@Stormflyx Meh - I may not know you very well, but I like you :) and appreciate whatever loud and obnoxious you bring. I sometimes stick my foot in my mouth and I'm not really loud, so it's a good mix we got in here.
@The Fated Fallen you just don't give yourself enough credit. You're awesome. Plain and Simple.
@Fetzen You are too :) I know we have been in a thread or rp together at some point, somewhere. I'm pretty sure lol You are much appreciated. Know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And we're right here in the muck with you should you ever need us.
@POOHEAD189 busy as fuck is usually a good thing :p Edit - but end game is this weekend !! Many people are going to die between that and game of thrones
And yes, I believe we all posted. I really enjoyed @Stormflyx’s post and am curious to see how the two characters interact :)
Her grasp tightened around the hilt of her blade as the guards poked and prodded her for information. The fatigue her journey brought her had started to form within her appearance and the heat only added to her frustration as sweat beaded over her brow. Just then someone else came into view. He was rugged, and tall … as he came closer, she couldn’t help but notice how much he towered over her. His demeanor was kind yet cautious, his tone was confident, words were well formed and he spoke politely.
Her time spent upon shore warped her accent and tainted her words, but she knew that first impressions meant a lot to these people. She figured she would at least try to make a good one. Elora opened her mouth to answer his request though hesitation seized her voice as she noticed more approaching. She cleared her throat “I know the Southlands are a bit rough aroun’ tha edges, though I didne expect this much of a welcomin party.”, she smirked. “Lynn Read”, she continued as she dipped her head slightly and tipped an imaginary hat, “tha threat ya speak of, there are rumors of great bounties ta be collected ‘ere, an’ I got pelts ta trade.”. Her hand released the blade at her side as she slung the bundle from over her shoulder to show him the various skins.
Her lips pursed together and her form straightened. Whatever breeze had found them swept through her thick locks, she tried her best to keep herself composed. She had practiced being presentable before her arrival, deep down, she hoped she’d come off that way. She never really had to do introductions sober before and in this moment, she actually found herself intimidated by the tall, well spoken man.
While she was used to the heat, there was something about this that was just unbearable. Her gaze wandered over the gossiping guards and the crowd that started to gather. “I mean no harm ta ya town, and could do wit sum good whiskey if ya got.”, she added on, and out of this bloody heat, she thought but didn’t voice. Her attention returned to the man stood in front of her, her features softening for a moment, as if in a desperate plea for respite. She seemed genuine enough, even managed to spark a small smile.
There’s a saying - from riches to rags? Or was it the other way around? Liquor had blurred the lines so much, she couldn’t quite tell anymore, nor did she care. The shift was all the same to her, and time found her jaded to the curious turn of events. Denial didn’t last very long, her anger was much more volatile than she expected. The stages of bargaining and depression formed patterns of heavy drinking and indulgence in various vices. A young half-elf, branded a traitor, torn from everything she knew, she wasn’t sure what else she could do. So she drank, and moved to the next spot, and drank some more. A pretty girl or boy would sometimes cross her path, it made the venture a little more interesting at least.
By the time she finally moved to acceptance, each day precariously fell into the next. She found herself in fights for one reason or another. Perhaps it was something she said? She needed excitement, she needed a thrill - or a purpose. The exile allowed her to see different lands and experience different cultures. As it turned out, there was much more coin in bounty hunting than in pirating, and to top it off, she didn’t have to split her earnings with an ungrateful crew.
Southlanders were a tricky bunch, it was finding the right words to sway them into favor that was key. And her words would sometimes lead to broken hearts and bloodshed. Mud and dry blood caked her boots and smudged her face, she smelled like she hadn't bathed in days. Certainly not a proper lady, but then again that was one part she always had trouble playing. Elora wasn’t sure how she’d convinced them to allow her in, she could only think they pitied the form in which she presented herself. They did confiscate her weapons though, well, the ones they knew of anyway. She might have seemed within only half her wits while the other half sleep walked in a drunken stupor, but she was aware enough to play the game correctly. She wouldn’t dare leave herself completely vulnerable. Especially here.
She had been in the town for at least three days now and had about all the whiskey she could tolerate from the local tavern. What she wouldn’t give for Kaelic Whiskey right about now … she snickered at the notion and chugged the last bit which occupied her cup. The people though, they were entertaining enough. She would often play games in her head - imagining where each person came from, what their stories were, what went on behind closed doors, the horrors … or secret pleasures they’d each known or seen. She loved to people watch, it certainly helped to pass the time.
The inn was small and comfortable enough, but sleep didn’t come easy. It never did these days. There were rumors of a dark elf uprising or something of the sort. Gossip was easy to come by in small villages like these. Unfortunately though, sometimes gossip was just that - half truths, exaggerated fairy tales and overdrawn conclusions. Regardless if it was true or not, there was never a dull moment when traveling through the Southlands.
