John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
He moves his hands, revealing a perfect carving of a beast “Working on my carving. Quite the hobby of mine, constantly improving as the beasts change.”
John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
He moves his hands, revealing a perfect carving of a beast “Working on my carving. Quite the hobby of mine, constantly improving as the beasts change.”
"Impressive. I didn't get a change before to ask what your hunting specialties are. You saw some of mine in the courtyard yesterday."
John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
He moves his hands, revealing a perfect carving of a beast “Working on my carving. Quite the hobby of mine, constantly improving as the beasts change.”
"Impressive. I didn't get a change before to ask what your hunting specialties are. You saw some of mine in the courtyard yesterday."
“I am a hunter like any other, you may have seen my work with my scythe. I have insights into the arcane as well, but mainly just my skills with the weapon.”
You hear loud, repeated sounds of something sharp puncturing a target. If you choose to look, you see a tall humanoid dressed entirely in red armor. Every part of his body is covered, including his face, covered by a white mask with a symbol of an inverted crying eye. He is wielding two rapiers in each hand, slashing at a target in repeated forms.
Peeking around a corner, curious yet nervous on strangers, a small figure watches the man. Her face is covered in a ashy white wooden mask with carved slits for the eyes and mouth, with a small carved blooming flower painted light pink on the forehead. Her hair is long, thin, and jet black and looks to always be wet even though it never drips any water, with several pure white lilies resting rooted to her hair. Wooden antlers poke out of the top of her head, covered in marshy vines and more white lilies. Her body, limbs, and fingers are long and spindly, scaly skin and ashy gray-black. On her exposed chest is a large toothy maw. She wears a patchwork of hunter's armor that covers parts of her body.
The masked man's head gives a slight tilt, and after one final slash, he turns to look at the corner, sheathing his two blades.
The figure panics as she duck around the corner. She is used to people looking down on her due to the cursed nature, but can't help be be curious of all the people that come to the Hunter's Den.
The masked man walks towards the corner. "Who are you?", he says in a deep voice.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Pokemon Master, Hero of Hyrule, Jedi Knight, Celestial Being Beyond Comprehension, Bounty Hunter, Salmon Runner, Animal Lover, Math Rock Roller, Nerd King in all Aspects. (And, of course, Dragon Tamer. It is in the name, after all)
For RP/PBP threads, I use *asterisks* for OOC speech, "quotations" for IC speech, and no fancy stuff for descriptions.
A human in ragged clothing walks into the city, riding atop a fish-filled cart pulled by an enormous fish-pig monstrosity. The style of his clothes and weaponry mark him as a member of the blasphemous fishing hamlet out to the north, the one that ships in tons of high-quality fish to Zeilghast every day.
One might wonder how a mere hamlet does such things. Those who visit realize the truth almost immediately: the denizens worship a Great One of the sea. They claim that their absurdly bountiful harvests of the sea are from the secrets they have been taught, and from the blessings of their unseen One Below All.
The hooded fishmonger hums a hymn as he rides, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his people are far from welcome here.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The world spins on, and it spins to despair But you know I'll still be there
John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
He moves his hands, revealing a perfect carving of a beast “Working on my carving. Quite the hobby of mine, constantly improving as the beasts change.”
"Impressive. I didn't get a change before to ask what your hunting specialties are. You saw some of mine in the courtyard yesterday."
“I am a hunter like any other, you may have seen my work with my scythe. I have insights into the arcane as well, but mainly just my skills with the weapon.”
"I see. I'm not as gifted in the knowledge of the Arcane myself, but I can usually make due with my knowledge of the histories of the orders, the city, and the world....and my studies into the various religious teaching, of the church, there predecessores, and...other religious groups as well..."
You hear loud, repeated sounds of something sharp puncturing a target. If you choose to look, you see a tall humanoid dressed entirely in red armor. Every part of his body is covered, including his face, covered by a white mask with a symbol of an inverted crying eye. He is wielding two rapiers in each hand, slashing at a target in repeated forms.
