Prof. Edward "Echoes" Laurént
Dedicated
Time and Space.
Roleplay posts: 426 
Age: Yesterday.
Physical Description: Edward Laurént stands at 5'10. He has midlength black hair, and a clean shaven face. Previously his facial features were hard to remember, since he has begun wearing glasses they have become easier to recall. He looks to be in his late twenties, with a strong jaw, mid set cheek bones, straight narrow nose, and full lips. He appears to be in decent physical condition, though he is a bit pale.
Edwards eyes are an odd shade of blue, and they quite literally glow. With his glasses on, the glowing is the only remarkable thing about them. When you stare into his eyes when his glasses off though... it can be an odd experience. Staring into his eyes gives the impression that time has ceased to flow. Then you become aware of just how fast you are moving through the void of space. Most students avoid looking into his eyes.
OG Echoes: http://pre03.deviantart.net/a4ce/th/pre/i/2013/298/4/d/space_mage_by_axl99-d6ru3ej.jpg
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Clothes and Equipment: Previously Edward only owned one suit of clothing. He retains these clothes, as a sort of work uniform. His style of dress when working is odd. He wears: sturdy blue cotton pants, an over sized coat of some unknown material, a sweater with a hood sewn onto it, and a large scarf. Each piece of clothing fluctuates in state of repair, and cleanliness through the day. If these clothes were not so eccentric, he could easily be considered a beggar while wearing them.
Edward has begun to expand his wardrobe in recent months. His first new accessory is a pair of glasses. Unlike other time mages, Edward struggled with turning off his time sight, rather than turning it on. His glasses are enchanted to suppress it. When not working he tends to wear casual clothing. Loose white shirts, and simple leather leggings. He also has a handful of stylish, if simple mage robes for special occasions.
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Registered: Jan 27, 2016 14:17:35 GMT -8
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Post by Prof. Edward "Echoes" Laurént on Apr 11, 2016 18:40:57 GMT -8
Echoes did not notice what the spirit was doing until he finished speaking. Apparently it hadn't been paying attention. Oh well, he had just been trying to warn it. The question was what to do about it now? It clearly had no desire to talk or communicate. It also probably wouldn't think much of going through the gate and getting travel papers. Harumph. Echoes lets out a little sound of flummoxed thought. He supposed it would be fine to let the spirit do what it wanted at least for now. Based on it's behavior it was some kind of mischievous spirit.
"Well if you don't want to talk I will go. Don't cause too much trouble!"
With that the time mage pops out of existence.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:07:16 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Apr 11, 2016 21:00:33 GMT -8
The pop from existence, or rather the lack of the man's presence, caused the bubble to pop! The fox's head came up and swiveled about several times in search of the boring human - but he was nowhere to be seen anymore! His head would turn to level his eyes on the gate - wait, how long had that gate been open? Well, now he had free reign to step inside, which he promptly did with a few leaping bounds. Once he was near the construct he would slink up near one of the gate doors, attempting to slooooowly sneak his way inside.
When he could see that the coast was clear he would make the swift dart through and towards one of the nearby stalls set up by the vendors. He was a sneaky little creature, still slinking around the back of the stall to avoid the sights of the woman tending it. He could smell bread and sweets~ When he was completely on the other side from where he started, ducked down below the waist high display counters and mostly out of sight to her. Of course, any other vendor could spot him and raise a ruckus... but that was the fun part. He heard the owner of this stall respond in kind, and watched her feet shuffle near...
Then SURPRISE! He would leap up into the air with maw wide open to bare his teeth and lips drawn back in a wicked grin upon his foxy face, waving his forepaws and tails at her - a startling bark sounding out in addition to his display. He was certain to send the woman stumbling and screaming, and this would be where he would take advantage. He would hop up on the counter and snatch up two small desert cakes - were these cherry cakes?! They looked like it and smelled like it! But he would take them anyways, regardless, and would rush for the city rather than away from the gates - towing his lifted snack with glee in his thin gaze!