As dawn arose, so did her hopes. Something stirred within her. An angst of which she hadn’t felt for a long time. There was just an air about it- this was something big. She had no idea what she would find, if there would be others, what their intentions were, if they’d welcome another to their pack. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to join another ‘crew’… who was she kidding, she needed an excuse to get out of this town and the slump she had been in recently. The nearest town was a two day trek, so Elora packed up what little belongings she had, stocked her rations and whiskey, actually bathed, gathered her weapons from the guardsmen and went on her way.
She didn’t come across much hostility during her travel. By the time she reached the quaint town she wasn’t much worse off than when she left the last one, save the traveled and worn look smeared across her face. The town looked promising enough, until the guards scurried off upon noticing her arrival. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing and wondered what would meet her. She wore her best wares, minus her hat which somehow went missing. Her right hand casually leaned on the hilt of her blade, she stole a swig of liquid courage and continued onward towards the entrance. “Gods be with me today”.
@The Fated Fallen I’m in the same boat, don’t worry... every time I’ve sat down to write, something has come up. My weekend/week has been slammed and now I’m going to Disney on Saturday - perks of living in the sunshine state I guess :p
But I promise, I’ll get something up!!! Definitely before you move much more forward.... my plan at least is to have Elora in town with everyone lol
Small blade (carefully hidden in her right bracer)
Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.): Elora presents the typical physical appearance of a Kaelic. Though her thick, auburn locks spark more of a red tint to it than brown. Long layers accentuate the different shades of fire dipped in rich chocolate, extending just below her shoulders. Due to the thickness of her hair, and the beads and braids that line the messy mop, her slightly pointed ears often go unnoticed. It is her eyes which catch your attention; elven within shape and the color of the sea after a furious storm. They peer out at you from beneath shaggy bangs, tossed carelessly about her freckled face and sunkissed skin.
Standing just over 5’, she sports the curves of a lady and the muscle tone of a street fighter. Meatier than most who share her elven heritage, though it doesn’t seem to bother her much. She has multiple piercings on each ear, scars scatter throughout her body and hands. Lash marks tear through flesh on her backside, ligature marks circle her wrists, fingers marred as if they’ve been broken and reset quite a few times. A careful look over may show that this one is no stranger to violence. She typically keeps it covered, though she is branded with the mark of “traitor” on her left forearm.
Armor: Dressed mostly in leathers, her outfits vary with her mood. On this day, she can be found in dark brown leather trousers, her boots a shade or two faded with large flaps folded over at the top. A white tunic with billowed sleeves tucked into a dark red vested corset. The corset itself is thick boned and lined, brass buckles clasp it closed under black cord woven through. A large, black belt hangs loosely over her hips, adorned with two pouches and studded frogs on either side fitted for the cutlass she is often seen with. Two sashes of soft cloth intertwine with her belt, colored a dull blue and red. Tied in a knot on her right side, with frayed ends left to hang near her knee. Bare armed or not, she wears dark red leather bracers, studded with brass along the top and bottom, fitted with brown leather gloves to match. A brown leather duster and tricorn hat completes her, typically worn when sailing or in poor weather.
Equipment/Other Aside from the pouches that line her belt, Elora carries around a flask, larger than most, finished in a brushed silver, engraved with a capital “J”.
Mental Description/Personality: Elora would prefer the loud and boisterous atmosphere of a rowdy tavern over solace and silence. Long periods of silence make her extremely uncomfortable - to be left alone with her own mind scares the hell out of her. Despite all of this, she herself is not a very loud person, though this doesn’t stop her from making an entrance or getting someone’s attention.
Elora is a private person, rarely flaunting her personal business unless it stands to gain her something. Even then, the truth will always be twisted, splashed with a dash of deceit. She is very untrusting of outsiders, and may come off as calloused, though tends to connect with others through her sarcasm and charm. She really isn’t all that bad, her soft spots are just hidden.
Those fortunate enough to be part of her circle may say that she is loyal, passionate, and free spirited. A fierce opponent, fearless and swift with an unrelenting precision that lead each strike to its target with uncanny accuracy.
She drinks often, indulges often, sometimes without cause or care. But she doesn’t seem to let that get in the way of things.
Goals: She has been exiled from her home, is lost to the crew she knew and ship she sailed on. Pirating seems like a long lost dream at this point. She has goals, though sometimes lacks the motivation to see them through. In terms of what they are though - To see the world, to be rich beyond compare, but more importantly, to find peace within herself. Her reasoning for being in the Southland is for bounties; distraction or purpose, she hasn’t quite decided yet. She’s figured she’ll either find a fight she can’t win or make it out to something (or coin) worth while. Either way, it would be a great story!
Background/History:
As a child, it was always just her and her brother, Aengus. The two of them against the world. Orphans left to fend for themselves. Elora was a difficult child; headstrong, defiant. But when it came to her brother, there was nothing she wouldn’t do. He was younger than her by at least 2 years, and certainly a lot more soft than she would ever allow herself to seem. Gods forbid anyone tease him though, they’d have her wrath to contend with.
