I did it guys. I. did. it! My post is up ^^
converge
Member
The destroyer
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 32 (0.01 / day)
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Username history
- converge 9 yrs ago
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Bio
I go by Converge here, but you can call me Con for short! I've been a member of the guild for about 3 years, but I've been roleplaying for a lot longer than that. Hopefully I'll see you in a game! If not, enjoy my profile you crazy stalker.
1. I'm over 18
2. Eastern time zone
3. I work a lot, so I usually post a few times a week.
1. I like 1x1 rp's best, but I will go towards group settings occasionally.
2. Favorite genres: fantasy, adventure, syfy, zombies, action
3. High casual/ low advanced
Feel free to PM me anytime!
Most Recent Posts
The Mul woman who spoke last had not introduced herself at all; Merilwyn wasn’t sure how to address her. So she made a mental note to ask her later. Though she suppressed a giggle at Rhain’s suggestion of ‘Blondie’. It was truly fitting, but Merilwyn had no intention of calling her as such. Perhaps she should create a nickname of her own?
As she pondered this, many others turned their attention to the rude, ignorant Lavas guards with their insults. They certainly did not attempt to be discreet with their ‘opinions.’ Some glared, scoffed, and muttered curses to them as a response. The battle mage did not follow suit however, provoke as the did,their petty insults were not worth her time. It caught her attention, though, when the western man spoke to them in a foreign language. Although the words were different, rhythm of the language reminded her Elvish. It was obvious what he said was a threat, it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. Still, she was sure it wasn’t a threat she would want to be faced with.
As the man continued to speak, Merilwyn joined the scouts formation. Though she had plenty of battle experience, she placed herself in the middle of the first row. It was the easiest place for her to cover the party with her arrows, and have a clear shot. Besides, she was no good with close combat. Then, they were on their way to the village.
The mage glared with eyes of hard jade as they began to approach. Before, the distance was a comfort. The closer they came the unsettled she felt. So, the barely audible song from her siren friend was a welcome distraction. ‘What an unusual song,’ she thought with light amusement, silently wondering what brought it on. Her answer was found only a moment later; coming from the cries of not two men, but rather women. Merilwyn glanced over her shoulder in time to see young ladies running back to camp, like dog with their tails tucked. They had the same hair color as the male guards from earlier, however now it was much longer. It would appear Rhian got her bit of revenge. “Oh how lovely they look!” She commented quietly, giggling to the woman.
Her mirth was swept away as they entered the village, the precarious feeling returning. She could now see the details of the houses and soaking clothes on lines. She narrowed her eyes at each window, each door way, regarding everything with suspicion. Each shadow could hold a lurking enemy. At this thought she clenched and unclenched her free hand restlessly. A dark shadow caught her attention, tugging on the edge of her vision. She whipped her head quickly, trying to catch whatever she saw. It evaded her like smoke.
Merilwyn nearly jumped when the Lithleethian called her name, as it was barely recognizable. His unfamiliar accent was contrastingly thicker than before, she could only assume why. Joining his side promptly, bow in hand, and briefly met his eyes. She listened, (with much effort) and grasped what he said only a momently later. “You may not want anything exploding near by, but I’ll ready my arrows,” she assured him. She smoothly drew an arrow from the quiver on her back, and nocked it fluidly before returning to her place.
The elf resumed glaring at buildings, and watched quietly as the trio of soldiers approached a building. It was then she heard the warning from Thuran, and her blood began to rush. ‘Wraith’s’ she shivered. Out of all the mad king’s minions she disliked those the most. She hurried into formation, pulling some dumb-founded soldiers with her. She caught sight of the soldiers near the house in time to see the the poor soldier’s wound. ‘Blood,’ She grimaced, averting her eyes slightly. It would seem Thuran’s warning came to late.
She loathed seeing a good soldier pass, and she detested his wound. Although the pain that it should be cause him was not present. He appeared peaceful, and she realized much later that the siren and her calming song was to thank. ‘So this is the power of the sirens, if you didn’t know what to look for you’d hardly notice it,’ she thought with amazement. 'It is greatly different from my magic,’ she frowned ‘Mine is a flashy magic, it has been trained to inflict pain; but Rhain’s does the opposite.’ Merilwyn looked at her friend with a new sense of respect. ‘She heals those who are hurting.’
Merilwyn ran to Thuran’s side as he called, her bow gripped tightly. Rýn sung in response. “I doubt they will come to our aid, we are ‘expendable’, remember?” The mage spat ‘expendable’ like a bitter taste in her mouth. No life should be considered as such, all was valuable. Nevertheless, she pulled her bow string taught and raised her aim to the sky. The fletching of her arrow brushed softly against her cheek, and she focused on where it would go. Quickly, she called upon the magic that lay dormant within her. It was always there, a piece of her as much as her eyes or arm. It surged through her veins as warm, mailable energy; ready to do her will. The runes of her bow, before barely visible, now glowing with the vibrancy of her magic. Verdant in color. A deep breath in, release- and her arrow was launched into the sky. It cut through the howling wind, neither rain nor sleet could deter it as it flew to its mark. ‘One…two…’ Merilwyn waited until it reached high enough in the sky, ‘…three.’
