A Lowly Wretch

The Storm Cycle: Reclamation

Od

“I’m sure you are aware, that is unusual for her at least not to write or otherwise send word. If not to the Queen, then to me. Thoughts, on the situation, Od? Do you believe her curse to have taken hold or would you surmise she has been having some other difficulty?”

He fixed her with his narrow gaze and her eyes fixed back on him with their brilliant green hue. Furthermore the pupils of her eyes, unlike her countrymen, were white instead of black making her eyes up until the irides look like the interior of a fresh kiwi fruit. Unless such a fruit were native to this isle then none would draw the connection. Still, much like herself they were quite unnatural despite brimming with natural potency. Just one more thing marking her as different from the others.

She stood and looked back into his eyes for what was likely an uncomfortably long moment, her face still locked in a distant expression. Before he could interrupt the silence however she spoke first.

"Cause, does matter not."

She turned from him after her laconic reply, turning her gaze back over to the tactical map they had laid out.

"The queen's will be done. If asked I shall retrieve her."

Her eyes scanned over the pieces set out upon the table, her mind dwelling on their purpose and how they tie into the queen's greater plan. In truth if Elneth was victim to her curse then it simply meant she would need to be subdued and taken back to the queen. If not then something else has happened and Od would aid her nonetheless. So long as the queen believed in Elneth then Od would believe in her too. The biggest issue that faced them in this case was their strained relations with the local monarch. Their men would not necessarily respect the authority of the queen's knights. This could lead to potential conflict, one that might put the queen's soldiers in harms way. It would be tricky to defuse if Elneth did anything to strain this already tenuous peace. Concerning indeed.

As for the board it offered much potential, her mind could only wonder... Perhaps even wander.

Emerald Odyssey — An MMO Isekai RP (Now Accepting!)

Pending Changes

The Storm Cycle: Reclamation

Od

It would seem that Reinhardt and Vyrell had arrived ahead of her. Alas, the other knights and the queen herself were yet to show. Until the queen arrives though it was no issue. She would not show the queen disrespect by appearing late to a summon such as this and she expected much the same out of the other knights.

“Ah, Od, you are here too.”

Nod simply gave a short nod to Vyrell's greeting, her expression distant and thoughtful as always. She briefly wondered if the queen had sent summons for him as well to this meeting. There wasn't a chair set aside for him, was there? Did it matter?

“Good to see you in one piece as always. Question for you, Od. You’ve not seen or heard from lady Elnith, have you?”

The greeting, much like always, went over her head. A simple pleasantry, no reason to think deeply into it's nuances. The question however got her attention as her eyes locked on his.

"No. Is the queen asking for her?"

Her question for him was not unusual for her train of thought. If there was an issue her first and main concern was how it mattered to the queen first. Naturally she didn't find a reason for Lady Elnith to be absent as her first assumption, hence her path of thought leading her to believe that they were trying to find her at the queen's behest. If her absence were to cause the queen disquiet then it would be under Od's prerogative to immediately rectify this. She hoped it wouldn't come to that since her strengths were not in searching out missing personnel. That would be something better suited to others such as Lady Luna or Lady Fio.

Nonetheless Od would not hesitate to undertake such a task if she so much as even suspected that the queen would desire it so.

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

@Rune_Alchemist Here's an updated version of Mathy with some changes to help her fit the world better.