Elora doesn't speak much on her beginnings. Most of her memories at this point have faded or became distorted with time, though there are some of which she can recall with such vivid clarity; still frames from a lifetime ago. She knows enough about who she is and where she came from to know it is a place she'd rather not return to. Her mother was a whore, her father was a human sailor, and whether she would care to admit it or not, it is the blood that flows through her veins which lends itself more to her survival than anything else.
She was four years old, by human count, when her mother smuggled her brother and her out of the confines of the forest trees. It was one night she would never forget; a memory that burns in her mind, even haunts her dreams. A horrid storm ensued that night. It shook the very earth and stirred the ocean waters into a fury. Waves crashed angrily into the small boat and the sky rattled with rage, threatening to kill them all as lightning struck near. It was a miracle the two toddlers made it through the night alive. They were found by a group of human fishermen just before dawn, snuggled into a large cargo crate which managed to drift ashore unharmed. Their mother however, was not with them, and was never heard from nor seen again.
Whatever clan they emerged from was lost to them both. They were given food and shelter, but were soon discovered to be more of a hassle. The two often found themselves hovered in an alleyway under crates and awnings. Begging was never an option for Elora, and so their resources were more so of the stolen variety. There was one who had taken pity on the pair, an outcast himself. Conway had no children to call his own, and his wife had passed some years earlier from a rare illness. He saw it as a sign when he spied the two about to pilfer from a merchant in town, unaware of the children snaking their hands over his wares. Though old age had taken him as the two reached young adulthood, his memory scorched their souls.
Elora and Aengus were brought up on the values of the Kaels, twisted with a hint of bitterness only the old outsider could provide. Elora respected the gods, for she understood their wrath if not acknowledged. Though that doesn't mean she holds them or the ways of her people with high regard. For it was this, more than anything which tore her circle apart.
Aengus was of a different sort, and unlike his sister, he wanted to fit in, more than anything. It was the root of most of their arguments, and as they grew in age, it only served to deepen the rift between the siblings. Aengus drifted towards the solace of the woods, eventually returning to elven civilization. He reminded Elora often of tradition, responsibility and purpose, and the more he would push, the harder she would rebel. Each had felt betrayed in their own way, but she knew there was no coming back from this.
What happened within those last few months had Elora reconsidering what the definition of family truly was. Despite the shenanigans she had caused in her youth, it was the first time she had seen the inside of a jail cell, or felt a cold iron grip around her wrists and ankles. It was her first taste of true pain, and betrayal certainly added a bitter bite to it. Perhaps it was karma returned to her, or perhaps it was just the shove that she needed to get out.
Conway had always encouraged her to be her own person, so when opportunity knocked, she packed her bags, no questions asked, and never looked back. She knew it was the best option, and perhaps her only one.
Jamie could never replace Conway as a father figure, however as a mentor, he allowed her the freedom of a different path, and the guidance that would keep her from self destruction. Regardless of the uncertainty of this new venture, she embraced it with open arms. It was a fresh start, a new beginning, a second chance. It did taken some time, but she eventually found a sturdy set of sea legs and her place among the crew of The Black Gaul.
Being a part of Jamie’s crew afforded her many opportunities. She trained in different forms of combat, explored the many different pleasures life has to offer, and even learned to tap into the innate potential her elven heritage had gifted her with. People either praised her or they loathed her. She certainly had a knack for getting under someone's skin. Ultimately though, she was good at what she did. She was a seeker, a raider … she was a damned pirate, and one of the best to skulk the seas.
Her last venture led her to her current predicament. The Gaul was tracking a seer of sorts. The famed oracle had the power of divination, something that was highly coveted throughout the endless bloodshed plaguing the coastline. They were supposed to be working alongside another ship. The word of an outsider is worth close to nothing, though there was little reason to suspect treachery. They were the enemy of an enemy after all. Unfortunately for the Gaul and it's crew, there was a third party being served, which left their crew scattered and their captain dead. Elora was held captive for information along with a handful of her mates. They were pressed for any information regarding the whereabouts of the oracle, and what information the crew had regarding the wars. Each of them were forced to endure various methods of torture, some even died along the way. By the end of it all, there were only two left - Elora and a crewmate Sam. During their travels, they weren’t the best of comrades. There was a mutual disgust between the two. In fact, this was probably worst case scenario for Elora. Sam eventually gave in and revealed all to their enemies. Awarded with two choices, join their efforts or die, Sam chose to shift sides. They unfortunately weren’t as forgiving with Elora, thought felt that death would be too easy for her. Upon her exile, she had received the mark of “traitor”, burned into her flesh, ensuring she would never return lest she be killed.
Me
Currently, I'm running -
Nothing! But Waeldeshore lasted a good while :)
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