John Walrus III Member
- Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: The Story Man
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
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- John Walrus III 10 yrs ago
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Mecha Hitler?
I will attempt to pos t soon*, apologies for the delay.
*"Soon"is labeled as any time within 24 to 48 hours.
*"Soon"is labeled as any time within 24 to 48 hours.
Notice; Dark Souls 2 is now a thing. Also, I am intrigued by this WotM. I will investigate further.
Dalvorin raised his hand against the sun, watching some local guardsmen approach, alert but not worried. He hailed them as they approached, eying the crowd as he did so. He couldn't see the man who had gotten away, though a few people were apart from the crowd to see what the mild commotion was. "Got another one to deal with, eh?" The guards stepped through the crowd, halting just before him and his shop. He nodded, exhaling lightly. "Yeah, you know how it is." He gestured back to his door. "I have one inside for ya. The other got away, who I assume was the one aiming for the grab." He breathed in, finally pulling a pipe from his smithing apron. He brought it to his mouth, snapping a fire to light it. He breathed the smoke deeply, before exhaling it through his nose slowly. The guards gave him a moment; they were used to it. When he nodded, the front guard gestured for the others to enter the shop, so as to apprehend the fallen would-be thief. Once they had entered, he nodded to Dalvorin. The dwarf puffed the pipe for a moment, before beginning the short reciting of the event.
There weren't NPCs because they didn't need to be there? It made sense, John decided, but he still didn't like it. Explanations were thrown about for the girl, who seemed to absorb it all fairly easily. Someone - Naitilus was it? - restated the idea to find the front door. John nodded to it. "We don't have much else of a choice, I guess." The girl asked about the RP's plot. "Well," John said, scratching his head, "supposedly, this is one of those 'school-for-the-gifted' RPs. Beyond that, I'm not sure, but I think Naitilus is right: We should try to find the front door. We don't have much else of a choice at this rate." John began to look about the walls of the towering Academy, looking for clues as to which direction the main entrance may be.
*Throws chips at Kaga*
Enjoy your stay!
Enjoy your stay!
I have entered! Good day!
Dalvorin cracked his hammer into the blazing metal, swing after swing. The fly of sparks danced on his beard, glowing in his eyes. A couple of customers examined his walls, examining the tools and blades he had in store. The flames danced before him, the metal resounding again and again. He paused his swing, setting the metal into the blazing flame of the forge. He felt it dance across his hands, his arms. "Excuse me, sir?" Dalvorin nodded. "A moment, if you will," he responded. He smoothed the metal, danced the flame across it. He felt the metal warp into place, felt the flames curve into the metal. He removed the metal from the heat and cracked his hammer down a few final times, each hit resounding like thunder in the shop. "Sir?" Dalvorin crashed down upon the metal, halting his strikes. It was a good blade. He wiped his hand across the face of it, setting it to cool. He didn't believe in cooling metal with water. It worked too quickly, didn't allow for his final marks.
The powerful dwarf turned and stepped up to the stone counter, brushing a couple of tools aside. He should clean some of this up at some point. He peered at the man before him, standing perhaps a head taller than Dalvorin. " What can I do for you?" Dalvorin's voice boomed in the shop. It allowed him to drive off any fools who might want a "free" piece or two. Speaking of which, this man didn't seem to pleasant, who squinted at the dwarf. "I was told that you can craft certain... specialty goods?" Dalvroin scratched his beard, considering for a moment. "If you refer to my Magicsmithing work, than yes, you were informed correctly." He tapped the counter. "I should say that it is a good gold more than any ol' metal you'll get." The man glared at him, seeming to consider something. Dalvorin exhaled heavily. It always ended the same way with these people. Someone got word of it, and figured they wanted it enough to try to take it. Either that or they wised up and either bought it or left. The other customer caught his attention in the corner of his eye. They were about the same height as the man before him, perhaps a little bulkier. The grip they had on the handle was rather purposeful, it seemed, and they had been holding it for much longer than they should. If he was interested, he would have approached the counter by now.
The man in front of him nodded very slightly, so much so that Dalvorin almost missed it. "What are your wares priced at, then?" He reached to a pouch at his side. At the same time, the second man shifted toward the counter. Dalvorin frowned, just in time to receive a face of powder. "Because we'll take what you g-" The man's determined statement was interrupted by a swift uppercut to the jaw. Dalvorin's eyes erupted into flame, burning at the powder that blinded him. Before he recovered, he second man charged forward with a roar, giving Dalvorin the cue to duck down. The blade smashed against the stone counter, with enough force that Dalvorin was sure it was unsellable now. He opened his eyes, the flame flame dissipating and his eyes stinging. Tears left him half blind now, the powder only mostly burnt away. He stood again, his hand engulfed in flame, and gripped the man by the scalp, pulling it swiftly to greet the counter with a crunch.The blade fell to the ground with a clatter as the man fell less ceremoniously. The first man stood in the corner, staring and gripping his jaw, before running out swiftly.
