1. Home
  2. A Lowly Wretch

A Lowly Wretch male Member

The Listless Loiterer

Avatar of A Lowly Wretch

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

In The Hourglass Order → 9 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


"Dear Roslyn,

I wish to meet in the park regarding matters of our arrangement, the map and so-forth. I'll be at a public table, it will not be hard to spot me.

With care, Trypano."

A spartan letter, sparing in much but the strictly necessary and delivered via the post to be sent over to the captain of her own vessel, Roslyn. While the construction had taken a pretty penny out of her coffers she was not one to go back on her word. History painted a bloody truth in testament to that.

Alas, just as was described a tall black cloaked figure was sat at a public picnic table out in the park. A stark contrast to her surroundings, like a raven sat upon a cherry blossom. While it wasn't very subtle it was a slight less eye-catching that what laid below: Deep crimson spider silk underpants and bra spun by her own claws. Meager and scant but ultimately the bare minimum she could wear without dampening her anklet's effects. A cloak was easy to cast off in comparison to so much attire as what fashion would demand of her. All else that was clad upon her was a sleeve on her left arm, one woven not of silk but of skin, designed to blend into her own. Below, encased in the secret sheath was The Nail. It was something she never let escape far from her grasp these days, for her enemies were many and death not long on the horizon, or at least as far as she could see. At least with The Nail she can guarantee her own death be on her own terms. A small mercy.

Her work was growing ever harder to conceal, many already knowing and only the public wide still sheltered from her true work. These hands she wore, fake meat gloves to convince the humans she was like them. Her flat teeth, calcium sleeves to shelter their eyes from the draconic fangs what lay below. At this rate she was simply wearing her skin, the organism below a work of her own design though still utterly imperfect, incorrect, wrong.

_
Upon the sash fastening her robe was a scroll case. Within it was the map that was the subject of their meeting. Though sealed so it could only be unfastened with magic or extended use of tools she felt no need to ward it nor leave traps to secure it for if anyone were so determined to steal it she would rather the secrets be discovered over it remaining lost. A forked tongue far longer than it had the right to be mixed about in her mouth, idly turning about with boredom as she stared ahead, her magical senses keeping her apprised of her surroundings more than her mundane senses were doing as of this moment. She could only wonder if Roslyn would even deign to show up. What little they've interacted for has done little but out her work to yet another. Though this one had yet to turn on her like so many others she could only wonder not if but when.

Nonetheless, knowledge was meant to be shared, even if circumstances bade her to hide it. At the very least she would see this discovery through. Perhaps it would at the very least etch some faint figment of good in this disgusting excuse of a life.

She smirked at her own joke.

_
"Will ya stop lookin' over my shoulder?" Roslyn snapped in Eskandish, lowering the letter. She twisted to glare at her first mate.

The towering titan blood leaned back as he crossed his thick arms over his chest. His head tilted down with a frown, silent judgement in his eyes. Roslyn's voice became angier. "Well, say it. I know you're dying to."

"Who is she?" He grumbled.

"One of a few students investing in the ship." She stepped around him and headed toward the exit.
"Not another Revidian, is it? He refused to let her off that easy, trailing after her.

With a huff of breath, she growled back. "What if she is? It's none of your business!"

"How many times must I say it? You can't trust a Revidian."

"Yes, I've heard your opinion on all the big countries already. Perrench are throat slicing nationalists. Revidians are selfish snakes. Torragonese are manipulative backstabbers. Need I go on?" When she reached the end of the deck, she hopped up onto the plank. Careful to mind the incline, she continued with her small rant. "If I listened to even half of it, I might as well live on an island."

Noticing he wasn't stopping, she flipped about in the middle of the plank as she tossed her hands up. "Don't follow me! I don't need someone to watch me. I'll be back soon, just trust me on that."
Eike stopped at the deck's edge before he gestured to Hrafn. The black eyed raven cocked his head then glanced at her direction. Without hesitation, the creature dipped from his shoulder and glided after her. "At least let Hrafn come with you."

"Ugh, very well!" She cried and wished she hadn't told him what happened in Viiqii.

------


When Roslyn arrived, her eyes scanned the park and quickly located Trypano. For a few moments, she stood there petting Hrafn. Her thumb rotated the beggar king's band on her finger as she recalled the blood paint sample. If she taken a risk with any other painter, she dreaded to think what might've happened. She had heard rumors about church investigations and reputation loss.

Her common sense urged her to turn back, but... Xiuyang's words to give the woman a chance lingered in the back of her mind.

Pushing the darker thoughts aside, Roslyn straightened out her skirt and walked over. She took a seat across from Trypano at the picnic table. Hrafn tilted his head toward the pale woman and gave a rattling croak, his curiosity obvious.

"Sorry about the raven. He's not tamed, but he was sent to keep an eye on me." Roslyn began as she tossed up a sound bubble. She didn't want anyone eavesdropping on their private conversation, "Before we begin, I do have a question. I took the small amount of paint you gave me to a painter. He recognized it was made by blood magic. Did you know?"