Peeking around a corner, curious yet nervous on strangers, a small figure watches the man. Her face is covered in a ashy white wooden mask with carved slits for the eyes and mouth, with a small carved blooming flower painted light pink on the forehead. Her hair is long, thin, and jet black and looks to always be wet even though it never drips any water, with several pure white lilies resting rooted to her hair. Wooden antlers poke out of the top of her head, covered in marshy vines and more white lilies. Her body, limbs, and fingers are long and spindly, scaly skin and ashy gray-black. On her exposed chest is a large toothy maw. She wears a patchwork of hunter's armor that covers parts of her body.
The masked man's head gives a slight tilt, and after one final slash, he turns to look at the corner, sheathing his two blades.
The figure panics as she duck around the corner. She is used to people looking down on her due to the cursed nature, but can't help be be curious of all the people that come to the Hunter's Den.
The masked man walks towards the corner. "Who are you?", he says in a deep voice.
The figure pokes her head out a bit nervously. "I'm Glendella Florecer....though folks around me tend to just call me the Willow Beast....."
John has returned to his barracks, leaving the door open as he frantically talks to himself in mad rants. He has taken all the skulls off of his belt and has placed them on his wall. He is sitting at his blood covered workshop table, working on something into a chunk of wood into something important. A sort of gemstone into his halberd.
Al is walking down the halls of the Hunter's Den, muttering in frustration to himself as he is carrying a few ornate look tomes.
They walk past, seeing the blood covered work desk. He turns around with a snap of his neck, his gloves covered in blood “Have I gotten your name?”
Al stops and looks over at the man. "I don't think we actually exchanged names. Alabastor Paon. I've also been called The Black Peacock. Al is fine too. What is your name?"
He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
He moves his hands, revealing a perfect carving of a beast “Working on my carving. Quite the hobby of mine, constantly improving as the beasts change.”
"Impressive. I didn't get a change before to ask what your hunting specialties are. You saw some of mine in the courtyard yesterday."
“I am a hunter like any other, you may have seen my work with my scythe. I have insights into the arcane as well, but mainly just my skills with the weapon.”
"I see. I'm not as gifted in the knowledge of the Arcane myself, but I can usually make due with my knowledge of the histories of the orders, the city, and the world....and my studies into the various religious teaching, of the church, there predecessores, and...other religious groups as well..."
"I do my best to make up for my teammate's faults as they make up for my own."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Alabastor spends some time reading from the tomes he has brought to his own large room in the Hunter's Den. It's a very well kept and rather fancy room with elegant dark furniture with various gold accent pieces and imagery of peacocks and a lot of other decorations that scream nobility. However, the regal decor is blended with more esoteric and eldritch pieces that seem to showcase reverence to things for more aberrant while also still keeping with some elements to the Church and its teaches and aesthetics. As he is finishing up one of his new books, he hears a faint and rhythmic knock on the door. Recognizing that knock, his face lights up a bit as he goes and opens it, revealing a little Cursed Blood girl he recognizes. "Why good day to you my dear Glen, to what do I own the pleasure?" The blood haired man says with a charming smile to the monstrous looking creature.
"Hello Lord Alabastor, I was wondering....if you weren't busy..." She starts saying nervously before Al cuts her off with a laugh. "My dear, how many times do I have to tell you, you may call me Al. Nobility means nothing on the battlefield, the damned will kill me the same as the rest of you. Now, what can I help you will?" The man says heartily. "Right, Al....I was wondering if you could accompany me outside the city limits....I am in need of more reagents for my potions but...you know how dangerous things can get outside the city's wall."
"Say no more, I can be ready in 15. I'll meet you in the mess hall so we can grab a quick bite before heading off." Al says as he goes to dress into his hunter's gear and grab his supplies and weapon. Glendella would leave him to get ready, grabbing her own herbalist kit and harvesting tools.
