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    1. Missy Mina 9 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
Current God, I have such a terrible love hate relationship with waiting. On the one hand, it's torture; on the other, the anticipation is a bit addicting.
4 likes
6 yrs ago
I'm aliiiiiiiiive! If you'd like to rez any games you had going with me, hit me up!
1 like
8 yrs ago
First ingredient of meatball recipe? “1 bag of frozen meatballs.” Thank you, recipe. Thank you so freaking much.
9 likes

Bio

I love fantasy (high fantasy/classic sword and sorcery are my absolute favorite) and struggle with slice-of-life. I currently have a very demanding job that leaves little time to be as active as I once was.

I'm always open to random chats and plot/game ideas.

Most Recent Posts



Haelia


Epithets: Burrier of Cities, Lady of Red, Bringer of Storms, etc.
Brief History: Haelia has ruled over the southern deserts for as long as any mortal record can remember. Haelia has a long history of patroning great and bloody wars. If Haelia makes an appearance on the battlefield or before a battle, it is not likely either side will be able to count themselves true victors for the cost of life will be high. Haelia has taken several mortal lovers but has never taken a husband and has made it clear that she is far too fickle and free loving to choose a husband much less try bind a mortal man to herself to ensure his life is tied with her own.
General Attitude: She is usually fairly sarcastic and can be rather grumpy but her temper is easy (and dangerous) to spark. Haelia does not need an excuse to fight and will do so at the drop of a hat if she pleases. However, Haelia is not completely blinded by her wrath. She can be level headed even in brutal violence and is thus quite a bit harder to trap compared to other creatures of wrath and fire.
Classic Mythos: Haelia was born from a bolt of thunderless lightning striking a sycomore fig tree in the desert. (There is a grand temple at the spot she is believed to have been born from and she normally calls that place home.) She burned as a fire in the tree for ninety days and ninety nights before the first rains of the wet season came and tried to drown her out. A flock of vultures who had played and traveled far among the currents of heat Haelia had created with her games in the tree, banded together and sheltered the fire under their wings. But Haelia had no other form but fire and so, even as the vultures guarded her and fed her bits of dry wood, the heat cooked their wings, turning them black and burned the feathers from their head. When the rains subsided and Haelia had seen what she had done to those who had saved her life, she was ashamed and thus was cast into a mortal form. Since that day she favors the vultures and allows them to fly higher than any other in her skies, guards them from her storms, and summons them when a battle is finished to feast and guide souls into the afterlife.
Popular Opinion: Feared and respected. Though she is largely known for her dominion over battle and bloodbaths, she also holds dominion over the hearths that feed families and the forages and ovens of craftsmen and for that she is cared for by her people.
Common forms of Worship: Burned herbs and fragrant or colored ashes rubbed into pieces of flawed pottery or metalwork that cannot be repaired or remade. Animal sacrifices are also done occasionally to mark new buildings with their blood to sate her hunger for blood so that she will not burn the building down to get it.
Dominant Magic Abilities: Haelia has a wide domain over many types of fire from nurturing hearths to raging grass fires to the harsh sands of the desert. In moments of weakness, sands are the most natural and easiest for her to summon up. She does have the habit of huffing smoke out of her nose and mouth when she is in a particularly bad mood, though.
Appearance: Haelia




