Any specifics on playable races that we must abide by or can we concoct anything we want provided it is fantasy related? I have a couple of ideas, but I'll pm you to see if they'll be allowed.
deia876lat
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Secretsonatta93
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My main Character:
Name: Vera Ramsley
Age: 20 years old
Appearance: Vera is a brunette with a normal build, her green eyes seem to be gifted by the otherwise cruel forest and she usually wears her hair in a bun or braid to avoid it getting in her way. Her clothes are worn and torn, since she hardly has any time to mend or make her own anymore since her father's passing.
Personality: Vera worries, having lost both her parents and having only her sister left she was pushed into her maternal role at an early age. She had to grow up quickly without the 'luxuries' of other children. This also forced her to be more straightforward with people and being more stubborn trying to hold on what little she can still call her own.
Occupation: She's head of her family and a shepherd, the wool she's is able to collect she spins into yarn and provides as her offering, up until now she's been able to make it, but with the creatures growing bolder how much longer will it last?
Family: Her mother died when she and her sister were still young and her father never wanted to talk about it. He himself died 2 years ago from a creature attack, although Vera and Evey hadn't been present, men from the village had come up the next day with their father's remains. According to them the wreath had been torn from his throat and the creatures had killed him quickly, but still Vera can't help but still have strange nightmares about it. About it happening to them too...
Name: Vera Ramsley
Age: 20 years old
Appearance: Vera is a brunette with a normal build, her green eyes seem to be gifted by the otherwise cruel forest and she usually wears her hair in a bun or braid to avoid it getting in her way. Her clothes are worn and torn, since she hardly has any time to mend or make her own anymore since her father's passing.
Personality: Vera worries, having lost both her parents and having only her sister left she was pushed into her maternal role at an early age. She had to grow up quickly without the 'luxuries' of other children. This also forced her to be more straightforward with people and being more stubborn trying to hold on what little she can still call her own.
Occupation: She's head of her family and a shepherd, the wool she's is able to collect she spins into yarn and provides as her offering, up until now she's been able to make it, but with the creatures growing bolder how much longer will it last?
Family: Her mother died when she and her sister were still young and her father never wanted to talk about it. He himself died 2 years ago from a creature attack, although Vera and Evey hadn't been present, men from the village had come up the next day with their father's remains. According to them the wreath had been torn from his throat and the creatures had killed him quickly, but still Vera can't help but still have strange nightmares about it. About it happening to them too...
Vera’s quick feet hurried her along the safe path through the woods. The path of the small winter hardened flowers called ‘Snow’s Mercy’. The light blue flowers with their white inner petals were the only thing that seemed to hold the creatures at bay. Her free hand shot up to her neck, making sure her wreath was still around her neck as she made her way down the slope and towards the village. It was Tribute day and she was running late.
It had been difficult enough managing the flock after her father’s passing and gather enough for her toll every half year. Her offering of wool and frost berries would have to do.
Seeing the trees become sparser and the first thatched roofs coming into view she released a sigh of relief, hopefully she would still be on time. As the sack bounced against her back she hurried down and towards the village centre.
But as soon as she stepped upon the first stones that marked the village’s boundary she heard a soft whistle that made her look to the left.
“Well, well if it isn’t Vera Ramsley, I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.” Sam teased her as he came out with his ‘offerings’.
Samuel Hunt was a young man who always had been rather reckless and fearless, though Vera couldn't help but think half of it was sheer stupid luck. Sam was raised as a Huntsman and as a skilled hunter his offerings were ‘of the forest’. Rabbits he managed to snare, squirrels he managed to lure and trap and fowl that he was able to shoot with his bow. He had often helped her out when she had trouble finishing up before the deadline and now of all things he was making them late.
“Well I won’t be able to make it if you’ll be keeping me Samuel Hunt.” She said reminding him of their haste as she briskly moved on.
“Ho..Hold up Vera!” The young man said as he hurried after her.
They made their way to the townsquare where the tributes were handed out and the offerings were taken in. Just in time it seemed, Sarah shot Vera a nervous glance and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Ramsley! Vera Ramsley, bring forth your offering."
