Rockette
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𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
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Throw down in my bed and sleep all weekend if that's what you mean. d;
SyrianHamster said
I'd like that, if you could? Would make it easier for people to visualise him.
Will do!
SyrianHamster said
On a side note, what are we doing about Nillanor's geography? I am happy for people to create maps of their own, if they wish to contribute to the RP creatively. That was the original idea, if memory serves - that Eulona would be made up from everyone's input. However I am ready/willing/able to do them myself if needs be.
I can assist with any conceptual photos of such and editing some maps for it if so required. c=
Nephriel said
Also, Rockette.... have I told you how much I love your posts. XD
Aww thanks sweets!
On the doubling up, I have a lot of experience with it, I tend to do so myself.
Right now I don't think that'd be the best course of action because our cast is so full already. But in the event that some drop out or things happen to come to a halt in development, I wouldn't object to some playing secondary characters. Until then, I don't see the need for additions.
Unless Roman and Hammy-Ham agree otherwise.
Off for the weekend - oohyess.
There were very few things that Kylmi did not notice.
The jade of her eyes glimmered with the indications of an appreciative reception, sharpening into malachite upon every breath of his timbre that wove a figurative tapestry. Within her mind she could briefly glimmer the world he hoped for, the currents plights of this existence founded upon death finally banished upon the wave of his banner and in that her home would be protected. A home that wasn’t Home: she could not forget her origins, time had cursed her to remain for so long to witness so many falls and uprisings and fires that were malicious and nearly sentient in their deliberate destruction.
Kylmi had never before cared for mortal concern and wars, aside from her selfish partakes of various suitors and in hindsight, it costed her more than she had been prepared to endure. And now the stains of black were on her body, just like the Prince’s veins and breast which was corroded with his frozen, encroaching death. She did not think he would live long enough to see his deeds flourish. It was a rather unfair circumstance but seldom things were in the cumbersome reality of war. She felt his eyes, and hers did not waver or flicker when calculating each tactful pass of his stare on her figure teased and veiled by the flora she bid to her self. His were not alone in admiration and within her soul basked in the lustful dalliance of a swayed mind. Vines writhed and flourished, coiling tight against the cold stone at her feet and when he began his responses to the rest of their former detainee troupe, her eyes finally relinquished and fell away.
The war room, as it was dubbed, was wrongly named so for a place of worship that it had once been. Kylmi’s eyes wondered, lingering, falling up the decrepit walls and the dwindled floors that her clawed toes carefully maneuvered over. Plants that had once been smothered under such masonry instantly reached out for her, peeking through stone and tiles, reaching up to coil across her fingers. Kylmi smiled at them, knelt down in her moment of distraction and touched her dark coloured fingers over petals and leaves. She even began stroking across the vines that began to snake and wreath over the walls and bedeck the room within the perfumes of lilies and greenery.
When the bi-blooded child spoke of the Norn, distant kin of hers and part of her Fey cousins, by what her mother told, she turned away from the plants and studied her pale figure curiously. She was made elegant by her Eleven blood and mortally flawed by her human parent, to be cursed by the courts was a commonality among wondering children but to live from such an experience was note worthy. Kylmi approached from the flank of the Prince’s throne, leaned over the map and studied the parchment with a hovering gesture. Her eyes lingered in the designated illustrations that was her home.
She glanced up at the girl’s topaz eyes, her verdigris stare willing her to listen. These were poems and dialects of the Norn she spoke of. Kylmi parted her lips, speaking once again in a fluent tongue, recalling her mother’s scriptures.
When the Nymph finished her recitation, she touched her claws to her lips, chartreuse tresses falling around her figure in hypnotic rotations as she allowed her voice to drop off from the various prose she had spoken of.
“I know where you seek, it’s not an easy place to go now that the war has made Uchfos paranoid, the protectors have tried sealing the borders from all intrusion. But I sent a missive before our council, telling my mother and the others of where I’m at. If I tell them of your intentions, they’ll part the gates at least to allow you safe passage. But the Norn do what they please and do not bide by our govern despite being in our territory, Fey will always do their will and are cruel in doing so. It’s only our kinship that allows them to remain.
