SilverPaw

The Quilted Flag - Act I

@Admythaus Unabashedly copy-pasting your formatting for the IC posts, hope you don't mind. Also, I hope there being what Yorsiccos assumes is mine-excavating going on to the west isn't taking too much of a liberty? Only, he can only travel underground during the day, so this was something that seemed like it could make sense.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

6

Yorsiccos

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Yorsiccos made it back to his cave just in time to avoid the irritants that were the first rays of dawn – but then again, he always did. His years had allowed him to perfect reading the moon’s path, and when that was unavailable, pinpoint the starts which brightened as dawn approached, and he was now so well-versed in his practice that he always returned back to his cave just in time.

Tonight’s foraging had left him only with one whole corked wine-glass bottle and the shards of several broken ones, but he’d taken it all, fastening the bottle to his belt and wrapping all the shattered glass pieces in several bundles of cleaning cloths. The latter had been safely stored into cloth sack. The cloth sack carried his favourite items, and he took it with him everywhere. If he ever happened upon a new cave, sewer, or crevice during his night time exploring that seemed a better home than the current one he possessed (not that he’d found one that fit his criteria of ‘better’ yet), he would at least have what he most valued with him. The other junk…Well, he knew where it was stored.

Getting to his home (a hoarder’s paradise, really) was quite the procedure though. It took even him nearly two hours, and he knew how to navigate the cavern’s treacherous twists, how to avoid the dead-ends, the maddening circuitous labyrinthine parts of the system, and the magnificence of nature-made pitfall traps. He’d fallen into several back when he’d first started as a Mormagi, and crawling out had been…well, decades of time dulled the experience, but he preferred not to think on it. Arriving into his home, on the other hand, felt welcoming and familiar, despite some of the memories associated with the caverns. The main room, the one that Stodmen occasionally made their way in was a spacious ellipsoid thing, the centre of it possessing obvious signs of a camping: earth packed tightly by the many bodies that had lain there and the remains of an old campfire scattered around, but still recognizable for what they were.

Proceeding deeper, there was a wall with two branching and ever narrowing tunnels, with some branches stretching wide but most leading nowhere, and the branches proceeding deeper leading to smaller chambers, claustrophobic crawl-spaces and crevices. His part of the cavern was a medium spherical chamber located not far from a sizable underground lake, the walls and floors of which he’d smoothed over his time of inhabiting it. The stalagmites (but not the stalactites) have also been removed. "Home sweet home," he muttered, the action somewhat unpleasant on his throat. But it did mitigate the solitude, and that was something.

Here, unknown thousands of meters underground, was where he stashed the majority of his belongings – all of those things that weren’t quite his favourites, yet made the cavern into a home. He placed the whole corked bottle next to the collection of tin mugs, wooden cups, buckets, and other similar man-made liquid containers that he’d been able to find whole (they were damaged, and in some cases misshapen, but nonetheless whole). The shards of glass on the other hand, he put next to a set of sharp-ended items (serrated or broken-off pieces of metal, mostly) that he kept on a wide expanse of cloth. The liquid containers came in handy whenever he desired a wash (he preferred not contaminating the nearby lake, thank-you-very-much), and the sharp implements were adequate for scraping off loose skin – a procedure which encouraged faster re-growth for a new layer of decaying epidermis.

After sorting his items, he sat down, laying his satchel next to him, and unsheathed his knife. Then he picked up a chunk of birch (he had a sizeable pile of broken furniture and several logs, though all the wood was rather damp), and set to carving somewhat mindlessly. Carving was something he often did instead of sleeping. He didn’t truly require sleep, though if he chose to do so, he could also sleep much longer than any of the other races did; he’d once slept for what he guessed later must have been close to a year. Now, he rarely slept at all. Carving was better, he found. This time, he set out to make a mask. His ultimate goal, if it could be called that, was discovering a way to tolerate sunlight better. Covering up with cloth and bandages hadn’t done much in his favour so far, but perhaps another material might.

A couple of hours later, he had a crude wooden mask. He tied it to his face with several strips of cloth, picked up his satchel after, and put the sheathed knife back at his left hip where it belonged, Yorsiccos wandered over to the lake-chamber several tunnels over. He examined himself; he could now perhaps pass for a shady Stodman beggar if the one observing him were particularly drunk. Well, it was something. He didn’t need a disguise to traverse his caverns, of course, but there had been some recent goings-on he’d felt reverberate through the earth. After exploring the upper levels, he discovered a group of miners had been making excavating attempts far to the west of where he usually resided. This meant that other beings were getting much too near to his territory for his taste, however, and so he’d found (or dug out) a series of tunnels and widened some existing crevices to make a tiny, tiny entrance to what appeared a mine being renovated. This was where he was heading now, his path underground taking him westwards.