You hear loud, repeated sounds of something sharp puncturing a target. If you choose to look, you see a tall humanoid dressed entirely in red armor. Every part of his body is covered, including his face, covered by a white mask with a symbol of an inverted crying eye. He is wielding two rapiers in each hand, slashing at a target in repeated forms.
Peeking around a corner, curious yet nervous on strangers, a small figure watches the man. Her face is covered in a ashy white wooden mask with carved slits for the eyes and mouth, with a small carved blooming flower painted light pink on the forehead. Her hair is long, thin, and jet black and looks to always be wet even though it never drips any water, with several pure white lilies resting rooted to her hair. Wooden antlers poke out of the top of her head, covered in marshy vines and more white lilies. Her body, limbs, and fingers are long and spindly, scaly skin and ashy gray-black. On her exposed chest is a large toothy maw. She wears a patchwork of hunter's armor that covers parts of her body.
The masked man's head gives a slight tilt, and after one final slash, he turns to look at the corner, sheathing his two blades.
The figure panics as she duck around the corner. She is used to people looking down on her due to the cursed nature, but can't help be be curious of all the people that come to the Hunter's Den.
The masked man walks towards the corner. "Who are you?", he says in a deep voice.
The figure pokes her head out a bit nervously. "I'm Glendella Florecer....though folks around me tend to just call me the Willow Beast....."
"I knew a Willow once. That was quite a long time ago. I find 'beast' to be a term only for the unsentient, violent things that plague this realm. It is good to make your acquaintance, Glendella Florecer." The man gives a slight nod, then turns back to the targets to practice more.
*WOE*
*i forgor to end the dialog with a second quotation*
Pokemon Master, Hero of Hyrule, Jedi Knight, Celestial Being Beyond Comprehension, Bounty Hunter, Salmon Runner, Animal Lover, Math Rock Roller, Nerd King in all Aspects. (And, of course, Dragon Tamer. It is in the name, after all)
For RP/PBP threads, I use *asterisks* for OOC speech, "quotations" for IC speech, and no fancy stuff for descriptions.
You hear loud, repeated sounds of something sharp puncturing a target. If you choose to look, you see a tall humanoid dressed entirely in red armor. Every part of his body is covered, including his face, covered by a white mask with a symbol of an inverted crying eye. He is wielding two rapiers in each hand, slashing at a target in repeated forms.
Peeking around a corner, curious yet nervous on strangers, a small figure watches the man. Her face is covered in a ashy white wooden mask with carved slits for the eyes and mouth, with a small carved blooming flower painted light pink on the forehead. Her hair is long, thin, and jet black and looks to always be wet even though it never drips any water, with several pure white lilies resting rooted to her hair. Wooden antlers poke out of the top of her head, covered in marshy vines and more white lilies. Her body, limbs, and fingers are long and spindly, scaly skin and ashy gray-black. On her exposed chest is a large toothy maw. She wears a patchwork of hunter's armor that covers parts of her body.
The masked man's head gives a slight tilt, and after one final slash, he turns to look at the corner, sheathing his two blades.
The figure panics as she duck around the corner. She is used to people looking down on her due to the cursed nature, but can't help be be curious of all the people that come to the Hunter's Den.
The masked man walks towards the corner. "Who are you?", he says in a deep voice.
The figure pokes her head out a bit nervously. "I'm Glendella Florecer....though folks around me tend to just call me the Willow Beast....."
"I knew a Willow once. That was quite a long time ago. I find 'beast' to be a term only for the unsentient, violent things that plague this realm. It is good to make your acquaintance, Glendella Florecer. The man gives a slight nod, then turns back to the targets to practice more.
She watches the man practice for a bit, before she would head to the mess hall to grab some food before her excursion outside the city.
