Redthorn Anvil

Nᴏᴛ A Dɪsᴀsᴛᴇʀ

Sparhawk shrugged as he followed her down the hatch.
"He's bitten me before and nothing happened, so. Now, let's see what we got." He sat himself down on the ground with purse in hand and dumped its contents on the floor in front of him. It was indeed mostly full of gold. Sparhawk grinned as he started counting it all out.
"Here you go, sister." He pushed her half of the day's earnings towards her, then dumped his own in a little box which appeared to hold all his savings.
"Now if you wanna be smart, you'll start saving all that for sometime when you really need it. There's plenty other ways to get food, so don't go wasting money on that. Money's for emergencies. That's what old man Dal says. I'll take you to see him. He pays me to do work for him sometimes. Might have something for you, too."

Redthorn's Art Forge

@Spinosaurus Heyo--as a favor to me, try to tag me so I know you're talking to me and I can get back to you faster, yea? Anyway, I'd love to help you out, mate. I still have a few commissions I gotta finish up, but I can slip you a few artworks in-between jobs and the next semester is starting soon so I likely won't be able to crank out oodles of drawings for you all the time, but if you're cool with that, hit me up with a PM on the details! I'd love to give it a shot!

Redthorn's Art Forge

@POOHEAD189 Ah, thanks--I like to keep a theme going, since I'm Redthorn 'Anvil' and all. Might as well have a Forge too, right?

Redthorn's Art Forge

@shylarah To be honest, I actually like my pencil sketches better than my digital ones--they just look crappy to me on the pc because I'm too lazy to use a scanner. Also I never color my sketches.

Páthei Máthos - prp with Redthorn Anvil

Laudrel || Male || 617 || Elf || First Week of Spring || Necromancer/Lich

Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

Additional Images

Physique: Thin. Being undead, he doesn't necessarily need bodily intake to survive, and so sometimes slips in his eating habits, leaving him in a state of lost weight.

Height: Average height for an elf, but tall compared to a human. He stands at around 6'7".

Skin: His skin tones change throughout the seasons. In the spring, his skin is a warm color, but almost has greenish undertones. In the summer, his skin is a more normal shade of fair. In the fall, it is a little more tan, and in the winter, his skin is so pale and cold, it is almost translucent, like a recently deceased corpse.

Scars/Markings/Etc: Over the years of being soulbound to a tree, Laudrel's appearance has warped drastically--he now has clawed hands, twisted horns sprouting from his temples, and legs like twisted branches.

Eyes: Before the change, his eyes were a clear, summery green. Now, they are devoid of color, as white as fine china glass.

Hair: His hair is long, reaching to around the middle of his spine, but like the rest of his appearance, it's color changes with the seasons. In the spring, it is a light brown. In the summer, it lightens to the color of spun gold. In the fall, it becomes a vibrant, fiery red--and in winter, it is white, like the snow that crowns the forest treetops.

Weapons/Powers: Once, he knew well the language of the sword, but he has long since turned from that practice in favor of a new one--magic, and necromancy. In close quarters, however, his claws make effective weapons. His abilities and their strengths change during the solar year, like much of the rest of him. His powers with earth magic and necromancy are at their strongest and fullest during the summer months, and those powers mostly include destructive abilities--to create sparks of fire and to bend the will of the plants around him are what make up most of his magic ability during the summer. In the fall, death and the withering of plantlife are his portion, and in the winter, he can hardly do much at all, and it is during this time when he gets much studying and experimentation done. In the spring, he can call forth new life, and regrow what once lay dormant.

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

The seasons have an interesting effect on Laudrel's personality. In the summer, when he is at his most powerful, is also when he is the most tyrannical, uncaring, and frankly, when is ego is the most bloated. He is obsessed with his own power, and summertime only feeds into that obsession. In the fall, he is far more calm, as the earth around him begins to slow down and die off in preparation for the long winter. He finds himself more thoughtful in the fall, and becomes far less violently inclined. In the winter, he becomes tired, irate, and even depressed at times, but joy comes in the spring. Spring is the only time when he finds himself truly happy, though perhaps he doesn't realize it.

Sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs/Wᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs

Sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs:
- Generally OP, especially in the summer
- Can create undead minions out of any form of corpse, even dead plants
– Is undead and soulbound to a tree--therefore virtually immortal
– Very knowledgeable in the arcane arts

Wᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs:
– Is a powerhungry bastard
– Obsessed with immortality to the point of sacrificing life in order to further his achievement of it
– Can potentially be destroyed in the winter months
– Nonexistant social skill

Oᴛʜᴇʀ

Summer - Ten Thousand Slain--Audiomachine
Fall - Starfall--Thomas Bergersen
Winter - Everyone's Memory is Snow--Phildel
Spring - Illumination--Jennifer Thomas

Redthorn's Art Forge

[deleted]

Páthei Máthos - prp with Redthorn Anvil

[Removed]

𝔻🇷🇦🇬🇴🇳'🇸 ℂ🇷🇴🇼🇳

Sparhawk gestured behind him, in the general direction of his shaggy animal. "I have my horse--He follows me around even I tell him not to. Rebellious beast. Even if I couldn't get two more for you, Mira would no doubt try to steal some." He shrugged. "I'm sure my Lord can spare a few horses. He only has a dozen or so." His tone had waxed sarcastic, as it often did.

"We can meet up at the tavern--over by main gate, called the Grand Vale. It won't be busy when we get there. I'll bring some horses for you both and some supplies. Just try to stay out of trouble at least until we leave the city, huh? Because I won't have to arrest you outside the city walls. So let's try to avoid that. I don't exactly enjoy throwing old friends in prison."

𝔻🇷🇦🇬🇴🇳'🇸 ℂ🇷🇴🇼🇳

AMAZING

Exodus

"Ah." T'vor replied, nodding in understanding. "I suppose it is more efficient since you're already going that way, hm?" the question was rhetorical, but he relinquished his plate. His head turned to look towards the eatery's entrance, and suddenly he appeared to be alert again, as if glimpsing the outdoors had woken him up for some odd reason. "Excuse me. It has gotten later than I thought. Both of you get some sleep, there'll be plenty more work tomorrow." he told the two of them. Then he made his way back outside. It was time.

...

"I doubt very much that you could possibly know what is 'pleasing' to me, Princess. So you may as well forget your plan. Now if you're quite done, I must ask you to leave now. I'm busy." Sephiroth informed her blandly. He about to return to his food when a dragon's head poked through his tent flap.

It was T'vor.

"...Yes?" Sephiroth asked. T'vor looked between the prince and princess, his face unreadable. "...My Lord. Are you ready?" he asked. The other nodded. "My apologies, I'd forgotten. I got interrupted. I can come now." He replied. Once more, he set his plate aside and stood, before taking up a long scabbard from beside his cot and following the man out, but T'vor went back inside for a moment.
"Try not to irritate him too much, hm? You're not winning yourself any favors, from that last bit of conversation that I overheard." he told the princess. He then addressed the dragons. "You four might enjoy this." He said, then scooped them up in one arm and carried them back out.
"You shouldn't leave them behind, my Lord. You ought to keep them with you so they may learn." he said.
"Oh, right. My apologies, dragonlets." Sephiroth replied. The two of them headed off away from his tent. When they were out of earshot, T'vor spoke once more.
"It wouldn't hurt you to try to be a bit more patient with her."

"The whole thing is ridiculous. To think Chaos and Order trying to get along... It's madness."

"You haven't killed each other yet, have you? With that line of thinking, you'd assume that you'd be at each other's throats the moment you set eyes on the other. Yet you've managed to keep yourself together fairly well. Both of you."

"It certainly hasn't become a physical fight yet. But there is still a fight. She made a simple request--that I show her how to rule without imploding her people's civilization. That is all. Now she wants to convolute things and make a bargain with me. I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with her vile schemes. If she wants to play games, she can find someone else to amuse her. I have far better things to do, and that is the end of it. I've had enough of her wasting my time." Sephiroth's tone of voice indicated he was done talking about the subject.

"Hm. Clearly then, relations are far more strained between our two peoples than we were originally striving for. A truce may be much more difficult to maintain at this rate, Sephiroth."

"I'm not surprised."

"Of course not."
By then, they had reached their destination. The clearing by the lake. T'vor set the four small dragons down on the large boulder that sat near the shore, and both men drew weapons. A sword in the hand of the prince, and a lance in the hand of the dragon man.
In a flash, the two men met, weapons striking sparks against each other.
The two of them sparred skillfully.