Brokentoothed Mathy The Rock-Biter

Name: Brokentoothed Mathy The Rock-Biter.
Gender: Female.
Race: Valtem.
Appearance:

She's relatively short and scaley to boot. While her species varies from person to person she's something of an atypical specimen. Her scales are a pallid green color reminiscent of rotting fish. Her hair is long, straight and blacker than the depths of the sea. It's also typically wet much like most of herself. Physically if one were to describe her from looking at her they'd probably say something to the effect of "If someone gave an eel arms and a human-ish head." The head is only human-ish as her teeth set her well apart from even her more fang-laden sisters as her teeth, like a shark's, grow endlessly. This means she has to essentially break her own teeth down just so they'll still fit in her mouth. This process leaves her mouth continuously bleeding from her cracked teeth, nerves often left exposed which is quite painful indeed. Her tongue is also much too long, fitting awkwardly in her mouth and also possessing a row of teeth. Her outer teeth are more for biting into prey while her tongue tears chunks off and swallows them. Adding to the blood that drips from her broken teeth is the cuts along her tongue as her speaking often results in her biting her tongue often. Her eyes are a cold, dark grey with a predator's gleam. This all comes together to create the menacing visage of this sorry creature.

Bio:

When one rolls the lottery of life some people win and some people lose. Mathy is one such loser.

She was born to a caring mother amist a pod of her sisters but unlike them she was never the same. Unlike them she lacked legs and had a mouth in her tongue. Unlike them her teeth grew too fast for her small jaw, forcing her to chew stones and bones in order to break down her teeth just so they'd fit in her face. Unlike them she could not bend the waters. Unlike them she was unfit for the role of priestess. They tried to help her fit in but much like her own tongue she found great difficulty in it.

Of course, this was not long to last. During a fateful trip to teach her how to hunt their group was captured by a bastelian raid ship. Her mother and a few of her sisters were killed in the conflict. She and the rest which remained were taken and thrown in chains. A sorry fate indeed.

Eventually they docked and she was sold off to a local fish marketer who put her to work gutting and cleaning fish along with other demeaning chores. She worked for many long painful years before a massive tidal wave hit the port, causing a great deal of damage and providing the perfect opportunity for her to escape.

From then on she traveled the shores, unable to find a place to call home, shying away from civilization and hunting fish in the wild waters. She followed a school of fish, migrating across the waters for three long years. They were quite calm and peaceful but ultimately lonely as well. Though antisocial she definitely felt the isolation and home sickness.

This lasted until she happened upon a peaceful fishing canoe from the harbor of Dawn. They had a nice pile of fish so she figured she'd pop up, scare them and steal their fish however when she surfaced one gave her a wave. It wasn't an attack or a frightened cry but something far more peaceful. The attention also made her self conscious so she dove back down, hiding beneath the depths.

She was wary and cynical towards the world but the people from that boat gave her something she hadn't had before: Hope. The people of this town might not be as bad as the awful, foul tempered cat people she had been enslaved by. Perhaps these people wouldn't try to attack her or bind her in chains again. When she peaked out they greeted her and she greeted them back. Their greeting was short lived and she dove back under into the safety of the waters of course but it was a start.

She had made a decent living now at age twenty, still gutting and cleaning fish but now she was keeping her own profits. Perhaps one day she could be her own boss and make a real move towards becoming a full fledged business fish.

Well, at least until she got turned into an ice cube.

Goals:

To become wealthy and powerful enough to never be anyone else's servant ever again.

Skills:

|Spear Fishing Sea-Warrior|: She has been trained since a young age the art of hunting with a spear. Her main prey was fish both big and small and it was typically underwater. Still, she's fit and strong thanks to all the swimming and spear-stabbing.

|Butcher|: She's no stranger to the insides and out of various creatures, especially marine life forms. She's quite accustomed to the meats of many different things and is skilled in both skinning and scaling the dead. Her knife-work is quite impressive on living things too.

|Blessing of Unknown|: Blood carries the gift of an unspoken heritage. Only fate may decide when truth sparks.

Inventory:

A fishing spear.
A net for holding fish.
A purse for holding coins.

Extra note: Her name's actually Macilia but due to her speech impediment aka her teeth people hear it as "Mathy" and have dubbed her as such.

Hope she sparks your interest.

The Storm Cycle: Reclamation

Od

"Thank you Od but, I'll be fine. You're not the only one here that can heal you know. I'm just thinking while I fix myself up."

Od's expression was inscrutable. Like a mask it moved little, showing none of the feeling that went on behind it. Inside she was a labyrinth of deep running thoughts and feelings. While she felt that Luna could just be speaking true of what's on the surface there was the possibility that she was simply being polite, shouldering the burden of her own care to not take advantage of her. Perhaps this reluctance to accept Od's help could be born from a distance between the two of them, rejecting Od's offer not out of kindness but out of a desire to not keep in her company.

Od didn't know what to make of it. This wasn't something she was good at, reading people that is. She always felt a distance between herself and those who were cultural natives to this region. As a result of her minimal levels of socialization it made it hard for her to know in truth what one's words meant beneath the surface. It was hard for her not to read too deeply or even not deep enough sometimes.

_
Od had been standing there stiffly with her hand out, lost in deep thought when Reinhardt passed her by.

"You might be able to regenerate from any injury... I'd advise you stop hurling yourself at the enemy that recklessly. You expose yourself to unnecessarily taking blows that reduce your combat effectiveness to land attacks you should be able to manage regardless. It's unbefitting of a knight."

She was stirred from her thoughts, turning to face him but he was already on his way past. Her flat distant stare was broken, giving way to a more perplexed expression. She didn't really know what to make from what he said.

But the only injury I sustained was from ambush fire???

She wanted to say but the moment had passed and it felt like it would be awkward to stammer her thoughts towards his back. Instead she simply looked on as he left before turning to the castle proper. In truth she had felt somewhat useless in the battle against the elder beast but not because she was injured. Her left eye had already grown back for the most part and the cut on her neck was little more than a sliver now. What stung most however was how useless she was against the beast. Reinhardt had managed to all but fell the beast on his own for the most part and what had she contributed? A shallow poke and a cut on it's trunk. The bloody trunk hadn't even gotten severed in full, it was embarrassing just how poorly she'd performed against it. She felt like she had spent more time being tossed about than she had been in the fight proper. The queen should not have needed to intervene on their behalf and it was a failing on all the knight's parts for letting the battle last that long.

In her doldrums she had failed to notice she was already at the castle, ready to proceed in towards the strategy room where their queen needed them. She would obey her queens command and obey without fail, there was no doubt of that. Even still, she cast her gaze briefly to the cursed blade, wondering to herself how truly needed she was in all this. In the end was she just holding back everyone by trying to join the battle instead of just letting them use her blood as the fomorians did? What was her purpose, truly?

In the end, as it always was, silence was the only answer.

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Brokentoothed Mathy The Rock-Biter

Name: Brokentoothed Mathy The Rock-Biter.
Gender: Female.
Race: Valtem.
Appearance:

She's relatively short and scaley to boot. While her species varies from person to person she's something of an atypical specimen. Her scales are a pallid green color reminiscent of rotting fish. Her hair is long, straight and blacker than the depths of the sea. It's also typically wet much like most of herself. Physically if one were to describe her from looking at her they'd probably say something to the effect of "If someone gave an eel arms and a human-ish head." The head is only human-ish as her teeth set her well apart from even her more fang-laden sisters as her teeth, like a shark's, grow endlessly. This means she has to essentially break her own teeth down just so they'll still fit in her mouth. This process leaves her mouth continuously bleeding from her cracked teeth, nerves often left exposed which is quite painful indeed. Her tongue is also much too long, fitting awkwardly in her mouth and also possessing a row of teeth. Her outer teeth are more for biting into prey while her tongue tears chunks off and swallows them. Adding to the blood that drips from her broken teeth is the cuts along her tongue as her speaking often results in her biting her tongue often. Her eyes are a cold, dark grey with a predator's gleam. This all comes together to create the menacing visage of this sorry creature.

Bio:

When one rolls the lottery of life some people win and some people lose. Mathy is one such loser.

