Byte

Chronicles of Minadra

@Dyelli Beybi Hey, I can clarify she is from Fjallborg. It was more a case of not being able to decide, and if it ever comes up I could always work that detail in later - Especially since, well, it's not like you can read it off her face, right?

And yeah, I could rephrase it a bit in her backstory, but I interpreted the Gudnrukan expeditions more akin to how the dwarves in Dragon Age had search parties go into abandoned thaigs. Less genuine wanderlust and more "This looks nice to display on the mantlepiece and brag about at dinners." Fig is obviously the former, interested in learning for its own sake as opposed to building a legacy.

Not that she wouldn't be interested, but I'd like to clarify she's not doing it to benefit anything beyond sating her own curiosity.

Chronicles of Minadra

Well, finally got my character done.

Oddveig

Character Description

Name: Oddveig; Mainly Fig, sometimes (don’t) Odd or Vei
Species: Gundrukan
Race/Nationality: Fjallborg
Gender: Female
Age: 41
Languages: Gundrukanian, Arventian, North Sylpharimese

Appearance:

image

By Gundrukan standards Fig is but a sprout in age and stature. She’s not the typical burly cave dweller associated with her kind; and while she is somewhat broad-shouldered, it’s more genetics than physical training with Fig’s frame noticeably leaner when standing next to a fellow shin-kicker (not that she cares).

Personal Effects:
A journal she’s affectionately called “Small observations by tiny people”, charcoal because she’s a cheapskate “Ink ‘n quill, you daft bastards think I’m made of coppers?”, some excavation tools like a small pickaxe, chisel and hammer - Oh, and a dagger on the off chance someone - or something - is within jabbing range.

---

Background

Role: Archivist, the world is vast and its historical secrets infinite.

Backstory:
As a Gundrukan you either smith steel or live long enough to see yourself wield it. Fig was more infatuated with the natural wonders of Mindara and chose neither. She longed to write her own findings - not that rubbish any of the teachers back home forced down her skeptical little noggin. So once she got her parents to stop nagging to find a real job, Fig set off into the world with a grin bolted on her face and an empty journal ready to be defaced with several inappropriate doodles.

She’s wandered since. Across mountains and plains, through caves, forests, and ruins, chasing whatever caught her eye and curiosity.

Somewhere between the vines and half-collapsed archways of an old Mindaran ruin, Fig ran into Elenor, quite literally, if you count a lantern to the elbow. The Sylpharim was there to map the terrain; Fig was there to make sense of the stones. Their introductions weren’t exactly warm. But mutual wariness turned to shared theories soon enough, and between the two of them the ruins didn’t stand a chance. They’ve been wandering together on and off since.

Character Intro:

Le post

“Ma’am, I’d be more than ha-”

A hand fluttered erratically, waving at the bespectacled man whose brow furrowed with each book added to the pyramid stack that his new customer had decided was a better alternative than asking for someone with greater reach.

Fig fumbled with her balance and settled her hands on the oaken beams of the bookcase. “Whew!” She breathed out of relief. “‘Near the ground, tumble sound’ me papa would’ve said.” She muttered to nobody in particular, shifting her weight so the flimsy stack wouldn’t shift any further.

The owner of the bookstore grumbled something indecipherable, shaking his head at the sorry state of the second hand books. A travesty.

“Oh, pshaw! Everyone and their dog’s got at least one edition of ‘Grimvelt’s guide to edible tree bark’.” She offered with a mock apology. “It’s comedic gold, that one. Step one, season elm strips with crusted leaves.” Fig cackled under her breath, pale eyes glancing upward at the top shelves.

Of course the volume she needed was up there somewhere. Always her bloody luck that nobody ever thought of bookish Gundrukan, right?

Under normal circumstances, a certain winged companion could have given a quick hand in retrieving what she needed. Fig however had decided not to argue the point of a cool sea breeze messing with Elenor’s plumage, and instead let the Sylpharim doodle her precious map of the coastal city from up high. She couldn’t judge. The view was quite breathtaking, if not a little salty.

With a grunt and a half-hop that would’ve made any self-respecting Gundrukan tut in disapproval, Fig snagged the elusive volume by its spine and eased it free without toppling the rest. “Ha! See? Grace incarnate,” she declared, clutching her prize like a trophy.

The stack wobbled ominously, the shopkeeper winced, and Fig shot both a warning glance. “Don’t even think about it.” With her quarry secured and dignity mostly intact, Fig flashed a satisfied grin. A small victory, perhaps, but a victory all the same; and a great amount of hair loss from the man behind the counter.

Fairy Tail: Fenix Tear, A Crimson Song Upon Azure Skies

---

DOLORES DE LA FUENTE

---

For all the pretty speeches and convoluted drama, Dolores had endured. She stood, straightened back and poker face in hand. Time was relative and she didn’t really seem to fully grasp what the guild master was talking about. Whatever it was insinuated that it was important to some, less so to Dolores.