Ex-Assassins turned body guards Thomas and Tabitha.
Name: Haelia
Epithets: Burrier of Cities, Lady of Red, Bringer of Storms, etc.
Brief History: Haelia has ruled over the southern deserts for as long as any mortal record can remember. Haelia has a long history of patroning great and bloody wars. If Haelia makes an appearance on the battlefield or before a battle, it is not likely either side will be able to count themselves true victors for the cost of life will be high. Haelia has taken several mortal lovers but has never taken a husband and has made it clear that she is far too fickle and free loving to choose a husband much less try bind a mortal man to herself to ensure his life is tied with her own.
General Attitude: She is usually fairly sarcastic and can be rather grumpy but her temper is easy (and dangerous) to spark. Haelia does not need an excuse to fight and will do so at the drop of a hat if she pleases. However, Haelia is not completely blinded by her wrath. She can be level headed even in brutal violence and is thus quite a bit harder to trap compared to other creatures of wrath and fire.
Classic Mythos: Haelia was born from a bolt of thunderless lightning striking a sycomore fig tree in the desert. (There is a grand temple at the spot she is believed to have been born from and she normally calls that place home.) She burned as a fire in the tree for ninety days and ninety nights before the first rains of the wet season came and tried to drown her out. A flock of vultures who had played and traveled far among the currents of heat Haelia had created with her games in the tree, banded together and sheltered the fire under their wings. But Haelia had no other form but fire and so, even as the vultures guarded her and fed her bits of dry wood, the heat cooked their wings, turning them black and burned the feathers from their head. When the rains subsided and Haelia had seen what she had done to those who had saved her life, she was ashamed and thus was cast into a mortal form. Since that day she favors the vultures and allows them to fly higher than any other in her skies, guards them from her storms, and summons them when a battle is finished to feast and guide souls into the afterlife.
Popular Opinion: Feared and respected. Though she is largely known for her dominion over battle and bloodbaths, she also holds dominion over the hearths that feed families and the forages and ovens of craftsmen and for that she is cared for by her people.
Common forms of Worship: Burned herbs and fragrant or colored ashes rubbed into pieces of flawed pottery or metalwork that cannot be repaired or remade. Animal sacrifices are also done occasionally to mark new buildings with their blood to sate her hunger for blood so that she will not burn the building down to get it.
Dominant Magic Abilities: Haelia has a wide domain over many types of fire from nurturing hearths to raging grass fires to the harsh sands of the desert. In moments of weakness, sands are the most natural and easiest for her to summon up. She does have the habit of huffing smoke out of her nose and mouth when she is in a particularly bad mood, though.
Appearance: Haelia




Ex-Assassins turned body guards Thomas and Tabitha.
Nonios tossed his head and gave an irritated huffing when Ryder touched him. Gwen steadied him with a patting of his neck and dismounted smoothly. Ryder had a point. Gwen was not sure she could look anything less than authoritative riding on Nonios' back. Nonios was an impressive horse and could easily make even a peasant riding upon his back look rather authoritative. But Gwen had been a general for five years and a princess for her entire life, the quietly commanding airs of authority she bore about her would not be easily washed away; even in her own father's blood.

"I'd prefer not to draw any attention until I have an actual army at my back," she growled. "But considering I'm me I doubt very much that will be in our favor." And with that, she made for the Giant's Den. Nonios following close behind as if there was some invisible lead Gwendolen held. When they arrived at the tavern, Nonios waited dutifully outside while Gwendolen entered with Ryder.
That blows. Nonios wasn't wearing any tack, though so I'll just assume Ryder like touched Nonios' neck instead. Let me know if you want me to edit that do something else.
Cool. For some reason I didn't realize how much of a super noob he was to the ravens lol I guess this adventure's going to be kind of an uber shock to him! XD It'll be great.
Gwendolen gave the man a rather dubious look when he informed her that his position was “complicated.” Normally that meant either “illicit lover” or “illegitimate child” when dealing with complicated positions at the palace. Of course, on rare occasion the two complex positions intersected within a single person. That was usually when coups and civil wars started. And then suddenly she was wondering if the elf man wasn't going to announce he was a not so distant relative and/or stealing into some lady's bed when he shouldn't—or some lord's if the gods had decided to make her life really interesting.

And then the first words out of his mouth were “we” and “I” and she was sure she was about to have a bloody heart failure because this man was about to declare that he was her brother or cousin or something just mind bogglingly ridiculous. Only he didn't. He was apparently a member of something called the “Red Ravens” who rather pointedly sucked at their jobs. Secret organizations among nobility and commanded by nobility did not startle her. Kings rose and fell by them and kingdoms were often build and turned to dust from such shadowy dealings. And it seemed as though it might very well be her kingdom's turn to fall to the pages of history if she did not take her throne back from Roland. She was a bit cross her father had never told her about these Red Ravens but she supposed that would have come in time. Though if this was any example of their work, her father might not have bothered to tell her about them for their sheer uselessness.

With the image of her father's final moments still so painfully vivid in her mind, she wanted badly to snarl at this elf man. She wanted to point out his incompetence and pick at it like a crow. But she knew better. She would get nowhere sating her pain and anguish with the pain and anguish of others.

“Well,” she said a bit tightly because it really was hard not to curse the fool for whatever incompetence these red birds had that let this coup run unimpeded, “I assume these 'brothers' and 'sisters' of yours are of the order as well? Perhaps they will be able to redeem themselves by aiding their future queen.” Then she turned to look about the lands, “Nonios should still be wandering these hills.” she gave a sharp whistle through her teeth, “He can take us to your raven nest.” she could not keep the little bite of bitterness from her voice at mention of the ravens as she sheathed her sword. She only needed call twice more before a black figure came galloping up from the distance and charged across the land to them like some hell hound.