_
Her eyes followed Roslyn as soon as she arrived into view. The girl seemed to have been occupied since last they met. Alas, it seemed little had progressed in terms of truth, of understanding. Didn't they already have this conversation? Or was she simply imagining it? It felt like so long ago they had even spoken face to face. Her face was unemotive whilst she heard out Roslyn's question. The raven was of little to no matter. The only movement born of her at this very moment was her finger which was carving a circle in the face of the wood.

"First, it's binding. Repairing and extending upon something that already exists is standard practice for binders, as is repair and material manipulation. The application of the paint is not circumventing nor diminishing existing markets for the existing material. I've done this before with no issue, most recently at the site of the white thresher's attack. No such issues were raised with such work."

The finger stopped, jumping from one side of the circle to a section somewhat ahead in a sharp line.

"Secondly, if you're worried about the ramifications of working with me then go. Flee."

The finger sharply sliced along the wood once more, forming a right angle against the previous line, the edges of which were slightly outside the boundaries of the circle.

"If my part in the continued instatement of elder sanguinaires in Rettan or the deaths of their trials team from last year hasn't already provoked their hand it's probably only because they have larger issues to pursue. Nevertheless I am of no intention to break my contract and rescind my support of the ship's construction lest you insist we terminate my support."

Another line in the wood, crossing the threshold of the circle once more.

_
"This brings me to the topic I wrote to you of. I do insist if the map is to be explored that I have a hand in the missing land mass's discovery. Else, it will remain in my possession until such a time as I find a vessel willing to facilitate the journey."

One last line, sealing the square just beyond the limits of the circle. An ill-fitting geometry, one shape marring the perfection of the other so that neither looks right. A square which doesn't fit within the circle. Her red looked up from the wood to Roslyn once more, keeping the individual within the frame of her sight.

"I simply want confirmation from you if you still intend to follow through. It is better in the long term for both of us to know with certainty on this."

Her tone was unemotive but never any less severe, clinical in nature. Such was the nature of her business, carving away any need for subtlety or ambiguity in the discussion. She had no intent to wax poetic or paint her efforts as something other than what it is.

Though not seen through her poker face it still annoyed her to have to keep justifying things which just made basic, pragmatic sense. This need for moral clarity for something as basic as paint whilst painting in another's blood was as welcome as the falling grains in an upturned hourglass. It was just something to be expected, every art tuned and honed for such purposes. The idea of old Matthew's irradiated bones still boiling at the bottom of the waters holding less weight than the consistency of some out-of-date paint was galling to some remote degree to this tired alien's weather-worn sense of justice.

_
Roslyn continued to sit there, waiting to hear Trypano's response. The question was basic as the woman seemed to lecture her. Her words dismissed the effects it might've had on Roslyn and her family, even seeming to chide her for it. It was easy for people to forget their affects upon others until it whip lashed back upon them. A part of her wondered what Trypano might've said if things had turned out for the worse...

She dismissed the thought. Based on her reaction now, it didn't feel hard to take a guess. Xiuyang was right after all.

Her eyes took note of the finger carving along the table and the hairs along the back of her neck bristled. She considered the reason for it as her paranoia flared. Hrafn hopped up onto her shoulder and nuzzled her, his beak picking at her hair a bit. She raised a finger to stroke his feathery chin.

Once Trypano finished, Roslyn spoke. "I assumed you would be coming along with the map. Even if you didn't, I'd insist you or someone representing you came along. Mainly to build trust."

She moved on, seeing little point on addressing the first issue or possibly the second. At least not until after this voyage. " I still aim on taking you to the place on the map and back. We won't know what we'll find there or how long the trip will be. After that... I'm not sure."

Truthfully, she had found herself questioning a lot lately.

_
Her snow pale hands laced fingers with one another, bridged just in front of her lower face as she heard out Roslyn's reply. In all truth she had almost expected that she would've declined, sailed for safer shores instead. Hers was a sensitive soul, not well cut for working with blood mages, rogues or quite frankly anyone who'd she'd met at the school thus far. Wretches, the lot of them. Trypano herself knew she was no better, just aligned to ambitions of a greater good.

"Good. We just need to settle on a date then. I have everything I need on my person as I travel light."

She knew Roslyn's stance on her was still of great uncertainty, her less than ambiguous wording towards the end there all but spelled it out. She could address the concerns here and now but what good would that serve? Would she be wrong to tell Roslyn she's better off not working with her in a continued capacity? Knowing well the work she's done and the eyes that would settle upon any who'd be known to work with her it would be better for the young woman in the long run to make use of her talents only as long as was necessary then part ways.

Nay. Best to let her broach that topic on her own terms. Trypano was here to yield her services, little else. If Roslyn couldn't trust that, there was naught she could do to talk her into it.

