Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93 
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 3, 2018 19:30:16 GMT -8
The Little Whittle Cottage
Within the Eastern Woods, just within Isran territory, sits a small, comfortable cottage. Though somewhat dusty and in desperate need of renovation, the young medicine woman that has bought the house works diligently to make it a place anyone can call home.
The cottage has three bedrooms, which one would find surprising despite its small size. In fact, the interior seems conveniently larger than one would expect, both with a comfortably large kitchen and a living room, not to mention an entirely different one used just for weaving, which is upstairs, closest to the medicine woman's bedroom.
As the property belongs to a cautious witch with many talents, it has quite a few enchantments and defenses strewn around. Those that have been finished include:
Salt Trap
Those with any ill will in their hearts of the residents of the cottage are forcefully willed to count every grain of salt that the witch has set down in a large circle around the property, enchanted to stay dry and stay put should any wind or rain bother it.
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38 
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
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Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
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Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 3, 2018 20:13:50 GMT -8
A soft whistle emanated from the forest, barely perceptible over the sound of the whistling birds tweeting in reply to the song. The source of the song was buried deep in the shadows of a tall oak, resting on a strong limb far above the ground. The song paused for a second, for a soft, "Mew?" replied from a smaller limb above the source. Down glided a fuzzy creature, it's wide wings turning through the air softly. The creature stopped a few feet away from the source, and sat on its haunches, apparently distracted by something only it saw in its paw.
Another whistle brought a disinterested stare from the owlcat, before it turned back to its paw. Yet another whistle, more urgent this time, brought the owlcat from its position, and strode toward its master. A roughened finger scratched underneath it's chin, causing a cascade of purrs as it arched its back in pleasure, its bushy tail lazily waving back and forth. Finally, another finger reached out, and pulled from its beak a small trinket that it had decided was worth its attention. It was little more than small monocle, which magnified the world into a wondrous distortion as the owner of the fingers studied the lens.
"Must be somebody's, you little thief," the source of the whistling said softly to the owlcat, chiding it slightly. "We need to return it. Where did you find it?" He repeated this question by whistling a command to return where it last was. Picking up on the whistle, the owlcat prepared to launch by squatting down with its legs, and pushing off the limb and into the air, free falling for several long seconds before spreading its wings, and gliding on an air current. The source of the song revealed itself from the shadow, the blond hair first perceptible, then the green eyes. The form scrambled from the limb with ease, gripping onto the bark from the tree with his roughened hands. He landed on the ground softly, and started after the strange avian.
As the man exited the shade of the forest, he fixed his bycocket on his head, to keep the sun out of his eyes. His pack rustled softly with each step, as the pair approached the small cottage. The owlcat landed upon the lawn, and started to lick its paw. The man could put two and two together, and figured this was where the owlcat had grabbed its prize. Rolling his shoulders, preparing for the inevitable confrontation about why he was knocking on some stranger's door, he approached the solid wooden portal. He didn't like meeting people all that often, he found being alone in the forest suited him more. But, Clyde was a little thief, and he was duty bound to do what was right. When he climbed the steps, he rapped hard on the door, to make sure he was heard.
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 3, 2018 20:36:48 GMT -8
"Coming, coming!"
The voice rang out as though it were expecting company this far out in the woods, so far off the beaten path. The pitter-patter of feet ushered closer to the door before it swung open.
A plume of dust flooshed through the doorway. A fit of sneezes followed it, along with their owner trying to force through words between them. "I'm... terr- ah- so- choo! Sorry! I only just moved in this morning and it's terribly dusty in here! Only the kitchen's been cleaned and..."
When the dust cleared, there left a young, willowy woman standing before him. She was nearly as pale as a full moon, with a fountain of hair like the night that surrounded it. She smiled brightly, as though greeting an old friend. "I was wondering when someone was going to stop by! It never takes too long. To whom do I owe the pleasure? Myself, I'm Eira. Eira Whittle!" She held her hand out to the scruffy man before her, no prejudice for the visitor who came by in the middle of nowhere, looking like a wildman.