Gwendolen smiled and stepped forward, arms open for her dearest friend as the terror of a black horse came to a grinding halt some paces from Gwen and then began to prance lightly on nimble hooves, tossing his head like a happy pup greeting its master. Gwen cooed at the horse for a time, rubbing his neck and kissing his face before she took to his bare back. She turned Nonios towards Ryder and offered him a hand to pull him up, “You will need to guide me but Nonios can surely make the journey in quick time. There is no horse born yet that Nonios cannot out ride.”
Couple questions.

How do most of her people not know what she looks like? She's got quite a reputation from the border wars alone, not to mention all the traveling she's done with her father. Also the whole blue eyes thing and the fact that it's pretty hard to hide/mimic noble posture.

Also, wouldn't the people rally behind her if only because she was the king's daughter? He certainly would have made life better for the common folk--it was the whole reason he was able to be killed so easily--plus she was a general for like 5 years and a well traveled princess before that so she's going to have at least some level of charisma for rallying the people.
“My 'next move' is drumming up an army and taking my kingdom back. I see no other possible course of action.” she informed the strange elf-man sharply. “But I will need provisions if I am to travel for aid. If you believe your brothers and sisters can help me acquire such provisions, then it would be a journey worth taking.” She was not stupid. She knew she would need help if she was to get her feet under herself—even if it was only just enough to ride off over the hills to an ally she could trust enough to keep her safe while she drummed up loyal soldiers from her own lands. She was loath to admit it however, seeing as how royals at any disadvantage historically found themselves without heads or with knives in their backs. Gwendolen would rather like to avoid both, which meant projecting power she most certainly did not have.

She cast a suspicious eye at Ryder and asked a bit incredulously, “I think I have seen you about the palace before. What exactly is your position in the palace?”
You might want to write ahead a little next time you've got something to introduce, that way I don't accidentally skip something I didn't know was going to happen. This time you could write over the parts that interfere with him being added as a character, if you like. I think it would be fun to have a prisoner in the mix.
Gwen whirled on the man, sword drawn and ready to slice him to ribbons if he proved to be foe. But by the gods she hoped he as friend of the crown. The long battle in the throne room and her flight through the palace had left her exhausted and running on little more than adrenaline; she had need of an ally in this dark hour. It was jarring to be called “majesty,” though. With the king dead, it was technically accurate but it made her stomach churn all the same.

“You still serve loyally?” she demanded harshly.

When he passed her to step into one of the cells, she realized a moment before he activated the lock of the hidden exit that he had knowledge of the hidden passage. Which was a great surprise. For Gwen had thought—and been schooled by her father—that only the true royal line would know of this to keep it safe. But here was some... some elf not only opening the door for her but opening it before she could even rightly remember where it was!

But there was no time for that now. Now she needed to follow him into the foul smelling passage. She pulled the exit closed behind her and decided to inform the man that was apparently trying to help her (she still wasn't entirely sure this wasn't some sort of trick or trap. Having loyal guards turn on you and yours did have a way of inducing paranoia) of her urgency.

“I placed a bit of a diversion which, if it worked should buy us quite a bit of time. However, if it did not, we should perhaps make as swiftly as we safely can. Since it might be that you may be killing me in the near future or we might be dieing together, I don't suppose you would be to adverse to giving me a name to call you by?” She wanted to ask a bit more of him but the stench seemed to fuse to her tongue so thickly she could taste it whenever she opened her mouth so she chose to keep it closed until they reached the sunny outside.

The passage seemed to take an eternity and was so dark that even when her eyes finally adjusted, she found she could make out barely even the shape of the man before her. Though on the bright side, the farther they got from the palace, the less horrible the stench. She was about ready to think they would be spending the rest of their lives in the dark as she strained her eyes listening for any signs that they were being followed that when they came to the end of the passage, she was so little expecting it that she ran right into the man who showed her the way. She gave a quick apology and drew back to a proper distance before being horribly blinded by the slab of stone being pushed open to present the vast, rolling greens of the uplands that overlooked Valeria.

She blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep the stranger in her line of sight as she stepped into the midday upland but it was a difficulty as the dark accustomed eyes seemed to be content to give her only stabbing pain in her skull for her trouble.
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