Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410 
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on Jun 1, 2016 9:42:09 GMT -8
With the presence of the Seraphim's seal, Jun took several steps back and gathered up mana for a defensive spell, even though it probably wouldn't be necessary. The Seraphim's Seal was an incredibly powerful spell, arguably the most powerful holy spell in existence. And Lum'Valia was one of the most powerful holy mages in the world. Jun sincerely doubted that any harm could come to anyone as long as the seal was active.
Still, it never hurt to be safe.
Feeling much more calm and at peace, Jun took her place next to Lum'Valia. She marveled at the presence of the seal. "Woah... I hope I can cast something like this someday."
She leaned against Lum'Valia if permitted. God, what a day...
As for Glavilidom, at this point there was nothing she could do. The seal prevented any other offensive magic. She still didn't know what was happening, but at least she knew no one would die.
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84 
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on Jun 1, 2016 16:24:20 GMT -8
His spell was of course a form of defensive magic, meaning the Seraphim's Seal would have had no effect upon the casting. Clasping his fingers harder upon his skull, he proceeded to complete the spell, the words he was incanting growing louder and more defined. An experienced magician could catch the overall meaning behind the spell, however it was a very old spell, utilising words that had gone out of use several centuries ago.
<Charge 1/1>
Releasing the spell immediately incapacitated Glavilidom. The healing had begun immediately, it would be a matter of days before he would reach full strength. He was stuck in a nightmarish limbo, in the depths of his mind. Previous outside memories would be wiped, a side-effect of the spell.
He lay there, obviously unconscious.
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on Jun 2, 2016 11:13:51 GMT -8
Jun breathed a sigh of relief. "Well... I guess that's over and done with." She gazes over the pitiable body of the enervated god, and then looks around at the scene that he had caused. Why? Who were these pyromancers and who was this guy? What a crazy world. Jun tapped her choker and reached out to, well, anyone who could hear her. He's down, but he's still alive. Someone should... take care of him I guess? Her thoughts were somewhat hesitant. Ryden Greyiron? Empress Naoki? Someone? |
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Post by The Free States of Isra on Jun 2, 2016 16:56:25 GMT -8
The Dawn Riders slowly spread out to encircle the downed dragon. He was in some sort of limbo state, clearly still alive but also not moving right now. Captain Aurelius turned towards Jun of the Celadine and saluted.
"Ma'am, we can take it from here if you want. Taking care of hostile dragons is exactly why the Dawn Riders were formed in the first place."
Men began throwing heavy chains over the form of the dragon to ensure he could not move, and others were running back to their barracks to grab the dragon containment gear, including a large muzzle to prevent any fire-breathing incidents.
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on Jun 2, 2016 22:53:43 GMT -8
Fractured though patterns would be expelled from his mind, reaching the nearby people. His centuries of knowledge would ooze out, telling everybody of all manner of spells, forbidden, powerful spells. It was not dangerous, but instead would interfere with minds, muddling thoughts. Magicians may fare better against it however, even gathering knowledge from this.
One could most likely decipher the thought patterns of the unconscious God and find a spell of great value, and great destructive power. These older spells would of course need more careful use, as they may cause serious damage if they backfire.
Only if one could understand the dragonic language, however.
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on Jun 2, 2016 23:07:17 GMT -8
It just so happened that Jun had, in fact, been given basic lessons in draconic from Fundor, Eater of Sheep, a long time ago in Cloud Spear. She also knew some from Lum'Valia and from her own studies. But as the Dawn Riders brought Attla into custody, what strange spells had Attla, the Conniving exposed her mind to? What esoteric knowledge did Glavilidom have privy to? "Uh... yah... sure..." She said. "I was glad to help." She smiled politely. Once she was done receiving the knowledge, she would leave to brief Lady Naoki on everything that happened. She wasn't above keeping... certain things, to herself, of course, if they were dangerous enough. |
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Post by The Free States of Isra on Jun 3, 2016 6:17:03 GMT -8
The men returned not long afterwards, Captain Aurelius quickly ordering them into place and the muzzle was snapped shut onto the dragons jaw, albeit with some difficulty as the men found it difficult to concentrate. Once the chains were securely locked in place around the dragon, long lines were drawn out to the horses and griffins of first company, who began to slowly drag the Dragon towards the Citadel. Captain Aurelius had no clue where he should put the Dragon, but at the very least it would be in the Citadel.