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
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Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 3, 2018 21:06:05 GMT -8
The same plume of dust exited the door, and would've caused most to cough, sneeze, and splutter as Eira did. And Amairgen was no different. The plume of dust caused him to turn his head and raise his elbow, so he wouldn't sneeze in Eira's face. A Scout was taught cleanliness was next to Godliness, and he took that very seriously. After several hard, "ACHOOS!" he finally cleared his sinuses enough where he could turn and face the owner of the little cottage.
He was greeted by the image of a thin and pale young woman, her black hair cascading down her shoulders. He could see that she was truthful about her activities, as dust seemed to cover most her sleeves. Amairgen realized he was stareing, and he started to turn red slightly. He didn't know why, but when he first met people, he felt a hollowness in his stomach, as apprehension over if he said something wrong set in.
Finally he answered, a little too hurriedly, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I believe my owlcat," he turned to Clyde, and let out a sharp and piercing whistle, which caused the creature, which previously had been rolling on its back, to jump up and run over, "has decided that he liked one of your items."
Amairgen dug it out of his shorts pocket, and offered it to Eira, "I'm sorry, he's a little thief. My name's Amairgen, by the way, and that's Clyde." By this point, Clyde had made it to the door, and started rubbing himself along and around Eira's legs, sneaking under the skirt.
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 3, 2018 21:46:21 GMT -8
"Disturb me? I live to be disturbed!" Eira exclaimed happily.
When the scruffy man took out the trinket, her eyes widened. "Oh, I didn't even know this was missing! I was hoisting the puffle inside and that was my first priority and- oh!"
Eira lifted her skirt right above her shins to look at the owlcat. "Well, look at you! You know, it's customary to take a girl out to dinner before you start getting under her skirt." With a smile, she stepped aside and knelt down before the owlcat, raising her hand very gently toward him. If he showed no signs of aggression, she would start to scratch his ears.
"Why don't you two come inside? It's cold out there! I have a fire going in the kitchen and I'm cooking up some lunch. You can't smell it through the dust, but I got all the food fresh this morning from a village not far from here."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 4, 2018 7:46:42 GMT -8
Amairgen's faced turned redder as Eira lifted her skirts to jokingly chide the owlcat, and his discomfort became more apparent through his body language, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the next, his body growing stiffer. It wasn't that he was a prude, it was the fact they had spoken barely thirty words to each other, and already she was talking about dates and the "lifting of skirts". He knew she meant it as a joke, but that didn't help his discomfort with talking to a stranger.
Clyde, on the other hand, showed no sign of hostility or apprehension, though the squinting of his eyes suggested some annoyance that the dark spot he had found and claimed had been removed. But, he quickly forgave Eira as she scratched his ears, purring pouring forth from his throat in approval. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, suggesting to Eira where she could scratch next.
The invitation inside sent even more ice cold apprehension down his spine, as he tried to figure out what to do. He didn't particularly like to intrude upon other people's homes, but it would be rude to not accept the meal. And, feeling a rumbling in his stomach, he was rather hungry, having only a small meal this morning of jerky and berries. Reaching a painstaking decision, he answered Eira, "We would be happy to join you."
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 4, 2018 15:07:48 GMT -8
"I'm glad," chimed Eira, leading down a short hallway past a staircase and straight into the kitchen. The kitchen itself seemed like it would take up half of the house from what Amaigren could observe from the outside. It wasn't gigantic, just roomier than expected. Two chairs an thick oak table sat on the opposite side of the counters. Between them was the wood stove, filling the room with warmth. The kitchen was much cleaner than the rest of the house, though there were spots here and there that still needed some cleaning.
On the stove sat a pan filled with diced potatoes, butter, and rosemary. On the counter, slices of raw ham sat and waited to be added. The smell floated throughout and filled the room.
