Current
Gonna be without power for a bit today, apologies if I don't speak much.
8 yrs ago
Have a few days off. Look for posts for sure today & tomorrow!
8 yrs ago
Just found out an online friend I used to RP with passed away very suddenly and unexpectedly. Didn't know them super well, but the news is saddening all the same =(
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8 yrs ago
Family ate Thanksgiving a night early because of schedules. Will be tending to all my various posts tomorrow since I'll have time to do so!
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Bio
Long timer roleplayer, been at it for... god, almost 15 years now all told. Hasn't been all sunshine and roses, but I like to think I've improved somewhat steadily as time has gone on.
I generally like to play older characters, or at least toward the higher end of an age range. Also, just about all of my characters are caring and protective in some capacity, even the rare meanie that I make.
I play a mixture of male and female characters. I myself am a guy.
Generally speaking I try to post at least once per week.
Breakfast proceeded in bouts of muttered conversations mixed amid a hard, heavy silence at Zeldria's table. For her part, the redheaded country Gem didn't do much talking; she was far too busy trying to keep what apparently passed for food in the keep from making a return trip up from her stomach. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was for the best that she didn't speak. All around her were frightened girls staring directly into the unknown future and seeking reassurance from the others that everything would be alright. And, had she not forced herself to be quiet, Zeldria felt certain she would try to give it to them. But what in all Gemmenia would she say? What could she say, when she wouldn't even believe her own words on the matter? No, she reaffirmed, silence was the best choice, lest she make a fool of herself.
For a moment, it seemed the other Gems had arrived to her same conclusion. Then, she noticed, it was becoming far too silent in the hall. She turned around, and as she did she beheld the procession that had conjured such a reaction. The Drakken that now looked them over, much in the same way he might appraise a trove of potential treasures, had an air about him that was entirely different than any of the guards, or even the keep's commander. In fact, the aura he projected was leagues above theirs, both in magnitude... and in terror.
“This is your High Prince. Bow!”
For a moment, Zeldria could only sit in shock. Not a full day into their training, and already they were under the scrutiny of one of Drakka's Royals? Her body refused to move, as if paralyzed by the prince's wandering gaze. Some Gems reacted quickly, immediately bowing as low as they could to the floor. Others, seeming to want to take a stand, made themselves as tall and defiant as they could. And all the rest soon filled in, either joining one of the two groups or finding their place in between. Finally galvanized from her stupor by the realization that taking too long to decide would almost certainly work against her, Zeldria swung her legs over the seat and rose briefly to her feet. She'd never really bowed to anyone or anything in her life, and so was entirely unaware of the best way to do so... but perhaps the best method would be to do what she knew. And where she came from, there was one way a lady always showed respect and deference to someone else.
She bent down slightly to grab the hem of the dress she'd been given with both hands and raised it slightly. She then slid the heel of her right foot across in front of the toes of her left, crossing her shins before bending both knees to lower her profile, all the while keeping her head and torso leaning down toward the floor as her hands fanned her dress slightly outward. Though it strained her calves to do so, she held the position there; her Aunt Mabel used to make her do it for many minutes at a time as punishment forbeing disrespectful. She only hoped it wouldn't bring her more suffering than she'd bargained for...
Zeldria's opting for a curtsy. Bet this'll end well... xD
Life hadn't always been easy at the settlement. Unlike the cities, with their walls of stone to keep the elements out, in the country the weather did as it pleased and the residents simply learned to deal with it. Zeldria's childhood had taught her to face roaring thunder, crashing rain, and even the occasional sudden frost. That, she'd thought, would leave her ready to face anything.
Only then, standing in that abyss of a courtyard, did she realize how utterly wrong she was.
It was the cold, more than anything. Not merely the temperature of the air; that she could deal with. No, it was the chill of knowing that she was somewhere she was not supposed to be. Somewhere she wasn't welcome, but could not leave. She didn't belong in this world of darkness and hard edges, beneath these glares and voracious smiles. And even surrounded by so many other girls of her same age and situation, she still felt isolated and alone. The overseer was the worst; every time his gaze passed over her, Zeldria felt a chill race down her spine and cut her to the bone, as though someone had plunged a frozen dagger into her lower back and left it there. She thought she'd be ready for this; she was anything but.