Unlike her sisters who all came out as the sailors dreams of mermaids and sea maidens she was more akin to something out of their nightmares. Her teeth grow too quickly and since her childhood she's had to gnaw on rocks just so her teeth could still fit inside her mouth. Unlike the rest of her sisters she had no talent for water magic. She was unwanted, deemed unsuitable for the priestess-hood for reasons undisclosed to her. Even her parents had little hopes for her achieving much beyond becoming a simple hunter amidst their kind.

Though pushed to become a deadly hunter she resented her prettier peers for they always looked down upon her. She was never good enough to excel in the things which made a Valtem great. At the young age of twelve she had begun her rebellious phase and left her home, determined to make a life for herself beyond the shallow confines of the sea caverns she called home. With her hunting spear and coral chest plate she ventured forth into the bold outer seas...

_
And immediately got the snot pummeled out of her by a bastelian slave ship who grabbed her and threw her in with the rest of the slaves. Eventually they docked and she was sold off to a local fish marketer who put her to work gutting and cleaning fish along with other demeaning chores. She worked for about five years before a massive tidal wave hit the port, causing a great deal of damage and providing the perfect opportunity for her to escape.

From then on she traveled the shores more warily, shying away from civilization and hunting fish in the wild waters. She followed a school of fish, migrating across the waters for three long years. They were quite calm and peaceful but ultimately lonely as well. Though antisocial she definitely felt the isolation and even a bit of home sickness.

This lasted until she happened upon a peaceful fishing canoe from the harbor of Dawn. They had a nice pile of fish so she figured she'd pop up, scare them and steal their fish however when she surfaced one gave her a wave. It wasn't an attack or a frightened cry but something far more peaceful. The attention also made her self conscious so she dove back down, hiding beneath the depths.

She was wary and cynical towards the world but the people from that boat gave her something she hadn't had before: Hope. The people of this town might not be as bad as the awful, foul tempered cat people she had been enslaved by. Perhaps these people wouldn't try to attack her or bind her in chains again. When she peaked out they greeted her and she greeted them back. Their greeting was short lived and she dove back under into the safety of the waters of course but it was a start.

She had made a decent living now at age twenty, still gutting and cleaning fish but now she was keeping her own profits. Perhaps one day she could be her own boss and make a real move towards becoming a full fledged business fish.

Well, at least until she got turned into an ice cube.

Goals:

To become queen of the pirates To start up a legitimate business and run a powerful business empire so she'll be nobody's subject ever again and no one will ever look down on her for her horrific looks and then she'll be the one laughing at all those stuck-up preppy priestesses and- This continues on well past the span of anyone's interests.

Skills:

|Spear Fishing Sea-Warrior|: She has been trained since a young age the art of hunting with a spear. Her main prey was fish both big and small and it was typically underwater. Still, she's fit and strong thanks to all the swimming and spear-stabbing.

|Butcher|: She's no stranger to the insides and out of various creatures, especially marine life forms. She's quite accustomed to the meats of many different things and is skilled in both skinning and scaling the dead. Her knife-work is quite impressive on living things too.

|Blessing of Lavetha|: Valtem possess a special connection to Valla Lavetha. As their 'mother' and creator, they carry with them the blessing of the sea, and allows them to use water based magics as a natural talent.

Inventory:

A fishing spear.
A net for holding fish.
A purse for holding coins.

Extra note: Her name's actually Macilia but due to her speech impediment aka her teeth people hear it as "Mathy" and have dubbed her as such.

Here's my main character, placing my moth as a substitute just in case. Hopefully Mathy is fine enough to make the roster.

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Mote

Name: Mote.
Gender: Male.
Race: Mothraki.
Appearance:

In a land of mostly cute mothgirls and femboys one moth rises above the rest, showing to the world that beauty is not found in fragility but in resilience and raw, muscular might. Having honed his marvelous muscles both in combat and in the routines taught to him by his master he is a sight to behold. With the soft, fuzzy face of an adorable moth and the light blue skinned, absolutely ripped musculature of a true warrior he stands proud with his mottled blue and orange mane and wings flowing in the cool winter winds. He is clad in a fine white tunic that was woven by his very hands, tied around the waist with a sash that's also of his making.
Bio:

Beneath the muscular manliness of this powerful warrior the tale of a sorry young lad still lives on deep within.

