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roleplayerguild.com/topics/174494-the…
Here’s the original discussion, let me know if you have questions or things to add!
Here’s the original discussion, let me know if you have questions or things to add!
Ridahne Torzinei:
Age: 28
Height: 6’3”
Build: very slim, muscular. Classic dancer’s body.
Skin color: sort of a darkish olive-tan.
Eyes: amber colored
Hair: ebony, wavy, shoulder length. Sometimes bound back by a beaded cord.
Typical clothing: either wearing a fitted half-shirt of Azurei style or a casual loose fitting tank top. Wears either jeans or an Azurian “uri” (a flowy sarong like garment that ends at the knees. Shoes when she bothers with them are a light pair of boots somewhere between a casual combat boot and hiking boots.
Distinguishing features:
—Ojih (Black white blue facial tattoos)
—Various black tattoos of no notable or important design throughout her body.
—The Eija mark—an indigo blue and black mark tattooed on her left shoulder
Two silver rings side by side piercing one nostril
—Right ear has a gauged piercing with a hanging bone earring with some carving on it.
—The upper helix of both ears (the kind of wide flat cup of the upper ear) have engraved silver plates almost “riveted” to them.
—Heavily scarred hands
I got a drawing for reference also but idk how to get it up here, I’ll put it on the discord.
Age: 28
Height: 6’3”
Build: very slim, muscular. Classic dancer’s body.
Skin color: sort of a darkish olive-tan.
Eyes: amber colored
Hair: ebony, wavy, shoulder length. Sometimes bound back by a beaded cord.
Typical clothing: either wearing a fitted half-shirt of Azurei style or a casual loose fitting tank top. Wears either jeans or an Azurian “uri” (a flowy sarong like garment that ends at the knees. Shoes when she bothers with them are a light pair of boots somewhere between a casual combat boot and hiking boots.
Distinguishing features:
—Ojih (Black white blue facial tattoos)
—Various black tattoos of no notable or important design throughout her body.
—The Eija mark—an indigo blue and black mark tattooed on her left shoulder
Two silver rings side by side piercing one nostril
—Right ear has a gauged piercing with a hanging bone earring with some carving on it.
—The upper helix of both ears (the kind of wide flat cup of the upper ear) have engraved silver plates almost “riveted” to them.
—Heavily scarred hands
I got a drawing for reference also but idk how to get it up here, I’ll put it on the discord.
The young man gave a mock-severe stare up at Ridahne. It might have been more effective if he had been able to look down at her, but she was tall and lean, even among some men. "Haven't you had enough already miss?" He was trying so hard to look serious, but the smile kept leaking onto his face no matter how hard he tried.
"Give it up," she said easily, a little smile playing on her lips too. "You're as drunk as I am and you're supposed to be working. Give me the dark one." Ridahne held out her wrist where a plain, sturdy wristband coiled around one dark, slender arm. Ridahne did not carry a wallet (wallets got left and stolen and lost) and she didn't have a phone, so she always opted for the wristband credit chip. It was designed for kids that didn't have phones of their own and couldn't be trusted to carry a wallet, but some adults used them too for their simplicity. The man swiped a silvery handheld device over it and it beeped softly.
"You want the dark one? But it's a thousand degrees out."
"And?" She arched one dark eyebrow. "It's closer to what we drink at home--not this swill." She smiled casually. She actually did like the local brew. But she missed true Azurei beer, which sometimes more resembled a barleywine, depending on the region.
The man grabbed a plastic cup and filled it, careful not to get too much head in the glass or to spill it. He handed it over, but his eyes lingered for a moment. They'd chatted on and off throughout the day as she came to get her drinks--nothing more than small talk. But he found her interesting. "Is it nice there? Azurei?"
Ridahne's confident gaze dropped to the counter as she idly wiped condensation from her cup.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"It is nice," she said finally, cutting him off. "Different than here. And beautiful like a storybook. But it's a hard land. With even harder people."
Her tone was almost...wistful, he thought. He wondered why. "Hey, so I get off in like two hours...would you..." He felt suddenly intimidated, looking up at her. There was something decidedly fierce about her and yet graceful, like a proud tiger. "I know a great spot for some dumplings..."