Follow the magpies, they’re part of our messengers, but only they can get you so far. Perform the salute and speak the rhyme, and they’ll be your guides for a time. I can’t say for the others that live in Uchfos, we are not the only ones and I’m sure you know much about its depths.”
The Nymph drew in a soft breath and with a gesture of her hand, she began:
For every magpie you see, speak the line that corresponds with the number that gather.”
Here she pondered, mulling over what must be done to ensure the Prince victorious and the world he wished for was done. If the Norn failed then they would descend into the literal belly of the beast, to the enemy that was mounting forces surely as they all spoke. Kylmi felt her heart flutter at the tension and prospect of such a quest and her heart earned to go to Uchfos with the half-elf child. When the elf of green eyes and a kin of the sun like she spoke of accompanying her, she could only see it as appropriate should they have to embark on the enemy lands.
She knew her appearance, so lavish and exotic as it was, would not be accepted among such. Isildier’s Weeping Grove was even father beyond she recalled, but nothing remained there but twisted creatures and petrified faces of her dead brothers and sister. Tarwin spoke of the nomadic clans in the plains betwixt the forests and dilapidated forts, to possibly gain their rally and favour. It was a good plan in that, she could nod and agree to such for him to attempt. However in the events of the raid, she wondered how capable she would be, she had magic at her disposal and manipulation prowess and the thorns of her wrists. But would that be enough?
Kylmi wasn’t an assassin, her eyes drifted to the dark elf child, the only killing she had ever done was long ago in defending her home. And since then she had been more favouring of careless glee and splendors. She sighed quietly to herself, despite all these apparent disadvantages and favours, Kylmi would fight, she’d stand firm instead of running away and refused to allow her home to be accosted from her all over again. If her message came with what she had requested within the lettering, she would be able to beseech to her kin to aide the mortals in this hopeless endeavor. At that, Kylmi hummed.
“Like I mentioned, I have the alliance of those that owe me from deeds done past. Should my couriers return, I can send for them or go to them myself. I will attempt and do all that I can should I travel with those to secure and hold the southern ruins or see to your brother’s demise. Nature is cruel and every changing and the beasts at my command will fall unto these men with every intent to kill.
I long to see my home, but I’d rather see to its safety first.”
Other than those words, the Nymph reined in the coiling vines that attempted to snake across the map dotted with various figures. Part of her nearly recommended a moment of festivities, to relax one eve before they all would depart on their quests in which some might not return. Kylmi though did not think these individuals would be custom to such wanton intentions and at that she rubbed her hands across her arms, bidding plants to her frame once again.
The jade of her eyes glimmered with the indications of an appreciative reception, sharpening into malachite upon every breath of his timbre that wove a figurative tapestry. Within her mind she could briefly glimmer the world he hoped for, the currents plights of this existence founded upon death finally banished upon the wave of his banner and in that her home would be protected. A home that wasn’t Home: she could not forget her origins, time had cursed her to remain for so long to witness so many falls and uprisings and fires that were malicious and nearly sentient in their deliberate destruction.
Kylmi had never before cared for mortal concern and wars, aside from her selfish partakes of various suitors and in hindsight, it costed her more than she had been prepared to endure. And now the stains of black were on her body, just like the Prince’s veins and breast which was corroded with his frozen, encroaching death. She did not think he would live long enough to see his deeds flourish. It was a rather unfair circumstance but seldom things were in the cumbersome reality of war. She felt his eyes, and hers did not waver or flicker when calculating each tactful pass of his stare on her figure teased and veiled by the flora she bid to her self. His were not alone in admiration and within her soul basked in the lustful dalliance of a swayed mind. Vines writhed and flourished, coiling tight against the cold stone at her feet and when he began his responses to the rest of their former detainee troupe, her eyes finally relinquished and fell away.
