Avatar of Redthorn Anvil
  • Last Seen: 7 mos ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 705 (0.22 / day)
  • VMs: 1
  • Username history
    1. Redthorn Anvil 9 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

4 yrs ago
Current I wonder about status bar commenters sometimes
7 likes
5 yrs ago
is it just a me problem where you own all the art/office supplies in your house so you basically become the pencil cartel
3 likes
5 yrs ago
One of your issues with Fallout 4 is you're not playing Fallout: New Vegas
7 likes

Bio



That's me. I also go by Anvil.

Art Ordering: Open [by availability only. I have a life too yanno]
DM me for availability and detaillss
OR
You can order art from me heeeere ---> The Art Forge

Most Recent Posts

In Exodus 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Grim seemed to have been standing with Azurael and T'vor the whole time.
"My goodness, I am popular today... My name mention at least three times? Tsk! Something bad must have happened, ehehehehe..."
T'vor started at the Angel's voice and stepped away from him with a snarl.
"I'll go with them." He told Azurael, happy for an excuse to get away from that insane Angel of death. He curtly gestured to Je'nai and Asmod.
"This way." He strode away, clearly expecting them to follow.
Grim waved 'bye' to Asmod.
"Hoohoo, don't you look a little... ashy. Heeheehee!" He turned to Azurael and Damien with a broad, pointy-toothed grin.


Meanwhile, Sephiroth had been just informed of the new arrival, and was on his way to meet with this... Asmod... at Ariadel's tent. His face was set with a small frown.
@VenusSTAR Hey there! It's best to read the updates at the end of my initial post to see my current status on commissions. The semester isn't quite over yet for me, so I'm afraid I'm not accepting commissions right now. If you want to wait a few weeks, you can talk to me then to see if I'm ready to start drawing again. I may also end up revising the rules for art ordering, so do keep an eye out for any changes I might make in the future.
BECAUSE COLLEGE
In Exodus 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
*rises from the dead* I HAVE [MAYBE] RETURNED
IT'S OKAY BRO I THINK WE HAVE ALL BEEN REALLY OUT OF IT
In Exodus 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
"Oooooooooo!" Grim wiggled his fingers and began to cackle at Azurael. "What's this? You don't actually like the commander, do you? No one likes the commander!"

T'vor growled something under his breath.

"What's that, lizard-man?" Grim asked.

"I said you're a petty imbecile, Grim." T'vor replied.

Before the deathly Angel could respond, however, a scream could be heard, and T'vor immediately ran to see what the source was.


Chrissa nodded eagerly to Anuriel's last comment. "Me too. I'd really like to fly again, I miss it already..." She replied. She finished cleaning up for the end of her shift and left the tent after saying her farewells to Anuriel, again promising to consider the cook's offer. Now that her shift was done, Chrissa found that she had much time on her hands and little to do with it.
As the black rider drew ever nearer to his destination, and to the coast, the light drizzle became a steady rain, but it was not a cool rain. It was becoming increasingly more humid, and the rider was once again reminded of how much he disliked the bay area of Leyawiin. The fabric of his robes did little to protect him against the warm wetness seeping through. He had half a mind to simply slit his quarry's throat as she slept and be done with it. But he wouldn't. That would be irresponsible of him. The woman he was hunting would either be dangerous to the Brotherhood, especially if she knew who the Brotherhood's informants were, in which case, he would kill her anyway--or simply ignorant of her incredible blunder, which, while irritating, would make it unacceptable for him to kill her outright. In such a case, well...There were other means of repayment.

The rider was distracted from his thoughts as his dark horse snorted and shook the rain from her coat for an umpteenth time, only to realize that she was standing still, in front of the very city gate that currently protected his elvish prey from him. He wore a scowl under his now-dripping hood, and dismounted.

"Stay here. And by Sithis, don't go looking for trouble."

He left his horse standing there, whose red eyes bored into her master's back as he walked away, mud and gravel crunching under his boots. As he entered, the two guards standing there stopped him, suspicion growing on their faces.

"Hold, stranger. What's your business here?"

The rider looked up to grace the impeding guards with his scowl.
"My business is to find a hot meal and a roof to get out of this rain."
"Really...then why carry a dagger with you?" The guard gestured to the weapon belted at the man's waist.
"Roads are dangerous, especially at night. Isn't that what you men are saying these days?"

The guard looked irritated.

"Bah. Get on then."