Inside the church, at an altar to the goddess, rests a man. He whispers a prayer to the goddess. Anyone who would look upon him would see a man in the clothes of a cleric, despite for the fact that he has two blades at each of his sides. His hands wrapped together in prayer. After a while he stands up, his clothes loose and not revealing despite his musculature. He has black markings on his face, leading into his clothing. His skins is darker than most, but many still find him respectable and trustworthy. He is Enrico Abadie, Cleric and Zealot of the Church.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Inside the church, at an altar to the goddess, rests a man. He whispers a prayer to the goddess. Anyone who would look upon him would see a man in the clothes of a cleric, despite for the fact that he has two blades at each of his sides. His hands wrapped together in prayer. After a while he stands up, his clothes loose and not revealing despite his musculature. He has black markings on his face, leading into his clothing. His skins is darker than most, but many still find him respectable and trustworthy. He is Enrico Abadie, Cleric and Zealot of the Church.
He hears a faint noise. Someone outside is singing a blasphemous hymn in Deep Speech as they pass. The voice doesn't sing with the malevolent glee of a teenager who just wants some trouble. This sounds like a true believer.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The world spins on, and it spins to despair But you know I'll still be there
Inside the church, at an altar to the goddess, rests a man. He whispers a prayer to the goddess. Anyone who would look upon him would see a man in the clothes of a cleric, despite for the fact that he has two blades at each of his sides. His hands wrapped together in prayer. After a while he stands up, his clothes loose and not revealing despite his musculature. He has black markings on his face, leading into his clothing. His skins is darker than most, but many still find him respectable and trustworthy. He is Enrico Abadie, Cleric and Zealot of the Church.
He hears a faint noise. Someone outside is singing a blasphemous hymn in Deep Speech as they pass. The voice doesn't sing with the malevolent glee of a teenager who just wants some trouble. This sounds like a true believer.
*He coincidentally knows Deep Speech*
He walks outside of the church, looking for whoever was singing, a soft look on his face, not of rage but of understanding. He holds out his scripture and amulet to his chest calmly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Inside the church, at an altar to the goddess, rests a man. He whispers a prayer to the goddess. Anyone who would look upon him would see a man in the clothes of a cleric, despite for the fact that he has two blades at each of his sides. His hands wrapped together in prayer. After a while he stands up, his clothes loose and not revealing despite his musculature. He has black markings on his face, leading into his clothing. His skins is darker than most, but many still find him respectable and trustworthy. He is Enrico Abadie, Cleric and Zealot of the Church.
He hears a faint noise. Someone outside is singing a blasphemous hymn in Deep Speech as they pass. The voice doesn't sing with the malevolent glee of a teenager who just wants some trouble. This sounds like a true believer.
*He coincidentally knows Deep Speech*
He walks outside of the church, looking for whoever was singing, a soft look on his face, not of rage but of understanding. He holds out his scripture and amulet to his chest calmly.
*Then he would probably recognize it as a song of desperation, a cry for help. A hymn of supplication to the Great One Kulullu, a being associated with the sea and a particular fishing hamlet that just happens to provide so much fish that the church can't wipe it off the map without people noticing.*
There is a bloodied man in a tattered cloak quietly singing the song as he walks by, leaning against a massive, many-eyed fish-boar creature that also has multiple blunt weapon wounds on it. The two seem to have been pelted with stones not long before. The man stops his song, turning his head to reveal fish-like eyes that shine with bioluminescent yellow light.
Inside the church, at an altar to the goddess, rests a man. He whispers a prayer to the goddess. Anyone who would look upon him would see a man in the clothes of a cleric, despite for the fact that he has two blades at each of his sides. His hands wrapped together in prayer. After a while he stands up, his clothes loose and not revealing despite his musculature. He has black markings on his face, leading into his clothing. His skins is darker than most, but many still find him respectable and trustworthy. He is Enrico Abadie, Cleric and Zealot of the Church.