The war room, as it was dubbed, was wrongly named so for a place of worship that it had once been. Kylmi’s eyes wondered, lingering, falling up the decrepit walls and the dwindled floors that her clawed toes carefully maneuvered over. Plants that had once been smothered under such masonry instantly reached out for her, peeking through stone and tiles, reaching up to coil across her fingers. Kylmi smiled at them, knelt down in her moment of distraction and touched her dark coloured fingers over petals and leaves. She even began stroking across the vines that began to snake and wreath over the walls and bedeck the room within the perfumes of lilies and greenery.
When the bi-blooded child spoke of the Norn, distant kin of hers and part of her Fey cousins, by what her mother told, she turned away from the plants and studied her pale figure curiously. She was made elegant by her Eleven blood and mortally flawed by her human parent, to be cursed by the courts was a commonality among wondering children but to live from such an experience was note worthy. Kylmi approached from the flank of the Prince’s throne, leaned over the map and studied the parchment with a hovering gesture. Her eyes lingered in the designated illustrations that was her home.
"And to a meeting
Hveðrungr's maid
called the third king
from the world,
at the time when Halfdan,
he who lived at Holt,
had embraced
the judgment of the nornir;
and at Borró
the victorious men
later did hide
the king"
Hveðrungr's maid
called the third king
from the world,
at the time when Halfdan,
he who lived at Holt,
had embraced
the judgment of the nornir;
and at Borró
the victorious men
later did hide
the king"
She glanced up at the girl’s topaz eyes, her verdigris stare willing her to listen. These were poems and dialects of the Norn she spoke of. Kylmi parted her lips, speaking once again in a fluent tongue, recalling her mother’s scriptures.
"Of many births
the Norns must be,
Nor one in race they were;
Some to gods, others
to elves are kin,
And Dvalin's daughters some
Thence come the maidens
mighty in wisdom,
Three from the dwelling
down 'neath the tree;
Urth is one named,
Verthandi the next,--
On the wood they scored,--
and Skuld the third.
Laws they made there,
and life allotted
To the sons of men,
and set their fates"
the Norns must be,
Nor one in race they were;
Some to gods, others
to elves are kin,
And Dvalin's daughters some
Thence come the maidens
mighty in wisdom,
Three from the dwelling
down 'neath the tree;
Urth is one named,
Verthandi the next,--
On the wood they scored,--
and Skuld the third.
Laws they made there,
and life allotted
To the sons of men,
and set their fates"
When the Nymph finished her recitation, she touched her claws to her lips, chartreuse tresses falling around her figure in hypnotic rotations as she allowed her voice to drop off from the various prose she had spoken of.
“I know where you seek, it’s not an easy place to go now that the war has made Uchfos paranoid, the protectors have tried sealing the borders from all intrusion. But I sent a missive before our council, telling my mother and the others of where I’m at. If I tell them of your intentions, they’ll part the gates at least to allow you safe passage. But the Norn do what they please and do not bide by our govern despite being in our territory, Fey will always do their will and are cruel in doing so. It’s only our kinship that allows them to remain.
Follow the magpies, they’re part of our messengers, but only they can get you so far. Perform the salute and speak the rhyme, and they’ll be your guides for a time. I can’t say for the others that live in Uchfos, we are not the only ones and I’m sure you know much about its depths.”
The Nymph drew in a soft breath and with a gesture of her hand, she began:
"One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.
For every magpie you see, speak the line that corresponds with the number that gather.”
Here she pondered, mulling over what must be done to ensure the Prince victorious and the world he wished for was done. If the Norn failed then they would descend into the literal belly of the beast, to the enemy that was mounting forces surely as they all spoke. Kylmi felt her heart flutter at the tension and prospect of such a quest and her heart earned to go to Uchfos with the half-elf child. When the elf of green eyes and a kin of the sun like she spoke of accompanying her, she could only see it as appropriate should they have to embark on the enemy lands.