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Jean Lait
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description:
An average-sized halfling—little more than three feet tall—Jean Lait is unremarkable for his kind. He's got hairy cheeks and a mop of messy brown hair that he tries to keep in check. He's got a farmer's tan and calloused hands reflecting the many long hours of work he's put into the fields outside of the Free City.
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Clothes and Equipment: When out at work in the fields, Jean wears an old loose shirt and patched up breeches. Having recently sold his farm, though, he's spending more time inside the city and taken to wearing more fashionable vests, long-sleeved shirts, and pants that don't have holes worn into them. He's even taken to wearing fashionable suits for work.
Like most halflings, though, he still goes barefoot everywhere.
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Registered: Jun 9, 2016 1:21:08 GMT -8
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Post by Jean Lait on Jun 9, 2016 8:59:03 GMT -8
A few days after the dragon incident, a small farmer, dressed in the fanciest clothes he could afford, stands by his ox in the Central Plaza. A small crowd of fellow halflings stands before him. Representatives of his community. From a bundle on the ox, he pulls out several heavy red-bound books, and one-at-a-time he places them on the stone ground, stacking them high. The book spines read Minutes of the Assembly. As a podium, it'll due.
A friend leads the ox away as the farmer climbs up his makeshift podium, his hairy bare feet balancing on the over-large books. Towering over the short crowd, he coughs to get their attention. He smiles a bit. The gathered halflings, as well as a few of the bigger folks in the Plaza, turn their attention to him.
"My name is Jean Lait and I want to take you back."
In his Gauldin accent he continues his speech, his small halfling voice carrying further than one would expect. "Do you remember what it was like way back? Back before Lady Naoki was in power? I do! I remember! Like many of you, I helped found this city. My shovel broke the ground so the big'uns could build their towers."
There are nods in the crowd. Some woman in the back shouts, "I remember that!"
Jean continues, encouraged by the crowd. "It was a different time back then. We had principles and we kept to them. We were the Free City! I left a monarchy to live in a city of free peoples. Remy," he says, pointing to another ex-Gauldin halfling in the crowd, "I know you and yours left right along with me. We wanted to choose our own fate and not be herded like sheep by queens and nobles."
"That's right!" Remy shouts, his arm raised up. The crowd is getting more animated by the moment. Jean sees that it is growing, too. Good.
"It isn't like that anymore, is it? We are less free now than we've been since the Founding. Lord Ildesias Xen Torsal kept us free, did he not?" More nods, now, joined by shouts of agreement. "But he's gone, now. Replaced by our new Lady." The approving shouts turn into a boos. "That's right. And our affairs have turned sour ever since that day. Our Lady Naoki is no better than the royalty we fled all those years ago."
The sun is high above him, the crowd is eager before him, and the feeling that he's finally doing good for the city fills him. He stands on his book podium and finally declares, "with your help, I'll get us back to the way things were before. I'm running to be a Minister of the Assembly of the Free City of Isra. My name is Jean Lait and I'm here to take you back!"
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Whir
Committed
Roleplay posts: 95
Age: 23
Physical Description: Whir stands approximately six feet and five inches (nearly two meters) tall. His skin ranges from pale to dark blue and is lined with bright markings that do not appear to be tattoos. Dark blue crystals shoot back from his scalp where hair would be on a pure blooded human. He is lithe and corded, muscles defined, but not pronounced.
Clothes and Equipment: ...
Simple clothing hangs from Whir's slim body. The only apparent armor a banded chest plate made of what appears to be some dark wood. Resting on a loop attached to the back of this chest piece is a long and narrow sword. To the untrained observer it almost appears as a needle, with the eye replaced by a pommel set with some light blue gem. The sword is in fact, made from a single crystal of orichalcum. The rapier-like double edged blade is nearly indestructible despite its thin profile. A leather wrap starts at the pommel and runs about eighteen inches up the body of the sword, where immediately after, the five foot long blade takes an edge.
Registered: Feb 24, 2016 19:59:25 GMT -8
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Post by Whir on Jun 9, 2016 16:14:31 GMT -8
A voice came from Jean's left, not with whatever crowd had gathered, but several feet away. "What rhetoric is this, sir? I hear you claiming things are different now, but you give no examples. What exactly has changed under the Lady's rule? What freedoms have you lost? What has turned sour?"