She was almost glad to be ordered to her room for the night. Simply standing around to be appraised and examined amplified the castle's oppressive atmosphere tenfold, while being in motion prevented her mind from dwelling on her situation, from fearing her future, and- most importantly- from dreaming longingly of the past she'd left behind. She was almost thrown into the glorified closet they called her room, with its bed that looked every bit as unwelcoming as the fortress itself, and finally she allowed herself to relax- and nearly collapsed in the process. Somewhere within, in spite of her terror, she'd been determined to not show herself as a weak, timid little thing. She'd stood up straight, locking her joints at times to keep it that way, in some dismal effort to not be seen as easy pickings. Breathing heavily, both from fear and fatigue, she pulled herself to the foot of her bed and sat upon it. Seeking some comfort, she brought her hands together in her lap and conjured a small, flickering flame. It did nothing to curb the cold she felt, but it was familiar and it was calming.
So, this was to be the rest of her life. Imprisoned by chains of duty, subservient to the whims of whatever creature laid claim to her. Never again would she see the rolling green hills, or hear the rush of water in a brook. This hostile wasteland was to be home now. The thought made her want to weep, but she forbade herself from such unbecoming things. She had to be strong, as strong as she was able. She wouldn't survive otherwise, let alone be able to face herself at the day's end.
"I can do this," she told herself softly, as thought the guards might discipline her if they heard, "The village still stands because of my choice. I can't let them down now, of all times."
Some time later she collapsed into the bed, praying for a dreamless sleep that she was mercifully granted.
The next morning came and began to move so fast she didn't have time to dwell on anything. She was accustomed to early risings, that much was true, but being awoken by large guards throwing clothes and orders at her was something else entirely. Somehow, someway, by the grace of some god or another, she managed to make it down to the breakfast hall without drawing a Drakken's fist. She sat nearby some other Gems, but all of them ate in silence. Perhaps they did not know what to say to one another; Zeldria certainly didn't. But, even in the silence, there was something there, an acknowledgement that they were all bound for the same course. And suffering in company, Zeldria thought to herself as she tried to keep food down, was always preferable to suffering alone.
Zeldria is coping with her situation, using her element sparingly to try and get her through. She's in WAY over her head, but is determined to not make herself an easy mark for the guards to torment. She's eating with a group of unspecified Gems, anybody who would like to say they're one of them is free to do so!
The capital was always far more trouble than it was worth. Barely a soul inhabited the city who was not some pompous, self-entitled fool always trying to proactively prove his superiority. Reaping Time was even worse; the city swelled to bursting with scores more fools than it normally held, and every single one of them seemed to take it as a signal to puff out their chest, boast loudly and obnoxiously for any and everybody to hear, and pick fights they had no business with, all for the sake of trying to gain some superfluous recognition. It was utterly ridiculous. True glory, Wilhelm knew, was not won with false pride, bluster, and self-exultation, it was given in reward for deeds done and vows fulfilled. Respect was something commanded, not demanded. Not that any of the greedy worms would understand; once one of them got it into his head that he was destined for greatness, no advice or warning would deter the stupid fool from chasing it.
That said, Wilhelm thought as he carefully wiped the blood from his saber, a fresh corpse usually sufficed, at least in the immediate timeframe and vicinity. The cretin had drawn his blade and loudly challenged Wilhelm in the street, aggrandizing himself as "the Drakken who would lay low the Black Blade" as thought it were some children's game. Wilhelm answered his challenge, as he always did to those who gave him one- and put the simpleton down like the dog he was.
"What a waste of time," he thought aloud, his baritone projected for all nearby to hear, "'Your castle will be the perfect place to take my first brides home to'? Ignorance truly knows no bounds."
Finished with his cleaning, Wilhelm discarded the now blood-stained cloth and silently commanded the air to send it cascading down atop his opponent's face, covering it neatly. It was both a dismissal of the fool and a warning to the spectators; if they challenged him recklessly, they would only die an anonymous death. He would have to find a stall that sold handkerchiefs and the like, Wilhelm reminded himself. He'd just sullied one of his favorites, after all.
