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5 yrs ago
Political opinions on a public forum? I just wanna rp for god's sake!
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Bio






Call me: Asuras

I like: Urban Fantasy, High Fantasy, Anime Aesthetics

I play: Anything. Mostly women.

I have a long history of GM'ing, perhaps even more than playing. I like art, and I commission a lot. D&D is my life right now.

Most Recent Posts

Theodorable said
Do we want a hexographical and strictly enforced galactic map, or a fancier more abstract one? Your choice.


If need be, I actually have a space simulation program that I can use to map out the galaxy in (literally) proper sizes and distances.
Herp
In Hey look 11 yrs ago Forum: Spam Forum
Now if only it'd get some decent usage. ._.
Dead Cruiser said
Asuras, you'll get a kick out of this.


God damnit. That's too perfect. Too meta.
Theodorable said
The class Aves (commonly called avians) are iffy. The reason I say that is because avians are one of the few biological classes of animals that has definitively shown a genetic predisposition to favor smaller bodies. Insects, it has shown are able to grow as large as the amount of oxygen they can successfully filter to their organs. Ichthyology has shown that evolution favors size based on principle and demand. Avians seem to fill a niche specifically designed for smaller creatures. The same can be said of the order Rodentia.


But limiting such Earthly concepts of life upon alien lifeforms seems illogical, doesn't it? Who's to say bird-like aliens could not exist that are tremendous?

And what does size have to do with anything anyways? :P
Point based.
Avian?
Dragon City Ornuel - College of Ornuel



"And finally, On the Subject of Arctic Golemns and Their Properties," stated a tall young man of fiery red hair and dreary air. The man placed a partially shredded book atop an already intimidating tower of paper, further stressing the arms of its carrier. Carinna Rogald stood behind the wall of literature, brown hair peeking out from its pages and up to the man who had laid them in her possession. His tired expression and look of annoyance silenced Carinna before she could even complain; he certainly looked as if he greatly despised having to venture through the immense library, and so further pleading for him to help her transport the books to a place she could rest seemed too much to ask for.

Pathetically, Carinna struggled to give thanks before Macky Smolg turned face, his black coat catching the air, and walked off into the dimness of the Ornuel College library. Without aid, Carinna took step by careful step towards the nearest table, and set the books down with a world-ending thump. Catching her breath, she slid herself into a seat on wobbling legs and rolled her shoulders. The task laid out before her was off-putting, but a quick glance to the open-air window had reminded her of why she had set out to do it. Crackles and dances of fire upon the ridge of the window were reminiscent of the many festivals she had attended, and so Carinna could recall that her master, the one and only Arch-Mage Helen of Raphae, had herself gone out to participate in such festivities, leaving Carinna on her own. All too often, she was left with the aggravating reminder that her master was a child at heart -even younger than she- and so failed to properly educate her in the ways of magic. Thus, she was left to study on her own as best she could, utilizing what resources she could to facilitate the long journey towards mastery.

But if Helen could only have achieved such control with time on her side, how could she, when her life was just as fleeting as any other man's? Scanning over the archaic words upon the books before her, Carinna sighed and let her head fall into her crossed arms on the table. Her eyes traced over the candle that flickered at the corner, suddenly entranced and mindless by its properties. For a time, she was so focused that not even the beating of heavy wings in the libraries endless floors could distract her.

"Something seems to be troubling you, child," called out a gruff, elderly, but undeniably powerful voice. The whole floor shook as the speaker's body caught the stone edges of the floor above Carinna. Looking up, the apprentice found herself faced with the enormity of a lithe draconic body holding itself high above. The elder dragon gripped wooden railings on the second floor with its hind legs, and kept its upper body held aloft across the open air, hanging onto the other end of the floor's rails. With a serpentine neck, Molkrath weaved his head down to Carinna's side, staring at her tiny body with faded emerald eyes. Patches of white in them reflected the age that he sported, but Carinna remained no less in awe. "Tired, perhaps?"

Carinna returned her head back to the comfort of her arms, burying her chin down into the cloth of her robes till her nose disappeared. "No, I'm just..." she paused, feeling slightly that her plight would only pass off as a worthless triviality to Molkrath, "I'm just feeling a bit disconnected."

"From?" he replied inquisitively.