"Have a seat and make yourself at home. I haven't gone about fixing the well, so I haven't any water quite yet, but I've got a bit of ale somewhere if you'd rather have that."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 4, 2018 18:29:23 GMT -8
As Eira turned back inside, Amairgen paused for a few moments, kneeling down to untie his boots and wrestle them off. He didn't want to track in any dirt, and cause more work for her than he already could guess at from his vantage point. He carried them into the cottage, closed the door, and laid them to rest beside the door. He slipped off his pack and bycocket as well, resting it and the staff that was slung on its side on top of the boots, before joining her in the kitchen. He rubbed his fingers through his long, soft hair on top of his head, brushing it back from where it was displaced by the hat. He hoped he didn't smell too foul, as he had bathed in the cold water in a nearby spring this morning.
Clyde decided to not wait up for Amairgen, as he felt it was entirely too cold for his delicate paws. He made soft mews behind Eira as she walked back to the kitchen, wanting her attention again. He jumped up on the counter, giving the ham a thorough sniffing down, to see if it was safe for avian-feline consumption. Satisfied with what he found, he went back to mewing at Eira, demanding her attention and scratches.
Amairgen then finally joined the pair in the kitchen, in time for Eira to offer him ale. He had studied the house as he passed by the stairs and into the kitchen, and despite its obvious magical qualities, it appeared to be quite run down. He listened to her predicament with the well, and then he knew Clyde had stolen that trinket on purpose. It seemed that she may have gotten in over head with this place. A thought bubbling at the back of his mind, along with his Scoutly duties to be helpful, he replied to Eira, "I'll gladly take that ale."
He sat in one of the chairs, trying to figure out how to give voice to his thoughts. Struggling to come up with a way to do it smoothly, he absentmindedly groomed his mustached, rubbing his forefinger and thumb through the bristly blond hairs. Finally coming up with something, he asked, "I'm guessing that you don't have anyone to help you?"
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 5, 2018 10:56:05 GMT -8
Eira went about getting the ale from the storage room next to the kitchen, a larder that was built just a few steps below the kitchen. It was a very cool, dry room, good for storing meat and bread. It's also where she decided to store the ale. There was a very small keg stored onto one of the higher shelves. She took down a mug and filled it, bringing it up to Amairgen. "Here you are. That's some strong ale from Isra. I believe the werewolves of the north introduced that one! I have a hard time drinking it, myself."
She began to work on turning the potatoes. With her other hand, she gave Clyde a scratch. "Oh, well, I have Sangrei, but I have him going into town to get a few bags of salt. The carriage couldn't hold all I needed with all the animals loaded in it. I was hoping for at least one more person, but I haven't even gotten to cleaning the rooms yet! Hopefully, by the end of the week, I'll be putting up notices. Unless someone else shows interest before then, of course. There's quite a bit to do! I need to clean the house, the piffle needs to be put underground, the salt trap needs to be set, I need to scout out the local fae and make a few promises, I need heating runes for the bath... you know, the usual."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 5, 2018 11:37:01 GMT -8
Amairgen listened to the growing list of things needing to be done, and nearly felt his own stomach shrink from the idea of all that needed to be done. But, he liked a challenge, and he picked up on the unintentional hint from Eira, "Unless someone else shows up before then". He was sure that she didn't mean to suggest it to him, but he took interpreted it that way.
He took a quick swig of the offered ale, and felt his skin prickle and his hair stand up on end. The drink could take the hair off of werewolves, let alone the average canine companion. He knew he wouldn't be able to drink too much of this one mug, or he would be well and truly hammered. He pushed it away for a moment, and cleared his throat, before offering, "Well, I could certainly help you get started."
Clyde closed his eyes as he tilted his head, and started purring all over again, and flicked his tail slowly back and forth in approval as Eira scratched him.
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 5, 2018 12:50:52 GMT -8
The woman seemed surprised, turning around to look at Amairgen with her mouth agape. "Really? I would pay you! If you need a place to sleep, we can get that setup, free breakfast, I can attempt to free you of curses and hexes if you have any of those. If none of those interest you I'm sure we could figure something out! I can barter."