That is, if no one tried to stop him or intercept him at some point during his little show~ If someone did then this would be even more fun!
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Post by The Kingdom of Gauldin on Apr 12, 2016 17:58:38 GMT -8
The woman let out a high pitched scream and fell backward when the fox barked at her. It took her a moment to recover and when she did she grabbed her broom. The woman took off after the fox swatting at it with her broom. A string of colorful Gauldish curses leaving her lips, sufficient to make the soldiers blush. Of course seeing as she was an elderly woman she would eventually get tired. Still if the fox paused for even a second he was sure to get spanked.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:07:16 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2016 18:19:56 GMT -8
The woman gave chase! Oh, what a spry old woman she was! He left his devious little snicker in his wake as he hopped and leaped about, prancing like a deer in flight with his stolen prize clamped in his jaws - a thin grin across his drawn lips. He could bound out of her reach and dodge a broom, and played this little game of cat and mouse until the woman wore herself out.
When she could no longer continue the chase he would stop several paces out of the range of her and that dreaded broom, tilting his head to the side as he glanced at her. The giggle would echo in her ears as his ears twitched, tails swaying and pressing close into one fine, lovely tail again for a final flick. Then he made a leap into a perfect flip and seemed to fade from existence before touching the ground - the air around his last place of origin being showered in fine sparkles of star dust. In truth, he simply slipped back into the realm of spirits, "home" as it were, and was traversing it towards the nearest city.
"Kekekekeke..." An impish little snicker on the night air.
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on Apr 19, 2016 3:04:46 GMT -8
The diplomatic convoy of Belrow had been slowly making their way through the forests for the last several days. The dead silently traveling from their own dry land to this place of fertile growth. Valabrin, the ambassador of this particular mission, was sitting on the back of one of their skeletal horse, riding in the middle of the fifty man convoy. Most of the convoy comprised of caravans steered by silent skeletal creatures. Most of these transported chests, containing diplomatic gifts. yet one in particular was moving slowly, with nothing but a large tarp of cloth bound over the top of a very large bulge. This mission was to be slightly different to the one that had taken place with the land tillers nation. This time the dead knew what to expect and had come ready for it.
Valabrin, and by extension Overlord Ralakor, only hoped that Gauldin welcomed them with such open arms as that of their new trade partners.
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Task Force Commandant Viddik
Committed
Roleplay posts: 62
Age: 53
Physical Description: Gregor Viddik, has a face like a hatchet, hard lines and deep scars. His baleful brown eyes, have put a stop to more fights before they began than his reputation. His black hair is streaked with grey and he has been growing it out in recent years. He constantly smoke a cigar that never seems to get any smaller. Everything about Viddik screams do not mess with this man.
Clothes and Equipment: Highly magic resistant breast plate, military mage uniform which supplements his magic regeneration, his staff which amplifies spell power, and finally spokes a lizard that eats magic.