Carinna reared her head up and began to speak accusingly, as if her opinion suddenly were all the more strongly held. "From Helen! She is always dismissing me, going off and making a mockery of magic and herself! If she didn't want to take up an apprentice...!" she yelled. Molkrath let go of his grip from the upper floor and slinked down to the floor with a thump. resting upon his soft underbelly, he grumbled something as if to clear his throat and began,

"I am partially to blame for that, I suppose," he chuckled low, audibly dislodging some fluid from his throat. Carinna looked up to his eyes worriedly, as if she had indirectly complained about Molkrath himself. "I put her up to the task, knowing well that my time here is diminishing. If we lose our most powerful source of magic before the appearance of another, we may not be able to claim such pride any longer."

"Then she is irresponsible towards her country!" Carinna proclaimed.

"I believe her reasons are far more complicated than that, young one," Molkrath attempted to calm her.

"What do you mean?"

"Mmm," he mumbled, turning towards the largest window in the room, large enough for him to beat his wings through, "I do not believe I am at liberty to say. Her life is for her to lead, ultimately, and I do not blame her for her decisions, though I dearly hope every night that she change her ways." Carinna grunted and returned her face to the table's surface. Molkrath tightened his lips and coughed a few times, his eyes trained on Carinna's depressing form. Leaning his head down to her side, but a few feet from her ears, he spoke in whispers.

"If I explain to you, you must not tell anyone else. This is from me to you, and for your ears alone," Molkrath conspired. Carinna's eyes lit up and grinned, as if hearing a dragon gossip was the most laughable thing in Raphae. Carinna nodded her head and looked about the library, checking to see of Macky had entered again at any point. Molkrath inched his body closer to Carinna so his neck wasn't so extended, and let loose. "Helen is a tragic character, and I fear for her sanity in coming days. Before her experiments, she was just like you, Carinna. Hopeful, bright-eyed, and still very unskilled," Carinna would have glared, but she knew that it was the truth, "she too felt she was not progressing at a proper pace, but for entirely different reasons. Many a times she had come to me, worrying over every little spell she could not replicate, cursing me for having the time to do anything I wanted. I can't tell you how many times she said that she had given up." Molkrath's voice became soft, nostalgic, reflective.

"She resolved to change that, of course, and you see the results today," Carinna nodded, "and still she regrets it." Carinna looked at Molkrath with a look of suspicion, as if he were trying to deceive her. "It is true, without a doubt. She has confided in me this, with plain language and teary eyes. I know for certain that you do not understand the gravity of immortality, especially upon being stuck at such an age as hers. Being a child for so many years, one never seems to garner that respect that adults always expect. Her expectations for changes in her life are never met."

"And as the years pass, things grow more and more bleak. Friends passing, times changing with a slowed ability to adapt to them. I am simply left to assume that Helen spends her days hedonistically, trying to siphon as much joy from life as she can before..." Molkrath trailed off. Carinna had since become much more solemn and subdued, no longer emanating that spiteful air she had earlier.

"Before what?" she pressed. Molkrath shook his head grumbled a bit, lifting his body from the ground. Stretching his wings, he clearly conveyed a desire to leave, prompting Carinna to rise from her seat, as if she could run to his trunk-like legs and hold him in place.

"Mmm, I must be on my young one. Much to do, I believe, if my old memory serves me properly," without further word, Molkrath nodded dismissively to Carinna and thrust his wings towards the ground, lifting his massive body up and through the titanic window built specifically for him. Carinna shook her fist as the books around her fluttered past countless pages in the gust. Dejectedly, she spoke to herself.

"This still doesn't solve any problems!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tamruel - Central Market
Festival of Archaes


A host of armored bodies drifted effortlessly through the market crowd, as their immense numbers instinctively stepped aside for them to pass. The scene was a chaotic wave of human and celestine bodies huddled about a central area, obscured by their sheer numbers. Whispers weaved through the spaces in between, and the military figures easily caught a mass of them with their metallic grip.

Human snakes!

All the way from the desert?

What is a desert of bones, anyways?

They forge such beautiful wares!

Closer and closer the guards made their way to the center, quelling but a fraction of the commotion they walked upon. At the helm, a celestine walked with arms crossed at his back, commanding an air of honor and service that the people could not stand before. Three others walked just behind him, equally as armored in extravagant and grandiose metal plate armor, faces obscured by helms bearing the trademark platinum wings of high-ranking military officials. All at once, the reason behind the gathering had become clear when the guards found themselves at the inner circle of the market.