Ridahne gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Sorry. I'm not your type. Enjoy the festival." Taking her drink, she strode away and melted into the crowd. She liked the festival; the pageantry made her feel a little less obvious as lots of people wore more traditional garb and adornments. She did own a pair of jeans and some tank tops, but she often wore the traditional Azurei uri in the warmer months, which was a soft, fluid fabric wrapped in a very practical sarong. She wore an indigo crop top of sorts that only went around one shoulder. Hers was plain in comparison to those of other Azurei women, who sometimes adorned theirs with stone or silver beads or silvery embroidery. These clothes, combined with her ink, usually made her stand out downtown, but not today. It was nice for a change.
The beer was cool and pleasantly bitter and roasty, like a good chocolate or coffee; it reminded her of a sturdy bread. She sipped it not-so-delicately as she meandered, hearing a commotion off towards the stage. The Chancellor hadn't yet taken his place, but clearly someone was up there giving introductions. Ridahne did not care about him, or his politics. She came here for the food the drink, the people, the culture. One had to have roots to have thoughts about politics, Ridahne thought.
A swath of indigo caught her eye; two men were making their way purposefully through the crowd and she knew without seeing their faces that they were Azurei by the way they were dressed. They wore uri and richly dyed vests with black sashes slung across their chests and white ones around their waists. Elegant swords were tucked into the waist sashes and Ridahne could see the glint of daggers in their light boots.
Not just Azurei. Taja.
Ridahne nearly spilled her beer ducking down underneath the sea of people to hide. They had not seen her and she did not want to be seen. Not by them. She began skulking away, head swimming from the alcohol, when she overheard two more off to her left speaking soft Azurian. She couldn't make out what they were saying, not fully. Something about waiting. Something about being swift and accurate. Ridahne didn't stay to listen. She kept her head down and moved very quickly the other direction, ducking into a small tea shop for cover. She closed the door behind her, enjoying the brisk whoosh of air conditioning as she looked over her shoulder, then around at the quiet room. Most of the customers were outside, though a few sat coolly at low tables along the walls.
And elderly Asfaline woman greeted her with a polite smile that was very practiced but with searching eyes that saw more than they let on. Ridahne was led further in and showed to a table that she sat at with crossed legs, facing the part of the room with the television screen showing the video feed from the stage outside, though this appeared to be official news coverage. Feeling spontaneous, Ridahne ordered a milky, spicy tea and sat back, alternating sips of beer and hot tea as she watched the Chancellor finally take the stage with some fanfare that made Ridahne want to gag. Commonwealth politicians were never exactly popular in Azurei, and this need for showmanship was some tiny part of that.
He had a horrible smile too. Fake. Plastic. Desperate, almost. Azurei matriarchy did not smile and wave and cloyingly beg for people's approval. They merely demanded it, and it was both given and deserved. He kept trying to make people laugh with bad jokes, too. Ugh. How pathetic.
"Give it up," she said easily, a little smile playing on her lips too. "You're as drunk as I am and you're supposed to be working. Give me the dark one." Ridahne held out her wrist where a plain, sturdy wristband coiled around one dark, slender arm. Ridahne did not carry a wallet (wallets got left and stolen and lost) and she didn't have a phone, so she always opted for the wristband credit chip. It was designed for kids that didn't have phones of their own and couldn't be trusted to carry a wallet, but some adults used them too for their simplicity. The man swiped a silvery handheld device over it and it beeped softly.
"You want the dark one? But it's a thousand degrees out."
"And?" She arched one dark eyebrow. "It's closer to what we drink at home--not this swill." She smiled casually. She actually did like the local brew. But she missed true Azurei beer, which sometimes more resembled a barleywine, depending on the region.
The man grabbed a plastic cup and filled it, careful not to get too much head in the glass or to spill it. He handed it over, but his eyes lingered for a moment. They'd chatted on and off throughout the day as she came to get her drinks--nothing more than small talk. But he found her interesting. "Is it nice there? Azurei?"