_
Roslyn visibly relaxed while listening. He eyes shifted right in thought, considering something. Gradually she dropped the sound bubble spell. It was exhausting keeping up indefinitely especially when it was no longer needed. The dangerous topic had passed some time ago. "I agree and it depends on how far we're traveling. Longer voyages require more supplies and I rather we didn't run out of food. I've heard of horrifying tales of men eating each other when food ran out."

Hranf picked at her dress neck a bit then hopped back onto the table. His eyes sized up the pale woman before he bounced closer, his hard beak gently poked Trypano's cloak. He paused and waited to see what she might do.

"Hranf! Staph that." She sighed, turning to the pale woman. "I'm sorry about him. I swear, he likes to poke things or people he shouldn't."

_
Her reaction to the bird was less surprising by what it was and moreso by what it wasn't. She didn't even so much as flinch as the bird pecked about at her robe. Her eyes were as passive to the bird as she was to the very air surrounding them. Her body was very still normally, her movements very mechanical, just start and then stop. 'Twas simply the habit of one who spent as much time as herself monitoring every motion with obsessive regularity.

"Indeed. I wouldn't allow it to come to that however. Unless, you would stay my hand and keep me from offering food unto the hungry?" Another question, innocuous enough from a listener's perspective but with knowledge of what was spoken of before it's context was much more direct.

"Playing the devil's advocate however I will concur that fallback plans have their place, useful should other functions cease and require a backup." Mentally she was calculating matters of routing and distance to determine the overall travel time, taking into account how much food an individual would need so that it could be multiplied across the number of crew members that join her. Given what she'd seen of the map there were possibilities of places to stop and restock along the route but the ocean separating the two would offer little chance for reprieve. Only with fair weather and currents in their favor would such a gap ease it's fairly fixed grasp on the resources needed to cross it.

Of course, there was plenty matter for a binder like herself to work into more usable forms. But, that was wrong, wasn't it?

What wickedness indeed.

_
Hranf tilted his narrow head then gave a low, gurgling croak. He clicked his beak once, then twice to get Trypano's attention. This strange, pale woman chose to continue to ignore him. That was enough to annoy the small avian causing him to flutter onto her shoulder.

"Hranf, come here." Roslyn tapped her shoulder. She subtly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small chunk of hardtack. Within the holes, small white maggots wriggled drawing the raven's attention. He wasted no time hopping back onto her arm and plucking it from her fingers.

While he showered her with crumbles and worm remains, her attention turned back to Trypano. "No, I won't. I am not sure how Agnarsson will feel about it, but starving men can't be picky.

Hranf turned then croaked in her ear causing her to offer another hardtack biscuit to him. "And yes, I understand that. However, some unsavory things have happened since we last met and I rather have one than nothing at all. I'm learning it is better to prepare for the worse and hope for the best, rather than expect it. After saying that, is any other business I might've forgotten?"

With a lot of things on her mind, Roslyn wouldn't have been surprised if she had.

_
The bird did perch upon her shoulder, like a crow upon an old yet firm branch, before turning it's attention to it's handler. She was unmoved. From the outside it seemed there was little that could really phase her. After all, with what's been done to her what is one more little stimuli popping up?

After listening to her words a cold, unsettling raspy breath of a chuckle echoed it's way from her throat.

"... Hope? A precious thing to still hold." She remarked, her expression still a blank mask of nothing. Her eyes blinked ever so slowly it looked almost like she'd slip into slumber where she sat before opening again.

"I'm sure you've got inventory for your crew handled. If there was any other business to resolve, I no longer recall it." The dark ringed eyes started to turn with her face as she pivoted to stand. A shadow cast it's way across the table, her form standing tall over those around her in her ominous cloak which blocked the sun at her back.

_
Roslyn remained seated as the woman stood. The reply had been cold, but she didn't found herself surprised. She never recalled Trypano showing any warmth in her demeanor. Some people were like that. Her thumb rotated the ring on her finger as she replied.

"It is indeed, even if it's fragile." She began to lift up, giving Hranf the last of the wormy hard tack. He gobbled it up eagerly causing her to smile. "I shall see you on the agreed upon date then. Good luck until then and stay safe."

With that, Roslyn departed.

The two split ways, until they would next meet.
In The Hourglass Order → 10 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
(Header Pending)



Clad in a large obscuring cloak she approached the site that was indicated by the notice. She drew a lot of attention, probably just as much as if she had shown up in just the regular attire which she wore below: mere undergarments. Expensive fabrics elegantly sewn with fine care which made for a fairly high cost for what ultimately amounted to the same amount of cloth that would go into some of the larger handkerchiefs. Such was the strange state of Trypano, making odd choices and sacrifices in the name of efficiency like always.

