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    1. Jinxer 10 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Currently living inside Life is Strange.
9 yrs ago
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack.

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@Raylah

Not a bad idea!

Also apologies again for the rushed post - on my phone during lunch break again as I'm away this weekend and wanted to get something up!
Laurel Mith

@Aamaya@Raylah


With the contestants thinning out Laurel soon picked out the Captain of the Kingsguard fighting, surrounded by Exodus warriors. Although no match for the veteran's skill there were enough to cause concern so she changed direction, heading to support the man. She barely it made half the way before being intercepted by a roaming group of warriors, also bearing the Exodus colours. There were a lot of them remaining, she noted, although there has been more of them to begin with anyway.

She slid to a halt, raising her shield as the first rank engaged her. Neatly stepping back she swept their attacks aside and then countered with some swift blows to their chests, the mace denting in their breastplates easily. If it were a real fight the attacks would hardly slow them down but in this tournament the blows removed from paeticipation so she made full use of the tactic, dealing superficial damage to armour to defeat her enemies.

With three down she found herself with more room to move, the warriors apparently nervous of her feroxity, and so she pressed her advantage, pushing them back with wide swipes of the mace while defending her body with the mace. One warrior found his nerve and charged her but she neatly sidestepped, bashing him with her shield and in doing so hurling him to the floor. She stepped in to deal a final blow but pain erupted in the side of her head.

She fell to the ground, rolling and leaping back to her feet on pure instinct while her mind was stunned. Her vision had blurred, marked with bright spots of unnatural light which blinded all else and a roaring thumping echoed around in her head making it hard to think. Her hair on the left side of her head felt wet and aomething, blood she assumed, was trickling down the side of her face; someone had ignored the rules and dealt a hard blow to her head.

Dazed, she stumbled back, unsure of where her opponents were, shield up vaguely before her while a low whistling sound began to grow in volume inside her skull. She felt anger rising with the sound and for a moment, still weak from the shock, lost to the battle frenzy.

Without thinking she found herself crashing bodily into an Exodus warrior, thumping his chestplate in with the rounded edge of her shield while he lay on the ground before hurling it at a nearby warrior, a sharp crack announcing she had broken his arm with the flung weapon. Falling upon a terrified man she swept his weapons aside and grabbed him by the armour, lifting him up and then throwing him over her shoulder before stomping on his chest before headbutting a charging warrior, knocking aside their thrusting spear with her mace, with enough force to knock him out cold.

Regaining control she stumbled, the strength that has sustained her vicious attack draining away and leaving her feeling every shred of thumping pain from her head wound. She gingerly felt the injury, her gloved hand coming away slick with her own blood. Dimly she was aware that such injuries had a propensity to bleed heavily and that same subconscious manner took control, taking her away from the arena toward the gate the defeated were leaving by.

She wondered whether she would be disqualified, she had attacked someone aiming at their head in the brief moment she lost control but surely that would be overlooked, considering the wound she had received first? Whatever the case she knew her role in the fight was over, there was no sense continuing in a tournament she had had no interest in to start with.

Healers approached her as she left the arena but she waved them away after accepting some bandages, insisting that she could see to herself. After receiving directions she headed toward the spa although guards stood outside. They looked her over but apparently decided she was not a threat and allowed her through. Once inside she saw that, more likely, they had allowed her entry because of her sex as two of the Freyjan Princess were inside although only one appeared to be using the spa's facilities.

"Ah, your Highnesses. I apologise for the intrusion." She bowed, wincing at the pain the movement sent rippling through her head. "I was just in search of some clean water, I did not wish to bother the healers. I will not be long." She tried to give them privacy, moving to the other side of the room and undressed before beginning to wash her hair although the hot water pummeled the wound, making her feel dizzy. She paused, unsteady and holding herself up against the wall before continuing. She would have to find the one who had hit her and give him a piece of her mind, at least when she felt up to it.
Laurel Mith

@Sol Grim


If not for the comforting weight of the hefty axe in her armoured hand, Laurel might have felt nervous as she joined the other Earthican warriors, lining up alongside the Luthran entrants to the tournament. She always felt calmer with a weapon in her hand, even if it were merely the hunting dagger she kept in her belt at all times, the notion of protection a soothing influence upon her nerves; it was why she always carried her bow with her, where possible. The other warriors engaged in their usual pre-battle rituals, praying or drinking or carrying out some superstitious 'lucky' chant or action. Laurel had none of these, she had been taught not to bother with such acts as they often distracted one from the upcoming battle; leaving matters to luck and fortune was a fast way to get killed. At least in this battle failure should not mean death, with all of the weapons blunted as they were.