Ridahne's confident gaze dropped to the counter as she idly wiped condensation from her cup.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"It is nice," she said finally, cutting him off. "Different than here. And beautiful like a storybook. But it's a hard land. With even harder people."
Her tone was almost...wistful, he thought. He wondered why. "Hey, so I get off in like two hours...would you..." He felt suddenly intimidated, looking up at her. There was something decidedly fierce about her and yet graceful, like a proud tiger. "I know a great spot for some dumplings..."
Ridahne gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Sorry. I'm not your type. Enjoy the festival." Taking her drink, she strode away and melted into the crowd. She liked the festival; the pageantry made her feel a little less obvious as lots of people wore more traditional garb and adornments. She did own a pair of jeans and some tank tops, but she often wore the traditional Azurei uri in the warmer months, which was a soft, fluid fabric wrapped in a very practical sarong. She wore an indigo crop top of sorts that only went around one shoulder. Hers was plain in comparison to those of other Azurei women, who sometimes adorned theirs with stone or silver beads or silvery embroidery. These clothes, combined with her ink, usually made her stand out downtown, but not today. It was nice for a change.
The beer was cool and pleasantly bitter and roasty, like a good chocolate or coffee; it reminded her of a sturdy bread. She sipped it not-so-delicately as she meandered, hearing a commotion off towards the stage. The Chancellor hadn't yet taken his place, but clearly someone was up there giving introductions. Ridahne did not care about him, or his politics. She came here for the food the drink, the people, the culture. One had to have roots to have thoughts about politics, Ridahne thought.
A swath of indigo caught her eye; two men were making their way purposefully through the crowd and she knew without seeing their faces that they were Azurei by the way they were dressed. They wore uri and richly dyed vests with black sashes slung across their chests and white ones around their waists. Elegant swords were tucked into the waist sashes and Ridahne could see the glint of daggers in their light boots.
Not just Azurei. Taja.
Ridahne nearly spilled her beer ducking down underneath the sea of people to hide. They had not seen her and she did not want to be seen. Not by them. She began skulking away, head swimming from the alcohol, when she overheard two more off to her left speaking soft Azurian. She couldn't make out what they were saying, not fully. Something about waiting. Something about being swift and accurate. Ridahne didn't stay to listen. She kept her head down and moved very quickly the other direction, ducking into a small tea shop for cover. She closed the door behind her, enjoying the brisk whoosh of air conditioning as she looked over her shoulder, then around at the quiet room. Most of the customers were outside, though a few sat coolly at low tables along the walls.
And elderly Asfaline woman greeted her with a polite smile that was very practiced but with searching eyes that saw more than they let on. Ridahne was led further in and showed to a table that she sat at with crossed legs, facing the part of the room with the television screen showing the video feed from the stage outside, though this appeared to be official news coverage. Feeling spontaneous, Ridahne ordered a milky, spicy tea and sat back, alternating sips of beer and hot tea as she watched the Chancellor finally take the stage with some fanfare that made Ridahne want to gag. Commonwealth politicians were never exactly popular in Azurei, and this need for showmanship was some tiny part of that.
He had a horrible smile too. Fake. Plastic. Desperate, almost. Azurei matriarchy did not smile and wave and cloyingly beg for people's approval. They merely demanded it, and it was both given and deserved. He kept trying to make people laugh with bad jokes, too. Ugh. How pathetic.
@vFear What do you say? We can brief you on what (little) skeleton plot we put together.
You doubt yourself Virgil. I’ve seen some of your posts in other threads and you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be.
Also I MIGHT consider doing a 3 player RP but I’m hesitant. Every time I do groups it goes awry so I’m always leary. But I could be convinced.
Also I MIGHT consider doing a 3 player RP but I’m hesitant. Every time I do groups it goes awry so I’m always leary. But I could be convinced.
If an opportunity comes up, I'll let you know!