Seeing the others who had gathered her scarlet eyes peered out from the darkness of her hood, scanning over those who had appeared. Many familiar faces, many still quite distant. For all that they had changed when they ousted the last Zenith much still remained the same. It oft made her wonder how much would have differed had they never raised arms against their oppressors. Penny would of still been captive or perhaps worse and she would never have happened upon the serpent's gift perhaps. The venom of the serpent had changed her but how much could it really help her? Could it give her new insight into her studies? Give boon to her research?

No.

Though there was no use rejecting a boon she sought not the gifts of the gods for her road forward was paved not with the growth of her personal powers but in insights born of experience. The more she could witness the more she could understand. She knew not what the powers which crawled beyond the naked eye willed nor could she necessarily follow their movements, their plots. It was only this much that she was aware of their very presence in their lives, the fingers which pull at their paths, arranging the choices in their lives not unlike an architect arranging pipes to guide the waters of their aqueduct to the destination of their choosing. Channels, gates, movements not guaranteed but assuredly contained so that their destination is all but assured despite their churning and turmoil.

Also there was something to do with an oversized crab or thresher or whatever. A little extra coin could suit her and give her a brief distraction while she planned for what lay ahead. After all, she poisoned a thresher wielding the powers of a greyborn back in the tower, vanquishing it with ease. Unless there were greater complications this mission shouldn't prove any harder.

Mentioned - @Force and Fury, @Ti, @Fallenreaper, @Jumbus.
In The Hourglass Order → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
(Header Pending)



In a busy warehouse in the morning hours amidst the bustle of busy sailors and warehouse workers a tall pale woman stood, hair of crimson and a dark cloak adorned loosely upon her shoulders. Hoisted upon her shoulders was a large box, just one of several which contained her belongings. Not only had her laboratory been destroyed but the rest of the school had been damaged during this period of great upheaval. While she still had a dorm to rest in she really didn't have a place to call her own within this city anymore. Any privacy she previously had claim to was more than thoroughly spoiled, leaving the purpose of hiding moot. Hence, it was time to pack up her belongings and shelve them for the time being.

Each step spoke of the sheer weight of her approach as she carried her belongings to the zone she was allotted. She placed the one hundred and thirty six or so kilogram crate into the empty spot next to the other five she had already placed, setting it down with remarkable control for something so heavy. Standing back up she turned back towards the entrance, her last crate of belongings now set away to linger in anonymity like so many other things stored here. Of course, someone so tall lifting so much hadn't gone unnoticed by the various workers who were also busy moving crates to and fro, nor had her scant garments below the cloak which had hung like a cape from her shoulders whilst she had worked.

"Eh, she might be a giant but she's a might finer sight than the prostitutes 'round 'ere." She overheard one commenting to his co-worker as they passed. "P'haps if you're into mountain climbing." The other replied to the former, followed by some rough guffawing from the two. She paid the idle comments of those around her no mind. She'd been tuning out the words of those spectating her since she was a child. This was nothing new.

_
Having drawn her cloak back around herself in full she walked down the rubble strewn streets, gravel and debris grinding below her bare feet. Hers was not the only home that was damaged, the chaos brought about by the upheaval having taken it's toll far from just the tower itself. Many homes and businesses now had to undergo repairs. A number were now also sans an owner as some were killed in the violence, however many wasn't something she had been tracking. Still, it did mean that there was possibility for finding new housing. She contemplated discussing the matter with Xiuyang as she walked. It did bring to mind that Xiuyang hadn't spoken with her in a while. While she was naturally reclusive Trypano had made no effort to avoid her. Perhaps there was something involving her condition she was still trying to keep from the world. She was more than willing to seek a cure for it in the book she was promised but alas they still had yet to cross that bridge.

Turning the corner into an alleyway Trypano continued down out of sight, stepping into a doorway to her left. Using binding to open up the floor slab she slipped below into a discrete tunnel which led down into a sewer line that crossed under this specific area, closing the path behind her so no evidence of her passage remained. Continuing through the dark passage she made her way along until she was finally below her destination. Emerging in a similar manner to how she descended she closed the path behind her, placed on her mask and then used a combination of her binding and chemistry knowledge to cleanse the detritus that clung to her cloak and stuck between her toes. A simple execution removed all the stench from her person, leaving her veritably scentless. In exchange she then lightly coated herself with a conjured perfume which smelt of freshly baked bread. It was a delightful scent that was not too strong nor too alluring but rather brought about feelings of home's comforts and a light tease to hunger.

Turning a corner she found her way to the door to the usual spot for their blood magic classes. She stepped through the doorway, scrutinized by those tasked to watch the entry as she made her way in. Even despite their guises some of her fellow students were no less recognizable than her here such as Johann, Sven or Maura who it seemed has come down with some sort of injury or malady. Others she knew were attending but couldn't accurately pick them out from a mere glance such as Xiuyang and Kaspar. She knew better than to discuss personal matters here anyways, it would be a faux paus to out each other's identities through casual conversation just in case authorities were listening in.