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^{XP • 0 | Gold • 0}

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_{Actions Spent: -- | Attacks Spent: --}

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I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

Asteria

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“You interacted with the system directly,” Asteria noted as Ed explained messing something up. Most likely a berserker-esque skill that traded mental faculties for brute strength and a cruel forcefulness. Thankfully, it seemed both temporary and at least partially under the Ratman’s control. The direct interaction with the system was rather intriguing, and something Asteria kept in mind for later. Soon after moving on from the ant colony, black smoke began billowing up to them, an indication of a fire if she ever saw one. “Agreed,” she gritted through her teeth as she geared up all her muscles for a prolonged full-on run, urging Mother Rat to follow swiftly as well.

At one point in their travels, Mother Rat squeaked a warning, and Asteria followed her lead in ducking under as she gazed up to the large white bird of prey. She reflexively used Monster Analysis on it now that she had some mana with which to do so again. It was curious that the bird seemed to have a set destination in mind, and didn’t make any detours even for what was sure to be a tasty snack for it. “Mm-hm. It was weirdly intent. Could have been related to the two humans whose tracks we’ve passed,” she suggested, though she wasn’t sure how likely that was.

Breezing through the plains meant they eventually outran the fire, at least for now. Asteria gazed forwards, trying to distinguish the shapes, which she was sure was the darker green something she’d seen up from the tree-top at the beginning of their journey. She gasped at the realization that it was a settlement almost at the same time that Ed narrated his discovery to her. “I see it, yes. I dearly hope they have a means to contain a fire that’s apparently spreading through the whole damn grasslands. If there was ever a time to discover how to use magic, and learn some water spell, now would really be the time,” she grumbled, though based on how difficult it had been for her so far to get anything like the spell she’d seen others use so far, she doubted she could magic a trick such as that simply because it would be very helpful and convenient to do so just then. Not that she wouldn’t try, but as Ed had said, they had to establish safe lodgings first.

Asteria joined Ed as he observed the surroundings carefully. Regardless of what they saw, she would also put her head to the ground afterwards, just like Mother Rat had done while she listened for the ants. If her enhanced hearing and the alertness she possessed didn’t point out any evident dangers, she would begin digging into the earth as swiftly as she could, making a hole, then a tunnel. If nothing else, being deep underground could protect them from a fire…right? Well, she certainly hoped that was the case, because it was unlikely they’d find anything better around here.

Action summary

Runs from the fire with Ed and MR, pushing her muscles to keep up with the impromptu marathon.
Uses Monster Analysis II on the white eagle.
Uses Beast Senses II to focus her sight on the surroundings, helping Ed to look for a safe place to stay.
Uses Beast Senses II to focus her hearing, trying to listen to any dangers that might be under the grounds.
If she hears nothing, she takes the risk to begin digging a hole with the intent of making a tunnel underground.

The Mothership Descends

Not sure if I'll have enough time to join but Yes, this looks awesome. I'm curious to see more.
_{Disclaimer: I'm making no promises.}

The Quilted Flag - Act I

I check the guild daily, I post whenever's most convenient for me *shrug*.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Jandar Varan

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille

Immediately upon entering, Jandar noticed the shady group, broken-nosed slick-and-black-haired male (their leader, apparently) included, while they were too preoccupied with their nefarious plans to pay attention to him. The moment he heard them mention fun and challenge and profit with that sickening, leery, cruel, mocking undertone to their words, the moment he realized they were following the Opal witch, was the same moment his mind began racing, his heart-beat quickening to an almost erratic thump-thump-thump, the sensation akin to a beast roaring against his chest, a beast doing its best to tackle and claw its way out-out-OUT.

They- Hell’s fire consume them, the bastards were going to- to rape the girl. Even if they refrained from committing that particular act, they would hurt and injure her in other ways. Would the Opal witch – the witch who had helped him, who had been worried about a weaker-jeweled witch, who had given him a snack for Teo and advice to boot, whom he didn’t even know the name of! – turn into yet another Witchblood, her blood spilled as carelessly as had been done countless times here, a mere fertilizer for the- The horrifying, thoughtless massacre, the perversion of anything good and proper in the world…Jandar sucked in a sharp breath, clearing his mind.

The scent of a Queen entering distracted him for but a moment, long enough to note that she was attempting to stay unnoticed (and the burning questions of who, why, what were roughly shoved to a corner of his mind – this was not an issue he could afford to spend time on right now), long enough that he surveyed the room’s occupants and judged whoever the owner of the pouch was, they weren’t openly panicking yet, long enough to consider paying a visit to Cook and immediately dismiss the notion, long enough to reassuringly grip the hunter knife sheathed at his back, long enough to notice the Queen was being pestered by the innkeeper (but she had a companion, he needn’t redirect his worry to her when the Opal witch was all alone, facing danger on her own).