The potatoes were swept aside as the ham was then tossed in along with it. "It's a lot of work, though. That well needs to be fixed before I can do even half those things. Oof, and purifying that might take all day. I don't know how tarnished the water's become with all the years it's been abandoned. Say! You look like you know these parts a little well. Perhaps you know of any nymphs or water fae who might like something valuable for their time to help purify it? How tricky they are shouldn't be a problem: I make it my job to dance around their speech."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
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Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
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Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 6, 2018 10:02:24 GMT -8
Amairgen shook his head when Eira offered to pay him. It was a Scout's duty to help because it was the right thing to do, not for pay. He replied, "A simple place to sleep will be more than enough." He took another sip of the ale, and suppressed a cough as the strong alcohol washed down his throat. He felt the beginnings of a buzz coming on, and he decided he would wait until the meal was done before he took another drink, to avoid making a further ass of himself. While Eira probably thought he was fine, Amairgen was hypercritical of his interactions with people, often obsessing over what he did wrong.
When she asked if he knew of any Fae or Nymphs in the area, he had to shrug, as he didn't go out of his way to meet new people. He knew where their mounds and ponds were, as it was the duty of a Scout to know the local terrain features, but he wasn't quite on familiar terms with them. He answered truthfully, "Well, I know where they live, but I haven't met any of them."
Satisfied with his scratches, Clyde lay down on the counter, tucking his front paws up underneath his chest, and wrapping his tail around his body.
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 7, 2018 21:12:04 GMT -8
"Good enough! I'll make my introduction when we find them, then," Eira told Amaigren. She found two small bowls among the clutter and emptied the food into them. She placed one in front of Amaigren and sat across from him. "A place to sleep? That'll be easy. We'll start by cleaning out your room, then. I have quite a few spare blankets and sheets around. Sangrei and I unloaded everything a bit hastily so he could get what I needed in town. I don't like being in the middle of the woods without some kind of protection."
That may have seemed like a common fear for most women, but Eira was particular in many ways. One of those ways was her ability to attract all kinds of company to usually peaceful, quiet areas. She blamed her mother for it. The woman was full of so much life that everything wanted a part of it. A part of it latched itself onto her, she was sure.
"I hope it's alright. I didn't have too much to work with today. Middle of winter and all."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 8, 2018 17:49:54 GMT -8
Amairgen bowed his head in thanks to Eira for the food, and said, "It smells absolutely wonderful. Thank you." A Scout was courteous, even if nervous. A Scout was also reverent, and he bowed his head in a quick prayer, thanking the Father of the Forest for providing the nutrients to keep his body strong and able to do his duty to Him and all he might encounter. He took up the offered fork, and took a first bite.
And then Eira mentioned him having a room. He nearly started to choke, the potatoes and ham venturing dangerously close to the wrong pipe, as his throat constricted in even more nervousness. It most certainly that he wasn't grateful for everything she had offered him, but to his introverted mind, it seemed near impossible to offer a room to a near stranger, unless they were going to pay for that service. He was about to protest, but then he realized he was going to be paying for the room, through his work. That seemed a fair enough exchange for him.
He still found it hard to say many words around her, and he sure she thought he was simply an ignorant brute from the woods. But he knew over time, as he got to know her, he would stop being self conscious. But for the mean time, his body forced him to reply only with, "So, what do you want to wrestle first?"
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 9, 2018 17:05:58 GMT -8
After a bite, Eira took a moment to chew and lean back in her chair, eyes floating to leer at the ceiling in thought. Her fingers tapped on her chin. "Well, I can't plant the piffle without hot water, and he'll be very important later on, so I suppose we'll be hunting down the fae. We might have to take a trip to Tir la Morr, though... that's not going to be very friendly territory, even for a witch like myself. That trinket you returned, however, would be a good trade to get into their good graces. A pirate told me he found it in some carcass rotting on the beach, right where its eye should have been. It has some interesting properties."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 10, 2018 8:22:26 GMT -8
Amairgen didn't like the idea of venturing into the land of the Fae, as they were less than welcoming to strangers. But, if they needed to get that well fixed to plant a piffle, whatever that was, then they would need to find the closest fairy mound.