He hears a faint noise. Someone outside is singing a blasphemous hymn in Deep Speech as they pass. The voice doesn't sing with the malevolent glee of a teenager who just wants some trouble. This sounds like a true believer.
*He coincidentally knows Deep Speech*
He walks outside of the church, looking for whoever was singing, a soft look on his face, not of rage but of understanding. He holds out his scripture and amulet to his chest calmly.
*Then he would probably recognize it as a song of desperation, a cry for help. A hymn of supplication to the Great One Kulullu, a being associated with the sea and a particular fishing hamlet that just happens to provide so much fish that the church can't wipe it off the map without people noticing.*
There is a bloodied man in a tattered cloak quietly singing the song as he walks by, leaning against a massive, many-eyed fish-boar creature that also has multiple blunt weapon wounds on it. The two seem to have been pelted with stones not long before. The man stops his song, turning his head to reveal fish-like eyes that shine with bioluminescent yellow light.
He puts his amulet underneath his cloak, walking back into the church. Coming back out with his bed sheets, wrapping the man in the sheets, his voice calm “Here, you seem cold and hurt.” He taps them politely and begins to lead them inside the church, keeping anyone who would harm them away.
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He grins, his eye twitching “Alabastor. Like the mineral. A pleasure to meet you Al. I am John, John Blutborne. I do not have a nickname to my knowledge, but I am not a social person.”
"They tend to be hit or miss from what I've seen, so no worry about the nickname. What are you working on?"
He moves his hands, revealing a perfect carving of a beast “Working on my carving. Quite the hobby of mine, constantly improving as the beasts change.”
"Impressive. I didn't get a change before to ask what your hunting specialties are. You saw some of mine in the courtyard yesterday."
“I am a hunter like any other, you may have seen my work with my scythe. I have insights into the arcane as well, but mainly just my skills with the weapon.”
The masked man walks towards the corner. "Who are you?", he says in a deep voice.
Pokemon Master, Hero of Hyrule, Jedi Knight, Celestial Being Beyond Comprehension, Bounty Hunter, Salmon Runner, Animal Lover, Math Rock Roller, Nerd King in all Aspects. (And, of course, Dragon Tamer. It is in the name, after all)
For RP/PBP threads, I use *asterisks* for OOC speech, "quotations" for IC speech, and no fancy stuff for descriptions.
A human in ragged clothing walks into the city, riding atop a fish-filled cart pulled by an enormous fish-pig monstrosity. The style of his clothes and weaponry mark him as a member of the blasphemous fishing hamlet out to the north, the one that ships in tons of high-quality fish to Zeilghast every day.
One might wonder how a mere hamlet does such things. Those who visit realize the truth almost immediately: the denizens worship a Great One of the sea. They claim that their absurdly bountiful harvests of the sea are from the secrets they have been taught, and from the blessings of their unseen One Below All.
The hooded fishmonger hums a hymn as he rides, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his people are far from welcome here.
The world spins on, and it spins to despair
But you know I'll still be there
Meanwhile, at Schloss Scrumptious...
"I see. I'm not as gifted in the knowledge of the Arcane myself, but I can usually make due with my knowledge of the histories of the orders, the city, and the world....and my studies into the various religious teaching, of the church, there predecessores, and...other religious groups as well..."
The figure pokes her head out a bit nervously. "I'm Glendella Florecer....though folks around me tend to just call me the Willow Beast....."
"I do my best to make up for my teammate's faults as they make up for my own."