It couldn’t have been longer than a dozen seconds – not more than half-a-minute, certainly? – since the witch-hunting males had closed the door after themselves. (But what if those seconds had determined whether he could save the witch? His traitorous mind took its own direction with his fears, whispering the likes of What if you can’t save her? What if you do, and they simply hunt down another? What if you enrage them, and they do much worse? What if you compromise your own position? Would it not be safer to ignore this? Can you afford to ignore this? Will taking action truly lead to a better result? And if your involvement worsens the situation? If the group notices, what then? Will you try to protect the witch by being the only one- the only ‘gentle’ one, you utter fool? Will you simply attack them, take on a group, risk your life and your mission for some no-name witch? Risk being taken prisoner so soon for the sheer idiocy you are about to attempt? Each thought charged him so full of emotion he felt he might burst, yet he ignored the rising anxiety, ignored the nerves, shoved it all down and under, down and under, until he thrummed full of purpose, yet hadn’t taken a single step forward, and he was just wasting time now, You’re wasting time!)

No, it hadn’t taken long at all for Jandar to reach a decision. (But, oh, you had wasted a few precious seconds, haven’t you? Wasted time for senseless self-doubting- No, no, no, keep your goal in mind, work on the method as you go, now just go!) He was moving after the group already, drawing on his Blood Opal jewel as he cast an aural shield at the door to obscure the sound of it opening for him and closing behind him. As soon as he was out of the main room and the door closed behind him, he drew upon his Craft to cast a sight shield on himself, followed by a hasty aural shield as well. He pursued the group swiftly, but tookcare to step softly and kept a bit of a distance from the group in case his Craft failed him or the power he had used drew any of the males’ attention to their surroundings.

However, the moment he determined where the Opal witch had gone, he was resolved to try to get to her first. (But unnoticed, he should not be noticed, he should hide himself and the witch, could he hide them both, How could I possibly- How to get to her first when they’re in front of you?) However, if the witch was already being accosted…well. He’d have to waste a few precious seconds in any case just to determine whether the group was speaking (or doing terrible, unforgivable, unspeakable things) to the witch, and how she was faring – could he hope the Opal witch would help herself, somehow? He rather doubted she could take on a whole group by herself.

And if the Mother-forsaken shit-sacks were engaged with the witch in some manner already, Jandar would have to take a direct approach (not an idea he was fond of, but surely, surely he could make something work? Redirect their attention? Distract them? Join them, and incapacitate them when they are- when they are-), and do his best to chase them off. May the Darkness be merciful, let me be in time. (He was furious, so furious he could kill them all, kill them and desecrate their corpses, not only could he do it – easily, he knew – it would be so easy when they didn’t even see him, didn’t even hear him, it would be easy, and he would take joy in it, he would laugh as they screamed, he would laugh as the light left their undeserving eyes, he would laugh.) Let this be simple.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

Yorsiccos

0

Yorsiccos

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_{"I don't care if it's shiny, or even useful. If it's interesting, I want it."}


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^{XP • 0,000 Gold • 0}

Race / Species Mormagi	Sex ♂

Appearance He's 5'11 tall, though hunching makes him seem a bit less than that. He's extremely thin, and kind of gangly. Most glaringly, his flesh is discouloured, his appearance that of a rotting decaying corpse. His legs and the left side of his torso still have signs of being burned in the past. His skin has a dry feel to it; any puss that may be leaking occasionally is simply due to unhealed wounds. He has no hair, his teeth are yellowed (some are missing), his nails have signs of being bitten often, his cuticles are likely permanently damaged. His hands have plenty of small scars and nicks. His whole body is littered with puncture marks - signs that he's doing his best to keep his body from literally falling apart, but it's a constant struggle.

Age 117	Voice Like ancient parchment: soft spoken, raspy, dry, and scratchy as if with disuse.

Trade Collector	Skills Long "Life" | Craftsmanship 1 | ---

Quirks Talking to himself and non-sentient beings. Biting his nails, picking at his cuticles. Suturing his own wounds whenever limb-loss or major skin-loss seems likely to occur, taking the stitches out whenever he manages to heal naturally.

Interests Treasure. Junk. Items. Possessions. Finding things. Collecting things. Crafting things. Dismantling things. Finding out how things work. Inconveniencing day-dwellers without them realizing who the culprit is.

Disgusts Daylight. Daydwellers. The full moon. Getting lost. Crowds. Loud noises. Disruptions. Intruders that try to appropriate his territory, even if they only do so for a night.

