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4 yrs ago
Current What lies in the hearts of the drae if not madness? - Ma'doc
5 yrs ago
Replies will be coming out in a few days. Been down sick.
5 yrs ago
"Fly you fools!"
3 likes
6 yrs ago
To everyone waiting on replies. They most likely will be out tomorrow or Saterday. I need to get a part for my computer!
1 like
6 yrs ago
Sorry if replies are a bit slow. Dealing with a headache.
4 likes

Bio

Hello! I'm LadyRunic! But you knew that...

I love most types of Role Play, but by far my favorites are those that are well thought out and worked with. Especially when you can find a group you can work well with. I love books- So many books. It's a running bet that I will become buried under a pile of said objects one day... I'm a tad busy, and when an Rp really catches my interest I'm inpatient for posts. It's like reading a good book and getting stuck on a cliff hanger.

You can generally expect posts regularly once a week if not more.

I've RP'd for the better part of fourteen years, so I can honestly say I have some experience and I've developed the understanding of what I expect of a partner in a one-on-one or a group. I'm also the sort who will speak up and point out something if it looks off or forms a problem to me. I spent most of a year once stuck in a Voice Chat Rp that was hell on Earth, so I'm straight forward when I need to say something. I expect this in return from my Rpers and DMs. I want to improve my writing and love constructive criticism.

Most Recent Posts

@Arthanus It's a bit rough, but tell me if anything is incorrect and what you think.


@Arthanus Another question, will we be able to learn new skills? Improve current skills as the Rp progresses?
@Arthanus Now this probably isn't allowed, but you don't know til you ask. Is there a limit to the number of characters we can play? I would assume one character per person.
bump
@Arthanus I have a few questions on the drow, their culture and stuff? Are we following the more Dungeon and Dragon version, yes? Or are there differences?

Also, would it be possible for one guard to be more of an assassin/mage type?
Garin sighed as he watched his daughter with a tired smile. He was getting old and Vosker's worries did not help the old healer get the rest he needed, but if it kept the peace in the village. Wisemen and women were something between a local priest and a healer. They healed the sick of mind and heart as well as the body and often helped sort out disputes along with the headman or jarl. The latter being a more prestigious leader found on the coast. "I did say caution is always warranted." Agreed Garin as he watched Gwendolyn eat the morning stew. "And If you were a wiseman I made a mistake naming you a woman's name." He teased in his soft reedy voice. "But no, my daughter, your temperament just solves problems another way. Though, rather than going to tend to Lutter why not go out to the edge of the forest and see if we can find any herbs? The young hunters are restless and despite the warnings insist on hunting. Whatever it is that attacked Luther I doubt is a true danger. Most likely the fool came across a half-starved fox or a young wolf who overreacted." He eyed the bundles hanging from the rafters of the small building. The wooden logs and stones forming a study structure, if perhaps one low of light. He would love to have more, but openings would let in the cold during the winter and that was the last thing anyone wanted to do up North.

"We need more yarrow and nettles. I had to take a package of both over to Ryska. Her brood is causing her headaches and I hope I'm not right but she could well be suspecting another child." Rubbing his forehead Garin felt his age. Ryska's brood was already large and unruly and Frenn, the proprietor of the mead hall, did not need another mouth. His hearth had already been packed with his son's family. Ryska's return had only brought five years of problems. "If I dared, I would give the woman some herb to loose the babe and prevent more. Frenn does not need eight children running about his hearth and Ryska does nothing to control her sons. Those boys will find a bad end by the coast." There was uncharacteristic bitterness in Gwendolyn's father's voice, but it was not unexpected. Garin had been the one along with Gwendolyn to fix the hurts on other children caused by the rough housing of Ryska's older children. The healer had even spoken to Ryska though it did no good and only ended in sour feelings between the large woman and the wiry man.

It was as if that thought had summoned Dallen to the door as Arn knocked. The son of the mead hall's keeper was harried-looking. Brown eyes were tired and his beard was untrimmed, as Frenn- his father- was one for appearances where his son was concerned, it was telling of the state of Frenn's hearth. "Arn," The man's voice was slightly annoyed, but as he stepped out the sounds of raised female voices within were apparent. Yvenna and Ryska were most likely having a 'discussion' as the villagers of Norn liked to talk of the raging fights between the women that stopped just short of blows. "I'd offer you a seat inside, but no man will want to be caught within that." His father, for better or worse, was caught in the middle of it at the moment and the loud voice of Frenn trying to put the discussion to an end was drowned out by one woman or the other. Moving aside a barrel, Dallen pulled out a chilled pitcher of bram and poured some into a small cup kept on his person. "But I will offer you ale. I suppose you are looking for a trade?" He offered, trying desperately to draw the topic away from the sounds of something being thrown against the wall of the tavern.

