pandapolio

The World of Telduria [Always open for applications]

I'm working on my response

[Cancelled]Our Darkest Hour [1930-40s Tech/Aesthetic]

Looks really interesting if you are still accepting.

(Dead) Tokyo Ghoul Inspired RP

I'm interested. I'd probably join the aogiri tree like organization.

The World of Telduria [Always open for applications]

Yay got my first post up.

The World of Telduria [Always open for applications]

Zakhul
Unknown location

Pain. Zakhul could feel a sharp pain in his left abdomen. His mind was surprised at this strange feeling, he hasn't felt this since he was last awake. Zakhul tried to ignore the pain before he came to a realization.

He was awake.

Light blinded Zakhul as he opened his eyes. Quickly closing his eyes he brought his hands up to cover his eyes. He could hear his shoulders and elbows crack in stress after being dormant for so long. Before he could cause himself anymore pain he stopped moving. Prepared this time he slowly moved his hands away and opened his eyes slightly. He gradually opened his eyes more and more until they became accustomed to the light.

Once Zakhul could see he looked around at his surroundings. He was in the master bedroom of the fortress he had claimed as his own. Looking upwards he could see that the roof had collapsed. Looking down at the area of pain he could see that some of the rubble had landed directly on him. Grimacing in pain he tried to wiggle out from under the rubble. Unable to move, all he accomplished was shifting more rubble onto himself. Grunting at the impact he put his hands up to the rocks and tested their weight. They were heavy, but not too much so for him. Zakhul began applying force, gradually increasing so he wouldn't shock his new awakened muscles. A deep groaning sound could be heard as the rubble began to rise inch by inch. Once he got the rubble high enough, Zakhul pushed off with his hands sliding away from the rubble as it came crashing back into the ground.

Now able to move his legs he slowly came to his feet. The blood began to rush back to his feet and feeling returned to him. Wiggling his toes Zakhul felt a sense of relief that everything seemed to be working correctly. Walking unsteadily to a window Zakhul looked out into the surrounding wilderness. Nothing seemed to out of place except for the smoke rising in the distance. From the look of things it was a fairly productive village a few leagues away. Cracking his neck Zakhul began thinking about his next course of action. Coming to a decision he took a deep breath then stepped out of the window falling to the ground. Landing heavily he heard his knees crack from the unexpected stress.

Zakhul began to walk towards the area where he had seen the village was at. While walking he began to layer an extensive web of illusion spell around himself. Causing himself to be more human. He became a bit smaller and much less fierce looking. Finally he cast a simple spell to change his eye color, shifting the blood red into a calm blue. As he neared the village he suddenly remembered he hasn't spoken in centuries. Unsure of his speaking ability he began to sound out syllables and remember words. As he came upon the edge of the village he stooped for a minute to watch. The people seemed to speak a slightly different version of the language he was. As he watched he noticed a building where many of the townsfolk seemed to congregate at. There was a loud ruckus coming from the building and the people leaving seem to be delirious.

Zakhul set out towards the building hoping to find some answers. Striding confidently through the doors he searched for someone who seemed like they might know something. Seeing a man serving drinks, Zakhul headed over to him. Coming up to the bartender Zakhul paused for a second while formulating his words then spoke.

“Hello, I seem to have gotten lost. Could you perhaps tell me where I am?”

The World of Telduria [Always open for applications]

Zakhul

Name Zakhul
Titles Beast of Balcoth
Age older than he can remember
Race Daemon
Training The battlefield is the best educator in the art of war one can find. Zakhul has fought in many a battle throughout his life. Experience has grown his skills with very little legitimate training. For a few years he had a swordsman train him in the basics, but he in no way achieved mastery of swordsmanship.
Equipment

-simple clothing: Simple riding clothes that are nothing special. Higher quality than what a peasant would wear, but nowhere near what a noble would wear.
-sword: A simple sword made of quality materials.
-scrolls: A few scrolls for writing.
-feather pen: A pen for writing on said scrolls.

Spell Skills

-Illusion magic: Zakhul utilizes illusion magic to change the placement of his attacks by just a few inches, mostly geared to messing up their timing. He also uses the magic to disguise his more demonic features.