History Born as a Stodman more than a century ago in Gillsommr, the now Mormagi had been but a young boy at the time, an orphan who earned his bread and butter as a servant for families both able and willing to afford to pay to a no-name urchin. In a bid for higher rewards in exchange for higher risks, the boy had joined several army expeditions as a teen - despite his lack of combat skills, there were groups willing to pay him to do a range of jobs (menial or even slightly risky, such as scouting), whether because the militia and the mercenaries were too preoccupied with the actual fighting or simply unwilling to perform the tasks they'd hired him to do. They boy had learned to clean well, cook decently, do minor repairs, scout for enemies, look after the horses, sharpen the weapons and polish the armour. But mainly, he had learned how to look after himself and how to avoid being taken advantage of. There wasn't anyone he trusted besides himself (and sometimes not even that - he knew he could get himself in trouble due to his sticky fingers), and he had no particular goals beyond survival. He would admit that he was a coward back then. And despite his caution, he was struck by a stray arrow, left to die in a ditch. His death was slow and painful, but if he'd had time for thought beyond the endless pain and horror, he most likely wouldn't find any regrets. No, there were none, because he'd lived the only way he knew how to. Though he'd died barely after reaching his majority, he'd be content with what he'd had if he'd known what the alternative was. The alternative, as it turned out, was undeath. He'd been thrown into a mass grave, been struck there by the Skalgwordh virus, and returned to...a form of life, if it could be called that. There had been pain, then insensate blackness, then the stench of death, the sight of corpses in various stages of decay, all crowding an enormous hole and afire. When the boy awoke, he felt strangely stiff, but not dead. No, death hadn't claimed him, though it was certainly close to doing so. The blaze was devouring the corpses. It had almost devoured him as well. As it was, the boy had awoken just in time to feel the fire beginning to wrap around and cling to him. He made a desperate, frenzied escape. The boy crawled out of the grave, and was met with the solitude of night. There were no others travelling at night time. He ventured onward unperturbed, stumbling and falling over several times, but he always picked himself up, scrapes ignored. He had managed to put out the fire and survive again. Now, he was heading somewhere. It turned the somewhere was a deep-reaching maze of a cave system. He entered the caverns, weaving his way from passage to passage, tunnel to tunnel, venturing deeper and deeper, drawn into the abyss. Despite the complete darkness, he managed to navigate well. Hours and hours later, he came upon a beautiful cave lake. He collapsed by it, his body rattling oddly, and drank from its depths. Once he had his fill of the water, he glanced at the lake, and he saw his own reflection. He was enraptured. No, he was horrified. Dazed. Stunned. Disbelieving. Wondering. Accepting. The initial self-disgust he'd felt had been muted, as if his humanity had been snuffed out alongside his change of appearance. Was it because his brain had begun to rot? Was there something intrinsically different about him now? He didn't know. He didn't wonder long. Whatever he was now, he would do the one thing he clearly remembered desiring to do - survive. He wandered his cave system, getting lost for the following few decades, but patient enough to explore the existing pathways, and digging some new ones of his own. He made his home within the caverns, and was eventually so familiar with them he was able to get in and out of them easily. And although he'd developed the patience of a mountain, he was getting bored. For the first time ever, he wanted more than the barest survival. He wanted to enjoy life, even if the joy he felt was a dull mockery in comparison to what daydwellers experienced. And so, he begun collecting things. He wandered outside during the night, never too far. He collected all kinds of strange little things. Things left, forgotten, or abandoned by Stodmen. On rare occasions, things 'stolen' from a Stodman junkyard. A memorable time or two the Mormagi even managed to nick a little something from the rare Stodman who wandered into his cave to explore or rest. He became the Collector. He remembered some Stodmen knowledge, and named himself anew. He made goals: items he wanted to find, items he wanted to dismantle, and most importantly, items he wanted to repair or items he wanted to create.

Traits

• Intellect: Stubborn. Character is closed to most new ideas and changes.
• Openness: Realistic. Character enjoys how things are, but can appreciate some forms of art and new concepts.
• Motivation: Reliable. Character is motivated and active, capable of self-control.
• Temper: Meek. Character is passive and mildly empathetic, lacking consideration, trust, and tending to lie, be passive aggressive, or play devil's advocate.
• Emotional Stability: Easy-going. Character has expectations regarding others and has good emotional control as long as those expectations are met.

Clothes & Equipement

• Black hood.
• Old black woolen cloak.
• A faded gray long-sleeved shirt.
• A worn brown leather vest.
• Bandages on his hands and forearms.
• Dark gray cloth trousers, with multi-colored patches covering up holes.
• A belt made up of multiple ropes braided and tied together.
• Bandages on his calves and feet.
• Faded and worn brown leather boots.
• A leather cord necklace that he keeps his needles tied to.