At the main door, Mira could hear the start of a shouting match that seemed to grow in intensity. Three children, two brown-haired and eyed boyed like much of the village and one girl with the blonde hair and blue eyes that were more common along the coast. The oldest was tall, and looked rather annoyed as he sat on the stoop, watching the younger two stacking stones and playing some childish game that he was far too old for in his young mind. Near by a young man was propped up against the wall, looking unconscious and smelling of stale ale as the morning mist began to burn off. Looking up, the oldest boy's eye's widen as he shuffled to the side looking quickly away though he was very aware of the woman. The young blonde girl was the exact opposite as she stared at Mira with wide eyes. "Gunnar, is she a crow woman come to take Ryska away?" There was almost a note of hope and the large boy looked bugged eyed at the tiny blonde girl.

"Seyja! Don't say such things!" His voice was a harsh whisper as he pointed towards the smallest child who looked rather saddened by the girl's words.

Seyja only rolled her blue eyes as if it was all so very simple. "Well I don't see why she shouldn't be! Then Grandda can start tellin' Wersk and Skal and Durin what to do without Aunt Ryska making a wail. She sounds like she's dying so of course, she'd attract a crow woman." The large Gunnar looked about ready to give a sharp reply to his sister, but he thought better of it. The drunk Lutter laying against the building groaned and gripped his head, staggering to his feet. Unaware of whatever was going on around him as he staggered away.

"You take just about anyone you can get! Nevermind you've a husband and a fine place to sleep! While I, his blood, am to sleep upon the floor by a cold hearth!" The shout range clear as the smaller boy pushed into the mead hall and it's dim interior. The fire from the night before having burnt low from what Mira could see of the shadows.

The nasal voice of the first woman was not without reply as the door slowly closed. "Then perhaps you ought to put yourself in line to find a second man to provide for you and your clutch! There was enough for us, but when you showed up with four children and your vast-" The door shut before any more could be heard in detail. The two children looked rather interested in what was being said, but were dubious about getting near the door with Mira right there.
Update will be up tomorrow or the day after! I have the basic outline planned and everything set!
Giving a bump





Arc I - Terreille in Trouble




Location: Winton

"Which is made more difficult by this interloping Warlord Prince perhaps belonging to our Queen." The door opened to Faeril's rooms where she had been treating the Dea Al Mon earlier in the day. Sitting on the bed, Faeril had amused herself with transcribe one of the more ancient of her ancestral books. The delicate fingers inkstained as she carefully phrased each word true to how they were in the decrepid tome. "But until I can look at him myself or Fatima can confirm that bond we can do nothing, so we shall turn our minds to this requirement... Which is what?" The matriarchal woman cast a stern eye on Mikhail as she pointedly ignored Gennar. The Eyrien Warlord was a source of pain for her.

Gennar, to his benefit, did not let the cold welcome of Faeril reach him. He had misstepped and he knew it. "Oh, she- the Priestess- needs to make the black candle. I think the older priestesses stopped making them as another precaution to try and stop the spread of the rotten Queens from reaching Kaeleer. But besides the candle, she just wants Fatima to take a certain Black Jeweled Warlord Prince with her to Kaeleer." His face was stone as he told the Black Widow.

And the pen Faeril had been using dropped onto the page spreading the ink blot for a second before Faeril snatched it up and used her Craft to right the wrong. Her face was still a mask of shock. "Please tell me he misheard?" The Black Widow's voice shook as she looked to Mikhail, her hand shaking as she set the pen aside.

Meanwhile in a lovely dress shop, Linda beamed at Fatima. "New! Silks, satin, a few furs even." The woman seemed slightly startled by the younger woman's appearance, but she quickly pushed away thoughts of what a Hyallian would do if not pleased. It was her job to make customers happy, if the well being of her shop deepened on it? Well, that hardly mattered perhaps. This young Hyallian Queen was with Sybl so perhaps she was not as bad as the reputation would lead Linda to believe. Such was the woman thoughts as she offered for Fatima to follow her over to a wall with rows of neatly folded cloths and small books pinned with snatches of the fabrics. "We keep some of the smaller bits here so we are not forever carrying bolts back and forth. A weary fabric does not make a good dress and we deal with only the best." The robust woman declared with pride as she gave Fatima a critical look. "Perhaps it green or gold would look best with your coloring, though I would hazard it's often so. So why not dress with a lovely cream? We have a fresh batch of fawn fur that would just go lovely with delicate saffron, if it would please the Lady?"

As the owner chatted up Fatima, Jandar would find a smaller girl of perhaps fifteen years pinning up an evening gown on a mannequin in the window. For all her shop discouraged guests coming to her, Linda did need to get clients. The girl herself was a Purple Dusk witch, looking much like the people from Chaillot with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. Though there was a terrible scar from a burn that peeked from the neckline of her high collared gown. Smiling at Sybl as the quite man leaned against the wall, the young woman stiffened as Jandar approached her a suspicious look coming into her eyes. "Can I help you find something, Lord, while your Lady is occupied?" The tone was very formal but there was sharpness that warned she would not be taken advantage of.

