Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current *casually strolls in years later*
6 yrs ago
Returning to this site after a couple of years away :)
7 yrs ago
8 yrs ago
Recovering from surgery now. Will check in but certainly not up to posting for several days!
8 yrs ago
If all the world's a stage, where do the audience sit?


Hello all :) I've been RP-ing for about 15 years and these days nearly everything I write is through PMs. I'm getting back into this site after taking a break and am mostly looking at starting a few 1x1s but I might jump into a group RP if I'm tempted enough.

Most Recent Posts

Thank-you for my candy cane <3

*me opening my PMs*


Zosimos had been trudging along besides the horses pulling the cart, favouring their company to that of her traveling companions. Beneath her thick cloak she was dry and warm, kept safe from the deluge soaking the others. The downpour was nothing she was not already accustomed to from years surviving in Torvelt’s mountains, but she did wonder if perhaps the others were unprepared for it. She had kept an ear on the conversations unfolding around her as the day progressed, only really half listening for most of her attention had remained on subtly keeping a watchful eye on the magic users of the band.

When the agitation of the horses quickly turned to panic, Zosimos reached out to calm the beasts. The rancid odour and the cry of warning from one of the band alerted her to the source of the horses’ fear. She growled loudly as she spotted Nathanial vanish into thin air, cursing both him and the oncoming danger under her breath.

Zosimos caught the bridles of the cart horses and stood in front of them, trying to stop them from rearing up and bolting away with all their supplies or trampling one of her quest companions in their blind fright. She used the connection her arcane magic gave her with the creatures of the natural world to attempt to soothe the pair. She spoke to them in a calm tone, one that contradicted the mounting alarm she was feeling.

The Tiefling’s gaze swept over the line of trees on both sides of the muddy road, watching in trepidation for trolls in come into sight. Zosimos had run into trolls before, mostly during the first few years she had been living in the mountains of Torvelt. Those were the times before she learnt the signs they left and how to avoid them. Only once had she ever gotten close enough to one to be within any mortal danger. She had accidently stumbled across a small troll one day while scaling the crags and heights the peaks while exploring. Before she realised the troll was far too small to be anything other than a juvenile, two more had appeared in quick succession. They had trapped her against a cliff face, their positioning indicating that they had spotted her far before she had been aware of their presence. It had only been Zosimos’ ability to rapidly scale the rockface and frantically squeeze herself through a narrow fissure in it that that had allowed her to escape been torn limb from limb by the trolls that day.

When their enemy finally broke through the tree line, Zosimos’s one good remaining eye widened in shock. The flesh of the trolls was sloughing off as they charged towards them. Great, big open sores festered all over their bodies and the stench as they neared was enough to turn anyone’s stomach.

Zosimos hung back as the battle began. She was no use in combat if she could not use her retractable claws and shark-like teeth – and touching the decaying flesh of the trolls would only poison her. Instead, she steadied the horses as they cried out wildly and tried to break free from the cart in order to flee. Zosimos extended her magic, Onterprinh, again to reach out to the consciousnesses of the beasts of burden and willed it to be enough to quiet the terror she could see in their eyes.
@Jeremor If you would like to post to move things along for everyone else, that's absolutely fine by me, but otherwise I'll have a post for you tomorrow :)


Zosimos stood off to the side of the group, carefully surveying her new travelling companions as they each in turn sized each other up. Nathanial, the court magician, irked her some with his flowery words and gestures, but she put it down to not having been around so many people and for so long for over two decades. She listened to the conversations around her, offering nothing to them. After so many years in the isolation of Torvelt’s mountains, socialising did not come easy to the scarred Tiefling.

Zosimos wondered at the mask and robes Nathaniel wore. She, better than most, understood wanting to hide one’s appearance away from prying eyes. Still, why someone who was constantly surrounded by crowds – a royal court magician, no less – would also seek to conceal themselves so thoroughly intrigued her. Like the brusque half-elven warrior, Zosimos found herself wondering why Nathanial had been assigned to lead them on their perilous quest. She didn’t necessarily agree that the royal bodyguard should have the role instead, but she did find herself pondering on why a mere court magician had been appointed to them. 'Looks can be very deceiving…'

The Tiefling let her astute gaze flicker over her companions. There were those, like herself, who only observed those foolish enough to take up the King’s decree, but there were also those who Zosimos thought might one day cause the band problems. She saw how the minotaur’s lip twitched at the half-eleven warrior's words and the slight tremor in his hands as he distanced himself from her presence. It seemed like her fellow horned beast had a temper lying not so far below the surface and Zosimos wondered what it would take for it to erupt.

There were those among her companions who made Zosimos uneasy too. She had great distrust for fellow magic users; the elven sorceress and Nathanial caused her to tighten her grip on her Warlock’s staff as they spoke. 'Just how powerful are they?' Likewise, though he was gently spoken and took care with his words, the flames the Dragonborn could create set her heart racing. For a split second she could swear she could feel the burning, agonising heat of Hellfire against her scarred cheek before in the next breath it was gone.

The only member of the group who did not give Zosimos pause – or too much, anyway – was the half-elven huntress. Someone who lived in and respected the forests of Torvelt was someone Zosimos could potentially see herself not minding the company of.

Zosimos cleared her throat and turned her gaze back to the lavender-scented court magician. No one had inquired yet as to why they were to start their quest in this Mudshit or about the magician's suspicions. “Why do you think this town you are taking us to is linked to the source of the Fog?”

Apologies for not making a second post yet. I’ve been rushed off my feet the last few days but I’ll be making one either tonight or tomorrow :)

Edit: Voilà!


Zosimos eyed the gathering of travellers in the royal court with suspicion from underneath her hooded cloak and nimbly side-stepped any who drew too close to her person. She kept to the back of the hall, sequestering herself in a nook behind a lit torch that was attached to the wall. There she hid in the dancing shadows the flames cast and observed those who came forward to answer the King’s quest – a fool’s quest. Many times, between setting foot inside the royal castle and leaving behind her reclusive life in Torvelt’s mountain forests, Zosimos had questioned her own sanity following her decision to journey to Koprust to embark upon this fool’s quest. As many travellers turned and filtered out of the King’s hall after his wise words of warning, she mused that many shared her thoughts on the matter.

Whilst Zosimos held the Prince no ill will, she did not desire to forfeit her own life in the search for his – and yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot. The very thought of banding together with an assortment of miscreants and would-be heroes had the Tiefling’s pistris-like teeth tingling in her mouth. She watched closely as members of this band stepped forward and wondered what motivated them to do so. For some it seemed it was honour; for others perhaps it was compassion of some kind; and for those like herself, it was the promise of the King’s reward should they succeed.

It was that tendril of faith in this promise and what she would claim from it that finally gave Zosimos the nerve to walk through the remaining members of the Hall towards the King and Queen. She stopped in front of them and lowered her hood. She heard a few gasps and sharp intakes of breath as eyes fell upon her disfigured face and demonic features. Zosimos’s hand tightened on her Warlock’s staff. She gave a small bow to the King and then to the Queen before lifting her eyes – or rather, her one good eye – to meet theirs.

“Zosimos Blackcoil. I pledge my staff in the quest to find your son,” the Tiefling spoke calmly before moving off to follow her fellow companions.

@Jeremor Is it alright if I've not played DnD before?
@Jeremor Are you still accepting characters?
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