Registered: Dec 29, 2015 19:27:07 GMT -8
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Post by Task Force Commandant Viddik on Apr 19, 2016 12:32:16 GMT -8
The Kingdom of Belrow, had made a significant mistake in approaching Gauldin with a large force of undead. Gauldin has a contentious history with the practice of necromancy. The practice was the next best thing in Gauldin. Beyond that it was universally reviled and hated. A foreign force of undead marching on their country, even a small one warranted a dangerous response. By the time they reached the gate they would find it closed. Hovering in the air above a sleek black airship galleon hovers. On the deck of the Enchrideus Task Force Commandant Viddik stares down at the mass of undead. Too small to be an attack and not aggressive. He had heard of Belrow had the cursed kingdom sent a delegation. That would appear to be the case. Well it was just another annoyance for him to deal with. His magically enhanced voice booms out. "Identify yourself or be destroyed. We don't have much tolerance for your kind." |
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on Apr 19, 2016 17:22:53 GMT -8
The Kingdom of Belrow, had made a significant mistake in approaching Gauldin with a large force of undead. Gauldin has a contentious history with the practice of necromancy. The practice was the next best thing in Gauldin. Beyond that it was universally reviled and hated. A foreign force of undead marching on their country, even a small one warranted a dangerous response. By the time they reached the gate they would find it closed. Hovering in the air above a sleek black airship galleon hovers. On the deck of the Enchrideus Task Force Commandant Viddik stares down at the mass of undead. Too small to be an attack and not aggressive. He had heard of Belrow had the cursed kingdom sent a delegation. That would appear to be the case. Well it was just another annoyance for him to deal with. His magically enhanced voice booms out. "Identify yourself or be destroyed. We don't have much tolerance for your kind." Valabrin halted the convoy in front of the gates. He had expect such a response eventually for the living, it seemed the the land tillers were the exception, not the rule. Trotting to the front of the convoy Valabrin pointed his dried finger at his throat, magically enhancing his voice in response. "I am ambassador ... Valabrin of the Kingdom of... Belrow. We come to your... lands in peace to trade ...and understand one another. ...We carry in these carriages.... tomes of knowledge transcribed ...from the great library of Kalkador, as gifts ... of friendship." He awaited their response. He hoped they would let them leave or enter peacefully, being returned to the Arch was such an unpleasant feeling that he did not want to experience again. |
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Task Force Commandant Viddik
Committed
Roleplay posts: 62
Age: 53
Physical Description: Gregor Viddik, has a face like a hatchet, hard lines and deep scars. His baleful brown eyes, have put a stop to more fights before they began than his reputation. His black hair is streaked with grey and he has been growing it out in recent years. He constantly smoke a cigar that never seems to get any smaller. Everything about Viddik screams do not mess with this man.
Clothes and Equipment: Highly magic resistant breast plate, military mage uniform which supplements his magic regeneration, his staff which amplifies spell power, and finally spokes a lizard that eats magic.
Registered: Dec 29, 2015 19:27:07 GMT -8
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Post by Task Force Commandant Viddik on Apr 20, 2016 17:33:50 GMT -8
Viddik glares at the mass of undead scowling. Peaceful undead? Of course people brought back corpses all the time for good reasons. He was sure a kingdom ruled by a group of lichs was all about peace and harmony. The Commandant debate just fire bombing the entire convoy. The Enchrideus had a compliment of thirteen battle mages. Working in tandem they could reduce the whole lot of them to ash. Still that wasn't his call. Technically they were a foreign diplomats, killing them would be an act of war.
"Your request will be delivered to the king. He will decide if he wishes to meet with you. Remain where you are until then. We have experience with your kind, none of it good. Don't approach the gates until given permission. If you do it will be considered an act of war."
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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 Apr 20, 2016 18:17:34 GMT -8
Attla's time at Belrow had not been well-spent. He simply popped in, grabbed his necessary supplies and was off again. Off again to another, different land. The Kingdom of Gauldin, land of the feudalism, the blue blood, the cemented, unchanging aristocracy. At least, Attla reckoned it would be like that. He had no first hand experience of the land, just an overall idea, captured from small snippets of conversation along the road.
He hobbled up to the guardhouse and stopped, waiting for audience with whatever guard might be nearby. If there was one. He waved away his pessimistic thoughts, he surely couldn't have to wait too long to enter this land. His eyes drifted to the nearby convoy, it having been stopped at the gates. Undead.. does that mean.. Kingdom of Belrow? What a coincidence. He must have been following a similiar route across to Gauldin.
He ignored them however. If they were to be barred entry, attempting to affiliate with them, they will surely just force them to bar him entry too. He called out to the guards, if they were there. He mustered a polite voice, a voice of innocence, of weakness. He wanted them to believe he was just a poor nomad.
"Please let me in, I have walked for several day and nights to reach this land."
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on Apr 21, 2016 22:34:54 GMT -8
Viddik glares at the mass of undead scowling. Peaceful undead? Of course people brought back corpses all the time for good reasons. He was sure a kingdom ruled by a group of lichs was all about peace and harmony. The Commandant debate just fire bombing the entire convoy. The Enchrideus had a compliment of thirteen battle mages. Working in tandem they could reduce the whole lot of them to ash. Still that wasn't his call. Technically they were a foreign diplomats, killing them would be an act of war. "Your request will be delivered to the king. He will decide if he wishes to meet with you. Remain where you are until then. We have experience with your kind, none of it good. Don't approach the gates until given permission. If you do it will be considered an act of war." Valabrine realized just how much work he had in front of him once the guardsman in the flying device told him to remain where he was. It was troubling. Reports are beginning to come in across the kingdom of other nations having experiences with the powers of necromancers. Coupled with the discovery of an active shard, these reports began to worry Valabrine. Maybe their own awakening had also brought back the beast they had hidden? "We...shall remain...here." Valabrine intoned back towards the air ship. "We mean no harm and await...your kings response." The dead where patient, retreating into his mind for the wait, Valabrine began to reflect on the events so far. |
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Post by The Kingdom of Gauldin on Apr 22, 2016 12:44:09 GMT -8
Attla's time at Belrow had not been well-spent. He simply popped in, grabbed his necessary supplies and was off again. Off again to another, different land. The Kingdom of Gauldin, land of the feudalism, the blue blood, the cemented, unchanging aristocracy. At least, Attla reckoned it would be like that. He had no first hand experience of the land, just an overall idea, captured from small snippets of conversation along the road. He hobbled up to the guardhouse and stopped, waiting for audience with whatever guard might be nearby. If there was one. He waved away his pessimistic thoughts, he surely couldn't have to wait too long to enter this land. His eyes drifted to the nearby convoy, it having been stopped at the gates. Undead.. does that mean.. Kingdom of Belrow? What a coincidence. He must have been following a similiar route across to Gauldin. He ignored them however. If they were to be barred entry, attempting to affiliate with them, they will surely just force them to bar him entry too. He called out to the guards, if they were there. He mustered a polite voice, a voice of innocence, of weakness. He wanted them to believe he was just a poor nomad. "Please let me in, I have walked for several day and nights to reach this land." The guard post consisted of a fortress blocking passage through the mountains. The gates of this guard post were closed. In the sky above floated a massive black galleon. If this was insufficient to indicate the gate was temporarily closed, the next thing to happen would. A view slot is opened on the guard door and a voice sounds out. "Mes excuses monsieur, the gate is closed until further notice." |
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Post by The Kingdom of Gauldin on Apr 24, 2016 11:34:20 GMT -8
Viddik glares at the mass of undead scowling. Peaceful undead? Of course people brought back corpses all the time for good reasons. He was sure a kingdom ruled by a group of lichs was all about peace and harmony. The Commandant debate just fire bombing the entire convoy. The Enchrideus had a compliment of thirteen battle mages. Working in tandem they could reduce the whole lot of them to ash. Still that wasn't his call. Technically they were a foreign diplomats, killing them would be an act of war. "Your request will be delivered to the king. He will decide if he wishes to meet with you. Remain where you are until then. We have experience with your kind, none of it good. Don't approach the gates until given permission. If you do it will be considered an act of war." Valabrine realized just how much work he had in front of him once the guardsman in the flying device told him to remain where he was. It was troubling. Reports are beginning to come in across the kingdom of other nations having experiences with the powers of necromancers. Coupled with the discovery of an active shard, these reports began to worry Valabrine. Maybe their own awakening had also brought back the beast they had hidden? "We...shall remain...here." Valabrine intoned back towards the air ship. "We mean no harm and await...your kings response." The dead where patient, retreating into his mind for the wait, Valabrine began to reflect on the events so far. Three days pass as the issue of the undead is debated. Eventually the gates open and a group of soldiers exit the fortress. They approach the undead camp and an older woman in military mage robes approaches. She glares at them not hiding her obvious distaste. Her voice comes out crisp clear and professional. "Select a single delegate and a retainer. The king has decided to grant an audience. The rest of your delegation will remain here." Once the delegate is chosen they are escorted within in the fort. They are lead to a back waiting room and told to wait. |
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on Apr 26, 2016 5:04:50 GMT -8
Valabrine realized just how much work he had in front of him once the guardsman in the flying device told him to remain where he was. It was troubling. Reports are beginning to come in across the kingdom of other nations having experiences with the powers of necromancers. Coupled with the discovery of an active shard, these reports began to worry Valabrine. Maybe their own awakening had also brought back the beast they had hidden? "We...shall remain...here." Valabrine intoned back towards the air ship. "We mean no harm and await...your kings response." The dead where patient, retreating into his mind for the wait, Valabrine began to reflect on the events so far. Three days pass as the issue of the undead is debated. Eventually the gates open and a group of soldiers exit the fortress. They approach the undead camp and an older woman in military mage robes approaches. She glares at them not hiding her obvious distaste. Her voice comes out crisp clear and professional. "Select a single delegate and a retainer. The king has decided to grant an audience. The rest of your delegation will remain here." Once the delegate is chosen they are escorted within in the fort. They are lead to a back waiting room and told to wait. Once the delegate is chosen they are escorted within in the fort. They are lead to a back waiting room and told to wait. Valabrine followed the guards into the waiting room, followed closely by one of the skeltal servants, carrying with him a large chest. The slave did not seem to care that this wooden chest weighted over a hundred kilos and walked slowly and methodically. The small dead party then waited in the room. Valabrine was thinking that this was going much better then expected. |
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King Renaux of Travére
Dedicated
The King of Gauldin
Roleplay posts: 368
Age: 29
Physical Description: Standing at 6'4 Renaux is an imposing figure. He is well muscled from years of training and he has collected his fair share of scars. His auburn hair is kept short in a military style, and his face is clean shaven. He has a powerful jaw, mid set cheek bones, and a smooth brow. His blue eyes are fierce and determined, though there are smile lines in the corners.
Renaux was never supposed to be king he is actually the second son of the now deceased King Voltair. The former king and the crown prince Vyun both died in an a tragic airship crash three years ago much to Renauxs sorrow and anger. Renaux never held any aspirations for the crown and hated the thought of having things given to him. He entered the Académie Royale de le Pégase by winning the yearly tournament while posing as a peasant. He kept up this charade over his years serving with the Royal Air Force reaching the rank of Captain on his own merits.
He may have spent another few years in this guise but with his father and brother dead he was forced to ascend to the throne. Relatively unknown among the nobility Renaux has faced many challenges in the last two years. These turned the young military commander into a king whether or not he will prove to be a good one is still unknown.
Clothes and Equipment: Pretty much whatever he wants he's a king.
The Crown of Wings, and his Bastard Sword.
Clothing changes between enchanted plate, military dress, and casual clothing.
Registered: Dec 3, 2015 18:03:01 GMT -8
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Post by King Renaux of Travére on Apr 27, 2016 16:52:31 GMT -8
Roughly an hour after the undead takes his seat the door opens. King Renaux is in the doorway his expression sever. He is wearing his armor and crown, with his bastard sword at his side. Trailing behind him is Antain his massive bodyguard and Task Force Commandant Viddik. The king walks into the room and takes a seat. He affixes the delegate from the kingdom of the dead with an inscrutable expression. There is no hint of friendliness, but he doesn't seem to be openly hostile. "Speak." This single word has the undeniable weight of command. The command only a king at the heart of his power can possesses. |
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on Apr 28, 2016 23:17:16 GMT -8
Roughly an hour after the undead takes his seat the door opens. King Renaux is in the doorway his expression sever. He is wearing his armor and crown, with his bastard sword at his side. Trailing behind him is Antain his massive bodyguard and Task Force Commandant Viddik . The king walks into the room and takes a seat. He affixes the delegate from the kingdom of the dead with an inscrutable expression. There is no hint of friendliness, but he doesn't seem to be openly hostile. "Speak." This single word has the undeniable weight of command. The command only a king at the heart of his power can possesses. The dead where unfazed by the kings entrance. They had waited patiently and silently for the hour they had been in this meeting room. Valabrine studied this man that had come in and ordered him to speak. He had the bearing of a royal of some sort, the robes denote his station. Believing this was who they where to be speaking with Valabrine chose his words carefully. "I am...a diplomat...from the Kingdom of Belrow, from the ... silent Desert. Our nation has... only recently reawoken from slumber,... and we are beginning to negotiate... and trade with the living that... now inhabit the lands. We have already made... several deals with the the... Land Tillers State and we hope... to also make them with you. Our knowledge... of magic and enchantment...is vast...as well as several other...items that we...contain... that we are willing...to share... with your...people." |
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King Renaux of Travére
Dedicated
The King of Gauldin
Roleplay posts: 368
Age: 29
Physical Description: Standing at 6'4 Renaux is an imposing figure. He is well muscled from years of training and he has collected his fair share of scars. His auburn hair is kept short in a military style, and his face is clean shaven. He has a powerful jaw, mid set cheek bones, and a smooth brow. His blue eyes are fierce and determined, though there are smile lines in the corners.