Whir stood alone, a look of curiosity and bemusement on his face. Well this is interesting, he thought.
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Skarlet
Widely Known
Princess Skarlet
Roleplay posts: 1,035
Age: 26 (7 as Skarlet)
Physical Description: Short, dark brown hair parted to the right with a dark red streak.
Red eyes.
Pale skin.
5'10" height.
Hourglass body shape.
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She is a vampire
Clothes and Equipment: A short, red dress with a bustier to match, lace filigree up the sides. Black trousers were paired beneath it with black boots that rose to the knee. Black, elbow-length gloves paired to match the boots.
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/fc/1f/57/fc1f579fbc12ece8a7cf0af63c6945e9.jpg
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Player's online availability : Every Day, wakes up around noon and stays up until dawn.
Registered: May 29, 2015 14:10:30 GMT -8
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Post by Skarlet on Jun 9, 2016 16:24:37 GMT -8
Skarlet's ears had caught that something was going on while she was walking around the city. She didn't have her usual parasol but instead wore a big hood that protected her from the sun, so big her face wasn't visible, only her red eyes. She listened to the hobbit's rally, he didn't seem to like her mother very much. Listening all the way through she realized this wasn't a violent rebellion, the halfling was going to run for an office. He may have conflict with her mother, but it seems to be on a political scale and he didn't pose any physical threat.
She continued to watch though as a familiar face entered the scene, Whir.
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Jean Lait
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description:
An average-sized halfling—little more than three feet tall—Jean Lait is unremarkable for his kind. He's got hairy cheeks and a mop of messy brown hair that he tries to keep in check. He's got a farmer's tan and calloused hands reflecting the many long hours of work he's put into the fields outside of the Free City.
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Clothes and Equipment: When out at work in the fields, Jean wears an old loose shirt and patched up breeches. Having recently sold his farm, though, he's spending more time inside the city and taken to wearing more fashionable vests, long-sleeved shirts, and pants that don't have holes worn into them. He's even taken to wearing fashionable suits for work.
Like most halflings, though, he still goes barefoot everywhere.
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Registered: Jun 9, 2016 1:21:08 GMT -8
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Post by Jean Lait on Jun 10, 2016 3:46:43 GMT -8
Even on his book podium, Jean doesn't come up to eye level of the man that spoke up. But he has dealt with big 'uns his whole life and isn't fazed by the height difference. He responds, "my good, blue man, the list of examples is all but endless!" Jean turns his attention back and forth between the questioner and the crowd, giving his answers to both. "Do you all remember what Lady Naoki's first act was, once she assumed power? Yes? No? She sacked a Minister of the Assembly! Robert Wallace was his name and though he may have been a schmuck, he was an elected schmuck! And she just dismissed him. No hearing, no trial, no appeal. By fiat, she removed someone she didn't like. She's stacking the Assembly with people that are loyal to her, not to us. Not to the Free City." He focuses his attention back to the heckler. "Blue man, you can't deny this. Just the other day, she sold a seat on the Assembly to some rich nobleman up north. Lord of some place called the Winterlands. The hard working people here in Free City don't have the lands or wealth necessary to bride our way to the Assembly. Before the Lady, we were free to achieve success based upon our merits. Now we are forced to pay to get ahead." Back to the crowd, "But that will change when you elect me to the Assembly! I'll take us back to when our leaders were chosen from the best of us, not the ones that best please the criminal ruling class." |
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Whir
Committed
Roleplay posts: 95
Age: 23
Physical Description: Whir stands approximately six feet and five inches (nearly two meters) tall. His skin ranges from pale to dark blue and is lined with bright markings that do not appear to be tattoos. Dark blue crystals shoot back from his scalp where hair would be on a pure blooded human. He is lithe and corded, muscles defined, but not pronounced.
Clothes and Equipment: ...
Simple clothing hangs from Whir's slim body. The only apparent armor a banded chest plate made of what appears to be some dark wood. Resting on a loop attached to the back of this chest piece is a long and narrow sword. To the untrained observer it almost appears as a needle, with the eye replaced by a pommel set with some light blue gem. The sword is in fact, made from a single crystal of orichalcum. The rapier-like double edged blade is nearly indestructible despite its thin profile. A leather wrap starts at the pommel and runs about eighteen inches up the body of the sword, where immediately after, the five foot long blade takes an edge.