She knew her appearance, so lavish and exotic as it was, would not be accepted among such. Isildier’s Weeping Grove was even father beyond she recalled, but nothing remained there but twisted creatures and petrified faces of her dead brothers and sister. Tarwin spoke of the nomadic clans in the plains betwixt the forests and dilapidated forts, to possibly gain their rally and favour. It was a good plan in that, she could nod and agree to such for him to attempt. However in the events of the raid, she wondered how capable she would be, she had magic at her disposal and manipulation prowess and the thorns of her wrists. But would that be enough?
Kylmi wasn’t an assassin, her eyes drifted to the dark elf child, the only killing she had ever done was long ago in defending her home. And since then she had been more favouring of careless glee and splendors. She sighed quietly to herself, despite all these apparent disadvantages and favours, Kylmi would fight, she’d stand firm instead of running away and refused to allow her home to be accosted from her all over again. If her message came with what she had requested within the lettering, she would be able to beseech to her kin to aide the mortals in this hopeless endeavor. At that, Kylmi hummed.
“Like I mentioned, I have the alliance of those that owe me from deeds done past. Should my couriers return, I can send for them or go to them myself. I will attempt and do all that I can should I travel with those to secure and hold the southern ruins or see to your brother’s demise. Nature is cruel and every changing and the beasts at my command will fall unto these men with every intent to kill.
I long to see my home, but I’d rather see to its safety first.”
Other than those words, the Nymph reined in the coiling vines that attempted to snake across the map dotted with various figures. Part of her nearly recommended a moment of festivities, to relax one eve before they all would depart on their quests in which some might not return. Kylmi though did not think these individuals would be custom to such wanton intentions and at that she rubbed her hands across her arms, bidding plants to her frame once again.
Well, it's as you say, they have immunity.
Has my vote!
Though I'm curious about the moon goddess.
The lore everyone brings fascinates me.
Has my vote!
Though I'm curious about the moon goddess.
The lore everyone brings fascinates me.
Naunix said
Yeah sorry I know it is a bit abrupt, but how else do you get a vampire hunter to be somewhere and get easily noticed by the nearby players without killing a few vampires? lol
Hey, you gotta do whatever it takes sometimes.
Wraithblade6 said
Ilyndriel "Lyn" Shadowsong
Oh neat, another elf!
-Begins to read-
Love Norse Mythology.
Naunix said
Okey Dokey, just made his intro post. I feel like a large bonfire in the middle of the ruins should be enough to attract some attention. :D
So.
There were vampires in the ruins [Baalor]? And he dispatched them, burned them, etc. Now he lit a large fire, without being noticed, correct? Naturally this would have taken place the night before. . . and then where we are now.
I assume the ruins are spacious enough for this occur, but then, there are [I recall close to five-hundred] a large number of forces that have been there for sometime. Unless they were preying on the soldiers stationed there, then maybe.
I could be over-thinking this but, this is my deduction.
Good post, regardless.
Reason I inquire this is because fire freaks Kylmi the fuck out, so she'd possibly panic or go feral with the fact that it's a huge bonfire. And so everyone else knows what is going on. c=
Ah I was thinking the same thing, Spark.
I can easily colour it to be gold, if you'd like to use it for his sheet, Hammy-ham.
I can easily colour it to be gold, if you'd like to use it for his sheet, Hammy-ham.
Hurry back to us JJ!
I haven't done a Mag Fact in a while, hmmmmm.
Oh.
Fact: She has a tendency to slip into her first language when incredibly embarrassed or flustered, which isn't often, or ever. But it comes along with her accent as well.
Speaking of which, does anyone else have a sort of accent designated for their character? I don't know if it has been brought up before.
I haven't done a Mag Fact in a while, hmmmmm.
Oh.
Fact: She has a tendency to slip into her first language when incredibly embarrassed or flustered, which isn't often, or ever. But it comes along with her accent as well.
Speaking of which, does anyone else have a sort of accent designated for their character? I don't know if it has been brought up before.
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