Renaux was never supposed to be king he is actually the second son of the now deceased King Voltair. The former king and the crown prince Vyun both died in an a tragic airship crash three years ago much to Renauxs sorrow and anger. Renaux never held any aspirations for the crown and hated the thought of having things given to him. He entered the Académie Royale de le Pégase by winning the yearly tournament while posing as a peasant. He kept up this charade over his years serving with the Royal Air Force reaching the rank of Captain on his own merits.
He may have spent another few years in this guise but with his father and brother dead he was forced to ascend to the throne. Relatively unknown among the nobility Renaux has faced many challenges in the last two years. These turned the young military commander into a king whether or not he will prove to be a good one is still unknown.
Clothes and Equipment: Pretty much whatever he wants he's a king.
The Crown of Wings, and his Bastard Sword.
Clothing changes between enchanted plate, military dress, and casual clothing.
Registered: Dec 3, 2015 18:03:01 GMT -8
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Post by King Renaux of Travére on May 1, 2016 7:32:35 GMT -8
The kings face is as impassive as stone as the Valabrine speaks. If Renaux shares the others disdain for the undead, he hides it better. When the diplomat finishes the king rests his hands upon the table. He takes in a deep breath and say's in a measured voice.
"I will not pretend to know a great deal about your kingdom. What I do know is why we are being cautious about your presence here. I also will not pretend to have heard much about your kingdom. What I have heard is why I agreed to this meeting. The practice of necromancey is strictly regulated in Gauldin. The reason is simple, it is a favored tool of tyrants. Prolonging their own life unnaturally and giving them an army that can't die. Using the dead to kill, tortue, and enslave the living. Gauldin has suffered under such evil men in the past."
The king pauses and takes a breath folding his hands in front of him.
"However, I did say it was a tool. Like any tool what it is used for depends partly on the hand that wields it. Some think that a tool is blameless that is not entirely the case though. A sword is a tool, but it has a use it is best suited for. Similarly those who are proffecient in using swords tend to be a specific sort. Do you understand what I am saying?"
He gives Valabrine a moment to consider his words before he continues.
"You come to me as emissary of a kingdom whose life blood is a magic, a tool best suited to killing. You come from this kingdom and make overtures of peace and friendship. I am willing to listen diplomat, but you need to make me believe. Convince me this is not a trick, a ploy to get our gates open, to lure us into a false sense of security for a future attack."