Registered: Feb 24, 2016 19:59:25 GMT -8
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Post by Whir on Jun 10, 2016 15:42:05 GMT -8
Whir listens to the halfling's assertions, genuinely interested in what he had to say. But after the self-appointed candidate finishes, it's clear there are some discrepancies between what he's saying and the facts.
"Mr. Lait, I think you may have gotten some poor quality information. First, Robert Wallace was not elected to the assembly; he inherited the seat from his father. The man was incompetent and thus removed. Would you rather have a lazy and unqualified member of the assembly, or an elected one? By your own statement, you'd prefer the elected official. And now that the seat is open, it will be filled with just such a man or woman." Whir's voice isn't powerful, he might not even be heard by the fringes of the people gathered around Jean Lait, but his tone is respectful and cordial, almost happy.
"Secondly, Lord Crovan did not 'buy' a seat on the assembly -- he has joined the assembly as an equal member because his lands are now part of the Free Plains of Isra. Just as any other holding, it needs a representative to the assembly so that its best interests are represented in council."
"Those falsehoods dispelled, I still haven't heard what kind of freedoms you have lost as a citizen of Isra, or how things have turned sour for you or your people. I'd genuinely like to hear of any injustices done."
Whir stood his ground, hoping Jean Lait's response would be informative rather than inflammatory.
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Jean Lait
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description:
An average-sized halfling—little more than three feet tall—Jean Lait is unremarkable for his kind. He's got hairy cheeks and a mop of messy brown hair that he tries to keep in check. He's got a farmer's tan and calloused hands reflecting the many long hours of work he's put into the fields outside of the Free City.
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Clothes and Equipment: When out at work in the fields, Jean wears an old loose shirt and patched up breeches. Having recently sold his farm, though, he's spending more time inside the city and taken to wearing more fashionable vests, long-sleeved shirts, and pants that don't have holes worn into them. He's even taken to wearing fashionable suits for work.
Like most halflings, though, he still goes barefoot everywhere.
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Registered: Jun 9, 2016 1:21:08 GMT -8
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Post by Jean Lait on Jun 11, 2016 2:46:21 GMT -8
The halfling speaker says to the crowd, "it could be that where the blue man is from, their ideas of commerce are different than ours here. But there was most certainly an exchange between the Lord of the Winterlands and our Lady Naoki. He gave her lands and she gave him a title. Dress it up in whatever fancy political language you want, that's what happened." He continues, "and our Lady removed a Minister of the Assembly because he was incompetent, eh? Who declared him incompetent? Was it a vote or just the Lady's discretion? Who is to say that she couldn't find incompetent any other Minister that displeases her? When our Ministers can be chosen and dismissed at the whims our of leader then we have a autocracy, not a democracy." He wraps up his speech. "Go now. Go back to your homes and businesses. The homes and businesses you built. Go and ask your friends and family if they'd like things to go back to the way they were. Go and tell them that with Jean Lait in the Assembly, things'll go back." With that, the crowd disperses. A few stay, some people talking excitedly in pairs and his friends helping run his campaign. Lait notices for the first time a red-eyed woman in a hood standing in the crowd. That's encouraging. If he can get even a few of the big'uns to support him then his election is assured. Jean waves over to the blue heckler, motioning for him to come closer. He climbs down from his podium of books because talking to someone one-on-one seems more natural when both parties have their feet on the ground, even if it forces his kind to crane their necks back. And besides, this event is over. Time to pack up. Assuming the blue man comes over, Jean reaches out his slender hand and says, "hello, sir blue man. My name is Jean Lait. I wanted to answer your questions more directly, in more detail. Would you care to walk with me?" |
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Whir
Committed
Roleplay posts: 95
Age: 23
Physical Description: Whir stands approximately six feet and five inches (nearly two meters) tall. His skin ranges from pale to dark blue and is lined with bright markings that do not appear to be tattoos. Dark blue crystals shoot back from his scalp where hair would be on a pure blooded human. He is lithe and corded, muscles defined, but not pronounced.
Clothes and Equipment: ...