One eyebrow arched involuntarily at the implication that there had been a reset of some kind. To Dolores it sounded like a purge and she decided that prodding the equivalent of a beehive was probably not the best course of action.

She weighed the options in her head, a hand absently twirling a strand of curly red hair between thumb and forefinger. Thoughts swaying between ‘Spotlights? Not my style.’ and ‘Haven’t even had my morning coffee yet.’

And still she had endured…

Dolores wasn’t one for spectacle, and the grand magic games were a pastime she rather didn’t entertain. Kids playing at fighting and parlour tricks, she once said to a merchant asking the details and purpose of the games.

The S-class exams, however, she had an equal mind for. Status was pretty, but useless in the grand scheme of things. And she’d prefer ranking on a more practical basis, power wasn’t simply flinging a giant fireball in a particular direction, after all…

Regardless,

“I shall assist in any way I can, ma’am.” She offered matter-of-factly. A hand flicked reflexively near her staff, a trail of smoke licking the haft as it bellowed from her fingers.

Her violet eyes fell on Gwen for a moment. She considered finding a kindred spirit in detachment, but decided the ice alchemist had better things to do than entertain Dolores’ dissonance.

“If there is nothing else,” Her head twitched slightly in what may have been a nod. “I will return to my duties.” Paperwork didn’t file itself after all, and for whatever reason Dolores had quickly learned that Phoenix Tear was… sloppy. Disciplined in all but administrative work, and she’d picked it up on her own initiative for want of something productive to do.

---

Dolores couldn’t deny that any pretence of these kinds of places irked in ways she was unable to describe. And perhaps the half-glower half-pucker face like she sucked on a lemon in between scolding a junior mage for setting the guild bar on fire gave that thought away.

So when Conq decided it was a good idea to teach everyone etiquette, Dolores sighed and gave the old man a reluctant nod. The woman glanced over at the other mages. Passing judgement perhaps, though it was hard to tell from the icy stare alone.

“We shall endeavour to follow your lead.”

Not that she needed the reminder, muscle memory was one Hell of a thing; the motions almost instinct. A graceful stride, a head held high. The noble never quite faded no matter how hard she’d tried to tuck it away underneath the merc demeanour.

When Conq moved, she mirrored him with precision. A measured bow, one hand over her heart. Not deep enough to submit, not shallow enough to insult.

When the Sorcerer King descended from behind the veil of curtains, that weight of magic struck the air like a stormfront. Her stance was the same calm readiness she carried into battle: one heel back, shoulders square, hands folded behind her back. Power this concentrated wasn’t new to her, not really.

Dolores inclined her head a fraction deeper, the subtlest gesture of acknowledgment. Nobles knew that language of inches and pauses, and Dolores still spoke it fluently. She let Conq’s voice carry the room while her eyes lowered just enough to seem dutiful.

Chronicles of Minadra

@Dyelli Beybi No worries, we hadn't really posted in this thread yet. Just quietly lurking. :)

Chronicles of Minadra

Hi!

Yes, me and a friend are currently brainstorming character ideas as I post this.

One question did come up about the Sylpharim. We couldn't find any mention of the differences between the Northern and Southern Sylpharim, cultural or otherwise (might be listed somewhere else?) - are there any, since it's mentioned they both have their own language.

Splintered / Reflections: Near Future sci-fi with human, anthro, and other species characters and mecha.

Hi,

Wasn't sure if I should post this in the actual OOC or here.

After some consideration my friend and I have decided to bow out of the roleplay.

Thanks for the opportunity, and good luck on the roleplay!

Buggs Current Obsessions!

Hi there,

If you're up for it I may have a character concept and story concept ready to expand on for a lovecraftian horror setting. Could either do a

Cult Leader / Deity in Humanoid Form
Monster Hunter / Monster

pairing for that, depending on your preference for the setting. I'm a bit pressed for time at the moment, so I just wanted to drop my interest for now. If you need more details into my writing style, experience, etc. I'd be happy to provide that when I have more time on my hands.

Fairy Tail: Fenix Tear, A Crimson Song Upon Azure Skies

Dolores De La Fuente

'Dolores De La Fuente'
'Dolores De La Fuente'

A g e: 30 | R a n k: First Class

^{R e n d i t i o n} :
Dolores is the noble beauty many a suitor has tried to conquer, the queen clad in blood and armour; gentle but strong-willed. A long mane of fiery red hair - her bloodline’s trademark heritage - falls down to just below her shoulders, and violet eyes burn with a strong, dutiful passion. To be honest, Dolores is not a picky woman and has a very practical appearance about her. Someone who's grown accustomed to the harsher parts of mercenary work, and as such Dolores is relatively fit and toned compared to the average mage (and scars to prove her worth as well).