Alrighty, here we go! Enjoy!
roleplayerguild.com/topics/174636-the…
roleplayerguild.com/topics/174636-the…
The looming shadows from the tall buildings of the city Estyria provided only a little cooling shelter from the hot midday sun. Asfalin was a humid region, though it rarely saw rain, and that meant that the heat was cloying, sticking to the skin and causing clothes to do the same. Those visiting from further south were clearly miserable and moved with a dogged weariness. The locals, for this reason, were easy to pick out. Or, if they weren't local, they were at least from the North.
One particular northerner was perched atop a public art sculpture that stood about ten feet high--just enough of a vantage point to see where the interesting things were happening. Her thin leather sandals were tossed haphazardly beside her; Ridahne Torzinei avoided shoes when it was comfortable, as she liked the feeling of the ground in her toes. Besides, it kept her callouses hard and tough. Beside her shoes was a plastic cup of a light, citrusy beer that was wonderfully refreshing and still cold, to her delight. She was also a little bit drunk. Not so much that lounging atop a sculpture was a bad idea, but enough that she was a little more free with her conversation, a little more relaxed, a little more loose in her movements.
She didn't often get drunk, and especially not in public. Not only did it dull her awareness and made her a little too prone to speaking her mind (something that got her in trouble enough as it was when she was sober) but it meant she went unarmed, as Azurei religiously disarmed themselves before heavy drinking. It was considered horrible form to carry even a knife, much less a gun when intoxicated. She had known that by coming to this event, she'd drink--it was a celebration after all--so she left her knife, her sword, and her tiny little pistol with the rest of her things underneath a dimly lit bridge in a seedier part of town. That was currently where she called home, for a given value of the word 'home' anyway. Ridahne was a drifter and never stayed in any place very long, which meant she didn't have a steady income. But she wasn't thinking about that now.
Right now, there were musicians some distance away, there were food vendors hocking wares that she could smell from seemingly across town: aromas of curry and hot spice, of bread and woodsmoke, of hot sugary confections. There were people from all over the place milling around, laughing and chatting and eating and drinking. The event happened yearly at the height of summer and it was all anyone could talk about for a week beforehand. Shops across town were closed down so the employees could attend, and businesses closer to the event itself saw business like they wouldn't get for another year to come. Trading was rampant, food sampling was abundant, and above all else, it was loud and happily crowded.
Ridahne knew the event by the name Tal'elaisakidh, but outside of Azurei it was more commonly known as the Armistice Festival--a celebration held on the day of the year in which the ten-years-war finally ended. This was the Armistice Festival's tenth year--a notable number--and from what she'd heard, the Chancellor himself would be making an appearance this year. From all the security prowling about the tall stage backed by a massive screen with a video feed of the stage itself, Ridahne guessed this rumor was accurate.
"Hey! Azurei!"
Ridahne blinked away her wandering thoughts and looked down to see a young Brahneian man who also appeared to be about thirty summers waving up at her with a stupid grin that made her think of swaggering idiots at bars who tried to buy her drinks or sweet talk her into other activities.
"Hey, would you give me a tattoo? You could come do it at my place...eh? What do you s--aghpphh!" Before he could finish, Ridahne impatiently dumped the remainder of her beer on the man's head with decent accuracy. If she had a credit for every time some loser asked her for a tattoo...
"Get gone before I drop something heavier on you." When he didn't immediately leave, she made a fierce snarl at him that showed her teeth and lunged slightly like she intended to leap down on top of him like a fictional vigilante. That seemed to work just fine.
Ridahne always got asked about tattoos. If it wasn't someone begging her to give them one, it was someone asking insipid questions about her own. She, like all Azurei, had many in varying patterns of black, blue, and white ink. The most notable and perhaps the most iconic were the facial tattoos worn by the Azurei. If the russet skin and honey-gold eyes weren't enough, the face tattoos were a blazing indication of Azurei heritage. Since the Azurei tended to be culturally withdrawn and tight lipped about their secrets and their ways, people never seemed to have an end to their curiosity about them. But if they knew how personal they were, Ridahne thought, they would not dare ask, as it was like publicly inquiring about the cut of a lady's panties or a man's extensive medical records.