He was a clumsy oaf as a little one, hardly an ounce of elegance in him. He was awkward both in speech and in action, always belittled by his peers for his ungainly size and indelicate looks. He never had friends for none would associate themselves with something as embarrassing as he. Furthermore he had no head for magic. His talents laid not in casting for his clumsy handwork and generally anemic magical aura left him able to manage little more than simple frost cantrips.

There was only one solace for this overgrown insect: Weaving. His grandmother always wove the most lovely of clothes and he spent much of his free time with her, learning how to weave the fibers together to create such elegant cloth. It was his one true escape from the social alienation and cruelty of his peers. With his mother having died in child birth and his father being a very busy moth his grandmother was by and large the closest thing to family for him.

It was only inevitable that she one day passed. He wept long and deeply at her loss. While the tribe did mourn her passing few took her loss quite as he did. If they had ever strove to understand him better they might of understood why he packed up his scarce few belongings and left to the great wilderness, never to return.

He traveled for a long time indeed. He knew how to forage and lived on what little he could eat, existing largely to continue living each day and little more. One strong blizzard however left him stranded inside a cavern. It is within this cavern he happened upon a strange old human, a hermit who wandered the land. The hermit spoke a little of his language, enough to introduce himself as a name roughly translating to "Strong-of-Arm". He was kind enough to let this young man of a moth stay in the cavern whilst the blizzard stormed on. Come the morning when the storm had died down he emerged from the cavern to see the man practicing some form of martial art. He watched Strong-of-Arm practice, mimicking his movements in turn. Seeing this the hermit understood Mote's curiosity towards his fighting style and thus continued on. They practiced together for quite some time, Mote learning much in what felt like a much shorter time than it truly was. When it was time for them to part ways Mote left the hermit now a warrior, his weapon of choice now his body.

Eventually he found his way to the human settlement of Dawn where he settled down, keen to get back into the practice he loved most. He helped out enough to scrounge up some money and then used it to buy the fibers needed to start weaving cloth so that he might fashion lovely new clothes from it. Such is how he started on the path to becoming the biggest tailor of this settlement, at least until the storm hit and he suffered a fate most cool.

It seemed the divine forces above had plans set for him, plans bigger than mere tailoring unfortunately.

Goals:

Mote aspires to perfect his tailoring so that he might make the most beautiful of garments. He continues to hone his body largely out of respect for the art he was taught.

Skills:

|Strong-of-Arm Style|: A fighting style that is dedicated to the art of mastering combat through use of one's own body. Fists, feet, knees, elbows, head and shoulders are all actively utilized in this martial art. It emphasizes both grappling and hard-hitting close up strikes which encourage forward-momentum to keep on the attack. He has even incorporated his wings into the style, training their strength to allow for him to add an extra "hop" to his jump and to also give him a short swift boost either towards or away from the direction he's facing, sort of like a short dash.

|Tailoring|: He can weave together fabrics to create lovely cloth items. There's no enchantment involved as he has no luck with magic but they are quite nice all the same.

|Enthralling dust|: Mothraki produce a potent pollen like dust upon their wings. Merely by existing they spread this where they go, though its mostly harmless if not inhaled in large quantities. Causes hallucinations and dulls one senses. As one may expect, people tend to frown upon this sort of thing.

Inventory:
He has his tunic, a satchel for carrying his belongings, a few rations in case he needs to travel, a flask of water and his sewing needles.

@Rune_Alchemist Here is my character. Hopefully he is acceptable.

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

I'll be signing up. I'll begin character construction shortly.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Martin Hollowsland

It was definitely concerning to see the knight straight up reattach his own head before marching off to the side of his lady. He knew well what magic was capable of given what he has learned himself but the dangers of what this could mean were very readily clear, another reason for why he had to be as careful as he has.