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
"Understandable. Well, I have some reading to catch up on. I'll see you later, maybe in the mess hall"
"Possibly. Although I usually take my food to my barracks. See you later alligator." He then goes back to his work
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
Alabastor spends some time reading from the tomes he has brought to his own large room in the Hunter's Den. It's a very well kept and rather fancy room with elegant dark furniture with various gold accent pieces and imagery of peacocks and a lot of other decorations that scream nobility. However, the regal decor is blended with more esoteric and eldritch pieces that seem to showcase reverence to things for more aberrant while also still keeping with some elements to the Church and its teaches and aesthetics. As he is finishing up one of his new books, he hears a faint and rhythmic knock on the door. Recognizing that knock, his face lights up a bit as he goes and opens it, revealing a little Cursed Blood girl he recognizes. "Why good day to you my dear Glen, to what do I own the pleasure?" The blood haired man says with a charming smile to the monstrous looking creature.
"Hello Lord Alabastor, I was wondering....if you weren't busy..." She starts saying nervously before Al cuts her off with a laugh. "My dear, how many times do I have to tell you, you may call me Al. Nobility means nothing on the battlefield, the damned will kill me the same as the rest of you. Now, what can I help you will?" The man says heartily. "Right, Al....I was wondering if you could accompany me outside the city limits....I am in need of more reagents for my potions but...you know how dangerous things can get outside the city's wall."
"Say no more, I can be ready in 15. I'll meet you in the mess hall so we can grab a quick bite before heading off." Al says as he goes to dress into his hunter's gear and grab his supplies and weapon. Glendella would leave him to get ready, grabbing her own herbalist kit and harvesting tools.
"I knew a Willow once. That was quite a long time ago. I find 'beast' to be a term only for the unsentient, violent things that plague this realm. It is good to make your acquaintance, Glendella Florecer." The man gives a slight nod, then turns back to the targets to practice more.
*WOE*
*i forgor to end the dialog with a second quotation*
Pokemon Master, Hero of Hyrule, Jedi Knight, Celestial Being Beyond Comprehension, Bounty Hunter, Salmon Runner, Animal Lover, Math Rock Roller, Nerd King in all Aspects. (And, of course, Dragon Tamer. It is in the name, after all)
For RP/PBP threads, I use *asterisks* for OOC speech, "quotations" for IC speech, and no fancy stuff for descriptions.
She watches the man practice for a bit, before she would head to the mess hall to grab some food before her excursion outside the city.
Inside the church, at an altar to the goddess, rests a man. He whispers a prayer to the goddess. Anyone who would look upon him would see a man in the clothes of a cleric, despite for the fact that he has two blades at each of his sides. His hands wrapped together in prayer. After a while he stands up, his clothes loose and not revealing despite his musculature. He has black markings on his face, leading into his clothing. His skins is darker than most, but many still find him respectable and trustworthy. He is Enrico Abadie, Cleric and Zealot of the Church.
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
He hears a faint noise. Someone outside is singing a blasphemous hymn in Deep Speech as they pass. The voice doesn't sing with the malevolent glee of a teenager who just wants some trouble. This sounds like a true believer.
The world spins on, and it spins to despair
But you know I'll still be there
Meanwhile, at Schloss Scrumptious...
*He coincidentally knows Deep Speech*
He walks outside of the church, looking for whoever was singing, a soft look on his face, not of rage but of understanding. He holds out his scripture and amulet to his chest calmly.
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
*Then he would probably recognize it as a song of desperation, a cry for help. A hymn of supplication to the Great One Kulullu, a being associated with the sea and a particular fishing hamlet that just happens to provide so much fish that the church can't wipe it off the map without people noticing.*
There is a bloodied man in a tattered cloak quietly singing the song as he walks by, leaning against a massive, many-eyed fish-boar creature that also has multiple blunt weapon wounds on it. The two seem to have been pelted with stones not long before. The man stops his song, turning his head to reveal fish-like eyes that shine with bioluminescent yellow light.
The world spins on, and it spins to despair
But you know I'll still be there
Meanwhile, at Schloss Scrumptious...
He puts his amulet underneath his cloak, walking back into the church. Coming back out with his bed sheets, wrapping the man in the sheets, his voice calm “Here, you seem cold and hurt.” He taps them politely and begins to lead them inside the church, keeping anyone who would harm them away.