Dolores is a creature of habit and does not like to break out of any routines she's been taught over the years, comfortably sitting in her own bubble and careful not to pop it by mistake. A stiff upper lip mentality mixed with an upbringing that of royalty, the woman is unnaturally rigid and formal in the face of strangers and close relatives alike. Difficult one to thaw out to be sure, despite trying to be less high-strung. She's typically well-mannered and friendly, just not fond of small talk.

^{A d v e n t u r e} :
It's difficult to hide the grimace on her face when people casually mention her family name - De La Fuente, a branch of the Le Lendard clan. A volume of sneers encompass just how much Dolores resents what should've been the perfect fairytale "happy ever after". So much so that she sought extreme measures to stick it to the big man of the family, and when father's precious princess had been sighted among less favourable members of Crèmisi's society, Dolores was abruptly scrapped from the De La Fuente history books. Good-fucking-riddance if you'd ask her. At least, that's the official story, and Dolores is nothing if not happily referring to that everytime someone asks what her deal is.

Whatever the reason (or reasons), Dolores took to the company of several criminal circuits and, in a rebellious tantrum, joined up with a dark guild the likes of which were fairly common across Crèmisi. Typical thieves and assassins, anything for a quick buck. Not a major threat, but enough of a nuisance to attract the odd guild mage or two. She'd proven a reliable member and had managed a deadly streak, and an even bigger following from the Magic Council and several ambitious proper little mages who'd thought her head a nice gateway to everlasting fame. Usually it was the other way around, another head to mount on the wall of her guild's hideout and an increase in bounty.

For several years Dolores had indulged in reaving and stealing and stone-cold murder. She had damned the consequences. And, hey, if she ever did get caught? Well, fucked if she hadn't lived her life the way she wanted. Only the truth tasted more like a sour apple than it did a sweet honey...

Her actions had soon caught on with the bigger fishes in the pond, and Dolores found herself outmatched in single combat by the strongest mage she'd ever met. Barely a fight, she found herself at the mercy of some nobody with a crest she'd never seen. She thought her life forfeit at that moment, but instead she was offered to come see their tavern. Whether she stood on the doorstep by choice or out of kindness, Dolores had relinquished her darker lifestyle some time later and marked herself a member of Phoenix Tear since that faithful day.

Six months passed since her initiation into the guild, and Dolores has found herself contemplating her current position and that perhaps she could pursue bigger ambitions...

_________________________________________________________________________

'M a g i c'
'M a g i c'

^{Dragon Lacrima} : Through certain procedures Dolores was implanted with a lacrima that has bestowed her with Dragon Slayer magic, which manifests itself in a smoke-like element; effectively dubbing her a "Smoke Dragon". While Dolores is hesitant to use this power on a whim, she's mastered it that all but the subtle differences, such as her immunity and ability to devour her element, are indistinguishable from plain regular smoke magic. The flashier parts of her slayer magic are usually withheld; not out of restrained, but because “You don’t hunt rabbits with a cannon”. Like her bladed staff, her magic is a tool - used precise and deliberate.

✧ Smoke Dragon's Roar: A Dragon Slayer's signature roar. Dolores lets out a raging whirlwind of ashen smoke that blows away anyone in its path.

✧ Smoke Dragon's Nails: An assassination technique devised by Dolores in which she morphs her fingers to resemble smoke-like knives that puncture on contact.

✧ Ashwalk: A spell that morphs Dolores's body into thin vapours, providing complete stealth for infiltration and assasination.

_________________________________________________________________________

'W o r k s h o p'
'W o r k s h o p'

^{A Lady Dragon’s Refuge} : Smelling faintly of smoke and ash, Dolores’ workshop is a disgraced noble’s private quarters; a corner room dimly lit by ever-burning candles on chandeliers and wall torches. Bookcases stand crooked, creaking from the weight of leatherbound manuals and guides, scrolls neatly folded in between containing valuable information on trade routes, underground deals and even private affairs. A desk sits on the opposite wall, littered with half-written notes and stained with ink. For the guild, she deals in favours; brokers information and gathers knowledge on potential guild jobs.

_________________________________________________________________________

^{B e s t o w m e n t} : T.B.D.

Splintered / Reflections: Near Future sci-fi with human, anthro, and other species characters and mecha.

Everything can be an alien if you want it badly enough. :P

Anyway, thinking I'll be sticking with a regular old humie. @Rhona W I might've persuaded a friend of mine to join in on this RP as well once the OOC is up. We've already been sparring on characters, so if there's room for one more...

Splintered / Reflections: Near Future sci-fi with human, anthro, and other species characters and mecha.

Byte reporting in. Definitely still interested.