Other skills

-Hand to hand combat: He is an expert in hand to hand combat, preferring to fight barehanded than with a weapon.
-Good Situational awareness: He is very good at keeping track of everything on the battlefield after he has noticed it. This allows him to stay away from environmental hazards and stay wary of foes outside of his vision.

Weaknesses

-Incredibly lazy: He is unwilling to put effort into nearly anything, unless the incentives are high.
-Overconfident: Years of not being killed has made Zakhul believe he is somewhat indestructible.
-Slightly insane: Imprisoning his mind has broken it slightly causing him to become slightly insane.

Affiliation his pillow(his one true friend)
Personality All Zakhul wants in life is to do nothing and be entertained. Of course that is not how life works, so he often misses any entertaining event he hoped to see. Zakhul is often calm and unguarded when he speaks. He doesn't understand why he should try and lie about things, because who could harm him. More likely to toy with an enemy than kill them instantly he can be seen as cruel. The more accurate description is that he doesn't want the excitement to leave. He often spares his defeated enemies in exchange for a favor, hoping they will become entertaining once again.
History
Zakhul is one of the ancient demons that were summoned when the harvester reigned. He was a ferocious fighter that utilized incredibly quick movement and illusion magic to overwhelm and confuse his enemies. While not quite royalty he was held in high regard by the other Daemons he interacted with.

After the crucible Zakhul had been caught on the outside of the barrier, having his mind freed from the harvester. Unsure of where to go he attempted to find a safe place to get his bearings and learn what happened. He came upon an abandoned fortress that appeared to have fallen into disrepair only a few decades ago. Exploring the fortress he made his way to the lords chambers and looked upon the bed. On looking at the bed a wave of exhaustion overcame him and he stumbled forward. Collapsing to the ground Zakhul could feel his eyelids shutting on their own, as if some force was forcing them closed.

He slept for many years before being woken up by a party of adventures looting his hidden castle. After driving the adventures away he decided to go see how the world had changed.

Leaving his castle he used minor illusion magic to disguise his daemonic features and set out into the world. He spent many years just wandering around the world, spending nights in any dry place he could find. He observed and tested the people of this planet, trying to learn more about them. He began to see the puny mortals he had terrorized in a new light and became fascinated by them. To him their multifaceted nature was extremely interesting to him, because of the one sidedness of daemons.

Zakhul began to start interacting with the humans more closely, moving into a village as a “trader” and becoming part of a community. After a few years he would leave and find a new town to stay in for a while. He continued like this for a while before he started to notice changes in him. He had lost his lust for power and felt more comfortable in his human form. He felt different than before he started this journey, more...less. He felt less “all powerful”, more mortal. He knew he was still as powerful, but he had begun thinking like a human after lifetimes among the creatures.

This realization shocked his mind, that he was becoming something he had previously viewed as weak and pathetic. That he no longer truly felt like a daemon. The worst part though is that he now viewed his past actions through the morals and viewpoints of humans. Fleeing to his hidden home he tried to reconcile what he had done with his new conscience. Unable to do that he imprisoned his mind, creating the detached creature that exists today.

Vikings Westward (closed)

AFTERMATH

Harek watched on as the looting progressed throughout the city during the day. The Viking soldiers were still coming down from the high of victory with big smiles on their faces before they remember they had lost some friends today. Harek rubbed his shoulder and winced as pain lanced through his arm from a cut he had gotten in the battle. No matter how many times he got a wound it never hurt less, he just became used to the pain.

Harek noticed that there was a building that the vikings were keeping a wide berth from. Standing up Harek walked down the stairs over towards the structure. Opening the door he saw a mass of huddled children, mothers and elderly. Seeing the panicked faces Harek’s mind flashed to past memories. Too many times he had seen faces like that, too many times he had made the wrong choices. Screams and crying bombarded his senses and he knelt to the ground covering his ears and closing his eyes. After a few seconds the noises died down and Harek opened his eyes. The terrified peasants were staring at him confused and frightened. Harek stood up and stepped out of the house. Thankfully it appeared as if no one had seen that episode.