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on May 3, 2016 1:35:08 GMT -8
The kings face is as impassive as stone as the Valabrine speaks. If Renaux shares the others disdain for the undead, he hides it better. When the diplomat finishes the king rests his hands upon the table. He takes in a deep breath and say's in a measured voice. "I will not pretend to know a great deal about your kingdom. What I do know is why we are being cautious about your presence here. I also will not pretend to have heard much about your kingdom. What I have heard is why I agreed to this meeting. The practice of necromancey is strictly regulated in Gauldin. The reason is simple, it is a favored tool of tyrants. Prolonging their own life unnaturally and giving them an army that can't die. Using the dead to kill, tortue, and enslave the living. Gauldin has suffered under such evil men in the past." The king pauses and takes a breath folding his hands in front of him. "However, I did say it was a tool. Like any tool what it is used for depends partly on the hand that wields it. Some think that a tool is blameless that is not entirely the case though. A sword is a tool, but it has a use it is best suited for. Similarly those who are proffecient in using swords tend to be a specific sort. Do you understand what I am saying?" He gives Valabrine a moment to consider his words before he continues. "You come to me as emissary of a kingdom whose life blood is a magic, a tool best suited to killing. You come from this kingdom and make overtures of peace and friendship. I am willing to listen diplomat, but you need to make me believe. Convince me this is not a trick, a ploy to get our gates open, to lure us into a false sense of security for a future attack." Valabrine sat silently as the King finished his speech. Internally, he was saddened at the living noble words, even here the art of necromancy is used by the evil. It seems that no where is safe from it. Valabrine also understood why the noble, and by extension his kingdom, was wary of his people. His assumption where correct, his people had been used as a tool long ago to murder and kill and that was Belrow's greatest burden. The diplomat decided that it was best to be completely honest with the royal, this was the only chance his people was going to get. Leaning forward he placed both his hands lightly on the table and spoke. "You are correct. Our people... have been used ...long ago to do evil things. We were... enslaved and forced to do things... terrible, terrible things. We can ... not remember who we where ... before we where changed, our ... minds where no longer ... our own, all that we remember... is what we did. I remember every... deed that I did in the long years that we where slaves, every face, every ... child. It is why most of my ... kind can not speak, for not all of ... their soul is in their bodies. Their minds... are kept where they will not remember... what they have done. It is the burden... of full sentience, your people say... the dead can't tell tales... but I assure you, we can." He raised his left hand up to his face, staring at the nobleman through his dried husks of his fingers and in a quick move, ripped his left index finger off with his right hand. Holding the finger in his right hand, presenting it to the king Valabrine spoke again. "I do not ... feel pain, I do not feel ... anything. I don't feel ... the wind on my face, nor the ... sun on my flesh. I can not taste, nor do I... need to sleep or drink or eat. My mind ... will effectively live for ever. Some would see all these ... things as a blessing. We see it ... as a curse. In our culture, necromancy is ... strictly controlled, only the higher nobles are ... allowed to practice it, and only ... when it is most needed. We do not ... want anyone to be as we are." He then placed his dismembered finger back into the wiggling stump on his left hand, where it firmly reattached. Closing his hands into a fist, he lowered them down again. "We where once... a tool yes. We where once used ...to enforce the will of a being beyond... your deepest nightmares but we are... free now. Once more life has... sprung in a world where, when we left it, there was only ...death. Life is precious beyond your ...wildest dreams, it is something... we can never have but we... can protect what we can not... have, from those that wish ...to destroy it." |
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King Renaux of Travére
Dedicated
The King of Gauldin
Roleplay posts: 368
Age: 29
Physical Description: Standing at 6'4 Renaux is an imposing figure. He is well muscled from years of training and he has collected his fair share of scars. His auburn hair is kept short in a military style, and his face is clean shaven. He has a powerful jaw, mid set cheek bones, and a smooth brow. His blue eyes are fierce and determined, though there are smile lines in the corners.
Renaux was never supposed to be king he is actually the second son of the now deceased King Voltair. The former king and the crown prince Vyun both died in an a tragic airship crash three years ago much to Renauxs sorrow and anger. Renaux never held any aspirations for the crown and hated the thought of having things given to him. He entered the Académie Royale de le Pégase by winning the yearly tournament while posing as a peasant. He kept up this charade over his years serving with the Royal Air Force reaching the rank of Captain on his own merits.
He may have spent another few years in this guise but with his father and brother dead he was forced to ascend to the throne. Relatively unknown among the nobility Renaux has faced many challenges in the last two years. These turned the young military commander into a king whether or not he will prove to be a good one is still unknown.