The sky exploded into crimson red and sunburst orange, lighting the world around them ablaze. It was followed by a muffled roar, and the choking smell of thick black smoke. The arrow filled it’s purpose well, there was no way the camp would miss their signal. If the bright light hadn’t alerted them, certainly the sound would. It could be heard even through this pattering rain.
The battlemage dropped the bow to her side, admiring her handy-work a little longer, before turning her mossy eyes wearily to Thuran. “That should work well enough, now let us hope Dorius has the courage to aid us.”
As she pondered this, many others turned their attention to the rude, ignorant Lavas guards with their insults. They certainly did not attempt to be discreet with their ‘opinions.’ Some glared, scoffed, and muttered curses to them as a response. The battle mage did not follow suit however, provoke as the did,their petty insults were not worth her time. It caught her attention, though, when the western man spoke to them in a foreign language. Although the words were different, rhythm of the language reminded her Elvish. It was obvious what he said was a threat, it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. Still, she was sure it wasn’t a threat she would want to be faced with.
As the man continued to speak, Merilwyn joined the scouts formation. Though she had plenty of battle experience, she placed herself in the middle of the first row. It was the easiest place for her to cover the party with her arrows, and have a clear shot. Besides, she was no good with close combat. Then, they were on their way to the village.
The mage glared with eyes of hard jade as they began to approach. Before, the distance was a comfort. The closer they came the unsettled she felt. So, the barely audible song from her siren friend was a welcome distraction. ‘What an unusual song,’ she thought with light amusement, silently wondering what brought it on. Her answer was found only a moment later; coming from the cries of not two men, but rather women. Merilwyn glanced over her shoulder in time to see young ladies running back to camp, like dog with their tails tucked. They had the same hair color as the male guards from earlier, however now it was much longer. It would appear Rhian got her bit of revenge. “Oh how lovely they look!” She commented quietly, giggling to the woman.
Her mirth was swept away as they entered the village, the precarious feeling returning. She could now see the details of the houses and soaking clothes on lines. She narrowed her eyes at each window, each door way, regarding everything with suspicion. Each shadow could hold a lurking enemy. At this thought she clenched and unclenched her free hand restlessly. A dark shadow caught her attention, tugging on the edge of her vision. She whipped her head quickly, trying to catch whatever she saw. It evaded her like smoke.
Merilwyn nearly jumped when the Lithleethian called her name, as it was barely recognizable. His unfamiliar accent was contrastingly thicker than before, she could only assume why. Joining his side promptly, bow in hand, and briefly met his eyes. She listened, (with much effort) and grasped what he said only a momently later. “You may not want anything exploding near by, but I’ll ready my arrows,” she assured him. She smoothly drew an arrow from the quiver on her back, and nocked it fluidly before returning to her place.
The elf resumed glaring at buildings, and watched quietly as the trio of soldiers approached a building. It was then she heard the warning from Thuran, and her blood began to rush. ‘Wraith’s’ she shivered. Out of all the mad king’s minions she disliked those the most. She hurried into formation, pulling some dumb-founded soldiers with her. She caught sight of the soldiers near the house in time to see the the poor soldier’s wound. ‘Blood,’ She grimaced, averting her eyes slightly. It would seem Thuran’s warning came to late.
She loathed seeing a good soldier pass, and she detested his wound. Although the pain that it should be cause him was not present. He appeared peaceful, and she realized much later that the siren and her calming song was to thank. ‘So this is the power of the sirens, if you didn’t know what to look for you’d hardly notice it,’ she thought with amazement. 'It is greatly different from my magic,’ she frowned ‘Mine is a flashy magic, it has been trained to inflict pain; but Rhain’s does the opposite.’ Merilwyn looked at her friend with a new sense of respect. ‘She heals those who are hurting.’
Merilwyn ran to Thuran’s side as he called, her bow gripped tightly. Rýn sung in response. “I doubt they will come to our aid, we are ‘expendable’, remember?” The mage spat ‘expendable’ like a bitter taste in her mouth. No life should be considered as such, all was valuable. Nevertheless, she pulled her bow string taught and raised her aim to the sky. The fletching of her arrow brushed softly against her cheek, and she focused on where it would go. Quickly, she called upon the magic that lay dormant within her. It was always there, a piece of her as much as her eyes or arm. It surged through her veins as warm, mailable energy; ready to do her will. The runes of her bow, before barely visible, now glowing with the vibrancy of her magic. Verdant in color. A deep breath in, release- and her arrow was launched into the sky. It cut through the howling wind, neither rain nor sleet could deter it as it flew to its mark. ‘One…two…’ Merilwyn waited until it reached high enough in the sky, ‘…three.’