Slightly out of breath she set down the sack and apologized for the poor quality of the wool.
The Tolltaker merely raised an eyebrow and his assistant checked if everything was in order, before he nodded to her and send her to the other table to fetch her tribute for the coming winter.
Breathing a sigh of relief that it was over Vera stepped aside as she heard the next name being called up.
"Yazuki, Chris Yazuki step forth and bring your offering." With a curious glance Vera looked on from the other table as she watched a man step forward.
It had been difficult enough managing the flock after her father’s passing and gather enough for her toll every half year. Her offering of wool and frost berries would have to do.
Seeing the trees become sparser and the first thatched roofs coming into view she released a sigh of relief, hopefully she would still be on time. As the sack bounced against her back she hurried down and towards the village centre.
But as soon as she stepped upon the first stones that marked the village’s boundary she heard a soft whistle that made her look to the left.
“Well, well if it isn’t Vera Ramsley, I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.” Sam teased her as he came out with his ‘offerings’.
Samuel Hunt was a young man who always had been rather reckless and fearless, though Vera couldn't help but think half of it was sheer stupid luck. Sam was raised as a Huntsman and as a skilled hunter his offerings were ‘of the forest’. Rabbits he managed to snare, squirrels he managed to lure and trap and fowl that he was able to shoot with his bow. He had often helped her out when she had trouble finishing up before the deadline and now of all things he was making them late.
“Well I won’t be able to make it if you’ll be keeping me Samuel Hunt.” She said reminding him of their haste as she briskly moved on.
“Ho..Hold up Vera!” The young man said as he hurried after her.
They made their way to the townsquare where the tributes were handed out and the offerings were taken in. Just in time it seemed, Sarah shot Vera a nervous glance and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Ramsley! Vera Ramsley, bring forth your offering."
Slightly out of breath she set down the sack and apologized for the poor quality of the wool.
The Tolltaker merely raised an eyebrow and his assistant checked if everything was in order, before he nodded to her and send her to the other table to fetch her tribute for the coming winter.
Breathing a sigh of relief that it was over Vera stepped aside as she heard the next name being called up.
"Yazuki, Chris Yazuki step forth and bring your offering." With a curious glance Vera looked on from the other table as she watched a man step forward.
Winter’s Edge.
Vera’s quick feet hurried her along the safe path through the woods. The path of the small winter hardened flowers called ‘Snow’s Mercy’. The light blue flowers with their white inner petals were the only thing that seemed to hold the creatures at bay. Her free hand shot up to her neck, making sure her wreath was still around her neck as she made her way down the slope and towards the village. It was Tribute day and she was running late.
A small town at the edge of civilization or at least that of the Auryon Empire. Winter's Edge is run by the Elders, a small council of the village's most prominent men and women. In order to survive the cold cruel winter's all have to contribute to the village's stores, in form of offerings. Each villager offers something unique and this allows for goods to be traded and shared amongst themselves.
For they have none to depend on but their own. Travellers rarely come so far out and you do not want to be caught outside during nightfall for murderous creatures roam the lands and control the woods when daylight fades.
They seem to be particularly drawn to technology, which perhaps is a blessing and a curse in one for it keeps the Empire at bay, but to be terrorized by these creatures is not for the faint hearted either. Only a small little flower seems to hold these monsters at bay and are therefore worn by everyone and placed everywhere. Wreaths are hung around doors and necks to safeguard and protect and for now it seems to hold on, but the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer...Winter is coming and the creatures have grown bolder.
Vera’s quick feet hurried her along the safe path through the woods. The path of the small winter hardened flowers called ‘Snow’s Mercy’. The light blue flowers with their white inner petals were the only thing that seemed to hold the creatures at bay. Her free hand shot up to her neck, making sure her wreath was still around her neck as she made her way down the slope and towards the village. It was Tribute day and she was running late.
A small town at the edge of civilization or at least that of the Auryon Empire. Winter's Edge is run by the Elders, a small council of the village's most prominent men and women. In order to survive the cold cruel winter's all have to contribute to the village's stores, in form of offerings. Each villager offers something unique and this allows for goods to be traded and shared amongst themselves.