Reidun saw Harek walk out of the building she had marked off limits and panic made her run towards him. “Harek!” She ran past him and to the door and checked on the people inside. Coming back to him she noticed that he seemed a little off. “Harek? Are you alright? You look a little pale.” She continued walking with him. No one was going near the house with the children inside per Aksel’s orders.

Reidun was a warrior but she was also a woman and that meant that she worried over those she cared for and Harek didn’t seem himself so she wasn’t going to let up on him. Pointing to a spot void of others she said, “Let’s sit and rest a minute.”

“Aye, I could use a rest. My legs are pretty tired after all that fighting.” Moving over to the spot that she had pointed out Harek sat down with a groan. Leaning back a bit to far he bumped his injured shoulder against a wall. Wincing from the pain Harek leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I heard you fought well in the battle. Great start to your first raid in the isles.”

Reidun grinned. “It was a good battle. How’s the shoulder? Is it deep?” She asked concerned. Not waiting for his answer she lifted the material over it and said, “It’s not too deep but it is thin and red. You should have Isgred take a look at it.”

She got kind of a far away look and stated, “Some of the men that came with us but are not ‘our’ men are angry with me. They wanted to kill the babies and the old people. When I threatened to kill them if they laid a hand on them Aksel had to step in and stop the fight.” She sighed. “Sometimes I just wonder if I should have been a regular woman and not a shield maiden.”

“Some men find joy in a good battle, but then there are some who find joy in death. It is watching the life drain from a human that they enjoy. These men don’t care if their victim is a man or a babe. Never get close with one of those men.” Harek carefully lowered himself onto the ground and closed his eyes.

“Well you chose to be a shieldmaiden and you are pretty damn good at it, so no use complaining now. Also I don’t think there are many people offering rides back this time of year.” At that last comment Harek grinned and opened one eye to look at Reidun.

“Haha! No, what I mean is there are other things I want besides just fighting.” She playfully slugged Harek in his good arm. “You’ve known Conall longer than I have. Is he one of those men I should avoid? Tell me true.”

“He may love a good fight, but he is not one of those men. If he was, that buffoon would have been dead many times over. He has made many friends out of foes he spared. Most of those friends have ended up saving his life.” Harek reached down to his waterskin and took a long drink. “I guess I should go get this cut checked on by a healer. Thank you for the help.”

Reidun nodded and began picking up the weapons of the dead.

Isgred was walking around the city, searching for people that still might need her help, but more importantly looking curiously around her. She had to admit that the city was like nothing she had seen before – the large walls and even buildings made of stone and painted white or with other colors. Even some of the roads were reinforced by stones, rather than being just muddy paths. She walked over to the center of the city. The largest building was apparently some sort of a main hall and she could see the raiders hauling crates of things out of it. The other large building looked different, it had a small tower with what looked like a bell. Isgred first thought it was some sort of a guard post, but then she noticed the cross symbol over the door. She knew that the Christians used this symbol to worship their God.

Intrigued, she peeked inside the building. It must have originally been a majestic and beautiful place, with paintings and golden ornaments around the walls and up front on what looked like an altar. Of course, now the impression was tainted by splashes of blood on the walls, a pile of destroyed furniture in the middle and everything that at least looked valuable missing.

She stepped closer to the altar, eyes pinned to the wall painting behind it. There was a man, a woman and a tiny baby lying between them in what looked like a manger. It was very peaceful, but Isgred couldn’t look away from the baby’s face. Whether it was the intention of the artist or not, she felt like the baby’s expression was much more ironic and condescending than a real infant could ever show. It in fact looked like the baby was laughing at her, knowing something that she didn’t.

Shivers ran down her spine and a weird feeling made her turn around. She found herself staring into eyes of an Englishman in a long dark robe. “There is nothing more to take,” he whispered so quietly that she could barely understand him.

He wasn’t armed, but she took out her dagger anyway, pushing him against the wall and putting it at his throat. “There is always something to take,” she told him. “You are the local man of God, aren’t you?” He nodded slightly, making the dagger pierce his skin and letting a single drop of blood run down his neck. “Where is your God now?”

