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Zarik pls PH

Once the epitome of advancement and wonderment, this ancient city has suffered an apocalyptic catastrophe and now drowns deeper into destruction as schemes and further disasters threaten to tear it asunder. Hope has long since left the land... but some have refused to surrender their place in the sun
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Rakvald
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Posts: 223
Joined: Fri Aug 24, 2018 11:17 pm
Race: Lotharro
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Shirts vs Skins

Sat May 18, 2019 7:41 pm

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70th Ashan 719

The Flutterbus to Ne'haer took Rakvald as far out as half a mile from the coast of Quacia. There, it hovered, while Rakvald negotiated with the pilot.

"I need down here." He said in his broken common. "Quacia."

"We don't fly there, we'll have to dump you into the drink if you really want to visit that Spirits forsaken place."

"That fine. I take a dive." So saying, Rakvald gathered his things, which included nothing but a large great club. He wore little other than a leather loin cloth, having ditched his armor at his home in Desnind. He'd used the proceeds from reselling the armor to get a house sitter, to take care of Flappy, his pig. He only hoped the pig boy would be in good hands. He didn't worry too much. The Desninders had been good natured thus far.

The large Lotharro crept up to the open doorway, in the cabin of the flutterbus, and looked out through the wicker doorway. Taking a deep breath, and with no further time to wait, he jumped out.

Rakvald fell from the air, his arms waving to keep himself upright as he fell into the ocean waters. His feet entered first, then the rest of his body. He swam, pulling his arms until he reached the surface, gasping for air. The Flutterbus then flew off, with not so much as a wave goodbye. Rakvald didn't even know how far he was from Quacia or its dock. It was an inconvenience to be sure, but he understood the Desninders' leeriness toward the Quacians and their lands. The Creep could not be allowed to enter Desnind.

So having seen the flier cast off fast on its route to Ne’haer, Rakvald began pumping his arms and legs, swimming toward the beach that wasn’t too far off. He kept his breathing steady and his pace sure, making certain not to swim into a rip current that would take him even further out to sea.

Eventually he arrived at the shore, drenched and dripping with sea water He fell on the sand, exhausted and beaten. His club, strapped across his back, he unshouldered and beat the ground with in frustration. His first order of business, would be to find shelter. He couldn’t afford for Ildred to find out that he’d returned. Not with what he was planning.




Last edited by Rakvald on Tue May 28, 2019 1:03 pm, edited 2 times in total. word count: 412

Welcome to Standing Trials,
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Llyr Llywelyn
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Posts: 794
Joined: Sat Feb 02, 2019 12:24 am
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Re: Shirts vs Skins

Sun May 19, 2019 1:12 am

Image
Go outside, Lucretia had said. It’d be good for you, she said. It could even be quite fun, she had added while pushing him out the door. Don’t find a place and sleep. Get some fresh air, she told him and shut the door behind him.

Fresh air in Quacia was a bit of a misnomer. Zarik had learned what island air was, from his short time on the coastal archipelago, unhindered by the Creep-infested lands or murky surrounding waters of a decaying city. He knew what the air above Quacia felt like too, how easier it was to breathe into his lungs. Such knowledge caused him to be unable to consider Quacia’s natural air to be fresh anymore, even if he still found a semblance of sentimental enjoyment from the atmosphere regardless.

The city, however, only caused him to remember this moment or that conversation and other things that he’d been trying to avoid by remaining isolated within Lucretia’s home. Zarik crossed his arms tightly, gathered his trenchcoat around him. His face hid behind the shadow of his leather cowl’s hood. His wings sparkled behind him and his halo lightly glowed.

Zarik gloomily – well, as gloomily as a biqaj with fairy wings and a halo could – headed out of Quacia past the docks for once. It wasn’t a common path for him, thus it had no memories associated with it unlike all the streets and alleys of the Gleam, Shanty, and Lair. Out here, on the beach, he could brood without having to think too clearly about things he’d rather forget about.

Distraction came easily, however, when he looked up to brood at the sky and saw… a man falling through the air. He watched as the person landed in the water with a great splash. Zarik stood still on the coast, and observed the man as he swam, and considered the oddity of it.

The large Lotharro laid on the sand once he broke past the tide, and then beat the ground with a club. Many paces away still, Zarik stared at this display. He supposed he should probably leave, but the potential distraction proved too grand of a lure. Instead, the biqaj walked forward and said in a clear voice that carried the distance between them, “If you’ve come to invade, you probably should have brought more of your Lothar brethren along.”

