Avatar of WilsonTurner
  • Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
  • Joined: 12 yrs ago
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    1. WilsonTurner 12 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

10 yrs ago
Current Spontaneously moving to a new account- OfWindAndRain.
1 like
10 yrs ago
Born too late to explore the world; born too early to explore the galaxy.
5 likes

Bio

I'll eventually get a real bio in here.

Most Recent Posts

41
He watched, not entirely displeased with the view, as she tore off her clothes in favor of more form-fitting ones. But he said nothing, and he didn't attempt to keep the images in mind; instead, he smirked at her overjoyed demeanor at having her things back. But, just for good measure, he'd have to bring her down a tad bit.

"No mask or weapons during feasts. I can carry them for you, but even arming a servant would be too much. When I'm Oberjarl, we can make some changes to that, but for now, I'll have to carry them. Oh boohoo, don't pout. Your staff will have to wait in my room; it's too large and people will protest my carrying of too many weapons. I'm not Oberjarl yet. You can carry them to my room, though."

He jerked his head at the door, and waited for her to walk past him, after she picked up her discarded clothes. Shutting the chest, he followed and locked up as they left.

Returning to his room, they received a great deal more stares than before. It was unusual for the inferiors to stare so much, but the new petite slave, brought to the Volsung's room, was not expected to be in one piece- especially not the confident and curvy self she was, proud in her Death's Handmaid.

And, even more surprising, following along in Aulfr's confident steps.

He opened the door for her, unusually gentleman-like, and they entered the room, Aulfr following Rayt in.

And the moment he locked his door, he whipped out his sword and slashed at her, blue blade ringing almost happily at being used, testing her instincts again.
@RomanAria
*hisses like cat*
44
@Teddiplier

Me and @BansheeChick are doing this amazeballs Doctor Who roleplay.

As a person who hasn't seen much Doctor Who, this is my introduction to it, with Banshee's OC Timelady and my NATO Operative.

Yeah.

My character keeps throwing a wrench in Banshee's character's plans. Usually a good wrench, though.
He stared at her, before frowning down at the corpse that used to be Elia. He let out a sigh, and leaned slightly to the side, as if a breeze was pushing him. He stared at her, before appearing to completely ignore what she said, and started, well, looting Elia's body. Coinpurse, daggers, her saber, her belt, the hood and cloak that marked her as a Guild member. He wrapped them up, and pulled out a piece of fabric- which he unfolded into a sort of bag. He stuffed her non-sharp items inside, before slinging it around him.

And then he took three of the four knives from Elia's body, and slipped them into various parts across his body. The last one, he offered to the assassin, along with the saber, scabbard, and accompanying belt.

In a lighter, lilting, foreign accent, he spoke, still not entirely familiar with the language. "Take them. Keep them. Wear them. I will work with you, and you will not be attacked while carrying Elia's things. I will spread word. Meet here in a fortnight, I will keep you posted. Will interrupt any attempts to murder. You have my word."
@CAS
Very nice!
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He eyed her for a bit, before nodding. "Aye, you can hunt. On the condition that you alternate nights- half the time you're here, half the time you're out hunting. And you mark your targets, first. Gather information, their names, what they're doing, their closest associates, what they deal with. Then bring them back to me, so I can verify them. Some of them need to stay in place- sometimes they are my contacts, sometimes if they are taken out, a power vacuum is made and the entire area comes out worse for wear because of it. So keep that in mind, will you?"

He eyed her, before shrugging. "I will not stop you if you use your new mark- I would encourage it, even. But come on, then. Let's get you your stuff back." He waved vaguely, walked over to his door, and slid the key into his lock. Turning and reversing it, he pulled the key back out, slipped it back in the hidden fold that seems to be present in all his clothes, and opened the door.

Leaving it open, he strides out, expecting his assassin to follow along like the nice little servant she is.

He strode down the hallway, ignoring the looks from guard and servant alike. None of them were surprised at his outfit, and none of them laughed- dire consequences to those who did. By this point, his expression had turned back into the hard, infinitely irritated expression he normally wore, as he marched down to the second floor.

Throwing open a room, after unlocking it with a second, also hidden key, he strode in, and glanced around. There were piles of things here- statues, chandeliers, swords, crossbows, flags, armor, everything. Chests sat here and there, some stacked on top of one another. Every now and then, one would be thrown open, revealing gold, silver, and copper coins, jewelry, even diamonds and rubies, among other gems.

But it was all covered in dust, more or less. And he ignored all of it- he strode straight across the room to the only chest that didn't have any dust on it, and threw it open. The room was dark, but there was light enough from the hallway torches to see the Death's Handmaid's mask and weapons stored inside.
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