He could also guess that the amulet was magical in some way. Firstly, he figured that Eira was a witch, which he could guess from their short conversation, as she mentioned several terms that were unfamiliar to him but he could guess were magical. Secondly, Clyde had seemed intrigued by the trinket, and something in his nature was drawn to magical objects. The fact the Owlcat was so comfortable in this cottage spoke to its magical properties as well.
Amairgen took another bite of the potatoes and ham, letting the dead air sit for a second. He finally felt the uncomfortable silence, and asked, "So, you mentioned that you moved here recently? Why this cottage?"
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 11, 2018 20:43:22 GMT -8
Eira leaned her cheek in one of her hands as she chewed and pointed her eyes upwards at the ceiling again. "Well, I wanted something far out in the woods because it's farther away from people. It's not that I don't like people, but it makes it easier to manage what happens around here. Stranger things tend to happen in less company, as well, and that's what I run my business around. And, well, the forest is right there, dense and largely untamed. There's so much I'll be able to discover and observe."
Leaning back in her chair, Eira finished the last bit of meat and potatoes. She tapped her fingers against her lips. "The house is rather charming, too, isn't it? It was broken down enough that no one else was after it."
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 12, 2018 10:59:37 GMT -8
Amairgen could concur, the probability of strange things seemed to grow exponentially the more alone you got. That's part of what a Scout's mission was, to isolate themselves in the wilderness, and document what they saw, and return it to the Scout Master.
Hidden in the bottom of his canvas bag, Amairgen had a sketch book of what he'd seen. Various strange birds and animals were drawn, next to hideous creatures that were twisted by black magic recessed within the darkest hearts of the woods, which were joined by various Deities of the woods. The most impressive one he had seen was a god of the Deer, a royal stag that towered above all others, his rack alight with the golden magic that wafted through him. He technically wasn't supposed to tell people about the sketch book, but if Eira would find out about it, he would gladly share its contents.
Amairgen was also not a judge of houses, as most he spent most his nights in rough shelters and in tree limbs. But it seemed nice enough, he thought as he looked about the kitchen, despite the amount of work needed to get it back to being livable. He nodded to Eira, "It seems like a nice place. We'll just make it nicer."
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Eira Whittle
Committed
Roleplay posts: 93
Age: 22
Physical Description: Eira is a willowy, pale, delicate young lady who seems to be more hair than woman. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, almost black. She wears a little makeup, mostly to color her lips, but only because she's very fond of purple.
Clothes and Equipment: The young woman usually wears a variety of skirts and blouses except when she's gardening, where the skirts are replaced with breeches and thick boots.
The medicine woman has an intense plethora of equipment, most of which doesn't leave the house. The most prominent and noteworthy of them are the Strings of Fate, a magical item given to her by her mother. Without careful preparation, the Strings of Fate are worthless, but with enough time it allows her to weave obstacles that would be devastating to her enemies by linking butterfly effects around the area that it may touch, causing things like a loose pebble to become a landslide, or letting a stray wind carry poisonous spores into someone's airways.
The Strings of Fate have unlimited applications, but only the trickest ones are the most effective.
Registered: Jan 13, 2018 21:19:47 GMT -8
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Post by Eira Whittle on Feb 13, 2018 18:58:02 GMT -8
That made the witch smile. "Yes, and that's exactly what we're going to do. However, I would like to wait for Sangrei to come back, which should happen awfully soon. He's my current bodyguard, and he'll come in handy for warding off any of the more violent fae we come across. He's fast- maybe even faster than many fae I've come across. Three is a good number to use to cross over, as well. It'll make drawing out the portal to Tir la Morr much easier."
As Eira prattled on, she picked up her plate and placed it on the counter. She began to do little things to tidy up around the room almost absentmindedly.
