Avatar of Saber
  • Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
  • Old Guild Username: ANMC
  • Joined: 12 yrs ago
  • Posts: 166 (0.04 / day)
  • VMs: 1
  • Username history
    1. Saber 12 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

7 yrs ago
Current Fucked my arms up on some barbed wire
2 likes
7 yrs ago
Nothing is essential//
8 yrs ago
Reaching out broke my heart. The following silence reminded me of my desires. The shards discarded, I quickly departed.
2 likes
9 yrs ago
That's grim.
9 yrs ago
I don't feel like me when I take my medicine.
1 like

Bio

She's back.

Most Recent Posts

Put up two posts. Sorry I've been sick and all that, lately. I'll work on the kingdom descriptions soonish.

EDIT:

Name: Delris Salt
Age: Fifty three
House: Salt
Sigil: A black mountain on a red banner.
Abilities: Head of House Salt. Delris is a skilled poisoner and a former agent of the crown. It was he that tended to the tutelage of his firstborn children to ensure that the service of their family continued into the new generation. He is currently wracked with illness and is bedridden. His wits remain, but most believe his time is short.

Name: Freir "Friar" Cayn
Age: Twenty nine
House: None.
Sigil: None.
Abilities: A cutthroat and ne'er-do-well, "Friar" Cayn is well respected in Warrhon's underworld. Possesses many connections in the Thieves' Guild and works closely with House Quinn. Freir is talented in illusory magics, which he uses to confuse or lure his target before striking. He is an ambitious man and values gold over everything. It is rumored that he has fathered countless bastards, that he uses as spies throughout the city.

Birds, she brooded, ever are his thoughts with the birds.

Pyrra Salt made her way through the garden, stepping over the broken petals of noble passings and through the scattered twigs of caustic, careless indifference. She noted each broken branch and trampled petal with a careful eye; staring down the bridge of her nose to take note of those in her path. There were many men in Warrhon, many careless, oafish men who used heavy blades instead of honeyed words. Their passage was marked here; a shoulder brushed against a hanging arrangement of roses, a dirty, dragging foot tearing loose the rich soil and spreading it into the walkway. More signs existed, miniscule and scattered.

She sighed, striding through the humid bitterness in the air; wiping beads of sweat from her brow. The garden flowed by, scattered petals of myriad hues along her path. Strangely, she counted each one. There were one hundred and seven scattered petals along the path from the Great Hall to the Aviary. It was a fair gamble that her brother, Judam would be there.

Does he ever think of the flowers?

He would be there with his falcons, knowing her presence from the first step she took into his domain. She admired that in him, his careful measure of those around him and desire for solitude. Pyrra and her twin were the fortunate Salt children, the oldest and those born to inherit the work of their industrious father. Though Delris Salt still drew breath, there were many who feared that his life was nearing its end. Pyrra paused at the door of the Aviary, her thoughts turning to her brother once more.

Judam thinks of flowers as often as I think of birds.

She allowed herself a rueful snort and threw open the heavy door, taking care to make her first footfall the heaviest. Stepping through, Pyrra placed one hand behind her back and extending her fingers to catch the door. It tapped against the tips of her digits and she slowly lead it back into place. With a surprisingly subtle click the door slid into place.

"Judam," she queried up the spiral staircase wrought of dark iron, her eyes trailing up its wild winding and into the dim obfuscation above, "take a break. Your sister's come to visit."

Pyrra leaned against the door, crossing her legs in front of her, a slight smile creeping onto her face. With her gentle, fluid motions the lute on her hip swayed and the parchment clutched in her other hand scraped lightly against the door.

- - - - -

It was a song he had learned listening to Pyrra, when she played on the quiet nights where the hall felt to be more a tomb than home to the bastard Hinn. The song was called 'The Reclaimer' and detailed the life of renowned king Giald Loroughe. He had never managed to commit the entire song to memory, but the first few lines had always resonated with him; the words etching themselves into his heart. Ruarc sang quietly into the damp recesses of his tankard, a mere whisper at the first syllable...a quiet growl near the end.

"Bastard son of the rising sun,
turned away at the break of dawn,
such a sight did the gods ever see,
the fear and loathing that babe would breed.
"

He stared at his relfection in the bubbling ale. His own eyes, made rhuemy and amorphous in the shifting froth, bored into him. There was a look of disappointment on his face, sour and laced with a pungent, festering hurt.

I know your bitterness, cousin, he told Grey while telling himself, some songs shouldn't be sung.

Perhaps it was merely his own melancholy that shaped his thoughts.

With another heavy sigh, Ruarc lowered his tankard and stood. Perhaps it was that he stood so slowly, that some eyes trailed to him. Or, perhaps, it was their mistrust of the strange boy seated in their midst; the fast friend of The Stolen and ever-silent companion of Seralle Loroughe. He ignored them, casting his eyes to her, where she sat speaking to the northman. She was safe, he supposed and more lively than he expected on a night such as this. It pained him, in a way, to watch her be so quickly comfortable with her betrothed; but it was not his place to question the judgement of royalty.

Ruarc Hinn left the great hall in silence, tracing the steps of his cousin.
As kings feasted in Warrhon, blood spilled onto the sands. As they lifted their cups, the Sand Eaters lifted their blades.