Dalvorin closed his eyes, reigniting the flames, and turned from the counter. He reached the wall he was looking for and pulled the rope hanging there, ringing the bell for the authorities. He had experienced enough stupidity from people like this that he had requested it to save time. They would arrive within a few minutes, requesting a story. It would be the same as always. Some fools thought they would try to steal some metals that he didn't even have prepared. He stopped keeping them in stock after the first few incidents. Dalvorin wiped at his eyes, the flames dancing lightly. His eyes were clear now, and he could see that, indeed, the blade was unusable now. Recalling his previous activity, the turned to the metal he had been smithing, and found it far to cooled now. The event had taken just too long. He sighed and tossed the metal to the side. He needed a moment after that. He crossed to the door, setting the sign to "Back in a moment." He walked into the street, feeling the sun fall on his fire-worn face. The crowed was slightly dispersed around his shop, but many of them were used to it. He stood for a moment and waited for the authorities.
The powerful dwarf turned and stepped up to the stone counter, brushing a couple of tools aside. He should clean some of this up at some point. He peered at the man before him, standing perhaps a head taller than Dalvorin. " What can I do for you?" Dalvorin's voice boomed in the shop. It allowed him to drive off any fools who might want a "free" piece or two. Speaking of which, this man didn't seem to pleasant, who squinted at the dwarf. "I was told that you can craft certain... specialty goods?" Dalvroin scratched his beard, considering for a moment. "If you refer to my Magicsmithing work, than yes, you were informed correctly." He tapped the counter. "I should say that it is a good gold more than any ol' metal you'll get." The man glared at him, seeming to consider something. Dalvorin exhaled heavily. It always ended the same way with these people. Someone got word of it, and figured they wanted it enough to try to take it. Either that or they wised up and either bought it or left. The other customer caught his attention in the corner of his eye. They were about the same height as the man before him, perhaps a little bulkier. The grip they had on the handle was rather purposeful, it seemed, and they had been holding it for much longer than they should. If he was interested, he would have approached the counter by now.
The man in front of him nodded very slightly, so much so that Dalvorin almost missed it. "What are your wares priced at, then?" He reached to a pouch at his side. At the same time, the second man shifted toward the counter. Dalvorin frowned, just in time to receive a face of powder. "Because we'll take what you g-" The man's determined statement was interrupted by a swift uppercut to the jaw. Dalvorin's eyes erupted into flame, burning at the powder that blinded him. Before he recovered, he second man charged forward with a roar, giving Dalvorin the cue to duck down. The blade smashed against the stone counter, with enough force that Dalvorin was sure it was unsellable now. He opened his eyes, the flame flame dissipating and his eyes stinging. Tears left him half blind now, the powder only mostly burnt away. He stood again, his hand engulfed in flame, and gripped the man by the scalp, pulling it swiftly to greet the counter with a crunch.The blade fell to the ground with a clatter as the man fell less ceremoniously. The first man stood in the corner, staring and gripping his jaw, before running out swiftly.
Dalvorin closed his eyes, reigniting the flames, and turned from the counter. He reached the wall he was looking for and pulled the rope hanging there, ringing the bell for the authorities. He had experienced enough stupidity from people like this that he had requested it to save time. They would arrive within a few minutes, requesting a story. It would be the same as always. Some fools thought they would try to steal some metals that he didn't even have prepared. He stopped keeping them in stock after the first few incidents. Dalvorin wiped at his eyes, the flames dancing lightly. His eyes were clear now, and he could see that, indeed, the blade was unusable now. Recalling his previous activity, the turned to the metal he had been smithing, and found it far to cooled now. The event had taken just too long. He sighed and tossed the metal to the side. He needed a moment after that. He crossed to the door, setting the sign to "Back in a moment." He walked into the street, feeling the sun fall on his fire-worn face. The crowed was slightly dispersed around his shop, but many of them were used to it. He stood for a moment and waited for the authorities.
In
Karstberg, City of Adventure: Freeform Fantasy City RP Interest Check and Signups
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I like the stamp of approval. I shall skim the IC and post promptly!
In
Karstberg, City of Adventure: Freeform Fantasy City RP Interest Check and Signups
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Name: Dalvorin Silvershield
Age: 57
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Appearance:
Profession: Smith / "Magicsmith"
Personality: Proud of his work and respects that of others. Tends to be somewhat reserved, but is often fairly kind. Does not usually take insults or the like well, but has tolerance for them and for others' stupidity. Meditates to clear his mind.
Equipment/Weapons: A set of personally crafted plate armor, laced with light pyromancy runes. His helmet is also of dwarven craft, but holds the runes of frost and clarity, a gift from his elder brother. His weapon of choice is an axe with heavier pyromancy runes, which alight the blade in blazing glory in combat. However, he prefers to leave this equipment to the side, to avoid both alteration to his public image and theft.
Abilities: Pyromancy / "Pyrosmithing", meditation, notable combat skills.