_
As the course of the lesson went on they listened for the day's lecture before presenting their own works in progress. Trypano walked up to the dais at the end of the room, having been slated to be presenting her work that day. Standing there before the crowd she stood, waiting stoically as the room's focus gradually centered on her. It was time.

"Fellow colleagues and of course our esteemed teachers, I stand before you to present to you the progress I have made in the fields of both blood mark energy communication and limb animation." She opened her presentation, standing before a table which was prepared ahead of time for the operation she was about to conduct. "As you all well know blood marks are capable of taking in energy and converting it and/or redirecting it as per their design." She then unveiled her arm from below her cloak which revealed two parallel rings installed upon her arm, up along the bicep, in the form of crimson marks, intricate lines woven throughout the pattern within the rings.

"What I am attempting to do is create marks that can convert both blood and impulses from our nerves into energy which will then be transmitted into the receiving mark and converted back into their original states. With this I should be able to sever a limb such as this arm-" She gestured to her arm that's presented. "- And not only will it continue to survive while removed from it's host body but I should be able to retain full control over it. Observe..."

A concentrated silence grew ever deafening as people watched on, ever concentrated on Trypano's demonstration as she was about to sever the limb. All eyes were on her, there was no backing down from this now.

_
She was able to cleanly sever the limb, yes. It flopped onto the table like a dead fish, no signs of life to it yet. The blood that would be bleeding from either stumps were frittering away, the material being broken down and passed into the limb and back. "And now, time for the limb to receive it's commands." She announced to the room of spectators. Despite her professional air however she knew that something was wrong. She was willing her arm to move as though it were still attached and yet nothing was born of the effort.

"Ah. J-just a hiccup! It definitely worked in the tests. Just gotta..." She leaned over the still inanimate limb, pouring over the mark she had set. It should be transmitting properly! She fretted internally, studying the pattern to her mark with great intensity. Why!? Why now is it not performing as expected? Her mind screamed back at her, the stares from the audience now boring holes into her as she fumbled to recover from this technical error. As she brought her stump near to the ring around the separated limb she saw a couple of fingers give an errant twitch, a sign that the marks connected, if only briefly for an intermittent spasm.

"Ah, a-as you can all see it does connect! There may be a slight issue in the transmission distance but it really is proof that these types of blood marks can allow for remote control of connected parts!" As she spoke she was now desperately trying to wind down her display, bringing the arm back up and re-attaching it through binding. Still reforming all the connections within the arm she started hurrying off the stage, trying badly to mask her embarrassment. If she could have she'd of fled the classroom to find some abandoned space to review what went wrong but seeing as class wasn't dismissed yet she instead found herself a corner to keep herself until they were dismissed.

Even if she possessed enough temporal knowledge to simply disappear as she now strongly desired there was no escape from this absolute failure.


Mentioned - @Force and Fury,@Emeth,(Possibly more)
In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Here is my Mano E Mano entry.

Trypano Somia
Fait Accompli
Trypano Somia's Mano E Mano Entry Form (Fait Accompli)

Here's a hider for the sake of human eyes.

In Blackguards! → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Got my post up. Figured I'd give Gangraena a good square smack at the wyvern, soften it up a bit for the others.

With all these people dying around her it's certainly going to give her a bit of vigor. The stronger the kill, the more potent the soul it has to offer after all.
In Blackguards! → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Gangraena



The cumbersome metal juggernaut made her way forth only to find herself in the middle of a pitched skirmish between two groups, one being the folks she was holed up with over at the warden's place and the other having only just arrived. She wasn't entirely sure who was fighting who at this point since it seemed the big lizard thing was pissed off at all the bees and also one of their own guys got it's tail stuck in 'em. People were dying and stuff was going on so she simply resolved herself on doing what she does best: Picking something and pulverizing it. Seeing as the big lizard killed that one guy from the warden's place it probably wasn't on their side and thus was the biggest candidate for a killing. After all, the bigger and badder something was the better she felt after felling it.

She made her heavy march over to the body of the weird deer creature with the stinger nearly as large as itself stuck through it's poison drenched body. Nothing she'd really take a second glance at given some of the stuff that called the bottom of the ocean home. Instead she grasped the oversized tail tip into her armored mitt and yanked it free from the bubbling carcass. The dead body was already leaking an evanescent mist from it's open maw, as were any other corpses in the nearby area. It was subtle, like smoke from a snuffed candle, the trails ebbing in her direction. Though she didn't really note the origin of this sensation the mist from the deceased deer creature in particular felt marvelous.

As for the stinger it looked heavy enough and pointy enough to get the big guy's attention.

_
As the wyvern raged across the battlefield it's attention was suddenly grabbed as a sharp hunk of bone collided with it's face. The point didn't pierce it's scaled but the weight and force behind the improvised projectile was hard to ignore. With a sway it's head rocked aside from the force of the meat hurled at it before snapping back towards the one who threw it, focusing it's reptilian glare past the havoc of the strange wasps on Gangraena.