Inventory

• A (scavenged, old, but sturdy) metal flask containing carefully collected oil.
• Lots and lots of catgut thread.
• Five needles of different sizes (slightly rusty, but still sharp).
• Several cleaning rags (fashioned from old clothing).
• A steel knife with a leather-wrapped wooden handle.
• A hatchet.
• A large (often patched) cloth sack for carrying stuff around in.
• Rope (usually used to wrap around and carry his sack).
• Broken pieces of an abandoned gittern (only its nuts, though rusty, seem like they might be reused).

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Jasilkal

0

Jasilkal

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_{"There is always more to learn, more to discover. Now, if I only devised a way to prolong life..."}


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^{XP • 0,000 Gold • 0}

Race / Species Occ	Sex ♀

Appearance Jasilkal is 310 centimeters (10'2) tall, and 590 centimeters (19'4) long. Her skin-tone ranges from pale-green (her face) to a deep dark forest green (mostly her back), with grayish-green spots scattered on her shoulders, back, and thighs. Her irises are pools of molten gold. Jasilkal has a delicate snout, and like most of her race, possesses two long fangs that can be used to inject venom through - though she personally doesn't have fully-developed venom glans yet. Her head and neck ridges are a grayish-green to soot dark gray in colour.

Age 20	Voice Mocha-esque: somewhat deep, smooth, and soothing.

Trade Alchemist	Skills Nature 1 | Alchemy 1 | ---

Quirks Flicking tongue over her fangs. Tail twitching to tail lashing when nervous, frustrated, or angry. Hissing and baring her fangs when extremely offended. Writing a personal diary containing facts, ideas, rambling thoughts, the occasional prose and poetry excerpts, complaints, achievements, and more.

Interests Alchemy, potion making, ingredient gathering and preparations, witchery (rituals, spells, enchantments etc.), medicine and healing, making discoveries, reading, writing (esp. own research), learning, stories and story-telling, fame.

Disgusts Stodmen, anyone unwilling to share knowledge, those resistant to reason and/or unbelieving of facts, anyone dismissive of knowledge and intelligence (but especially, anyone dismissive of her contributions), lack of common sense.

History Born in Badlessi to Kaarmuken, her mother (an innkeeper and a businesswoman), and Jardaskul, her father (a guard, hunter, and fisherman), in a middle-sized settlement built next to a lake, with several hills no more than half a day's walk away. Jasilkal was named for the uniform pale green skin-tone she was born with and the hints of jade supposedly seen in her eyes. She was an only child (until her 5th year, when she got an adopted younger brother), but with the Occ practice of community rearing, she was never deprived of company. However, she was the type of child who preferred solitude, or at the very least, enjoyed solitary pursuits. When the others collected plants because they found them pretty or wanted to gift them to someone, Jasilkal gathered them for herself, to study their medical uses. While many children were resistant to learning, and were simply in awe of the shamans, physician, and doctors, but kept at a distance from them, Jasilkal was voracious for knowledge, and did all she could to get close to those possessing medicinal expertise. If the other children had their fun running freely in the grasslands or cooling down in the lake, she would spend it pestering adults with questions or curling up in a shaded corner to read whatever text happened to intrigue her. A rare thing she had in common with the other children was her love of stories, though her obsession with that drove her to memorize several of the tales, from the most popular to the most obscure, mystifying, and even some eerie ones. She wrote a story or two of her own, though her childish attempts at this weren't appreciated often. The first true friend she had found, a female by the name of Uruzik (four years older than Jasilkal), had been due to a shared love of story-telling. She wasn't as fond of exploring as some others, but did it for the sake of finding strange, intriguing ingredients. She took up all kinds of odd-work, as long as the work provided opportunity for her to learn anything healing-related. The one who was able to bring her out of her shell and more involved in the community life was her adopted younger brother (5 years her junior), Karjuuvos. Though he was the younger of the two, he took it upon himself to look after her, because while she wasn't willingly reckless, her curious nature could lead her to be unduly incautious when exploring, her intense focus on a certain goal at times making her completely unaware of other goings-on. Besides, having a younger brother made it easier for her to convince her father to take both her as well as her brother on a hunting expeditions; she went to collect the forest-endemic plants, and Karjuuvos so he could learn how to hunt. It was more-or-less a mutually beneficial deal, though obviously skewed in Jasilkal's favour, not that her brother minded much. This was only one of the many ways Jasilkal pursued what she was certain was her purpose, or at least part of it. Though young, Jasilkal was eager to learn the basics of first aid, and was allowed by her village leaders to assist in the most basic of tasks (e.g. changing bandages, applying paste, keeping track of patients' medicine dosages etc.). She was ambitious, and secretly somewhat exasperated that they wouldn't let her learn more sooner, feeling particularly patronized whenever the adults fussed how she was too young to see the cruelties of the world or some such rot. As far as she was concerned, they needn't had worried. Yet, to get what she desired, she mostly kept her head down, and proved through actions that she was capable of more. (Thankfully, some of the adults saw her passion as a sign of maturity, and encouraged her - her parents included.) Whenever she was frustrated by a lack of progress, bored by the menial work, or simply struck by a fancy, she took the time off to listen to another story, retell one to the younger children, or pour her woes into her diary. Even her fascination with stories, however, was nothing compared to her obsession with medicine, herbalism, and witchery. These were the things she desired to learn above all others, and she worked hard to get them. She managed to finagle an apprenticeship to a crotchety old alchemist living two or so miles out of the village (at the base of the nearest hill), close enough to trade easily, but far enough not to be disturbed too often. She worked on ingredient collection, preparation, and as a fetch-girl for Master Makumu, and picked up alchemy mainly from observation, though immersing herself in the books he possessed and assisting him with the occasional experiment certainly helped. Jasilkal was deemed ready by Makumu to start her own practice at 18, four years after starting her apprenticeship. She had her very own sod hut built, right next to her ex-Master's, because though she would now be officially independent, she was still an associate of his. He was one of the most anti-social Occ Elders, so she would still do some small tasks for him in exchange for rare ingredients or a helping hand for a large-scale experiment. Besides, he still hadn't taught her Atermagia, claiming she hadn't been born with the talent, and so should simply focus solely on alchemy instead - a sentiment Jasilkal still doesn't agree with, and intends to change Makumu's mind on. In the two years since achieving the equivalent of a Journeyman's status, she's been building her reputation in her village and the surrounding Occ settlements, but she's always seeking further opportunities.