With this in mind he resumed his perusing of the market. That was one upside to this farce of an event; the craftsmen of Drakka all turned out with the best they had, and often times there were good wares to be had. Wilhelm paused briefly as a glimmer caught his eye, and found himself walking toward a vendor with various weapon accessories on display. There, resting in front, was an immaculately well-made scabbard, black lacquered wood with just the slightest hints of gold trimmings at the mouth and tip. His family's sword had been cared for and passed down through the centuries, but the same could not be said of its house, as wood only lasted for so long before it rotted. The craftsman in question seemed presentable enough, and soon he and Wilhelm were discussing the particulars of his order.
Perhaps this trip would indeed be worth the hassle, when all was said and done...
Wilhelm is just minding his own business in the market row. Some upstart challenged him to a duel and lost, sucks to be him. Currently at a stall discussing the purchase of a scabbard he saw that he liked, open for interaction!
It was less I wanted him to and more I thought he should/would if it was a serious head injury, but since it's just exhaustion it's not as big a concern.
@Spriggs27 Oh, so the blood she feels is an overexertion nosebleed. My apologies, I thought she'd bashed her head on something and didn't catch it until the bridge.
@Spriggs27 I'm still mulling over having Marshall check on her. Head injuries aren't something to screw around with, particularly when they result in unconsciousness. Won't remove her from the exam if I do have him go in though, maybe just take her aside, let her wake up, then ask how she is / if she wants to continue. But I'm still thinking on it.
@Zelosse what's the thought process behind injuries in these trials? I assume teachers are supposed to step in to prevent death or dismemberment, but what about things like Kris's head trauma?
Bio: Long ago, there lived a great Drakken warrior famed for his skill, cunning, and cruelty, even by the standards of his race. His birth name has been lost to annals of time; he is simply known as “The First Black Blade.” His was a legacy to rival Drakken royalty, and for his long service to the crown he was granted lands to call his own. In time his descendants would inherit his land, his infamy, and his title, each of his heirs being trained in his ways and training their own heir in return. Today, the lands of Castle Nachtstone belong to Wilhelm.
A Drakken every bit worthy of his ancestor, Wilhelm is a lethal swordsman and a devilish man, both in battle and out of it. He is a cruel, vindictive man, but as all of his line before him he follows a strict code of morality that he refers to as “the Old Ways.” These ways may seem no different from any other Drakken ethics to an outsider, but to Wilhelm the difference is as night and day. He looks with disdain on what he perceives as senseless antics of those more youthful than he, and while they in turn may think him behind the times or foolish, few dare say such to his face; aside from his vindictiveness, Wilhelm is a feared combatant and his dueling record speaks for itself.
However, he pays them little mind. Some Drakken, particularly those of greater years, have earned his respect by word or by sword, but most others he barely acknowledges. The change for his people that brews in the winds are of far greater concern, and Wilhelm must ensure that he is prepared to face it.
Despite his intimidating pedigree, little is known of Wilhelm's household. Only his servants and brides are permitted entry to the castle proper, and each of the former seems unable to speak save for a few specific words. Some speculate that there is some grand secret he hides within its walls; Wilhelm rebukes such supposings as drivel, and while some have either been brave or foolish enough to try to sneak in, none of them have ever emerged again from Nachtstone's walls...
“You draw your breath against me freely, yet will not draw your weapon in kind? Pathetic. Before you speak ill of me, look upon yourself and question just when it will be that all you have ever been is forgotten.”
I wasn't planning on adding any obstacles until after the glacier wall was passed, but I can get up a post to show Marshall commenting on efforts put forth thus far.
Long timer roleplayer, been at it for... god, almost 15 years now all told. Hasn't been all sunshine and roses, but I like to think I've improved somewhat steadily as time has gone on.
I generally like to play older characters, or at least toward the higher end of an age range. Also, just about all of my characters are caring and protective in some capacity, even the rare meanie that I make.
I play a mixture of male and female characters. I myself am a guy.
Generally speaking I try to post at least once per week.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Long timer roleplayer, been at it for... god, almost 15 years now all told. Hasn't been all sunshine and roses, but I like to think I've improved somewhat steadily as time has gone on.<br><br>I generally like to play older characters, or at least toward the higher end of an age range. Also, just about all of my characters are caring and protective in some capacity, even the rare meanie that I make. <br><br>I play a mixture of male and female characters. I myself am a guy.<br><br>Generally speaking I try to post at least once per week. </div>
kittyluna45
AlteredTundra