Not distracted by any preoccupation as she was, Laurel caught sight of the Luthran man swaggering towards her. He had the quiet confidence about him a seasoned warrior possessed and she noted his face for future reference although whatever he had been planning to say to her was interrupted by the announcer going through the rules of the tournament. The restriction of attacks to the head made sense, she conceded, especially in light of the fact few had been given the option to wear a helmet and she was glad for this; the plate was constricting enough and a metal helmet would merely add to the stifling feel of the armour.

"Listen, love, they didn't tell me any women were fighting in this. It's pirate code for me not to strike one, especially one as fair as you. So, I must forfeit." Before she could respond the gates opened and they were ordered out into the arena and whatever else he said was lost to her ears as she filed out with the other Earthican warriors. The Princess, the very beautiful woman Laurel had seen talking to Eve earlier, spoke to them and wished them luck before the fighting commenced.

Perhaps unwisely, the Earthican troupe split away and went after enemies on their own. Apart from the Luthrans it appeared that most of the other warriors were engaging similarly, the Exodus challengers especially appeared to be used to the art of duelling and became flustered when presented with multiple enemies. Laurel, for her part, felled three Primfirans in quick succession as they came for her one at a time although with barely any space to breathe between them with sharp blows to the chest with her axe while knocking aside their flailing attacks with her shield. Vibrations from each blow, both given and taken, ricocheted up her arms but the armour supported and cushioned her and besides, she could feel the difference in physical strength between her and these warriors who had only trained with the sword or spear while she had been learning the art of the bow for her entire adult life and much of her childhood as well; the muscle power of a bowwoman was not something to be trifled with.

An Exodus warrior tried to take her from the side, sliding a spear toward her chest but she batted the point aside with her axe before slamming her shield into the man's chest. Knocked from his feet, the man lost hold of his spear as he hit the ground heavily in a mild daze. Taking advantage, Laurel stomped on the man's already slightly buckled breastplate until it was sufficiently dented for him to be called from the field, defeated.

She paused for a moment, taking stock of the field and barely noticed the swarm of Luthran's sweeping toward her. They were on her before she had time to react and a sword came swinging for the back of her head despite the prohibition on such a move. Ducking, she started to bring her shield round but knew there would not be time and instinctively stepped back to try and avoid the blow. Would it be enough? Time seemed to slow as she saw the blade reaching for her and she realised that she had not been fast enough, the attack already in motion before she had even noticed the opponents bearing down on her.

The man from earlier, the one who smelt strongly of alcohol, dived deftly into the gap and deflected the blow and made short work of his fellows with an impressive display of skill and strength. "Impressed?" He asked, being distracted in the moment, looking down at his fallen countrymen and exposing himself to attack. If Laurel were less scrupulous she might have taken the opportunity but it was not in her nature, nor would it be wise with the eyes of so many royals watching. Eve, surely, would not approve and she would most definitely be somewhere in the crowd; Laurel had not had the time to search those seated in the royal box for her face but was confident her friend would be up there. "They never could deal with a southpaw, poor chaps."

"You do realise that we're opponents in this tournament, don't you?" She asked, bodily pulling him to the side to swing widely at a charging Exodus warrior, hurling the man back and snapping the haft of her trusty axe in the process. She tossed the useless weapon aside, kicking up a short sword one of the Luthran's had dropped. "And that the Mother and Father are watching?" She did not know much of Luthran politics, nor much of any politcs for that matter, but she knew enough to know that the rulers of Luthran were here and would only bother showing up if they wanted to engage in the festival's opportunities and that started with this blasted brawl in the arena.