Simple clothing hangs from Whir's slim body. The only apparent armor a banded chest plate made of what appears to be some dark wood. Resting on a loop attached to the back of this chest piece is a long and narrow sword. To the untrained observer it almost appears as a needle, with the eye replaced by a pommel set with some light blue gem. The sword is in fact, made from a single crystal of orichalcum. The rapier-like double edged blade is nearly indestructible despite its thin profile. A leather wrap starts at the pommel and runs about eighteen inches up the body of the sword, where immediately after, the five foot long blade takes an edge.
Registered: Feb 24, 2016 19:59:25 GMT -8
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Post by Whir on Jun 11, 2016 12:35:24 GMT -8
Smirking, Whir looked down to the halfling. "No thank you. You're the kind of man that willfully misleads people with little to no understanding of a situation and no intention to educate yourself. Not to mention deflecting questions that you can't answer truthfully without losing face. Just like a politician. You'll probably get some of the less educated folks to follow your misguided and false rhetoric, but I have no interest in discussing it." He shakes his head, as though the thought of it is preposterous. "Good luck to you, and have a good day."
Whether the halfling responds or not, Whir turns and walks away at a brisk pace. What malarky he says to himself. Followed quickly by time for a Heartbreak.
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Jean Lait
Established
Roleplay posts: 24
Age: 39
Physical Description:
An average-sized halfling—little more than three feet tall—Jean Lait is unremarkable for his kind. He's got hairy cheeks and a mop of messy brown hair that he tries to keep in check. He's got a farmer's tan and calloused hands reflecting the many long hours of work he's put into the fields outside of the Free City.
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Clothes and Equipment: When out at work in the fields, Jean wears an old loose shirt and patched up breeches. Having recently sold his farm, though, he's spending more time inside the city and taken to wearing more fashionable vests, long-sleeved shirts, and pants that don't have holes worn into them. He's even taken to wearing fashionable suits for work.
Like most halflings, though, he still goes barefoot everywhere.
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Registered: Jun 9, 2016 1:21:08 GMT -8
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Post by Jean Lait on Jun 11, 2016 13:24:38 GMT -8
The halfling stands there in the plaza, his hand out to shake the blue man's. But the blue man doesn't shake back. Jean listens to him scold and then watches him walk away. He lets his hand fall down to his side, a little dispirited. Getting the big'uns to see the truth is going to be harder than anticipated.
"He's a flighty thing," Jean soon says to his short staff members as they help him load his podium books back onto his ox. "Maybe it's the crystals in his head that gets him so confused. Calling me a falsifier. An uneducated deflector!"
Jean unfurls a white sheet on either side of the ox. Jean Lait Will Take You Back is written on one side, Vote Jean Lait for the Assembly on the other. Every bit of advertisement helps.
"And saying I'm the one that's uninterested in being educated? Can you believe it? He walked away from me."
There is still work to be done. Jean pulls out a note from his pocket. An aide (in truth, a cousin) hands him a brown wax pencil. He crosses out Central Plaza and looks down the list of places he wants to give his speech. There's got to people out there that remember the old ways. Voters who aren't bewitched by that Lady in the Citadel.
"Off we go," he says, climbing on his ox. "Plenty of places to visit, yet." He rides his walking billboard out of the Central Plaza.
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Post by Ildesias Xen Torsal on Jun 19, 2016 8:02:33 GMT -8
Entering the Central Plaza for the first time since he left Isra to travel some time ago, Ildesias' visage no doubt garnered murmurs and looks of awe from those who were present. It had not been so long for them to forget who he was, which he was both partially pleased by and at least twice as nervous about; before he had been a leader to them, the founder of the city. Now he was nothing more than another man in the street, yet he had fame beyond any of them!
He gulped a little and then pressed on slowly towards the hill that led up to the Citadel, though he seemed perfectly willing to take his time and to just stand and take in the feel of the city once again. "It looks like quite a few things have changed," he would tell his companion, the female elf who travelled with him. "Though this is definitely the same old Isra that I remember, without a doubt."
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Sariandi Osoria
Established
Roleplay posts: 49
Age: You're better off not knowing.
Physical Description: A buxom and curvaceous Elven beauty, Sariandi is lightly muscled and of average height. She has fair skin and the lightly pointed ears of her race, with golden hair that falls to mid-thigh, framing delicate features. At least, that's how she looks most of the the time; sometimes she becomes a four-foot-long sword with a rune-inscribed blade and a sweeping winged crossguard.