Traits

• Intellect: Idealistic. Character keeps a free mind, but believes in set possibilities.
• Openness: Speculative. Character enjoys artful recombination and simple intellectual discourse.
• Motivation: Spontaneous. Character is mildly motivated but prefers impulsive pleasure to labor.
• Temper: Sympathetic. Character is empathetic and cooperative, but not overly considerate or trusting, seeking their own brand of social harmony.
• Emotional Stability: Fickle. Character becomes distraught in high-intensity scenarios and tends to bottle their feelings, resulting in outbursts.

Clothes & Equipement

• A skull headdress adorned with feathers, fur, and bones.
• A red triangular shawl.
• A loose pale-gray shirt.
• Depending on her work, she may wear gloves.
• A dark gray skirt with a long brown stripe and a short red stripe in front.
• Black leather belt fitted with pockets for vials.
• Black leather boots.
• Bone necklace.
• Apparel idea borrowed from this.

Inventory

• Two steel knives (she keeps more at home).
• A trowel.
• A flask of alcohol for disinfection.
• A brown leather satchel containing a basic first-aid kit (bandages, gauze, suturing equipment, a calming drug).
• A leather belt made specifically to carry vials in. She keeps several vials on her, some full (stomach soother, coagulation enhancer, a general but relatively weak anti-venin, feverfew extract) and some empty.
• Several cloth pouches to carry minerals or whole plants in.
• A glass epruvete with carefully sealed liquid mercury inside.
• Two small wooden jars: one containing pure powdered sulfur, the other regular table salt.
• A tinderbox containing a fire striker, flint, and tinder.

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The Quilted Flag - Act I

@Admythaus Yep, I searched for Argonians on Pinterest, and was extremely happy when I found one that fit so well with what I had in mind. I also think it's well done, but really, any kudos should be given to the actual artist XD.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

There we are. The female Occ alchemist.

Jasilkal

0

Jasilkal

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_{"There is always more to learn, more to discover. Now, if I only devised a way to prolong life..."}


______________________________________________________________________________________

^{XP • 0,000 Gold • 0}

Race / Species Occ	Sex ♀

Appearance Jasilkal is 310 centimeters (10'2) tall, and 590 centimeters (19'4) long. Her skin-tone ranges from pale-green (her face) to a deep dark forest green (mostly her back), with grayish-green spots scattered on her shoulders, back, and thighs. Her irises are pools of molten gold. Jasilkal has a delicate snout, and like most of her race, possesses two long fangs that can be used to inject venom through - though she personally doesn't have fully-developed venom glans yet. Her head and neck ridges are a grayish-green to soot dark gray in colour.

Age 20	Voice Mocha-esque: somewhat deep, smooth, and soothing.

Trade Alchemist	Skills Nature 1 | Alchemy 1 | ---

Quirks Flicking tongue over her fangs. Tail twitching to tail lashing when nervous, frustrated, or angry. Hissing and baring her fangs when extremely offended. Writing a personal diary containing facts, ideas, rambling thoughts, the occasional prose and poetry excerpts, complaints, achievements, and more.