With a roar it charged forth, each clawed stomp causing the earth to shudder with it's thunderous approach. Looking up as it rushed for her she let slack her anchor, instead gripping the chain clasped to it's ring. With a yank she swung the anchor overhead, spinning it and letting the chain slack for even greater reach with each rotation. Like a flail with a greatly exaggerated chain the anchor swung threateningly, it's enormous weight almost assuring that it won't stop, even if something as large as the wyvern stepped between it and it's destination.

Not heading the danger posed in her motion it lunged forth to try and bite down upon the great iron shell like a hawk preying upon a turtle. With a pivot in her grip however she swept the anchor's path straight up into its face. With a bone-shattering crack that could be heard across the battlefield her anchor met with the wyvern's jaw, sending its face reeling aside in a shower of broken fangs and blood. The beast was still quite alive but it's jaw was broken, unhinged on the right side of it's face. Many of it's fanged were either smashed free at the gum or otherwise shattered. While losing it's tail certainly hurt and the wasps topped off it's suffering the agony of getting a part of it's face crushed was a lot to take in, even for a beast of war such as this.

_
Before Gangraena could ready another blow it swept it's bony forehead back into her, a large sweeping plate of scales and marrow hitting with more than enough force to send something even as heavy as her tumbling away. Her armor clanged and rattled as she spun against the dirt. If she were still alive then the spinning alone would be enough to turn one's stomach. For her however not even the fact her arms were completely dislocated even so much as annoyed her. Getting her bearings once the rolling had stopped she struggled off her side onto her knees, her armor bent concave into her chest from the force of the wyvern's blow, something that would ordinarily be a death sentence for most living humanoids as was bent in past where her ribs would be found.

All the same she rose, her body eliciting the sickening popping of bones sliding back into place as she realigned her arms. With a mere pull of the chain she yanked her anchor back to her, the nautical tool most commonly associated with it's immovable quality seen here skipping across the dirt like a pebble across the face of a pond. The way it bounced and moved through the air almost seemed like it wanted to return to her, answering to her unspoken call. Catching the handle of her great weapon she looked up back at her mark. It was looking ready to abandon this fight, having already taken a fair amount of abuse from what should have been easy prey.

She wouldn't let it. She began to swing her weapon upon it's mighty chain once more, readying a new strike against the great reptile.
In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


A couple weeks after her return from Rettan...


As the waning evening light cast it's orange hues in anemic beams through the dense glass window across her desk there she sat, pouring over notes on anatomy that well surpassed her colleagues. While others were still immersed in middling studies of what makes the fundamental cores of their craft she was already breaking into the territory of modern forerunners in her field. True, she couldn't chill a cup of water or nudge it over without touching it but methods that were only tangential to her purpose were not of immediate necessity and thus relegated to later concerns, well after she masters binding.

Standing up from her desk she looked out from her window, estimating the remaining hours in the day. One might think that by knowing temporal magic she would just use that to tell what time it was but in fact the opposite was true. Being able to use the magic necessitated that she attune her awareness to the flow of all things, not the other way around. The flowing sands of an hourglass did not create the passage of time. Rather, the passage of time is what facilitates the flowing of sand.

_
From her dorm she stepped out into the streets. The bustle of movement of everyone in constant need to be somewhere in time, the miasma of odors from biological waste constantly leaking from the myriad of creatures contained within these stone shells, The dying orange tint which bathed everything in the shadows of all which stood, This was the city that she's called home for well over a year. In the wake of the mayhem her own peers had wrought in the foreign lands of Rettan it put into perspective just how fragile this all was. Like an organism unto itself the city had many moving parts, each part playing it's own role in facilitating the health of the sum. A great beast, each component supping life unto themselves from it's reserves as it pulls in nutrients through the veins they call trade paths. All nutrition had to come from somewhere however. As she read of the great whales who partake of great schools of krill cities too consume great numbers of smaller beasts to feed the many muscles and neurons that many would call people.

And that which is not consumed becomes waste.

Pulling into an alleyway not far from her destination she cakes her form in the special light warping powder which she had procured over in Rettan. Now mostly transparent she slinked her way over to a sewer cover, descending through into system below. In the cramped lightless tunnels where water displaced all manners of sewage which flowed into it from the drains above Trypano made her way through. She lacked light but it was hinderance to her for she could sense the very matter around her, the channels of air and water contrasting strongly against the led and copper pipes. The odor was foul but it was nothing to her but the scent of life itself.

_
While her destination was a winding trail off from where the entrance to the catacombs proper was she was cautious, wary of taking routes too direct should she be followed. Coming up to a section of the sewer where the waters were thin she pressed her hand up against the pipe's surface, it's metal rippling as she submerged into the material. She was simply breaking down the portions coming into contact with her, reconstituting them back into places she no longer occupied. It was a fairly basic binding technique, elevated to impressive heights with the amount of precision and detail used to make it conform to her shape. Once through the material is as it once was, any sign of passage not visible in it's structure.