A pair of unfamiliar creatures sat in chairs at the edge of an outdoors tavern, striking up conversation with a large swathe of curious Raphae citizens. The barmaids showered drink and food upon the serpentine entities, as if they were gods in the flesh. Truly though, it was understandable; guests from outside the country were always treated with a profound respect, especially during any particularly notable festival.

Emrir Sahan, General of the Raphae army, happened upon the coastal city of Tamruel as a participant and peace-keeper of the annual Festival of Archaes, and when he and his closest men had heard that strange visitors from far off lands had made their way into the city, he was instantly intrigued. From the books he had read in his youth, the beings instantly reminded him of so-called Naga; snake-like intelligent entities with arms and legs just like man and celestine. He approached the two Naga at their tables proudly, and it appeared as though they noticed his approach, and reacted with caution. He was left to assume they thought him a policeman there to arrest him simply on the basis of racism.

Instead, Emrir extended a hand to shake and greeted the Nagas. "Welcome travellers, to the city of Tamruel. I see you both are enjoying yourselves. From whence have you come to our beautiful nation?" The Nagas shook his hand in turn slowly, surprised by his hospitality. One responded after drinking down a gulp of wine. Their accents were clear, and featured a distinct hiss that made them altogether snake-like.

"Yes sir, your foods and drink are of particular worth, we must say. How readily your people have welcomed us in comes as a surprise as well. Few other nations would treat us with such respect," he happily claimed, "I and my partner here are part of a trading caravan from the south, as far as the sands of the Desert of Bones can go. For many days we have walked along the coast of the Great Land, meeting other nations. Yours is the furthest north we shall have gone."

"I have heard that your kind has brought many interesting things to our market," Emrir noted, "but one object in particular we have heard of is a fantastic map detailing a number of other nations along the Great Land's western coast. Perchance, do you have such a map in your possession?" The Naga nodded after another drink, though his partner spoke up in place.

"That we do, many copies in fact. Our people pride themselves in how expediently we can procure maps of other lands beyond our own," the Naga fished around in a pocket of his, then in one of the many tied satchels sitting beside him. Bringing out a parchment, he revealed it to Emrir openly, who promptly received it and began to survey the detail fervently. A guard behind him responded with his own trade, bringing out a large coin purse that singled heavily. Without a word, he placed it upon the Naga's table, who looked at it surprisingly. "You are quite generous," the Naga stated, weighing the purse.

"It is not often that we have access to such important things, traveler. Consider this a gift for you to use during our festival, and enjoy yourselves," Emrir stated, still looking over the map. The Naga nodded and returned to the crowd, recalling fantastic tales to their intrigued listeners. Emrir and his entourage turned back and walked from the crowd with haste.

"A certain Namare and Lothmor are listed upon this map, all along the coast to the south. The Queen will surely wish to send invitations for them."
WIP



Name/Titles: Nanaeios, Siren of Storms, the Harpy of Hurricanes, Matron of Maelstroms, The Watery Grave
Gender: Female
Matronage: Storms and the Dead
Parentage: Nanaeios is a reflection of her birth, created by the water of her mother's tears, the Goddess of the Skies who wept for a certain deities loneliness. The god of the underworld, Tinios, was a solemn man who watched over the world of Malebazus and Lake Sharzunates, and when the Goddess of the Skies saw his plight, cried in hopes that he may find some warmth in the life he unwillingly took upon himself. From her cries, Nanaeios was born, and became that hope; she immediately fell in love with Tinios, and with her beauty and devotion, the god gladly accepted her proposal for marriage. In this sense, Nanaeios has no father.
Pantheon/Affiliation: Deity
Appearance: Nanaeios is often depicted as a beautiful young woman, with skin as white as the lightning that heralds her arrival, or as pale as death, depending on who is describing her. Those that feel pity for her claim the former, while those that suffer from her storms say the latter. The immense coat weaved with black feathers she wears upon her shoulders is a memento of her husband, which is believed to be capable of turning into black wings not unlike the harpies that she supposedly bears. Within the mortal realm, she is believed to be the storm itself, though such are merely the effects of her presence in the area. Nanaeios can also depict herself as a massive sea serpent, or a jet-black harpy whose wings crackle with electricity.