His halo brightened momentarily, iridescent white light gathering around the ring. Zarik’s wings spread out, positioned like a dragonfly, and reflected the daylight around them. Yet his face remained shrouded by the contrast of the hood that hung heavy over his brow. Of his visage, only his lower face could truly be seen with ease. In every piece of his outfit, he looked Quacian through and through, yet his accented common didn’t sound Vahanic-tinted but rather a blend of southern influences.
word count: 496

Etzos

The following visuals are not applicable in the Etzos territory during Ymiden: Gossamer Wings, Halo.

Eyes

Llyr's eyes are constantly changing based on a blend of his emotions.
When an emotion dominates, the pigment expands past his irises to the entire eye - faintly glowing in that emotion's color.
See Color References here.

Mutations

  • Gossamer wings resembling a cross between the wings of a dragonfly and a flying ant.
  • An iridescent halo that hovers over his head.
  • Crystalline legs from his toes to the mid of his thighs (like stockings made of quartz embedded into his skin).
  • An ever-moving inky tattoo, with Rorschach-like designs, on his back.

Scars

Llyr currently has 8 major scars, referenced on his CS.
Most noticeable is two parallel lines, with an triangular arrow point connecting them, on the center of his forehead.

Totems

When in a totem's body, Llyr's mutations persist but his scars do not.
User avatar
Rakvald
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Posts: 223
Joined: Fri Aug 24, 2018 11:17 pm
Race: Lotharro
Profession: Rancher
Renown: +170
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Re: Shirts vs Skins

Tue Jun 04, 2019 1:58 am

Image

Rakvald’s response to the strange mage was predicated on the assumption that nobody but a local would linger in this ash blasted hellscape of a Kingdom. So he responded in his own native Vahanic. He had to admit, it felt nice to speak without feeling a slow tongued fool. ”Hah! An army. Would that I had great enough strength of arm, I would sweep the walls aside with one swing of my club!”

The mirth lasted only a moment before melancholy fell across Rakvald’s face once more. ”I am Rakvald Toboldsson, of the Plenty.” He leaned against his great club, glowering over the ashen sands of the beach. ”I appear to have fallen quite a ways from Quacia itself…”

He looked up, then behind him. Then back to the strange mage. His mutations were quite ostentatious. Rakvald preferred his own bestial awakenings and corruptions, as they made him feel more in tune with his savage past lives. Even so, there was something to be said for those wings and halo. Quite remarkable. He’d stop and ask him what manner of mage he was, but he didn’t have time for that. His child was going to be born the very next season. He needed to prepare for the rescue that would commence on the beginning of that season.

”I must go now. There’s no time to linger.” Having said this, he shrugged off the stranger, and made off toward Quacia’s docks.

He made in one direction, but then stopped, and glanced in every direction. It occurred to him that he didn’t know the direction. Upon realizing this, he took a closer look at the mage that’d greeted him upon his arrival. The man appeared Quacian enough, though his accent that he’d spoken with… It was more reminiscent of the Southern Dialects. His ears and eyes gave him away for a Biqaj, so perhaps not a native born son. Even so, his Vahanic was probably better than Rakvald’s.

”It appears I need a guide, if I’m to find Quacia.” He frowned at his feet, then looked toward the mage, ”Would you show me the way?”

Rakvald didn’t relish the prospect of heading off in the wrong direction, and getting entangled in a skirmish with the creep infested. Least of all while wearing nothing but a loincloth, and bearing a great club.

”Do you have a name?” He asked bluntly, but in a friendly enough tone.
word count: 422

Welcome to Standing Trials,
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Llyr Llywelyn
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Re: Shirts vs Skins

Wed Jun 05, 2019 8:26 pm

Image
Vahanic. Zarik stared at the Lotharro as he listened to the language and tried to make sense of it. There were some parts he understood: strength, arm, walls. If the other man had spoken a bit slower, maybe he might’ve caught more recognizable words, but it was obvious that the language was likely native to the Lothar. He held an expression of slight bemusement, however, with a couple absent nods. The irises of his eyes were a blend of amber and light blue colors.