Clothes and Equipment: Pretty much whatever he wants he's a king.
The Crown of Wings, and his Bastard Sword.
Clothing changes between enchanted plate, military dress, and casual clothing.
Registered: Dec 3, 2015 18:03:01 GMT -8
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Post by King Renaux of Travére on May 6, 2016 6:48:50 GMT -8
(I just want to apologize for how long my response are taking. Despite running a country I find political scenes like this a bit hard to write. So it isn't personal, just me struggling to find a muse.)
Renaux intertwined his fingers leaving only his index fingers extended. Tapping his fingers thoughtfully as the ambassador spoke. When Valabrine finishes he unfolds his hands and sets them upon the arm rests. The king considers his response carefully, centuries of tradition warring against disinclination to start a war. None of this shows on his face which remains as calm and impassive as a placid lake. When he finally speaks each word is measured and carefully considered.
"What you are telling me is that you are an army of undead, freed from the control of the necromancer that raised you. Your souls have been bound back to your bodies and you are unable to escape. Now you seek to guard life, as you understand how precious it is in your current state. Have I understood your situation correctly?"
Once The King receives confirmation, he would continue.
"My question now is what do you seek from Gauldin. You say you wish to trade, if so what goods do you wish to acquire? More importantly what can you offer in turn? You spoke of skill in magic and enchantment, but meaning no offense I hope that is not all you bring. While we certainly value the mystical arts in Gauldin, our own knowledge is vast. While you may have some knowledge we do not posses, you will not get far with just that."
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The Kingdom of Belrow
Committed
Roleplay posts: 86
Player's online availability : Most days
Registered: Apr 10, 2016 2:54:12 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Belrow on May 7, 2016 4:45:09 GMT -8
(I just want to apologize for how long my response are taking. Despite running a country I find political scenes like this a bit hard to write. So it isn't personal, just me struggling to find a muse.) Renaux intertwined his fingers leaving only his index fingers extended. Tapping his fingers thoughtfully as the ambassador spoke. When Valabrine finishes he unfolds his hands and sets them upon the arm rests. The king considers his response carefully, centuries of tradition warring against disinclination to start a war. None of this shows on his face which remains as calm and impassive as a placid lake. When he finally speaks each word is measured and carefully considered. "What you are telling me is that you are an army of undead, freed from the control of the necromancer that raised you. Your souls have been bound back to your bodies and you are unable to escape. Now you seek to guard life, as you understand how precious it is in your current state. Have I understood your situation correctly?" Once The King receives confirmation, he would continue. "My question now is what do you seek from Gauldin. You say you wish to trade, if so what goods do you wish to acquire? More importantly what can you offer in turn? You spoke of skill in magic and enchantment, but meaning no offense I hope that is not all you bring. While we certainly value the mystical arts in Gauldin, our own knowledge is vast. While you may have some knowledge we do not posses, you will not get far with just that." Finally, down to business. Valabrine was thankful that the nobleman decided to consider their offer. "We expected that... our knowledge in the arcane...would be of little value to you. That is why...we are offering to sell you our... scarab constructs. These are semi-sentient constructs... that we have built. They have no need to eat, or sleep. They do...not complain, they are completely...silent. We use them as our builders... they can dig tunnels faster and ... more precisely then humans... build structures quicker... and more solid then humans... as well. They need no upkeep, they can...repair themselves. We have brought one...with us to show you. We understand that you have similar constructs...but I can assure you. Not as... advanced as our own. In return for them...we require something...very unique to your lands. Long ago beneath our lands grew ... great green crystals. We use them today to power our cities... and the more advanced magics. Unfortunately, we have... used them up. That is why... we require... your crystals. They are not the same...but our mancers believe they will be able... to use them instead of our own crystals." |
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:07:16 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2016 19:17:24 GMT -8
An Aaedanian rider tore into the pass, his red cloak flowing behind him. His horse was exhausted. Assigned to find allies against the undead now occupying the White City; his journey brought him here. Aaedan had never made contact with this kingdom before, still they have come to beg for help, desperate times.
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