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Amairgen Llyr
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Age: 28
Physical Description: While other druids may abstain from the use of razors or soap to bring them closer to nature, that is not the style of Amairgen Llyr. His blond facial hair is shaved except for a thick mustache perched upon his full lips. He wears his blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, slicking it back when he had supplies, otherwise it naturally parts on the left side of his head. His bright green eyes contrast with the natural green of the forest.
Amairgen is tall at 6’ 5”, and lithely built, which hides his true strength. His skin is weathered from his life in the outdoors, but usually pale from spending most his time in the forest. His arms and hands are scarred from a variety of encounters with wild animals that turned out to be not so friendly.
________________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Armairgen is clothed to blend in with the forest, as his color pallete is mostly browns and greens. He wears a brown bycocket on his head, with a hawk’s feather pinned to the left side with a badge in the shape of a poppy flower.
He wears a thick cotton button up shirt with short sleeves, forest green in color. His shorts are of the same fabric, held up with a thick brown leather belt. His leather boots come to his ankles, exposing the thick green woolen socks that nearly come to his knees, which are held in their place by twine.
He carries a canvas pack on his shoulders, which carries most of his necessary supplies. Rope, soap, a comb, a needle and thread, whet stones, flints, double baked bread, a small Dutch oven for cooking, a set of cutlery, extra socks and underwear all find a place in the canvas, with a bedroll on the outside.
In his belt he carries a hunting knife, which he keeps sharp, and a round canteen to carry water. A pocket knife in always in his breast pocket. He keeps a walking stick nearly as tall as himself in hand, made of beechwood, and with a small leather wrapping emblazoned with runes.
__________________________________
Registered: Dec 28, 2017 15:08:54 GMT -8
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Post by Amairgen Llyr on Feb 13, 2018 21:22:20 GMT -8
Amairgen was curious who this Sangrei was that she had mentioned a few times, aside from the fact he was a sell sword. A distinct taste of disapproval entered his mouth from past experiences. He didn't have anything against the profession, but the few who had entered the forest occasionally often had nothing but ill-will in their hearts. But, he didn't pass any judgments before he met a person, and kept his reservations away.
Amairgen got up when Eira did and set his plate in the sink. Since she had made the meal, he would be more than happy to do the clean up. He grabbed her plate from the counter and the pan, and began to pump the handle. He was rewarded by a cloud of dust shooting out of the spigot, causing him to set to sneezing. Clyde jumped from his perch in shock at the cloud of dust, running for cover under the table. Amairgen quickly opened the window above the sink, wafting the dust outside with his hands between sneezes and coughs.
As he was regaining his breath, he noticed that there was a vine climbing up the wall, and attempting to find a place on the sill. Having spent most of his years dealing with plants, he knew this vine produced a unique flower, that bloomed towards the end of winter. He could spot the first flowers starting to appear along the vines, the hints of vibrant colors hidden inside their protective green buds.
Deciding to bring a little color into the room, Amairgen began to speak under his breath softly, barely audible to anyone but himself. The words were from a long dead language, only known to the Scouts, and only really potent to the great forest where they lived. Several phrases would transcend different environments, but they wouldn't be as powerful as where they were created. Usually he would need his staff to work his magic, but with something small like this, he would manage without.
He began to move the vine with his fingers, speeding its growth onto the sill, feeling the earthy elemental energy course through his body, drawn from the earth. If the taste of dust wasn't in his mouth, he would've certainly tasted the rich soil of the land around them, a byproduct of drawing energy directly from the earth. With the vines firmly on the on the sill now, Amairgen shifted his hands from the vines to the buds, adding age and maturity to them, causing the first hints of color to emanate out, in a spiral from the stem. The petals were small points, the small veins within the petals a light pink, while the rest of the petal was white. If he would pick it, a single flower would fill his hand, and he left it at one flower for now. He left it on the vine, not wanting to pluck it at the prime of its life.
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