"I curse you, Urutuuraak Shadowsung and all those bound to you. The vultures will pick your bones and carry your soul to their children. There will be no one left to mourn you. They will return to the Worm. You," the Sand Eater spat at his foe, "will become one with the Waiting Death. In time, you will carry away the souls I curse."

Silence followed, save for his foe's weak and intermittent gurgling.

"All things return to the sand," he whispered into the dead man's ear, after a long pause, slowly drawing the blade from his foe and letting his useless body topple to the ground.

Blood splattered against his feet, sprayed from the visceral ruin of Urutuuraak's throat. Urutuurak had been chief of the Shadowsung...and now he was little more than a husk. He pressed his foot against the corpse's face, rolling the former chief's head with the toe-end of his sandals; staring into the listless golden orbs that had once housed a fiery soul.

Outside of the tent, battle raged. There was no great thundering of the dune worms; no familiars conjured from the Djynn Realms. It was a battle of pure strength and the Ashtongue had grown far beyond simple strength. What once was a tattered, ragged band had become one of the most feared clans to stalk the midnight dunes. While Jehyr was not their leader in the ways of The Great Devourer and the many Djynn Gods, it was he that lead the warriors into combat. It was he who sounded the call for battle and he who was first to draw blood. Such was his right, such was his honor.

As he stepped from Urutuuraak's tent, the sun bore down on him; casting waves in the air before him, dancing in a draining, bloodthirsty excitement. Vultures circled above, their keen ears cast to Jehyr's curse on the Shadowsung. For it was they that were the Void Eyes and Waiting Death; those that stripped dead flesh and soul for The Great Devourer. The Shadowsung belonged to them. Even as Jehyr stood in the light of the sun, they fell. Their spirit had been killed with Urutuuraak and their strength had fled with his last breath.

Turning away, Jehyr Ashtongue set about tearing down the chieftain's tent; preparing an offering for the shadows that circled above.
I'll answer this before I collapse into unconsciousness.

Magical Attunement does indeed determine what a mage's natural magic inclination is. However, it does not restrict them; it merely represents what type of magic they're best at.

I'll get info on the schools of magic up soon.


EDIT: Added 'Gender' and 'Magical Attunement' to the CS, since I forgot them earlier. Sorry 'bout that. Will have Morben Risaac up sometime later.
I'll be posting my character sheets sometime later in the day, or tomorrow. Not feeling well at the moment. The ones that are posted look great, so far. ^^

Welcome to the new. Hi to the old. I'll catch ya'll in a while.
OOC is up!

It isn't quite completed, yet, due to the amount of things I am having to organize and make edits to. But, I did tell you guys it'd be up today. Give it a read and ask any questions, if you have them.

Remnant: Welcome! There's always more room! You're free to shoot me a PM concerning your questions about your character idea; I'll do my best to answer them with haste.
Hi, again! It's me, Saber! I'm so glad you could make it! Mind you, this is rough right now; I rushed it to meet the deadline I promised you guys. The information here is subject to being edited for consistency, (Sicarius and I are working hard on keeping it all in line) as well as adding additional information. Onto the good stuff!

















That's it, for now. I will be adding information about the Yildeanic Faith, Mage Slayer and Schools of Magic in sometime tomorrow; as well as several other things.

The Interest Check is located here! In case you need to check it out or anything.
I usually only do one roleplay at a time...and one that I've created and decided to host. This is largely due to my inability to focus on more than one thing at a time. There are exceptions, of course, as I can juggle the RP I'm GMing (which is always in advanced, due to the standard 'speed' of the threads and my own posting expectations) and something like a high-casual or low-advanced 1x1.
PrinceOfQuills said
However, for the sake of the RP, I think we should all consider that we were meant to be on the hunt for mages (our recruitment rests in this general idea in the first place), and at the same time, it's rare enough as it is to be pro-mage in this universe. What I'm basically saying is, if any wish to be pro-mage in the long run, they should logically be starting with the philosophy that mages are, beyond reasonable doubt, evil, or if not, these people could be relatively indifferent to them (many mercenary-like characters might lean on this ideology; i.e. they care not who to kill, etc.). A little drama and some heated rocky beginnings wouldn't hurt haha.


Yeah, that's one of the central themes in this RP. As I said in the 'setting' section up top. I don't mind some people secretly being curious about mages and all that, but if you're caught consorting with mages...well, it's a death sentence. Being a mage...well, it's a death sentence too. Hahah.

PrinceOfQuills said EDIT: I think this RP has the potential to be one of the very best, and I would really hate to see this die. In my long time as an RPer, I found this to be almost inevitable, save for a certain special few. And this certain few, I've found, had rules implementing that they would kill off the characters of those who fail to respond after a while without prior notice (or some would put them into an inactive spot, then eventually kill them off). I'm not saying anything; it's just that, I want everyone to know how horrible it feels when an RP you've really enjoyed suddenly dies, simply because one member didn't give a damn about it anymore. Just saying. Let's make this fun, guys :D


I'll make sure to add it into the rules once I get the OOC up. I certainly have no problem giving someone's character a quick (maybe even dramatic) death if they're absent for an unacceptable amount of time. Hell, I'm even cool with one of you guys writing it...if it comes to that. Thank you for your kind words and belief in the potential of this roleplay! I'm sure this is gonna be damn fun. ^_^
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