For they have none to depend on but their own. Travellers rarely come so far out and you do not want to be caught outside during nightfall for murderous creatures roam the lands and control the woods when daylight fades.
They seem to be particularly drawn to technology, which perhaps is a blessing and a curse in one for it keeps the Empire at bay, but to be terrorized by these creatures is not for the faint hearted either. Only a small little flower seems to hold these monsters at bay and are therefore worn by everyone and placed everywhere. Wreaths are hung around doors and necks to safeguard and protect and for now it seems to hold on, but the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer...Winter is coming and the creatures have grown bolder.
Sounds interesting all in all. Though I am not particular familiar with the halo or fall out universes I like taking a swing at something new.
Should you want to read how I tend to write look up Jewel of the Skies here in the 1x1 section.
My question would be what role would you prefer to take?
Should you want to read how I tend to write look up Jewel of the Skies here in the 1x1 section.
My question would be what role would you prefer to take?
So as for characters did you have some rules particular in mind (aside from the buildingblocks/lore of the world) do our characters need to have something or are there things that you don't want characters to have?
Or is it anything goes, provided you stick to the lines/rules of the world.
Did you intend different positions/jobs for our group or can we choose ourselves? And have we been approached already to join or did you plan to weave this in aswell through roleplay?
Or is it anything goes, provided you stick to the lines/rules of the world.
Did you intend different positions/jobs for our group or can we choose ourselves? And have we been approached already to join or did you plan to weave this in aswell through roleplay?
Tyrhallan took Eilis to the gardens hidden behind the building. Half of it being a hot house through which they moved to get outside and into the gardens themselves. There outside a gentle wind rustled the leaves and made the flowers dance in their respective patches with a path leading one down into the green filled sweet smelling garden.
There he slowed his pace and stopped taking a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs as he closed his eyes.
"You'll have to forgive my Uncle Eilis..." Tyrhallan started. "I believe he only meant well and thinking of your future by suggesting we'd go to the very place you escaped from."
Eilis moved up to one of the flowering plants Lady's glove and watched a little bee work with a busy buzz eager to gather all the nectar it could.
"I, I don't blame your uncle Tyrhallan, it's just...I just wonder sometimes whether I ever will be able to escape that place." She said with a morose sigh fingering one of the flowers.
Tyrhallan gazed up at the clouds in the skies. "I don't know, Eilis, but what I have learned throughout my life is that running away hardly ever solves the problem. Often it draws the inevitable out, maybe us going back will allow you to one day find your true freedom this way, wouldn't that be worth it?"
"Maybe." She spoke pondering the potential outcomes of it all as she let her fingers touch the many plants in their path.
Tyrhallan looked with pity at her before the sound of cannons in the distance distracted him, claiming his attention.
"They're getting close." He whispered softly.
There he slowed his pace and stopped taking a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs as he closed his eyes.
"You'll have to forgive my Uncle Eilis..." Tyrhallan started. "I believe he only meant well and thinking of your future by suggesting we'd go to the very place you escaped from."
Eilis moved up to one of the flowering plants Lady's glove and watched a little bee work with a busy buzz eager to gather all the nectar it could.
"I, I don't blame your uncle Tyrhallan, it's just...I just wonder sometimes whether I ever will be able to escape that place." She said with a morose sigh fingering one of the flowers.
Tyrhallan gazed up at the clouds in the skies. "I don't know, Eilis, but what I have learned throughout my life is that running away hardly ever solves the problem. Often it draws the inevitable out, maybe us going back will allow you to one day find your true freedom this way, wouldn't that be worth it?"
"Maybe." She spoke pondering the potential outcomes of it all as she let her fingers touch the many plants in their path.
Tyrhallan looked with pity at her before the sound of cannons in the distance distracted him, claiming his attention.
"They're getting close." He whispered softly.
Though I am not familiar with the series, it sounds fun, so please count me in.