He heard the start of an introduction, and Plenty, and he opened his mouth with a quiet gasp in recognition. Out of politeness, he lowered his hood so that part of his face wasn’t hidden in shadow anymore. Zarik repeated, “Rakvald Toboldsson, of Plenty.” While Rakvald looked up, so did Zarik. When he looked over his shoulder, Zarik leaned slightly aside and glanced behind the man also.

Rakvald’s attention returned to look at Zarik instead, in which the biqaj looked down at himself. He patted over his dark leather trenchcoat as if to check himself for anything out of place. His halo glimmered, brightened for a few trills before darkening somewhat more than it had been before. His wings stretched out, then folded again behind him.

“Oh. Very well, said Zarik in heavily accented Vahanic as response to the farewell. He nodded, then offered a small wave. The biqaj continued his walk along the shore. He folded his hands at his lower back. He only got a few steps, however, before the man speak to him again. Zarik paused in his steps, then turned and smiled slightly. Still Vahanic; he caught enough words combined with the frowned expression to make sense of it; need, find Quacia, you show me.

Zarik’s gaze surveyed the Lotharro in a languid downward glide before returning up to look at the other man’s bearded face. He recognized the familiar question, a basic one and one of the first that he’d learned: the request for a name. Zarik spoke and the more he did so, the more obvious it became that his Vahanic was not great. Yes, name mine not good." He paused, a slight furrow in his dark brows, then he added with his stilted southern accent, Zarik... of Gleam. It cherry freckles up the cow and when I stone sand, no… uhh, sand stone? The… No… Sorry. I show you? Yes. I show you Quacia.

He had fumbled with a few mistaken words. His cheeks burned a brilliant silvery-blue blush. His wings fluttered like an insect adjusting to relaxing in the sunlight. Zarik pointed in a direction, then he started to walk. He said, stubbornly keeping to Vahanic despite his ineptitude in the language, You is Quacian? Lotharro Quacian? You came from… he pointed up at the sky, then gestured widely to the man. Over plum, canned… sunny sky clouds. Uh.. and--he slipped to common-“how do you say… impressive?”

As they walked along the far path to the Quacian walls, Zarik retraced his steps. He’d gone farther away from the city than he had realized. He supposed he must have gotten lost in thoughts. The young mage fidgeted with the hood of his cowl. He flipped his bangs away from his dark brow. His white-blond hair had gotten longer as of late and the ends kept poking into his eyes. Zarik brushed them aside more and by doing so, revealed the golden-scarred Theocratic Mark of Faith on the center of his forehead. He glanced over at the Lotharro and asked in another attempt of common, You gone long, away of Quacia? I know Plenty, thugs in Plenty. Guild of Agriculture, yes?
word count: 630

Etzos

The following visuals are not applicable in the Etzos territory during Ymiden: Gossamer Wings, Halo.

Eyes

Llyr's eyes are constantly changing based on a blend of his emotions.
When an emotion dominates, the pigment expands past his irises to the entire eye - faintly glowing in that emotion's color.
See Color References here.

Mutations

  • Gossamer wings resembling a cross between the wings of a dragonfly and a flying ant.
  • An iridescent halo that hovers over his head.
  • Crystalline legs from his toes to the mid of his thighs (like stockings made of quartz embedded into his skin).
  • An ever-moving inky tattoo, with Rorschach-like designs, on his back.

Scars

Llyr currently has 8 major scars, referenced on his CS.
Most noticeable is two parallel lines, with an triangular arrow point connecting them, on the center of his forehead.

Totems

When in a totem's body, Llyr's mutations persist but his scars do not.
User avatar
Rakvald
Approved Character
Posts: 223
Joined: Fri Aug 24, 2018 11:17 pm
Race: Lotharro
Profession: Rancher
Renown: +170
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Templates
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 4
Medal count: 1

Contribution

Re: Shirts vs Skins

Fri Jun 14, 2019 5:46 pm

Image


It only took a few moments into the stranger’s response for Rakvald to realize that he wasn’t a native Quacian, or a native speaker, despite his mode of dress and the fact that he was standing on Quacian soil. What was it about that accursed city that still attracted wayward souls to it? Then he noted the man’s obvious mutations and nodded inwardly, remembering that Tobold himself had been a mage outcast from Rynmere, finding solace in the mage-tolerant city of Quacia.

At any rate, listening to the stranger butcher Vahanic was an affront to Rakvald’s ears and the stranger’s fine voice. He wouldn’t have it! ”Nuh, nuh.” He said in common, deciding to meet him on his own turf. ”You speak Common. Your Vahanic is, how we say, pig shit.”