Down, down she traveled into the stony depths, shelves upon shelves lines with human skulls, alcoves featuring urns where the bones of the deceased are stored. It would seem at some point back in the catacomb's history that it eventually became used to a point where expanding it's depths to accommodate the bodies became unfeasible, the remains reorganized as such to host more and more bodies with only the wealthy and important retaining coffins, at least those that weren't stored in their own mausoleums anyhow. The architecture itself was aged, still holding up but not entirely sound as some areas had collapsed be it from seismic activity, construction from above or other such incidents which have worn at it's structural integrity.

While the path in the upper layers remained largely unchanged Trypano had made a change of her own in recent times: Past a wall that she would pass through in a similar manner to the one up in the sewers she had constructed a tunnel which lead away from the overall network of the catacombs. It's structure was inspired by nature, namely the fine workmanship of the humble ant. While not able to make her tunnels small enough to avoid displacing too much load-bearing soil she used shaped dragon marrow to reinforce it, the spine supporting the roof of the tunnel while ribs lined the walls, an interlocking series of scales laid flat against one another keeping finer dirt from sifting through. Even with all this she kept her tunnel rather claustrophobic in diameter as smaller structures were ultimately stronger than larger ones. She had to crawl on her stomach down a fair ways into the depths where her lab awaited.

_
The lab itself was built in a similar manner to the lower chambers of the catacombs, stone bricks adhered together with sandwyrm claw matter instead of plaster to reinforce the structure. This is where all her work had been moved to. While the place Ingrid had picked for her worked well for a time it was decided that she needed greater secrecy for her work was needed should her business partner prove unreliable, something which proved to be the case after the excursion to Rettan. This location was still not perfect but would have to suffice for the time being.

In the corner of the room stood what looked to be a barrel of organs adorned with various crimson sigils. Through liberal use of blood magic she had built this semi-organism from her own flesh which would consume matter placed within to keep it alive while a pair of lungs contained within would breath in unusable air, converting it into breathable air thanks to the blood magic runes that were being kept healthy through the digestion pool within the barrel. There were also a few plants decorated around it to assist in the process.

Numerous shelves lined the walls, containing jars with various organs and other such samples within, all adorned with similar blood magic runes. She calmly meandered her way to the shelf where numerous blood samples were kept, taking several out from her purse and setting them in the racks with the others. She took a couple minutes to refresh the runes upon the various containers as these enchantments were limited in their longevity, a common frustration of hers she was looking to remedy. There were many tables and slabs throughout the long chthonic chamber with many a strange and possibly macabre experiment adorning them. The slimes she had gathered did not seem like they would fair well in such a clinical and controlled environment so she simply left them to wander a closed circuit of hers up in the catacombs, many a number of breeding pools and nutrient baths left for them to enjoy. She would have to remember to refresh the waters and supply more nutrients to their feeding baths before she returned to the surface.

_
From the top of the room suspended by chains upon a frame was a partially formed dead carcass of the sandwyrm they had slain some time ago. She had collected a fair number of it's parts in that auction and been spending time trying to regrow it's flesh from the organs she had salvaged. Still, no matter how much of it she could manage to regrow she couldn't bring new life to the replicated cells of the dead. She had spent some time trying to recreate the rest of it's enormous body but there were always difficulties in trying to recreate something that was incomplete. This was a lesson she had learned well in her efforts to try and clone herself. Upon many of the tables were dead bodies, her bodies. Much of them were malformed, incomplete not unlike the sandwyrm carcass itself. Trying to replicate an entire body from the memories of only a few cells presented innumerable difficulties. Not even being able to see the cells at a close enough scale to analyze their inner workings largely left her working on her blood-child instincts, instincts which while keen were running up against the limit of what she was able to understand through intuition alone.

All the bodies were being suspended in decay using blood magic of course but most if not all stood no chance at being alive. Such failures brought to mind the enormity of the tasks ahead of her as she put away the samples she had taken from the battle at the imperial palace. A vial of Ogaurac blood, Smirking Dragon she believe they once called him; A plum from an enchanted grove which was rumored to possess unique qualities and last but not least the scale shed at the scene of Wu Long's battle with the emperors. The scale in particular posed to her the greatest challenge as a scale was similar in nature to finger nails or hair. The matter itself was already dead, much harder to rebuild living structures out of as it no longer possessed any will to regrow. Like a fingernail however scales had roots. Roots sometimes could hold nerves in them, nerves which required blood. While this scale might not have still held potential for that now temporal was beginning to open up possibilities. The scale might not have any potential currently but there was once a time where it was fresh, where the nerves that gave it it's sense of touch were fresh. With a bit of manipulation she hypothesized it possible to rejuvenate it into a state where the will to regrow would still linger.