Meekly he scurried out of everyone's way as a standoff seemed to be brewing between the knights and this other character. On one hand he loathed to insert himself into a growing conflict, even if it hadn't yet come to blows, however he knew that by choosing this path he'd be thrust into conflict sooner or later. Swallowing his fear he slowly minced his way up to the renown knight captain herself, Knight Captain Fanilly Danbalion.

"H-hello captain Danbalion. I- I- I'm Martin, a healer t-that was dispatched to your unit." It was clear he was very nervous speaking to someone as important as her, stuttering and tripping over his own words whilst he was unable to even look at her directly.

"I- if there is a- any need for my service p- please let me know. I'll try and h-help however I can." With that said he bowed deeply, eyes shut tight. He tried to hide the fact that his hands were shaking but it seeped through all the same.

_
@VitaVitaAR

The Storm Cycle: Reclamation

Od

It was somewhat satisfying to have her blade finally leave a lasting mark upon the beast, severing it's trunk as it pierced through before slicing free through the side with a draw cut. She looked down upon the creature despite their size disparity as it was brought low by the efforts of her comrades. Her icy stare lingered upon the beast before immediately snapping over to the queen as she spoke.

Od's reaction was immediate, dropping to a kneel and bringing an arm across as she listened with her head bowed. This might not of been the standard the queen operated on with others but Od had been raised to act as such with the king she last served. Old habits were hard to break.

While she would have pressed the attack it seemed the queen had other plans, talking Luna down to keep her from pursuing her foes no less. While it stung to know that the mammoth rider still drew breath, leaving her words unfulfilled, the queen had offered them the privilege to flee which they had accepted. Od would not dare contravene her queen's wishes, purging the very thought from her mind. With a flourish she sheathed her blade, it's sheath being the only thing the blade welcomed. She did not need to even clean her blade for it abhorred letting anything touch it, cutting away at the world in every sense of the term.

During the queen's congratulations of her knights she seemed to express gladness towards Od being in one piece in particular. This seemed to befuddle her, her head tilting to one side with a quizzical expression as she blinked several times in confusion. Had the queen been particularly concerned regarding the possibility of her dismemberment? Od was hardly even aware of the deep slice in the side of her neck. It hurt, yes, and it made her breathing raspy, her voice hoarse as her vocal cords were still recovering alongside the rest of her neck. None of that really impacted her tremendously. On top of knowing that she'd be good as new as early as five minutes from then such wounds were things she had grown accustomed to living with. The Fomorians were always doing far worse to her before and even after she was freed from their cruel grip she knew nothing but war. Wounds were just a facet of living, a sight no less common than trees in a forest or bodies in a battlefield.

_
After all was said and done the knights seemed to part for the time being, returning to town where they returned to their various concerns. Od's concerns were with the health of the soldiers who guarded the walls. She went over them to confirm that none were harmed during the arrow fire the walls sustained during their battle. Seeing as most if not all the soldiers were fine this led her back to Luna who seemed to have born the brunt of the damage from this battle. Out of all the knights she was the one who seemed to have had received the most lasting wounds, the others either not taking any or simply recovering from them.

Upon approaching Luna she only slightly unsheathed her blade, lightly placing her palm upon the glassy metal which left a long fine yellowish line upon the skin of her hand. She extended this hand towards Luna in a silent offer of healing, sap-like blood oozing from the cut down onto her fingers. She didn't trespass Luna's personal space for this, staying a respectful distance back until her fellow knight consented to her treatment.

No words were exchanged at this time. Od was never much of a talker, the lingua franca of this land still being her second language with her native tongue being fomorian. She can hold her own in a conversation but the intricacies of this language and her own accent often tripped her up. Such was the reason she was so laconic.

_
@Rune_Alchemist@Pyromania99