Ridahne shook her head as if to shake off the encounter, then gathering her shoes, she nimbly climbed down with a slender grace and went off in search of another stand or truck selling drinks. After dumping hers, she needed another beer.
One particular northerner was perched atop a public art sculpture that stood about ten feet high--just enough of a vantage point to see where the interesting things were happening. Her thin leather sandals were tossed haphazardly beside her; Ridahne Torzinei avoided shoes when it was comfortable, as she liked the feeling of the ground in her toes. Besides, it kept her callouses hard and tough. Beside her shoes was a plastic cup of a light, citrusy beer that was wonderfully refreshing and still cold, to her delight. She was also a little bit drunk. Not so much that lounging atop a sculpture was a bad idea, but enough that she was a little more free with her conversation, a little more relaxed, a little more loose in her movements.
She didn't often get drunk, and especially not in public. Not only did it dull her awareness and made her a little too prone to speaking her mind (something that got her in trouble enough as it was when she was sober) but it meant she went unarmed, as Azurei religiously disarmed themselves before heavy drinking. It was considered horrible form to carry even a knife, much less a gun when intoxicated. She had known that by coming to this event, she'd drink--it was a celebration after all--so she left her knife, her sword, and her tiny little pistol with the rest of her things underneath a dimly lit bridge in a seedier part of town. That was currently where she called home, for a given value of the word 'home' anyway. Ridahne was a drifter and never stayed in any place very long, which meant she didn't have a steady income. But she wasn't thinking about that now.
Right now, there were musicians some distance away, there were food vendors hocking wares that she could smell from seemingly across town: aromas of curry and hot spice, of bread and woodsmoke, of hot sugary confections. There were people from all over the place milling around, laughing and chatting and eating and drinking. The event happened yearly at the height of summer and it was all anyone could talk about for a week beforehand. Shops across town were closed down so the employees could attend, and businesses closer to the event itself saw business like they wouldn't get for another year to come. Trading was rampant, food sampling was abundant, and above all else, it was loud and happily crowded.
Ridahne knew the event by the name Tal'elaisakidh, but outside of Azurei it was more commonly known as the Armistice Festival--a celebration held on the day of the year in which the ten-years-war finally ended. This was the Armistice Festival's tenth year--a notable number--and from what she'd heard, the Chancellor himself would be making an appearance this year. From all the security prowling about the tall stage backed by a massive screen with a video feed of the stage itself, Ridahne guessed this rumor was accurate.
"Hey! Azurei!"
Ridahne blinked away her wandering thoughts and looked down to see a young Brahneian man who also appeared to be about thirty summers waving up at her with a stupid grin that made her think of swaggering idiots at bars who tried to buy her drinks or sweet talk her into other activities.
"Hey, would you give me a tattoo? You could come do it at my place...eh? What do you s--aghpphh!" Before he could finish, Ridahne impatiently dumped the remainder of her beer on the man's head with decent accuracy. If she had a credit for every time some loser asked her for a tattoo...
"Get gone before I drop something heavier on you." When he didn't immediately leave, she made a fierce snarl at him that showed her teeth and lunged slightly like she intended to leap down on top of him like a fictional vigilante. That seemed to work just fine.
Ridahne always got asked about tattoos. If it wasn't someone begging her to give them one, it was someone asking insipid questions about her own. She, like all Azurei, had many in varying patterns of black, blue, and white ink. The most notable and perhaps the most iconic were the facial tattoos worn by the Azurei. If the russet skin and honey-gold eyes weren't enough, the face tattoos were a blazing indication of Azurei heritage. Since the Azurei tended to be culturally withdrawn and tight lipped about their secrets and their ways, people never seemed to have an end to their curiosity about them. But if they knew how personal they were, Ridahne thought, they would not dare ask, as it was like publicly inquiring about the cut of a lady's panties or a man's extensive medical records.
Ridahne shook her head as if to shake off the encounter, then gathering her shoes, she nimbly climbed down with a slender grace and went off in search of another stand or truck selling drinks. After dumping hers, she needed another beer.
@vFear Sorry mate, someone got to it sooner!
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