And with that, the robed man headed off down the street, towards the Five Claws. It wasn't difficult to find--inns never were--but he didn't enter just yet. He casually leaned against the wet plaster of the wall, as though waiting. He was waiting, in fact, for a patrolling guard to pass by. When the guard's back was turned to him, he whispered a spell, and he appeared to vanish.
He then slipped silently into the inn.
By this time, the proprietor was most certainly asleep, and the invisible man was neither seen nor heard by anyone--not until he entered Venasa's room, and his invisibility spell wore off. She was small, for a dunmer, but that was a quality much admired in the Brotherhood, for small people made for excellent assassins.
That was what the robed man was. An assassin. He took note of Venasa's hand hidden underneath her pillow.
Smart. But telling.
The robed assassin leaned in the far corner of the room, and waited.
Everyone in Cheydinhal knew about the abandoned house, sitting up against the eastern wall of the city. It hadn't been lived in, not for years. It was generally avoided, that house. Both physically, and as a conversation piece. However, a stranger approached the house tonight. The dark streets were empty, save for a guard on patrol who didn't even look at the man as he passed. The stranger was robed in black, and carried a satchel belted to his waist, which the stranger touched lightly, as if protecting its contents. He was a courier, and he had a delivery to make at the abandoned house. He approached the old, boarded up door, and silently went inside.

It had been sprinkling during his ride to Cheydinhal, and his robes were now quite damp. But the house was as cold on the inside as it was outside, only the air inside was dense and spoke of foreboding. It did little to comfort the stranger's cold bones. He shivered, then made his way down to the basement. Cracked stone walls and splintering supports, lined with dusty cobwebs surrounded him on all sides, but he paid little attention to them. His goal was the dark hole in the far wall of the basement, just big enough for a person to slip past, small enough to be disregarded by the common eye as natural damage from age.

Slip past it he did. The corridor beyond was shoveled out of the dirt, and at its end was a Black Door. Looming over him, adorned with all manner of vile imagery, Black Doors were the ultimate safeguard against anyone wishing to sneak in. For Black Doors were doors that did not open. They had no locks, no keys, no handles. They had no windows or bars, and were hewn from stone, carved, and a strong magic was placed upon them. Black Doors only opened for certain people, and under certain circumstances. It was through this door he entered, into the sanctuary beyond. Immediately, the stranger felt himself at home, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed visibly. He was approached by an argonian woman, who had evidently been waiting for his arrival.

"So, what do you have for us, Courier?" She asked.

From his satchel, he produced a parchment. "A letter from the Listener, mistress. One of our informants has just been killed. The Night Mother demands his blood be repaid."
The argonian sighed as she opened and scanned the parchment.

"Has our Speaker been made aware of this?"
"Yes. He is making preparations to resolve this issue as we speak."
"Very well, then. Thank you, Courier. Will you stay and rest for a bit, or must you run off again?"
"I thank you for the offer, mistress, but I'm afraid I still have several other errands to run tonight."
"Very well, then. Walk in the shadow of Sithis, Brother."

And so, it was out into the cold for the courier once again, the tension returning as he left the abandoned house.

A mile or so away from the city, a rider in black, sitting astride a dark horse, was racing through a forest, just off the main road to avoid being seen. He was riding south.

"Quickly, Shadowmere. We must reach Leyawiin before midnight."
Sedriso tilted his head and crossed his arms. "Of course you only need me to watch your back. That's what I do. Don't you worry, lass. We'll both come out alive. I guarantee it, as long as you don't do something stupid." He said in a casual tone.
"So you're after the Ferra Stone. That's all very well and good...Are you traveling with anyone else on this quest of yours? Rather, I'd expect not many people would be happy that you'd aim to destroy the thing. Mostly, I'm curious if I should be keeping a wary eye on any of your traveling companions, if you know what I mean." Under his helm, one eyebrow was raised. He made a habit of asking about any other companions his current patron was bringing, just to be prepared. He didn't like meeting up with his patron and discovering nine other party members he hadn't heard about previously. It wasn't exactly 'proper etiquette'. Some mercenaries took it as a personal insult if a patron hires them and then also chooses to hire others. Sedriso personally didn't mind too much, he simply preferred to know beforehand what to expect on the journey.
In Exodus 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
"Eheehee, that tickled!" Grim sniggered, rubbing his gut where Azurael had stabbed him.
"Oh, leave the poor grouch alone, nothing you say or do will change his ways! Well, probably. Hehehehe!"

T'vor turned his attention to Azurael. "Had you expected otherwise, Stormy?" His tone was flat.

"Um, if it's all the same to you, miss Anuriel, I prefer to call you 'miss'! It sounds more official..." Chrissa laughed sheepishly.
"And um, thanks! I'll think about it, I promise!" She added quickly.

[I may edit this post later.]
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet