LovelyAnastasia

Krolori: Civility and Barbarianism (OOC)

In the IC, which is a tab next to the OOC up top. And the Northern Kingdom's general is calling all of the Northern Janirarls (or the important ones anyway) together, so you all will meet in the King's hall.

Lords and Ladies of the Court (A medieval politics roleplay)

Cheers, I'm sure everyone can look over just like with Missy's and we can vote.

There's no land out there. [Pirate/fantasy roleplay.]

Knotteray said
Alright so for future reference, I'm asking what everyone's timezones are just because I sometimes get confused when someone says tonight or tomorrow, haha.Mine is Pacific, just to start first.

Eastern, but I get on at night a lot.

But I'm going to bed now. Early class. Peace out dovies~ I leave you with this~

Krolori: Civility and Barbarianism (OOC)

Haha! My post is up. Let's us all play honorably... ^,^

Krolori: Civility and Barbarianism (OOC)

In the Northern Outlands...

"...And may Jorundr, God of War, Fire and Light, shine generously on our blades," a woman in furs spoke with conviction over the large fire, where her wolfish tribe was circled about. The tribe thumped their feet together, low rumbling growls sounding from them all in a kind of barbaric applause. Their eyes were cold with what seemed to be frozen glares on their scarred and soiled faces. It had been a harsh and long Winter, but they were welcoming in the Summer Days with a salute to their patron God of War. It was by the grace of the Lord of Fire that had kept most of the tribe alive through the Dark Winter. It was only right that they honor their Gods, so as to keep the blood fresh on their blades and fires warm in their souls.

Ur'Sula was a decent sized woman with a youthful face, with two blue painted strips down one side of her face and her mangled dark hair tied behind her head. She had started off as the youngest Alpha any of the Forest and Mountain tribes had ever taken witness too. She was also one of the few female Alphas. It was she that decided which slimy Janirarl would die and it was she who decided which groveling Krolja would join her rank as a Rskalarn reborn. She who was know for victorious bloodbaths and she who was known to have cut off one of her brother's ears when he dared try to oppose her as Alpha of their late father's tribe.

She was as cold as the steel of her favorite dagger and as sharp as one too. Like an animal she could sniff out weakness and a rotten heart. It was why no man ever dared try to challenge her. Nor woman either. Rskalarn women were not like the Krolja or Janirarl women. That could not afford to be weak. In the forests and even among their own kind they were like sheep waiting to be devoured by wolves. This was the way of the North, and it was not kind to the weak.

"Have the other Alphas and tribes started arriving yet?" her harsh voice rasped as she asked her right hand man.

"Aye, Alpha," he hesitated before adding, "Your brother be among them."

"Good," her grin was more like a bearing of teeth than that of happiness, "This Summer Gathering is important. All Alphas know that if North and South unity, the Janirarl will be harder to get too than ever. Many things may be discovered at this meeting from our Brothers and Sisters closer to the border." Her eyes snapped over to the man and she smirked. "Make sure trouble is kept to a minimum. At the last Summer Gathering three tribes exterminated one another. We can not afford to have so many losses this time."

"Aye, Alpha," he said before tromping off. Ur'Sula smirked as a tall man missing an ear sauntered up to her. Amazing, the arrogance he always showed, even when it was known that she was the stronger of them both. She balanced her ax on her shoulder and sneered up at him, tilting her head to the side.

"Good to see you, Brother. Let's walk."

Just outside the Northern Kingdom...
The air was still cold. The ground was still hard. But a small red haired girl hacked away at the soil with all her might, dirt smudging her pale skin. A few yards away her father was digging up rocks to large to break. Even though it was still briskly cold out, they were both drenched in sweat. The sun high in the sky, a light sunburn was scratching its way over the the farmer daughter's face.

"Frija, we should rest for the day," her father shouted from across the way, "The soil's still too bloody frozen to get into."

"An hour more, Father," she shouted back, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. She was dressed in a faded and worn blue work dress, with a greyed chemise and a soil stained bandana over her head to keep her hair out of her face. She would of been a passably pretty girl if not for all the dirt and ragged clothes. But she was a hard worker and strong when she needed to be.

As the hour passed, her father dragged her away from the vast field, sitting her in front of the fire and muttering about seeds and good days for planting based on superstitions. After cleaned herself and putting their work clothes away, she started on making their dinner for that evening. Warm mead and mutton stew with a crust of hard bread was all they ever ate, but she did try her best to make it the way her mother used to. It was a hard life in the fields, but it was a better life than most.

In the Northern Kingdom...

General Arjar paced the stone halls of the King's Hall. He was a slender man with long blood red hair and sharp ice grey eyes.

"You look troubled, General," a soft and sort of haunting voice smiled from behind him. Whirling around he glared at the snake of a blonde priest named Ularich. If that man was servant to the Gods, no wonder the North was harsh. The red general grimaced down at the blonde man, who seemed all too pleased at his discomfort. "Something on your mind?"

"The Queen Dowager of the South is trying to incite some sort of union between the two kingdoms through His Highness, the Summer is brings the Rskalarn skittering out of their Wild Lands like rodents, and the infighting between Janirarl and Korlja is only bound to get worse," he hissed, "Am I worried indeed!"

"You worry too much General," the snake of a blonde man sneered, "The King is only humoring the engagement to the Southern Queen to get closer to learning their plans, surely." He played with the amulet around his neck with a severely annoying smirk on his face. Why the Gods would choose someone like him Arjar would never understand. He'd rather gut the serpent than humor him.

"Well, since you know more than me, apparently, how about some advice to the ignorant?" Arjar grumbled, his pacing slowly to a halt and turning into a stance of intimidation. The priest did not look impressed.

"Gather the Janirarl before the King and the Gods shall provide the answers on inner kingdom difficulties," Ularich's soft voice murmured, his slanted eyes looking up at the General as a grin crossed his face slowly, "As well as your pest problems with the Rskalarn." Arjar hated to admit it, but it was a good idea. By Vemundr blood, he hated it when Ularich was right. With a growl, he turned on his heel and started to tromp off.

"You're welcome, General," a cheery voice called after him, "And may the Gods smile upon you!"

In the Southern Kingdom...

Queen Ashamaria Tel Ljaia the Third was taking refuge under the linen canopies of her veranda. Her long silk black hair was down and only adorned with a few loose strings of shells and pearls, her lounging dress made of practically see through purple and white linen, hemmed with silver and gold designs. Around her were young male servants, fanning her, playing flute music and offering her refreshments. Her deep drown eyes, decorated with golden make up, were lazily looking out to the sea side far away. Her Kingdom was built on the high cliffs of the Southern shore, protected with its heights and spot on archers. It was a beautiful day, if not hot. But Summer was born anew, the Rains of Winter finally gone.

She hated Winter, even if it did bless them with the lush gifts of the Goddesses. And to think she was considering her mother proposal. Marriage to the North King! A barbaric beast, just like all the barbarians of the North. Of course he'd probably want her to live with him. Wives of the North, no, women of the North were nothing if not servants to their men. Ridiculous. She'd insist that she stay here, right in her own country, where she belonged. She was no man's property.

"Enjoying the Light Goddesses gifts, are we?" the smooth, calm voice of her mother washed over her like the waves of the Southern Sea, "As well as Suma's gifts of bounty and music. You must of had a long day." Sitting up and turning to look over her shoulder, to where he mother stood, trailed by the General Fonfira and High Priestess Kalima, Ashamaria raised a brow in surprise.

"Is something going on?" she asked, a bit cautious. It was odd for the High Priestess to leave the Grand Temple, and odder still for Fonfira to agree to come to the palace when she could be training recruits.

"The Dowager Queen summoned us," Kalima said in her whispering sweet voice.

"The Northern snow melts into Summer and surely those Wolves are up to no good," Fonfira said in her clear and blunt words.

"So you wish for a then meeting, Mother?" Ashamaria leaned her head on her arm, looking at the three of them before gesturing to the veranda around her, "Let us talk here then and be done with it. I dislike thinking too much on my supposed future husband or his kingdom."

Krolori: Civility and Barbarianism (OOC)

Matters not! We needed more men to the front. I am most pleased.

*evil giggles of darkness*

It'll make it all more enjoyable when the females show you want they can do, even when out numbered~ ehhehheheheheh~

SO! *claps hands together* I will get a post up for the IC since I'm sure we are all tired of waiting! *rubs hands together and grins* Let the games begin~

Katawa Shoujo: School for the Disabled

An dark moe has passed through the school.... O^O awe~some

Krolori: Civility and Barbarianism (OOC)

Yes! Another northerner! Accepted! *hugs and weeps of joy*

Katawa Shoujo: School for the Disabled

There in back with sitting with her nursemaid, a doll of a girl sat with her eyes close. Her lashes were long and dark, fanning over porcelain flushed skin. Her rose bud mouth was drawn in a small serene smile, and her long wavy hair was drawn over one slender shoulder. Both delicate hands folded in her lap she sat perfectly still. In a soft colorful kimono, she almost looked like one of those collectible doll that grandmother collected. Slowly her eyes opened, sightless and glazed, like two perfect round clouded crystals in an odd shade of purple black.