"I suppose if you're dead set against 'striking' me then we can avoid one another and if we're the last two standing you can, being of a gentlemanly nature, concede the battle." Without waiting for agreement she set off toward a melee between a dozen or so warriors reaching its climax and forced her way in, laying about with shield and sword. The unfamiliar weapon proved ineffective and she swapped it for one of her opponent's maces after pulling it free from his surprised grip and then turned it against him, hammering the side of his armour while heaving one of his fellows bodily off his feet with a shield bash and then finishing the job with a mace blow to the chest. It was a good weapon for the rules of the tournament and she made short work of the combatants facing her, some making the false assumption that a woman would not be of any threat to their prospects of victory and paying for it with an abrupt end to their tournament participation.

The field was thinning out to a small number of remaining foes and Laurel took stock, taking measured breaths to calm herself. In such a place she could not let herself lose to battle frenzy. Without helmets anyone coming across her in such a state would stand no chance and she refused to be the one who caused an incident at such an important event. She did not feel tired, yet, from her exertions as she had not followed the example of many others running around the arena to find a suitable enemy and instead had let them come to her. The weight of the armour did bear down on her shoulders but it was nothing compared to the effort of releasing arrows from a full sized warbow until her fingers bled from the pulling of the string. Much longer and she may become slower as it took its toll but for now she still felt energetic, the thrill of battle rushing through her veins.

Adjusting her grip on the mace she set off at a walking pace toward the next gathering of combatants, watching their movements before charging into the midst of it all.







Exodus truly was a place of overflowing, excessive luxury. It was not the first time that Erasmi had visited the city and nor would it be his last but the first impression he had gained of the place as a young man had not changed. Primfira had its own fashions and exaggerations born of leftover wealth but not in this almost zealous expenditure the people of Exodus seemed determined to adhere to. With their scents and oils, added to their unholy love of bathing in and drinking of blood, always others', he always wondered that they had yet to fall to ruin.

Then his mind and intellect would admonish his personal distaste, pointing out their expansive populace and shrewd finance had given them a strong starting position from which they had only advanced to greater strength. Infighting had crippled Primfira in the early race for power and it had only begun its recovery under his rule, many of his greatest achievements brought about by copying the traits of Exodus he found had merit with a particular regard to their pride as a race. The manner of Erasmi's own rise rise to power had encouraged youths after him to train and become strong, perhaps not to the standard of the naturally powerful Levonian people but enough to raise his nation's status.

He freed his mind of the analysis of times past, this was not a time for such philosophy when the present affair would be crucial to the shaping of the future. With that focus in mind, Erasmi ascended the steps and entered the royal box in the arena. He gaze coolly, calmly over those gathered there with their attention focused on the combatants below. Some of his own warriors fought down there but he had no hopes of victory but the experience would be invaluable to them later so he had encouraged the eager amongst his guard to enter the contest. He had no need of protection right then, after all if anyone was to make trouble it would be himself or the Luthrans and the latter looked to have sent many of their own force into the battle also.

With a wry smile, quickly smothered, he saw Valeri engaging the focus of this festival, the incredibly desirable Princess Amaya, in conversation. The girl worked fast and he had no doubt that he would soon 'discover' his daughter to be a close confidant of the Freyjan Princess. That or her secret lover, depending on which way her desires took her; once she had made a decision the Andoran Princess would get her way one way or another with her infallible guile.

The King turned his attention toward the other royals in the box and made his entrance, his Queen would join them when she so desired, and stepped to the front row where the Freyjan monarchs were seated. Whether or not those particular chairs had been reserved for the hosts of the festival mattered not to him, Erasmi would not allow himself to be considered second although he gave the two a polite bow.

"Your Majesties, I am afraid I must apologise for my late entrance. My guard were rather paranoid over the multitudes your generosity has attracted." A bald faced lie, they had been busy sending disguised groups to places around the city to gather intelligence, but the royals had no reason to believe otherwise. "I confess, I am struck with admiration at the festivities you have manufactured today; your daughter truly has learned well." Without invitation he seated himself next to the Freyjan king, relaxing into the seat. "I wait with bated breath for what other surprises you have in store for our entertainment." He smiled coolly, a polite expression that had little to no genuine warmth in it, before turning to pretend interest in the melee below.
@Raylah

I'm glad you've said that, I was trying to make sure he blends with those characters already made!
@Aamaya How does this look for the King of Primfira?