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Clothes and Equipment: Generally, Sariandi wears revealing clothing that enhances her assets in various shades of blue, gold, green, and brown (with the occasional red or purple, it really depends on her mood). She carries no equipment or weaponry.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 5, 2016 0:04:06 GMT -8
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Post by Sariandi Osoria on Jun 19, 2016 10:14:48 GMT -8
Sariandi stuck close to Ildesias, looking around at all the people gawking at him with a hint of disdain. Mostly because she could feel how all the looks and awe were affecting him, his emotions as clear to her as his own. She glared at one person who dared to venture too close, her harsh expression contrasting her lovely features to such a degree that it could be quite off-putting, no doubt. Once the interloper had distanced themselves, her face returned to that same smooth, blank facade that it usually possessed. Her blue eyes flicked toward the Elven man at her side when he spoke, and her blue eyes softened ever so slightly.
"The only constant in this world is change. You knew this would happen when you gave up your position. I only hope that this Naoki woman has not ruined what you intended for this place to be." Her words had begun quiet and gentle, but hardened toward the end, implying that she was willing to inflict harm upon her at Ildesias' whim. Not that the implication was needed - Ildesias could feel her emotions, very nearly hear her thoughts, through their soul bond. Not to mention he knew her so well.
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Francois Nicolet Montcalm
Established
Liberty! Equality! Brotherhood!
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 43
Physical Description: In regards to build he is as average as one may be. Marginally less than 6 feet tall, working man's muscles, well bred if not handsome features, as well as a black mustache and thin yet very dark black hair coupled with hazel eyes.
Clothes and Equipment: He will wear sensible and semi-formal clothing no matter the occasion, and a cap when outdoors. He has basic experience fighting dirty and making weapons out of every day things; pitchforks, scythes, even baguettes dried rock hard for use as a club, one of which he will always carry.
Registered: Jun 15, 2016 6:24:29 GMT -8
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Post by Francois Nicolet Montcalm on Jun 20, 2016 14:52:11 GMT -8
The Gauldishman would walk along, nailing his advertisements where he could until he came across an advertisement himself.... Could it be? No, it couldn't! Surely life did not set up such coincidences? He looked upon the picture of an old friend, Jean Lait . The man was always helpful and was always interested in a grander scheme, but politics? He ripped it off and went straight for the headquarters of the Sunset Party . |
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Post by Ildesias Xen Torsal on Jul 1, 2016 19:15:57 GMT -8
"If the people accept the judgement of the new Lady of Isra, then who am I to oppose them?" Ildesias asked, turning slowly around to look again with a slight sweep of his coat trailing him. Though despite saying those words, he had to silently admit that the feeling of entering a home that had once been his but now belonged to someone else was a difficult one, filled with mixed emotions.
"I don't think I'm ready to visit the Citadel again just yet. I have no business there," he eventually decided, before turning and looking back down the main streets towards the rest of the city. "Perhaps we should just go and look around while we decide where to go next."
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Sariandi Osoria
Established
Roleplay posts: 49
Age: You're better off not knowing.
Physical Description: A buxom and curvaceous Elven beauty, Sariandi is lightly muscled and of average height. She has fair skin and the lightly pointed ears of her race, with golden hair that falls to mid-thigh, framing delicate features. At least, that's how she looks most of the the time; sometimes she becomes a four-foot-long sword with a rune-inscribed blade and a sweeping winged crossguard.
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Clothes and Equipment: Generally, Sariandi wears revealing clothing that enhances her assets in various shades of blue, gold, green, and brown (with the occasional red or purple, it really depends on her mood). She carries no equipment or weaponry.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 5, 2016 0:04:06 GMT -8
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Post by Sariandi Osoria on Jul 1, 2016 20:18:02 GMT -8
"Very well. You know I will follow my lead. You are far more familiar with this city than I am, after all." Her tone was more than a little dry as she said this, and one golden brow quirked upward as she stepped closer to him, her lips curved into a small smirk. She could feel his emotions clearly, and she stepped even closer, mostly so that it would go veritably unseen when she reached out and gently put her hand on his back, giving the open expanse of cloth-covered muscle a brief stroke that was meant to be comforting, a silent show of support.
The touch was a brief one, however, and Sariandi quickly stepped away again, crossing her arms as she waited for Ildesias to lead wherever it was he intended to go.
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