and he asked her if she was comfortable, she would say, “Aye,” to reply. “It is very different up here than it is down there, for now I feel on top of the world.” She said this with a toothy grin he wouldn’t see, but the humor quite evident in her voice.
The girl shook her as the sea of people parted like he was someone to be feared. Perhaps he was a fierce warrior indeed, but it seemed to be a bit too much to watch people treat him the way they did. In fact, it angered her a little on his behalf that people could think he would trample them when he seemed like a considerate man in her humble opinion. But she kept her mouth shut because she could have been one of those people if she was somebody else, and that wouldn’t have been kind at all. She did reply to his words, however. “I don’t know. I have been alone for a long time, so I understand.”
As they approached the tavern in question, she tilted her head. There was another thing she hadn’t done… she had never set foot in a tavern or inn, nor public house. He moved to help her down and she took his hand. When she was on her feet again, that rush of being so high up went away, but she again replied to him with, “It seems like a fine place indeed, Sir Giant.” He was sticking to his name for her, so she would give him the same respect. She used the staff to help her walk and take a closer look. (Lead the way.)
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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 Feb 3, 2020 16:11:39 GMT -8
"You'd be surprised," Vasco began, freeing two fingers from their grip to point out several adventurers in the crowd. One was a woman with a head of dark hair with a sword, pauldron, and grieves that she was keen on removing, possibly after a long day outside of Isra's walls. He pointed again, to another woman behind her with pale hair and dark, batlike wings, twice the armor adorning her body. "It's quite popular. This is the Free City, after all."
She went on, distracting him by tucking away that stray hair. He felt the cold tips of her fingers as she ran them through his hair, her soft palm as it brushed his cheek. His hand came over hers and he leaned into it, breathing out a groan.
"My, my, Loralyn," he began, bending down just enough that he was level with her gaze. Something of that hungry stare that he gave her in the Starlight Dawn came back. "You're making me want to kidnap you, all to grant that wish of yours."
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