He just smiled. “Oh he will come for you and strike all you heathens down eventually.”

Isgred was confused that there was no fear in man’s eyes. “Shouldn’t he protect you from suffering?”

He gave her a confused look. “The more suffering we endure in this life, the larger our reward will be in the afterlife.”

She just stared at him, wondering if he is making fun of her or he actually believes that. She glimpsed over her shoulder to the creepy baby smiling at her from the wall. It looked like a kind of God who would let his people suffer. But why would they even worship him? She shook her head. These people were certainly strange. “No true God would ask his people to suffer without any good reason.” She thought about killing the priest, but he seemed harmless, so she left him be. At least he can suffer some more in this life for his God, before getting to his precious afterlife. Leaving the church, she had to fight an urge to look at the smiling baby one last time.

Harek found Isgred near the church and walked up to her. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind checking out a cut I got in the fighting, I am worried it might be infected.” Harek pulled the shirt up so Isgred could see the cut, wincing as he stretched the wound.

Isgred was still a bit shaken from her encounter with the priest, but she smiled seeing Harek walk towards her. “Of course I can look at it. Just sit over there." She guided him towards some bench placed near the church. Harek’s wound wasn’t deep, but it was in a desperate need of cleaning and maybe a few stitches. Isgred brought a waterskin and carefully started to wash out the dirt, sweat and dried blood from the cut.

“It was a great battle today,” she said, reaching for sewing equipment into her satchel. She knew some men, while fearless in battle, could act like babies when she was sewing their wounds, so she tried to keep them as distracted as possible. Not that Harek would seem like that kind of man. “I heard you were on of those who opened the gates for the rest of the raid. That certainly saved me a lot of working with pulling arrows out of our people. Odin must be very pleased with his personal warrior.”

“I would hope so. It sure wasn’t fun getting into the city.” Harek relaxed his shoulder as she began to work on stitching the wound together. He took another drink of the waterskin and tucked in back into his belt. “Do you happen to have anything to help sleep come easier? I...uuh feel restless after large battles and was hoping to get some sleep after the celebration to come tonight.” Harek hoped she wouldn’t ask more, because he honestly was not good at lying on the spot.

Isgred frowned a bit when he mentioned that he couldn’t sleep after battles. Even now she was exhausted and felt like she could fall asleep on the spot and she wasn’t even fighting. She couldn’t imagine how tired must the warriors be after such long and hard physical exertion. There was something else to it, but Harek apparently didn’t want to speak about it and she had to respect that. “I have an herb that should help you, unfortunately I don’t carry it around to the battlefield, so I don’t have it here with me.”

She could give him some stronger thing that she used when she needed men to be asleep during larger operations, but that was way too strong for simple sleeping problems and also very addictive. “Why don’t you stop by my tent when we get back to the outpost, I will have it ready for you by then. I should warn you though, it is not good mixed with ale or anything stronger, so you should probably stay clear of the drinks if you want to take it tonight.”

She finished the stitches and put a thin layer of healing salve over the wound. Then she covered it with a piece of clean cloth and wrapped it around his shoulder and chest to keep it in place. “That should do it. Just don’t wave the arm around much. Come find me later, perhaps I can check you properly to find out why you can’t sleep,” she added quietly, not wanting to push it too hard. “Thank you very much.” Harek gave Isgred a smile and bowed his head in respect. "I’ll make sure to come by later."

Defiance

Looks interesting.

The Treasure of Emily Gray

---

Name: Sevro Barca
Faction: Addisons
Ship: None
Location: Saturn

“I agree with the pilot, we might as well take off now. Any way what is the point of worrying about the past? What's done is done.” With that comment Sevro started walking towards the ship's ramp and stopped as he reached the woman who had been lecturing him. “This isn't the first time the police have come after me, nor will it be the last. I know what I'm doing.” With that Sevro turned to the man next to her and gestured at the ship. “Permission to come aboard captain?”

An Inquisitors Story: The City of Ash and Decay (A High-Casual journey)

Same here