The streets were quite but as Dareen waited a small figure detached themselves from the shadows with a second, fluffier shadow on their heels. Dressed in a white work shirt that Faeril had acquired and a cap Thom looked the part of any villager. The cap was a help to shadow the all too light hair of a part Glacien. Pausing by Dareen, he stopped to pet the Kindred. "Is Lady Fatima alright?" His voice was soft but worried as he peered up at Dareen. "Dunny was with me when... Well, he smelled Lady Fatima and wanted to see her. But- There's a stranger?" The Kindred stirred the dusty with a long tail, his narrow muzzled pointed towards the door as he bared his teeth in what could possibly be the doggy smile if the ears were not pinned back in disapproval.
"It was hardly a meeting," Garin informed his daughter gruffly as he returned the hug heartily. While most men would gruff and wave off a hug, the healer was a soft enough man to accept it. Garin had lived an exciting life and enjoyed the quiet of the village. Something he kept to himself, lest his daughter take it in her head to wander the North and perhaps risk going South. "Vosker was worried and I was just alieving them. He wants a reply, an official reply, in two days and since Lutter showed up and I agreed to think upon what attacked the poor man..." Garin shook his head in slight annoyance, Vosker had been worrying but since Lutter no one else had been attacked so it well could have simply been an indignant young wolf or perhaps a bad prank that the perpetrators were hoping would never be solved. Moving to sit with his sweet daughter he dug into the stew, a far heavier breakfast than he was used to. Giving Gwendolyn a worried look, he raised a brow. "Daughter, Lutter was wounded twelve days ago. His wounds were more superficial and not helped by his drinking of the bitter brew." The man watched the young woman with a keen eye and seriously hoped that she did not think to make a court of Lutter. While Garin could sympathize with the young man, he did not want a drunk for a husband to his daughter. "That being the point, the headsman was merely had one of his worries that would not let him sleep and Yarra was beside herself with trying to get him to. It was hardly a meeting so much as delivering some soothing tea and listening to his ramblings on the matter." Giving a weary smile the healer, set aside the heavy breakfast and chuckled. "Healing is not always wounds. Sometimes my being a person of the spirits is more important than being a person of the herb."

As Arn walked through the dirt and slightly cobbled road seeing the people slowly begin their daily routine, he would see Hod at work in the smithy as he came upon the rough center of a village. The Northern villages were really just a gathering of houses and spaced depending on how close or far apart people wished to live. Garin's hearth was on the edge of the village, the man finding the quiet more to his liking. While the smithy was more center along with Vosker's home, places people were more likely to visit along with the mead hall. As the dawn light rose slightly higher and lit the world, Arn would notice a troubling sight. Having stopped by every other year he would be well aware of a small group of young boys who encouraged trouble where ever it could be found. They were peering around the large mead hall towards the two figures in front of Vosker's house. The man himself was talking with an old woman dressed in all black, and the group of boys were huddled together hurriedly whispering among themselves. The eldest of them was a black-eyed, brown-haired lad with a mean look to him. Wersk was perhaps a year from reaching the age of manhood and his attitude warned that he would be trouble even as he sneered at Arn. "Look, Oskar. It's the bear-man." The words were common enough, but the tone of them implied insult. Taller than the others, Wersk was starting to fill out and his voice was breaking slightly.

The other boy had enough sense to look contrite. Younger than his cousin, Oskar was an avid hunter and the opposite in looks to Wersk with soft brown eyes and blonde hair. "Wersk, Arn's a good hunter and he's helped my pa-"

"If your pa is your pa." Sneered the other boy, Skal. The younger brother to Wersk, who took special glee as Oskar's ears went red. "Face it Oskar-"

The more cunning boy was cut off as Wersk growl. "Shut your mouth, Skal. Ma don't like Yvenna but she's Uncle's wife and Oskar's ma." Despite his own opinions on Yvenna's morals, he wanted Oskar as a friend and not for the other boy to tattle on their tales. "Let's go have some fun away from the monster." He spat as he passed Arn, strutting as though he was already a man. Skal, their younger brother Durin, and a few other boys. Oskar giving the hunter a soft apology as he hurried after his 'friends'. In truth, it was a rumor spoke quietly that only Oskar kept the group from actually turning worse than they were. The ringleaders were the two eldest brothers of Ryska's brood. The large woman made good bread and mead, but the boys were nothing but trouble and her lack of punishment against them only made the village look at her with disapproval. Something Ryska could not stand and so settled with drinking and setting a worse for example to her sons. While Dallen and Frenn did their best, they did have a business to run and Dallen had his own children. It was a situation no one expected to end well.

Across the way from the mead hall where the boys had been spying, the headsman nodded. "Aye, in two days we'll have one trader at least from the South be putting out wares in hopes of trade." Vosker agreed, looking a bit perplexed when the woman said she had no son. Perhaps a daughter? Though it was odd for a woman so old to be traveling alone. "The markets... People gather from smaller villages and farms to trade for what they need or want." Strange indeed she did not know what a market was... "A trading day." He offered the older term that his grandfather had used. But as Mira fed the crow and offered her name, Vosker flinched. A woman of the crow? One of the tricksters and carrion feeders? It was an ill omen after all. His lips thinned but he did not feel it wise to offer his own name or anything not directly asked for. Was she perhaps the cause for ill luck? He would need to speak to Garin about the matter, but when? He had kept the poor wiseman up late the night before with his worries. Would it be too much to ask for another night of the man's time?
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