"You should of worn your uniform, Miss," her childhood nursemaid murmured nervously in her ear, "You'll get in trouble."

"Please, Kitome, I'm trying to listen," her voice was soft and warm, musical yet a bit stern.

"Your parents had everything shipped in," the worried elder's voice mumbled, "but leaving you here by yourself..."

"Kitome," it was a sharp whisper, odd sounding from such a sweet voice, but she turned her head to worrying hen of a nursemaid, "It is time I rely on myself. I shall be safe here but I will also be free." A sad smile was painted across that beautiful young face, "You should go now Kitome. It's time for the first class. I'll be fine by myself."

"But Miss..." the elderly woman murmured. Tomo could hear the choked emotion in the kind time worn voice. Her small pale hand lifted, searchingly and soon the familiar touch of the hand that had alway guided her clasped hers. Placing both hands over the elder woman's she smiled.

"Thank you so much Kitome," her musical voice sighed with farewell sadness, but a mature logic, "Write me often, please?"

"Yes, Miss," the hesitated voice of her loving nursemaid Kitome answer, before she was pulled into a warm hug. The smell of lilac and cinnamon, the feel of a plain uniform kimono and the warm of a caring old woman. The one who had always fussed over her and raised her like a loving grandmother. The alien feel of tears stung Tomo's unseeing eyes.

"I love you Kitome," she whispered softly, "My soul's mother." The old woman gave one last caring squeeze, a pat on Tomo's head, and what felt like a stack of starchy clothes before the sensation of her presence was gone. Empty air, cold and empty, now filled the spot where he caretaker had once been. The childish side of her wanted to cry and take back her decision of Yamaku Academy. She wanted to be a child again, sleeping with her head on Kitome's lap as the summer sunlight brushed against her face and the sound of Kitome's voice singing old folk songs rang through the air.

But she had to grow up. She had to stand by her decision. Taking a walking stick out of her small traditional japanese bag, she waited for the sounds of the people around her to fade a bit before undoing the folded stick. Suppose she should change into her uniform... Kitome would want her to have a pleasant first day. She went through much trouble for her... With a small sigh, she made her was gracefully and confidently inside the school building. Thank full she had a brail map of the school with her so finding a bathroom to change in wasn't too much trouble. Well, once she found out where exactly she was first. Navigating from there was a breeze.

From there she went to her locker, which was a bit harder to do, since getting the right turn was a bit difficult. But she wouldn't ask for help either, so it took a bit longer. However once she found it she felt victorious. I'll get the hang of this in no time, she thought cheerfully. Placing her kimono in her locker, she locked it up and check the map for her homeroom. It might take her a bit longer than most, but it was the first day. Certainly lots of younger students, especially first years and new students, like herself, got lost.

So the sightless doll maneuvered her way through the school, unaware of some of the looks she got. It would of surprised her, since those looks were so vastly different from those at her old school. Instead of envy and jealous hate, she was being looked at in gentle appreciation. She was a beautiful girl certainly. There were many beautiful girls in the school. But she held herself with a traditional Japanese air of refinement and grace, even with her long white cane. She touched the brail sign next to the door to her classroom and a glowing smile crossed her face as she recognized it as her own homeroom class.

Sliding the door open, she heard the talking and laughing of students soften. Ah, she must be a bit late then... With an honorable bow of that of a young lady, she apologized for her tardiness. "Apologies if I am late, Sensei," she stood up in a straight and polite stance that held just as much delicate grace as an old Japanese doll, "I took me a while to find the classroom."

"Not at all, Mizukimura-san," an old man's voice smiled, "Just make sure to memorize the halls well so you are not late again."

"Yes, Sensei," she smiled and gave a shorter bow, before taking a few cautious steps forwards, "P-Pardon me..." The silence crashed down on her and she blushed a bit in her embarrassment, "Could you direct me to an open seat? I'd sit down quietly, but..."

"Of course," the teacher voice was kind and patient, which eased her embarrassment some, "First row, third seat. Next to the window."

"Thank you Sensei," she smiled graciously, before gliding over to the area he specified and sitting down. Sunlight streamed in and she closed her eyes. The warmth touched her face and she smiled. It streamed through her long dark wavy hair, which was now loosely tied to one side, and across her porcelain skin. It felt good to take part in a normal school life.

Lords and Ladies of the Court (A medieval politics roleplay)

Hopefully everyone active can vote on you CS and your new blood with pump some more life into this RP