@Aamaya

Are you aware as to whether someone has started a sheet for the king of Primfira? If not I'll start on a sheet tonight.
Set in a Silver Sea




The year is 1400 AD. Over two hundred years have passed since William the Conqueror crossed the English Channel with his veteran army of hungry Norman warriors and defeated Harold Godwinson, the last Anglo-Saxon king, in battle near the small town of Hastings.

History became twisted toward the end of his life, ravenous hordes of creatures which became known as Riss plaguing the known world and upsetting the known order. Appearing in lesser populated regions, the creatures proved resistant to human forms of warfare and the tide of their assault appeared unstoppable. While none showed themselves in England the Riss swarmed in strength from the lowlands and valleys of Scotland and Wales and spilled into the northern and western reaches of England.

In response, a warrior sent by the Almighty himself, stepped forwards. A young woman who wielded powers no mortal being could possess led the Conqueror's armies against the Riss and pushed them back, securing the kingdom's borders. Upon his death the hero was named his successor and has ruled ever since as the Divine Queen Mayra.

Her many offspring, for she never married but had many lovers and bore many children, have become known as Heliosts and bare some semblance of her power. Their descendants now occupy the rank of the nobility, regardless of their Norman or Saxon ancestry. The strongest of them, known as the Solist, leads Mayra's armies and is charged with securing the kingdom's borders against the Riss.

After over two centuries of her rule cracks are appearing in the peace and stability which have endured throughout her reign. The current Solist, Matthias, resides in York and rumours circle endlessly of the rift between him and his Queen. Meanwhile the Vac population, those empty of the godly Aura passed down from Mayra through her children, grow restless at their oppression by the burgeoning power of the Heliost nobles and there are strange movements amongst the Riss population beyond the frontier.

For the Sentinels under Matthias's command life is about to become much harder, their duty unclear and their understanding of seemingly ironclad principles of their world and faith will be severely challenged.





Hello and welcome to the Set in a Silver Sea interest check! I hope that the history above has caught your attention but now for some details...

-This RP is set in medieval Britain. Cannons are around but gunpowder is very much not in use beyond these.
-In depth historical knowledge is not required but is welcome!
-Characters will be Heliosts, whether from a powerful family or a lesser one is up to you. They will all be new Sentinels, either just recruited or about to be.
-Religion is as one would expect from this period but with the twist that the current monarch is regarded by most as a second Messiah, sometimes referred to by the clergy as the daughter of God. Some question this but do so quietly.

I suspect you have questions about what power a Heliost possesses? Simply put, they are stronger, faster, healthier and tougher than normal humans (known as Vacs). They support their body with a resource known as Aura which they have a finite amount of, replenished with food and rest. When in excess, for Heliosts are not bottomless vessels, Aura washes off them in a manner synonymous with the name.

Use of this power is known as Flare. Specifically it is a Primary Flare. Secondary Flares are unique to each individual and rare, few Heliosts gain them and the vast majority are Sentinels and they often reflect the character of the individual. For example, an overly anxious person would be able to sense threats to themselves in a near clairvoyant manner. The Secondary Flare is usually a crystallising of one aspect of the Primary Flare (especially enhanced strength for example) but not always.

Hopefully that answers some questions. Any thoughts or input would be welcome, I'm looking for an active and determined group to RP with and I hope this idea appeals to enough to make it viable.
Apologies for any typos in that post, I'm on my phone and it's still new to me (I usually post on a PC as I'm not great with typing on a phone/tablet!)
Laurel Mith


Before either of the large men could respond, Laurel caught sight of the Freyjan woman speaking to Eve out of the corner of her eye. With a quick nod she excused herself from the veteran warriors and slipped away toward the palace gates. There a guard held up a hand to stop her but she merely pointed to her insignia and whisked past him before the man had a chance to stop her. Whether guards were truly allowed in or not was a mute point, Laurel was sure that Eve would be clueless as to whom she was speaking and she had been keeping track of the drinks the Princess had been downing; not enough to affect her overly but surely enough to dull some of her senses. Senses she would need surrounded by strangers in this venomous gathering.