Uilles nodded at the mage's question, he had kept a close eye on Arn and could clearly see how much the attachment to the girl had grown with the events of one single night.
Half of his reason protested against sending the three away at such a crucial time for the country. All could have been rather useful on the battlefield, defending Belisio from the insatiable Empire.
He looked at Tyrhallan, his nephew a man grown and one he believed to be destined for greatness.
As the Venray to be remembered.
He smiled wryly perhaps there was still time.
"I suggest you three slip over the border and head towards Sensaridh. Even admit the remnants of the once impressive capital of Rhevendahl there still should be information available that might shed some more light on the matter. Perhaps even someone who remembers what had occurred when Rhevendahl fell and whether these types of bindings can be removed?" Uilles said pointing at Eilis.
"Take to the air, I'm sure my brother still has his precious dragon mounts still lying about somewhere."
Eilis looked up at that curiously.
Uilles noticed and stated again.
"I know you're afraid to return, but I believe it is the best option you have. If you want to be in control of your own destiny then make it yourself, be the one that plans and decides her own path, instead of being forces to."
That resonated with Eilis and stared slightly unnerved, but in awe as well at the strange elder knight.
The man truly must have been formidable once and now only the clicking of the wooden cane would give away that something was not entirely right.
How many had he slain? How many had he defeated? His battle prowess must have been formidable if his form was to be believed. Tall like Tyrhallan, but where his nephew was athletic and build for speed, Uilles had seemed to be similiar to a brick wall. Aside from that he was intelligent and reasonable a fearful combination when combined with the deadly blade that now hung ceremoniously on his back.
Eilis was certain that he might be forced to his cane, but that it did not mean the man had turned into a harmless civilian. He was still as much a knight as she read about in the stories.
She was shook from her own musings when Uilles turned to his nephew.
"Tyrhallan why don't you take Eilis with you to enjoy the gardens outside. I need to speak with Arn for a moment longer." Uilles asked through more or less a commanding request.
Eilis nodded and stood up, taking hold of Arn's hand for a moment, squeezing it and holding it for as long as she could before Tyrhallan appeared beside her and requested her to follow him.
Reluctantly she let his hand go, but cast a longing gaze back at Arn for a moment as Tyrhallan lead her out of the Library.
"Do not worry Eilis." Tyrhallan said trying to ease her mind. "I'll show you the herbs we have growing in our garden."
Uilles meanwhile waited until the two were gone and their footfalls had faded into silence after the doors closed behind them, before he handed the wizard the journal.
"You'll probably need it." were his gruff words as he pushed the book into Arn's hands.
"And let me warn you ahead of time. I noticed the looks your giving her. Be careful your not overstepping your own abilities. Your mind melting or whatever it is you mages do can be dangerous for the both of you. Be wary of your own thoughts, feelings and emotions. Assure yourself first that their your own." Were Uilles words to Arn.
"And I know you'd probably die for her, but remember if she becomes a real threat to Belisio you might have to do the one thing you currently can't. Which is kill her." Uilles expected the mage's rage the flare up, deciding to cut it off with his own.
"So much for loyalties for your country heh? You think you can cast your duties to the wind at the first sign of a pretty face?!" He lunged forward and grabbed the mage's tunic pulling him closer with such strength and speed that rivalled Tyrhallan's.
"What will you do when she is lost to you beyond saving? Will you sacrifice the Skies for her?" He spoke now with more calm, but still with enough pressure to make the mage understand.
"I know you don't want these things to happen or even want to imagine them, but for all our sakes I ask that you do. I am taking a gamble on the three of you, so you'd better not disappoint me." Uilles spoke rather tiredly as he moved away from Arn to the windows overlooking the streets.
"Tyrhallan decided to overstep his boundaries and because of that foolish decision I shall have to hold off the demanding voices within the kingdom. To keep the eager dogs at bay, something has to be thrown to them. Still, I shall enjoy pummeling a few heads again, there still is strength in these old fingers yet." The man spoke with a certain fondness as he balled his hand into a fist cracking its knuckles.
"Always keep moving forward Arn. You all will need to, before this whole ordeal is over."