Of course, there was no hope of regrowing the deceased ogaurac or the fallen serpent handler if she couldn't even animate her own body hewn from fresh ingredients. This train of thought brought her attention over to the centerpiece of her lab: A slab upon which a mold of her own body laid. It was made of wax formed from human fat, her own fat. During her sculpting classes she would chuckle internally knowing that those around her never know that this was what she practicing for. All those human figures shaped from stone, marble or clay were simply preambles to forging molds within which she would craft a living being. Surrounding that slab were canopic jars, shaped from glass instead of pottery so one might see which organs floated in the neutral organic fluid within. These jars were enchanted like all the rest but these samples were particularly fresh, carved straight from her own body and sealed within so their death cycle could be delayed. A piece of liver, a chunk of heart, a strip of intestine, a dab of bone marrow, even most of her womb, there was numerous pieces of herself which she had extracted with deliberate care. She even had to apply only a limited use of painkilling agents for these surgeries so as to not taint the samples. She was no stranger to self afflicted agony, something she often took to deliberately so as to challenge her focus. There were always going to be times where she would not have the luxury of pain killers or a reprieve from discomfort. She would not allow her focus to waver, even under the most trying of circumstances.

_
Such is as it was. The parts were all there, awaiting one final piece before she begins another attempt in earnest: a sliver of her brain stem. Her plan is that with enough of a body preserved fresh enough she could utilize the will to regrow within each respective element and grow each part accurate to the piece that it was shaped from. Of course, insight from the book that her and her new business partner Xiuyang had acquired could aid in this but she was prepared to press on nonetheless. She had a plan as to how she would extract this piece of her brain stem as well but it required further advancements in her temporal studies. She needed to bridge the gap and make the jump from simply anchoring points in space and time to actually maneuvering around them. This was necessary for many things, especially the blood bank: an enchanted storage which would allow her to use temporal distortion to delay the decay of organic materials much longer than the blood enchantments were able to. Instead of simply keeping organic materials vitalized she'd be able to cease their temporal progress entirely ensuring that nothing could occur within to bring about decay and diminish the sample's will to regrow.

That was a future matter however. For the time being she simply renewed her blood marks, documented any changes to the other bodies and/or samples and then left back up her bone passage to the main catacombs. She spent a bit of time with her slime samples, cleaning and feeding them whilst studying their behavioral patterns including this new Blue Killer slime which she had acquired from Rettan. While it's effects in Ingrid were disappointing it was clear there was more to learn from this enigmatic invertebrate. The Tsar Bomba was growing nicely to a most prodigious size as well, something she kept a measure on.

Once she was finished with all that she returned up from the catacombs, taking a separate route up from the sewer so as to be predictable. Once out onto the surface she used binding and chemical magic to eliminate contaminants from the sewers, leaving her almost exactly as she was before she went down below. She made her way down the streets in the dying twilight hours back to her dorm before their sleep curfew would enter effect. An annoying ritual, having to constantly come up simply to be seen sleeping where they believe she belongs. This isn't truly where she belonged however. There was no place in the world of these mundane humanoids for a creature like her. Only down below could she truly be herself.

Only down below could she truly build herself.
In Blackguards! → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Been enjoying myself so far. Sorry for the general silence on my end, things have gotten a bit busy with Midterms coming up and such. I should be able to put a post up in about the latter half of this week when all the chaos has subsided.
In Blackguards! → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
After finally finding time to set aside a couple hours I've managed a small but functional post! Huzzah!

Ah well, not every segment can be raw dynamite.
In Blackguards! → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Gangraena



Gangraena looked on at the young lady in the river, unphased by their state of dress, the dim yellow lights from the dark interior of the helm peering down at her.

"Oooooh?" Her hollow voice trailed, dragging on like the echo of a stone dropped down a nigh bottomless well. "Myyy naaame's Gaaangraaeenaa, Goood too meeet 'yaa!"

She lifted her ironclad arm and gave a friendly wave with the hefty metal mitten that was her gauntlet. The anchor was simply rested on her left shoulder with ease, a feat which looked impossible for most humans as the large slab of old steel carved into the nautical tool it once served as was taller than herself and a half.

"Oooh, uuuhh-" Gangraena paused, not really prepared to describe what exactly a warden was herself. "Aa Waaardeen iis... Uuh.. Noot suuure aactuuallyy." She gave a clueless shrug. "Thaaat's juuust whaat theey caall thee peersooon iin chaaarge oof thaaat priisooon."

Her train of thought was interrupted by the distant sound of many hoof-beats and even wings. Truth be told even though her hearing wasn't exceptionally sharp she was going to hear her attackers coming well before she actually saw them given her helm's generous peripheral view.

"Ooo~ Neeew friieends frooom thee waaardeen?" She wondered aloud to her new friend. Lumbering up from the riverbank she meandered her large awkward shell over in the general direction these new friends of theirs were coming from. If they were like the others that the warden dropped in then they'd be lovely new friends as well!

After all, surely these riders were without a shadow of a doubt here to join them, right?
© 2007-2025
BBCode Cheatsheet