Before she reached Eve she was approached by a servant bearing a small quill and paper. They resolutely stopped Laurel in her tracks, despite her obvious attempt to sidestep tbem.


"We'll need your name for the tournament rolls, ma'am. I presume you're from Earthica?"

"What? Oh, yes I am." She replied, distracted and peering over the much shorter servant's head at Eve.

"And your name, ma'am? I need it for the announcer."

"Laurel, Laurel Mith.

She slipped past the curtseying servant, freed from the interaction she had barely paid attention to and weaved her way toward Eve. Frequently she was stopped by servant's offering her luxurious platters of food or drinks but she refused them all, unlike Eve she had no intention of drinking that day but more importantly she could not be delayed.

Stopping a little ways down the array of tables piled high with food she paused, turning to appear as though she were observing the food. Having got this far what had she truly intended to do? Stop Eve talking to someone just because they might be dangerous? That would hardly go down well with the Princess not was it fair, she was not some idiot royal without a clue, merely a little rebellious against her parents and their sensibilities.

She subtly watched, picking at some kind of meat based snack, as the Freyjan Princess stepped closer and caressed Eve's hair and felt a tingle down her spine. Forcing herself to be still, she observed the ending of their interaction, the Freyjan remembering her position and rushing away to her other guests. She could see Eve's flushed face and felt a small pang of irritation but quickly smothered it, there was no time for jealousy of which source she was unsure; Eve was a Princess from a foreign land so of course others would come to talk to her. Laurel's role was not to interfere, merely to protect.

Another Freyjan, bearing some small resemblance to the former beyond merely their race, approached Eve and they began to talk again. Laurel frowned, trying to remember the information about the various royals drummed into her by Ulfic and, after mentally passing through the ranks of known figures, identified the woman as another Princess but not from the main family line. Thyrri, she thought. This one seemed more approachable and, importantly for Laurel, less high ranking than the earlier Princess, and so she set down her uneaten food and strolled up to the pair.

"Princess." It was hard not to address her friend by name but certain expectations were place upon here in this social situation. "I see you're getting into the spirit of things." She spared a glance at the drinks in Eve's hand before turning to the Freyjan Princess and offered her a small bow.

"I apologise for interrupting, I had lost track of the Princess for a moment amongst all these visitors. I may be stating the obvious but I am her bodyguard for this event, Laurel-"


"-Mith?"

She turned as an Exodus guard approached, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He looked Laurel up and down with a discerning eye, noting the longbow strapped to her back and the dagger thrust through her belt.

"Yes, that's me. Is something wrong?" She felt some small trepidation, maybe she was not allowed in here? Despite her surety that she had seen other guards inside the palace walls she worried that perhaps she had overstepped her bounds; the King would be disappointed if she made a scene here.


"You're expected for the tournament, you gave your name to an organiser earlier." His eyes strayed toward the bow over her shoulder."Would've thought you'd sign up for the archery contest. 'Suppose there'll be time for both. Come, there is not much time to prepare you."

Before she had the wit to protest the guard grasped her by the arm and began to pull her away. Although she had the strength to pull away she resigned herself to her fate, now recalling the distracted conversation she had had earlier. Admonishing herself for not paying attention, she let herself be lead away. She shot a last glance toward Eve before she was swallowed up by the crowd.

The guard led her into the palace and then down some steps to an armoury where others were being suited in heavy looking armour. Some attendants stepped up toward her, carrying the many components of full plate between them. She began to feel nervous, never having worn any armour beyond her hunting leathers. Having heard of its weight she feared she would be slow, having relied on speed in past bouts back in Earthica but it was lighter than she had thought, her strength from years practicing with the bow lending her an advantage over most practiced warriors.

A servant approached her with a sword and shield but she caught sight of a handaxe on the wall and pointed toward it. With a mild look of disapproval they laid aside the sword and brought her the more familiar weapon; apparently such a thing was considered base here but she was desperate not to make a fool of herself before the assembled royalty who would surely be watching. Winning was hardly on her mind, not losing in an embarrassing manner was very much in the forefron.
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