Half of his reason protested against sending the three away at such a crucial time for the country. All could have been rather useful on the battlefield, defending Belisio from the insatiable Empire.
He looked at Tyrhallan, his nephew a man grown and one he believed to be destined for greatness.
As the Venray to be remembered.
He smiled wryly perhaps there was still time.
"I suggest you three slip over the border and head towards Sensaridh. Even admit the remnants of the once impressive capital of Rhevendahl there still should be information available that might shed some more light on the matter. Perhaps even someone who remembers what had occurred when Rhevendahl fell and whether these types of bindings can be removed?" Uilles said pointing at Eilis.
"Take to the air, I'm sure my brother still has his precious dragon mounts still lying about somewhere."
Eilis looked up at that curiously.
Uilles noticed and stated again.
"I know you're afraid to return, but I believe it is the best option you have. If you want to be in control of your own destiny then make it yourself, be the one that plans and decides her own path, instead of being forces to."
That resonated with Eilis and stared slightly unnerved, but in awe as well at the strange elder knight.
The man truly must have been formidable once and now only the clicking of the wooden cane would give away that something was not entirely right.
How many had he slain? How many had he defeated? His battle prowess must have been formidable if his form was to be believed. Tall like Tyrhallan, but where his nephew was athletic and build for speed, Uilles had seemed to be similiar to a brick wall. Aside from that he was intelligent and reasonable a fearful combination when combined with the deadly blade that now hung ceremoniously on his back.
Eilis was certain that he might be forced to his cane, but that it did not mean the man had turned into a harmless civilian. He was still as much a knight as she read about in the stories.
She was shook from her own musings when Uilles turned to his nephew.
"Tyrhallan why don't you take Eilis with you to enjoy the gardens outside. I need to speak with Arn for a moment longer." Uilles asked through more or less a commanding request.
Eilis nodded and stood up, taking hold of Arn's hand for a moment, squeezing it and holding it for as long as she could before Tyrhallan appeared beside her and requested her to follow him.
Reluctantly she let his hand go, but cast a longing gaze back at Arn for a moment as Tyrhallan lead her out of the Library.
"Do not worry Eilis." Tyrhallan said trying to ease her mind. "I'll show you the herbs we have growing in our garden."
Uilles meanwhile waited until the two were gone and their footfalls had faded into silence after the doors closed behind them, before he handed the wizard the journal.
"You'll probably need it." were his gruff words as he pushed the book into Arn's hands.
"And let me warn you ahead of time. I noticed the looks your giving her. Be careful your not overstepping your own abilities. Your mind melting or whatever it is you mages do can be dangerous for the both of you. Be wary of your own thoughts, feelings and emotions. Assure yourself first that their your own." Were Uilles words to Arn.
"And I know you'd probably die for her, but remember if she becomes a real threat to Belisio you might have to do the one thing you currently can't. Which is kill her." Uilles expected the mage's rage the flare up, deciding to cut it off with his own.
"So much for loyalties for your country heh? You think you can cast your duties to the wind at the first sign of a pretty face?!" He lunged forward and grabbed the mage's tunic pulling him closer with such strength and speed that rivalled Tyrhallan's.
"What will you do when she is lost to you beyond saving? Will you sacrifice the Skies for her?" He spoke now with more calm, but still with enough pressure to make the mage understand.
"I know you don't want these things to happen or even want to imagine them, but for all our sakes I ask that you do. I am taking a gamble on the three of you, so you'd better not disappoint me." Uilles spoke rather tiredly as he moved away from Arn to the windows overlooking the streets.
"Tyrhallan decided to overstep his boundaries and because of that foolish decision I shall have to hold off the demanding voices within the kingdom. To keep the eager dogs at bay, something has to be thrown to them. Still, I shall enjoy pummeling a few heads again, there still is strength in these old fingers yet." The man spoke with a certain fondness as he balled his hand into a fist cracking its knuckles.
"Always keep moving forward Arn. You all will need to, before this whole ordeal is over."
I don't mind taking a shot at this.
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