The sky exploded into crimson red and sunburst orange, lighting the world around them ablaze. It was followed by a muffled roar, and the choking smell of thick black smoke. The arrow filled it’s purpose well, there was no way the camp would miss their signal. If the bright light hadn’t alerted them, certainly the sound would. It could be heard even through this pattering rain.
The battlemage dropped the bow to her side, admiring her handy-work a little longer, before turning her mossy eyes wearily to Thuran. “That should work well enough, now let us hope Dorius has the courage to aid us.”
<Snipped quote by converge>
It must be up now.
Otherwise
<Snipped quote by Rtron>
I agree.
@Aristo@converge@Assallya
If you guys can give me an ETA on when we can expect your next post I'd appreciate it. As always RL trumps my RP, so if you have a busy schedule then let me know! We're in this for the long run, not the sprint! Cheers in advance :3
I'm hoping to get my post up later tonight, or early tomorrow. Sorry for the delay!
@converge@Nariata@Assallya@Aristo
Character quirks? Odd little things about your character.
Well, for Merilwyn she shifts from foot to foot when she is impatient (which is often), and can't stand getting dirt (or anything for that matter) under her nails or on her hands. It's such a pet peeve, she even came up with an excuse- like, "It makes it harder to grip my bow," however, it is really because she's a little girl inside. Also, she loves anything mint flavored, especially tea. Which is why she specifically carries a pouch containing mint and herbs, so when they are at camp she can make tea.
When she is upset, or deep in thought, she will hold her family pendant or roll it between her fingers. She used to keep a journal where she would draw people or places she wanted to remember- she lost it after the last battle, but if she could get her hands on a new one she would probably use it for the same purpose.
Also, it is not a good idea to touch, hold, or in anyway handle her bow. It is her pride and joy. Her precious.
Rhian and Merilwyn are gonna be besties. I can sense it. =D
Haha, I think so too. I'm excited :)
'Hell is Empty' looks really interesting; I'd love to play Persephone. ^^
Dark, slippery mud coated Merilwyn’s favorite boots as she jogged to catch up to the scouting party, bow in hand. The young elf was almost late; thanks to that cowardly dog and his incompetent soldiers, whom relaid information to her last minute. The Lavas general was running her ragged since she joined his company, along with anyone whom was not human it would seem. She found the party halted someways away from the abandoned village. ‘Good, I haven’t missed them,’ she thought. As she came closer she recognized few faces among the crowd; two elves like herself, and a mysterious siren. Meril also noticed the ‘head scout’, a man whom was very foreign to her. “But who are you that our gracious General saw fit to send off in a scouting run?” She could hear the strange accented man ask as she finally reached them. She caught a few weary glances as she approached, and returned a small, apologetic frown when she joined the back of the group.
The masked siren was first to reply. Merilwyn listened intently, while observing the village ahead. Along with the hanging clothes, absence of people, and obvious un-inviting aura it radiated, there was something else that added to the woman's unease. It was something she couldn’t quite identify, and she assumed the leading scout could sense it as well. ‘Else he would not be stalling for time,’ she thought.
As the siren, whom Merilwyn now knew as Rhian, finished she couldn’t help but be interested in her magic. It seemed much more subtle compared to the Andrann’s flashy battle magic. She was eager to see it in action.
As no one had spoken up, Merilwyn assumed it was now her turn. Clearing her throat slightly, she spoke to the group in an even voice, “As for me, I am Merilwyn Estelle.” She said ‘Estelle’ simply, as humans would say their last name. There was no need to mention that it was a noble house, she was Mui now, it didn’t apply to her anymore. She doubted anyone would make the connection anyways, with the exception of the Lebethron noble perhaps. “I was trained as an elemental archer in Galadhon. I can freeze, burn, or explode anything by shooting it,” she explained. Some paled at the word ‘explode’, to which the battle mage smiled and quickly said, “but I don’t explode things when my allies are near by, usually.” Though she only told a small part of who she truly was, she figured it would be enough to satisfy the man’s question.
The masked siren was first to reply. Merilwyn listened intently, while observing the village ahead. Along with the hanging clothes, absence of people, and obvious un-inviting aura it radiated, there was something else that added to the woman's unease. It was something she couldn’t quite identify, and she assumed the leading scout could sense it as well. ‘Else he would not be stalling for time,’ she thought.
As the siren, whom Merilwyn now knew as Rhian, finished she couldn’t help but be interested in her magic. It seemed much more subtle compared to the Andrann’s flashy battle magic. She was eager to see it in action.