Interests Alchemy, potion making, ingredient gathering and preparations, witchery (rituals, spells, enchantments etc.), medicine and healing, making discoveries, reading, writing (esp. own research), learning, stories and story-telling, fame.

Disgusts Stodmen, anyone unwilling to share knowledge, those resistant to reason and/or unbelieving of facts, anyone dismissive of knowledge and intelligence (but especially, anyone dismissive of her contributions), lack of common sense.

History Born in Badlessi to Kaarmuken, her mother (an innkeeper and a businesswoman), and Jardaskul, her father (a guard, hunter, and fisherman), in a middle-sized settlement built next to a lake, with several hills no more than half a day's walk away. Jasilkal was named for the uniform pale green skin-tone she was born with and the hints of jade supposedly seen in her eyes. She was an only child (until her 5th year, when she got an adopted younger brother), but with the Occ practice of community rearing, she was never deprived of company. However, she was the type of child who preferred solitude, or at the very least, enjoyed solitary pursuits. When the others collected plants because they found them pretty or wanted to gift them to someone, Jasilkal gathered them for herself, to study their medical uses. While many children were resistant to learning, and were simply in awe of the shamans, physician, and doctors, but kept at a distance from them, Jasilkal was voracious for knowledge, and did all she could to get close to those possessing medicinal expertise. If the other children had their fun running freely in the grasslands or cooling down in the lake, she would spend it pestering adults with questions or curling up in a shaded corner to read whatever text happened to intrigue her. A rare thing she had in common with the other children was her love of stories, though her obsession with that drove her to memorize several of the tales, from the most popular to the most obscure, mystifying, and even some eerie ones. She wrote a story or two of her own, though her childish attempts at this weren't appreciated often. The first true friend she had found, a female by the name of Uruzik (four years older than Jasilkal), had been due to a shared love of story-telling. She wasn't as fond of exploring as some others, but did it for the sake of finding strange, intriguing ingredients. She took up all kinds of odd-work, as long as the work provided opportunity for her to learn anything healing-related. The one who was able to bring her out of her shell and more involved in the community life was her adopted younger brother (5 years her junior), Karjuuvos. Though he was the younger of the two, he took it upon himself to look after her, because while she wasn't willingly reckless, her curious nature could lead her to be unduly incautious when exploring, her intense focus on a certain goal at times making her completely unaware of other goings-on. Besides, having a younger brother made it easier for her to convince her father to take both her as well as her brother on a hunting expeditions; she went to collect the forest-endemic plants, and Karjuuvos so he could learn how to hunt. It was more-or-less a mutually beneficial deal, though obviously skewed in Jasilkal's favour, not that her brother minded much. This was only one of the many ways Jasilkal pursued what she was certain was her purpose, or at least part of it. Though young, Jasilkal was eager to learn the basics of first aid, and was allowed by her village leaders to assist in the most basic of tasks (e.g. changing bandages, applying paste, keeping track of patients' medicine dosages etc.). She was ambitious, and secretly somewhat exasperated that they wouldn't let her learn more sooner, feeling particularly patronized whenever the adults fussed how she was too young to see the cruelties of the world or some such rot. As far as she was concerned, they needn't had worried. Yet, to get what she desired, she mostly kept her head down, and proved through actions that she was capable of more. (Thankfully, some of the adults saw her passion as a sign of maturity, and encouraged her - her parents included.) Whenever she was frustrated by a lack of progress, bored by the menial work, or simply struck by a fancy, she took the time off to listen to another story, retell one to the younger children, or pour her woes into her diary. Even her fascination with stories, however, was nothing compared to her obsession with medicine, herbalism, and witchery. These were the things she desired to learn above all others, and she worked hard to get them. She managed to finagle an apprenticeship to a crotchety old alchemist living two or so miles out of the village (at the base of the nearest hill), close enough to trade easily, but far enough not to be disturbed too often. She worked on ingredient collection, preparation, and as a fetch-girl for Master Makumu, and picked up alchemy mainly from observation, though immersing herself in the books he possessed and assisting him with the occasional experiment certainly helped. Jasilkal was deemed ready by Makumu to start her own practice at 18, four years after starting her apprenticeship. She had her very own sod hut built, right next to her ex-Master's, because though she would now be officially independent, she was still an associate of his. He was one of the most anti-social Occ Elders, so she would still do some small tasks for him in exchange for rare ingredients or a helping hand for a large-scale experiment. Besides, he still hadn't taught her Atermagia, claiming she hadn't been born with the talent, and so should simply focus solely on alchemy instead - a sentiment Jasilkal still doesn't agree with, and intends to change Makumu's mind on. In the two years since achieving the equivalent of a Journeyman's status, she's been building her reputation in her village and the surrounding Occ settlements, but she's always seeking further opportunities.