Centres of Worship/Places of Power: Nanaeios, being a deity of storms and the vile dead, enjoys few significant places of worship. Most mortals scorn her for the disasters she causes, and so temples dedicated to her, and individuals sending sympathy are looked down upon, ostracized, or even destroyed. Storm Temples are sparsely located within Lymaeus, and are small in stature, generally being but a few circles of stone slabs with saddening poetry etched into their surfaces. Though spiteful of her, sailors sometimes reach these temples to ask for mercy, or even to pray that love may find its way into their hearts -for no love is stronger than that of Nanaeios's. Necromancers create different temples that pay homage to Nanaeios, often buried deep underground or upon the cliffs bordering the seas.

Servants, Prominent Followers and Worship Base: Nanaeios possesses few truly devoted (living) followers, looked to only for mercy or for power by specific individuals. Those that come to her frequently are the sailors who wish for safe journeys, and all that is offered is gold or fur, believed to serve to warm her in her cold world below. From there, the sailors simply disappear and hope that their prayers will be answered, ultimately uncaring of Nanaeios herself. Storm Temples are thus often riddled with purses with a few gold coins or animal pelts left there. Few are brave enough to take items left there for Nanaeios, for the rumor is strong that thieves who steal from her are killed in the night by the living dead that rise from the seas and lakes to punish them.

In this, the dead serve Nanaeios faithfully, looking to her as a gorgeous beacon of light in their own despair, doing her bidding without question and for her praise. Decaying corpses and skeletons rise up from places of deep water most often to punish thieves of her temples, though have also been known to attack maidens who betray their lovers. Especially close couples have claimed that the risen dead have appeared in storms to help them in times of need when traveling between cities and towns, combating bandits or fixing transportation. An especially fanciful tale says that an undead horse came to a couple's aid when their own horse broke its leg during a journey. These sorts of tales also hold true for individuals seeking to return to their spouse safely.

Just as the dead follow Nanaeios faithfully, so to do the few necromancers of Lymaeus, who call upon Nanaeios for temporary ownership of the souls of the dead. However, unlike with sailors who offer gifts to the storm goddess, necromancers walk a more dangerous game. Most often, necromancers offer their souls as great generals for Nanaeios in death, sacrificing any chance they have at going to Hevas after death, and will forever remain in Malebazus, separated from the eternal cycle of resurrection that other souls experience.

Sirens and harpies, the mystical banes of sailors and mountaineers all proclaim fealty to Nanaeios, believed by mortals to be the offspring of the goddess herself. Harpies harry mortals who find themselves climbing particularly desolate mountains until they perish from numerous minor wounds. They appear as women with wings in place of arms, and bearing the talons of raptors instead of true feet. Sirens are found along coastlines and near islands, appearing as irresistibly beautiful women to male mortals. When their prey come near, they sing phantasmal songs to lure them closer before drowning them in the water and consuming their flesh.

Psychology: Nanaeios presents herself as the strikingly cool and collected calm before a storm, though can quickly turn maniacally vicious or distraught with but simple wrong-doings of others. Others deal with her in a cautious manner, knowing well that after the death of Aroesus, the border between Miphas and Sharzunates has become thinner, and Nanaeios's restrictions less potent... She has displayed on more than one occasion that even the tiniest mistake in the transport of a mortal soul to Hevas may be taken advantage of by Nanaeios if she deems the soul unworthy of peace. When interacting with other deities, Nanaeios appears peaceful and quiet, often melancholic and apologetic if things go properly. Errors, slights, or damages done to her or her psyche almost always result in her devolving into fits of rage or despair, most of which involve her unleashing preposterous amounts of tears. She becomes violent to nearly anyone within sight, or so heavy-hearted that she cannot interact properly any longer.

Nanaeios appreciates love and devotion more than anything else. believing them to be the highest pleasure and aspect of life anyone can achieve. Especially devoted mortal couples benefit from her matronage, either in the forms of luck, wealth, health, or fertility when they so desire it. Those that truly love one another and stay true to such relationships are seen in the greatest light for Nanaeios. Though incapable of specifically working towards the creation of matrimony in the mortal world, she often wishes for certain events to take place, closely following the goings-on between important mortals in Lymaeus. Royal weddings and such, are a great enjoyment of Nanaeios.

Despite her overwhelming love of of love, Nanaeios is apprehensive to love when it comes to her own. Being still especially devoted to her late husband, the former warden of Malebazus, she does not take well to advances by others upon her, and still often reflects upon her own loss, lending to the surge in storms as of late; with the death of Aroesus, Nanaeios has seen her own plight reflected in Mysia, and further reminds herself of what it feels like to loose a loved one.

History:

Relationships:
Awesomesauce. Working on a CS now.
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