As no one had spoken up, Merilwyn assumed it was now her turn. Clearing her throat slightly, she spoke to the group in an even voice, “As for me, I am Merilwyn Estelle.” She said ‘Estelle’ simply, as humans would say their last name. There was no need to mention that it was a noble house, she was Mui now, it didn’t apply to her anymore. She doubted anyone would make the connection anyways, with the exception of the Lebethron noble perhaps. “I was trained as an elemental archer in Galadhon. I can freeze, burn, or explode anything by shooting it,” she explained. Some paled at the word ‘explode’, to which the battle mage smiled and quickly said, “but I don’t explode things when my allies are near by, usually.” Though she only told a small part of who she truly was, she figured it would be enough to satisfy the man’s question.
Merilwyn of Estelle
Gender: Female - Age: appears to be 28 - Race: Andrann turned Mûi
“If you think life owes you anything, you're wrong. Terrible will things happen; people will die, wars will start, and you will be pushed to your limit. Yet, there are still reasons to keep moving on- still beauty in this life. You just need a keen eye to see it.”
Appearance: Dark mossy green eyes, which are like that of the lush forest floor, strikingly contrasts against Meril’s bright scarlet hair which hangs a few inches below her shoulders. It is often covered by a dark hood and left down; as unlike her elven kin she does not care for braids. Her naturally fair skin has been tanned to a warm honey tone thanks for her many days adventuring in the woods; and her hands made tough from drawing a bowstring. Although Merilwyn is petite, owning a height of 5’4”, her presence is firm and confident.
Personality: Before Merilwyn left the comforts of her home, she was a young and ignorant girl. She believed the world revolved around her, as most nobles do. She has since learned otherwise, and has become very humble. Merilwyn loathes death. She believes all life is valuable, and hates to kill unnecessarily. She is also very protective of her friends; and for good reason. She understand both the luxuries and hardships of life- having experienced both. Though Merilwyn is confident in her skills, she often worries about what could go wrong.
History: For many years the fortress of Galadhon had been a home to the young lady Merilwyn, and her older brother Vhenan. The two hailed from the wealthy house of Estelle, and had been schooled extensively in magic and nobility. While her brother had taken a liking to the latter; Merilwyn found she had a natural talent in the arcane, specifically with the elements. Swift with a bow and armed with her magic, she became a well known elemental archer. She rose quickly in the ranks of Andrann battle mages, those below her took to calling the maiden the ‘burning rose’.
In early adulthood, Vhenan had become an ambassador while Merilwyn was commander of a small unit of archers. The two lived peacefully in Galadhon; until a small party of ambassadors and artisans, her brother included, had been sent beyond their stronghold. Supposedly, the group was to meet with a caravan of merchants to discuss trade. It seemed a simple task, until they did not return.
Days after, scouts confirmed that the party was attacked, but could not say by who nor if there were any survivors. Hopeful that her brother lived, Merilwyn pushed for further search parties, support, even retaliation against these attackers. None would give their aid, saying that they could not risk more lives. The Andrann is a small clan after all. Merilwyn, without permission, snuck away to find her answers. When she finally reached her brother, he had indeed not survived. It would appear human bandits ambushed the party, they have after all sought after Galadhon for years.
Merilwyn could have returned to the Andrann, no one had seen her leave after all. She could resumed her family title as a Lady of Estelle, managing the funds as her brother once had; or continued to lead her small unit of archers. Instead she left, and in doing so became Mûi. The people of Galadhon were left to wonder what became of their Burning Rose, and in her own way became a legend, "The mage who disappeared like thin air,". She lived by herself for a total of five years or so, taking the occasional job to earn money. Lending a hand on the farm? No problem. Taking down a group of bandits? Even easier. She lived comfortably like that. Until word reached her of the Mad King Vyshaan, as she was ready to lend a hand.
Equipment:
~ a simple embroidered traveling bag
~ a small pouch to carry mint and other herbs
~ concealed throwing knives
~ a lightweight, small and simple sword
~ a silver pendant with red jewels baring the Estelle family crest
~ a beautiful longbow, hand crafted by Merilwyn herself. No expense was spared, as the finest rosewood and hickory was used; along with soft leather for the grip and a tight bowstring. Runes native to her Andrann lineage are engraved upon the dark wood, so that the bow may withstand her elemental magic. Meril has taken a liking to calling the bow Rýn; elvish for burning
Other: As a skilled archer, Meril has extensive knowledge on bow’s and how to make them. Due to her magical training, she understand enchantments and runes. She understands both modern elvish and ancient elvish. She has basic knowledge about herbs and where to find them. Her weakness is close combat, though she can manage it- an experienced swordsman could easily out maneuver her. In elvish, Merilwyn means ‘rose maiden’.She loves mint, makes great tea, and is a talented artist.
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