Traits

• Intellect: Idealistic. Character keeps a free mind, but believes in set possibilities.
• Openness: Speculative. Character enjoys artful recombination and simple intellectual discourse.
• Motivation: Spontaneous. Character is mildly motivated but prefers impulsive pleasure to labor.
• Temper: Sympathetic. Character is empathetic and cooperative, but not overly considerate or trusting, seeking their own brand of social harmony.
• Emotional Stability: Fickle. Character becomes distraught in high-intensity scenarios and tends to bottle their feelings, resulting in outbursts.

Clothes & Equipement

• A skull headdress adorned with feathers, fur, and bones.
• A red triangular shawl.
• A loose pale-gray shirt.
• Depending on her work, she may wear gloves.
• A dark gray skirt with a long brown stripe and a short red stripe in front.
• Black leather belt fitted with pockets for vials.
• Black leather boots.
• Bone necklace.
• Apparel idea borrowed from this.

Inventory

• Two steel knives (she keeps more at home).
• A trowel.
• A flask of alcohol for disinfection.
• A brown leather satchel containing a basic first-aid kit (bandages, gauze, suturing equipment, a calming drug).
• A leather belt made specifically to carry vials in. She keeps several vials on her, some full (stomach soother, coagulation enhancer, a general but relatively weak anti-venin, feverfew extract) and some empty.
• Several cloth pouches to carry minerals or whole plants in.
• A glass epruvete with carefully sealed liquid mercury inside.
• Two small wooden jars: one containing pure powdered sulfur, the other regular table salt.
• A tinderbox containing a fire striker, flint, and tinder.

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Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Jandar Varan

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille

Jandar observed the mulish blonde boy as he struggled in wain against his hold, his gaze sharpening when he saw the child sneak one hand into a trouser pocket, the lad's body tensing for action. Jandar tightened his hold on the boy’s shoulder in a warning not to do anything foolish, and pocketed the leather pouch. “If I was wantin’ to toss you anywhere, no way was I standin’ here chattin’ you up,” he noted with an impatient growl.

With an eye-roll, he released the boy. “’Ave it your way, lad. And if you change your mind, I’m stayin’ ‘ere for the night,” he said, offering a short explanation as to where his room could be found. “Knock four times, like this, so I know it ain’t no stranger,” he demonstrated by clapping his hands, first a soft clap, followed by a short pause, then two quick successive claps, and a louder clap a second after. “See ya or not,” the Warlord added dismissively with a shrug, descended the ladder, and headed back into the inn.

Honestly, he’d given the knocking hint to the boy more of as a lure to come than something he'd actually require. The Warlord hoped the blonde would see it as an interesting little tid-bit, and would be intrigued enough to pay him a visit. This was an endeavor to draw attention from a potential source of information that cost Jandar next to nothing. Even if the boy forwent knocking in the specific manner Jandar had shown him - even if the blonde attempted the more reckless thing and tried to sneak into his room - Jandar was confident he could recognize and intercept him. But conversing with the lad when he was so obviously hostile and frightened seemed like a futile attempt, and so Jandar had left the decision for further contact to the boy. And the child likely didn’t know it, but he’d already given the Warlord some information – the fact that apparently, the innkeep, the Queen’s guards, and so-called collectors were all collaborating in a scheme that involved…capturing people?

Jandar didn’t know why the blonde thought he (a child of dubious value) would be worth collecting, however. More importantly, whoever the innkeeper was, the boy thought he or she was likely to sell him out. Had Jandar already seen the innkeep without knowing it? Or was the owner keeping out of sight? There were mysteries within mysteries even in such a small part of Terreille. They were all connected, and Jandar was sure they all originated from the Queen, and all lead to her as well. He’d prefer not to follow the leads he was discovering just to end up in her domain, but he was afraid he might eventually have to do just that, if he wanted to find SaDiablo and free the Warlord Prince from whatever was keeping him occupied in this rotting Realm.

As he entered the inn’s main room, the Warlord kept a lookout for the shady group he'd seen before with his peripheral sight, and if they were still there, Jandar would enhance his hearing with Craft to eavesdrop on them. He also kept an eye on any obvious distressed people – if there was someone looking for an lost article already, he might have to part with the bag straight away somehow. The foolish lad – Jandar wouldn’t put it past the boy to try and pin the blame for stealing the satchel on him out of spite. Though if the little thief attempted a direct approach such as that, Jandar could probably weasel out of it. The longer he had the satchel with him, however, the more risk he was under. If only he could find the owner and return the belongings to him unobtrusively. He had to admit though, with such prime opportunity within his grasp, a part of him dearly wanted to seclude himself and read through all the letters. But he could afford to do such a thing only if whoever was the owner was unaware of the theft.