Brief Backstory: A member of the proud Silvershields, Dalvorin was the second son to Bolric, the head Smith of the Silvershields, the Chief Silversmith. He and his elder brother, Revin, were taken into the smithing work. In his training of smithing, Dalvorin discovered his uncanny ability to perfect any flame in the forge, and shortly discovered that he could avoid burning in the flame. This ability was quickly taken note of, as Dalvorin was swiftly sent on his way to a teacher of the flame, to harness his power, while Revin remained as apprentice to their father. For some years, Dalvorin remained student to a Pyromancer, Gwyn, and learned to channel the flame. However, he felt lacking without a forge, and could never focus on his magic, nor could he find the aptitude for it. After some few years under his teacher, he recieved word from his brother that their father had passed, and he made quick preparation to return home. Upon his return, he was welcomed by Revin, though his joy was sorrowful, as he had been named Chief Silversmith in Bolric's stead. With admittedly grudging respect, Dalvorin resumed his place as an apprentice smith, now under his brother's wing. With the forge before him once more, he found himself much more in-tune with his flame and with the forge, and it was he who first discovered, almost by accident, the method of infusing magic within the forged metals, crafting Pyromancy runes he had learned within a simple blade he had worked on. He shared his work with his brother, and soon the term of Magicsmith, or Magesmith, became a common term among the Silvershield. Harnessing his flame, Dalvorin eventually found himself drawn to more open civilization, and set off to the renowned city of Karstberg. As a parting gift, Revin bestowed a personally crafted helm unto him. Dalvorin quickly made his name known and affirmed a place within the Market District, with his work being popularly known all around, but more as a rumor than a fact. He holds particular value with the Academy, being able to assist in the crafting of nearly any magical metal given the knowledge, though he remains fondest of his finally perfected Pyromancy and Pyrosmithing
Pyromancy - Put simply, Fire Magic. One channels fire, often from an "inner flame", or from an active source.
Pyrosmithing - The method of channeling Pyromancy into ones smithing. This is often done by tending the flame with the magic and burnishing the metal with a constant magical flame.
Magicsmith or Magesmith - The smithing method of empowering metal with an embodiment of magic. In order to do this, the smith must craft runes of a magic into the metal and must understand them atleast slightly. This often, but not always, limits Magesmithing to actual wielders of the magic.
Well, that took longer than I thought. Hope that works out.
Age: 57
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Appearance:
Profession: Smith / "Magicsmith"
Personality: Proud of his work and respects that of others. Tends to be somewhat reserved, but is often fairly kind. Does not usually take insults or the like well, but has tolerance for them and for others' stupidity. Meditates to clear his mind.
Equipment/Weapons: A set of personally crafted plate armor, laced with light pyromancy runes. His helmet is also of dwarven craft, but holds the runes of frost and clarity, a gift from his elder brother. His weapon of choice is an axe with heavier pyromancy runes, which alight the blade in blazing glory in combat. However, he prefers to leave this equipment to the side, to avoid both alteration to his public image and theft.
Abilities: Pyromancy / "Pyrosmithing", meditation, notable combat skills.
Brief Backstory: A member of the proud Silvershields, Dalvorin was the second son to Bolric, the head Smith of the Silvershields, the Chief Silversmith. He and his elder brother, Revin, were taken into the smithing work. In his training of smithing, Dalvorin discovered his uncanny ability to perfect any flame in the forge, and shortly discovered that he could avoid burning in the flame. This ability was quickly taken note of, as Dalvorin was swiftly sent on his way to a teacher of the flame, to harness his power, while Revin remained as apprentice to their father. For some years, Dalvorin remained student to a Pyromancer, Gwyn, and learned to channel the flame. However, he felt lacking without a forge, and could never focus on his magic, nor could he find the aptitude for it. After some few years under his teacher, he recieved word from his brother that their father had passed, and he made quick preparation to return home. Upon his return, he was welcomed by Revin, though his joy was sorrowful, as he had been named Chief Silversmith in Bolric's stead. With admittedly grudging respect, Dalvorin resumed his place as an apprentice smith, now under his brother's wing. With the forge before him once more, he found himself much more in-tune with his flame and with the forge, and it was he who first discovered, almost by accident, the method of infusing magic within the forged metals, crafting Pyromancy runes he had learned within a simple blade he had worked on. He shared his work with his brother, and soon the term of Magicsmith, or Magesmith, became a common term among the Silvershield. Harnessing his flame, Dalvorin eventually found himself drawn to more open civilization, and set off to the renowned city of Karstberg. As a parting gift, Revin bestowed a personally crafted helm unto him. Dalvorin quickly made his name known and affirmed a place within the Market District, with his work being popularly known all around, but more as a rumor than a fact. He holds particular value with the Academy, being able to assist in the crafting of nearly any magical metal given the knowledge, though he remains fondest of his finally perfected Pyromancy and Pyrosmithing
Pyromancy - Put simply, Fire Magic. One channels fire, often from an "inner flame", or from an active source.
Pyrosmithing - The method of channeling Pyromancy into ones smithing. This is often done by tending the flame with the magic and burnishing the metal with a constant magical flame.
Magicsmith or Magesmith - The smithing method of empowering metal with an embodiment of magic. In order to do this, the smith must craft runes of a magic into the metal and must understand them atleast slightly. This often, but not always, limits Magesmithing to actual wielders of the magic.
Well, that took longer than I thought. Hope that works out.
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