Rakvald bellowed a laugh then, as he clapped this Zarik on the back, to show him no hard feelings. He shouldered his great club, and began walking along with the young mage. As they walked, and Rakvald got a closer look at him, he noticed the scar of the Theocratic mark on his forehead, and furrowed his brow. ”Aye, dey thugs. Bad people. Maybe because dey need to be bad. But still bad.”

He tried to ignore the mark of the Theocratum on Zarik’s head, but the more he suppressed a reaction, the more it tried to bubble to the surface, ”You wid dose bleeders?” He asked, suspiciously.

By now, they were coming into view of the docks, which Rakvald had spotted from the heights that the Flutterbus had flown from, but lost sight of as they dumped him in the ocean.

”I gone not long time. Cycle. Need to find my baby, and take him from mother.” He said, deciding to be frank, although he left out whether it’d be willing or not.

”I take baby safe place, in east. Desnind. Nice place, though dere be darkness growing in dem forests, I have big house for baby. And a ranch for raising my pigs...”
word count: 352

Welcome to Standing Trials,
How Tough are You?
User avatar
Llyr Llywelyn
Approved Character
Posts: 794
Joined: Sat Feb 02, 2019 12:24 am
Race: Biqaj
Renown: +345
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Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Re: Shirts vs Skins

Sun Jun 16, 2019 12:51 am

Image
The conversation switched to common, of which Zarik was much more familiar. He quietly laughed at the accurate assessment of his familiarity with Vahanic. He nodded as well, his halo flickered, and his gossamer wings fluttered. They spread to their full span when the Lothar clapped a hand against his back. His laugh continued but turned more hesitant. He mentioned the Guild of Agriculture in reference to Plenty, and in response Rakvald mentioned that they were bad people.

He didn’t know about that… but he wasn’t about to argue with the way that the Lothar kept frowning at him. Zarik flipped his bangs, forgetful of the mark on his forehead, until he heard the question. “Nose Bleeders? Oh, those bleeders… you mean the Theocratum? No,” answered Zarik, then he paused and added, “Not exactly. Not as much as they’d like. I... it’s a sensitive matter. I-I mean unless you are, and then, I mean, it’s very complicated.”

His stammering accompanied fidgeting as he pulled at his sleeves. Ahead of them, he saw the docks, and he sighed. He supposed he’d been out walking long enough. He wanted to return to Emea already.

Zarik glanced over when he heard the Lothar mention a baby. He stopped walking, uncertain if he misunderstood because of the language difficulty or not. The svelte biqaj stared at the other man with eyes that had irises of gray, then he asked in a confused tone of voice, “Ta-take him away from his mother?”

His eyes brimmed with tears, and as quickly as they glistened in the sunlight, a couple of the tears rolled down his cheeks. He sniffed and brushed them away with the back of his wrist. This was why he didn’t want to be out and about. He wasn’t steady enough to interact witih strangers. He just needed to get back to Lucretia’s, curl up on the floor under a blanket, and forget about the world some more. He muttered, “Sorry.”

“You were saying?” he tried to keep the conversation going despite his chaotic outburst of silent tears. He rubbed at his eyes some more. They dried, but turned bloodshot. His voice trembled, but he tried to even it out. He considered the thought of Desnind and asked, “You have a ranch in Desnind? That must be nice. Is Desnind quite safe then? Good to raise a child there?”
word count: 413

Etzos

The following visuals are not applicable in the Etzos territory during Ymiden: Gossamer Wings, Halo.

Eyes

Llyr's eyes are constantly changing based on a blend of his emotions.
When an emotion dominates, the pigment expands past his irises to the entire eye - faintly glowing in that emotion's color.
See Color References here.

Mutations

  • Gossamer wings resembling a cross between the wings of a dragonfly and a flying ant.
  • An iridescent halo that hovers over his head.
  • Crystalline legs from his toes to the mid of his thighs (like stockings made of quartz embedded into his skin).
  • An ever-moving inky tattoo, with Rorschach-like designs, on his back.

Scars

Llyr currently has 8 major scars, referenced on his CS.
Most noticeable is two parallel lines, with an triangular arrow point connecting them, on the center of his forehead.

Totems

When in a totem's body, Llyr's mutations persist but his scars do not.
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