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neptunians AHHHH! This was so awesome to come back to!! Holy moly thank yoou!
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DuskAwakening @
Flamestar03 Hey guys! I lot happened and so between being busy and not emotionally good for internet interactions I was gone for EVER. But I'm back! I should be posting this afternoon around 18:00 FT? I think... Maybe sooner. Thanks for sticking around! :hearts:
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neptunians AHHHH! This was so awesome to come back to!! Holy moly thank yoou!
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DuskAwakening @
Flamestar03 Hey guys! I lot happened and so between being busy and not emotionally good for internet interactions I was gone for EVER. But I'm back! I should be posting this afternoon around 18:00 FT? I think... Maybe sooner. Thanks for sticking around! :hearts:
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Clandestino Welcome back!!! ^^
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neptunians And those are amazing!!!!
Cautiously setting the knife aside, Pinn stood silent for a moment. She was processing what had happened, and what was going to happen. She then cleared a shaky breath from her lungs and straightened the fabric of her top.
“He is a nuisance. But no one to be concerned with. Poor thing suffers from delusions. I’m newer in town, so he fixates his loose rage on me.” Penn said shortly with a blunt voice. It was unlike her to sound as such. Her voice normally more melodious than the brisk writing-off of the strange man.
“I’ll fix you some stew then, dear. Best to wash that bit of bitterness away with some warm broth.” With a forced smile she dismissed herself to the kitchen to fetch the food. She included a bit of extra bread and fruit to help her guest dismiss the thoughts of the intrusion.
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The man marched through the mud down the road under hunched shoulders cursing under his breath. His cloak was heavy with rain and soil and stuck to the back of his boots as it trailed behind him. Pale knuckles coiled cold fingers around the hilt of his old cutlass, he hadn’t loosened his grip the whole way from the inn to the churning docks near the edge of town. He plowed through the door of a shabby dock house and tore off his cloak. Even before the heavy fabric of the cloak slumped onto the ground, the cutlass streaked out from the man’s side and dug itself into one of the many old mooring poles.
The man let out a shout and finally let loose his grip on the sword. He left it wedged into the weathered wood. The man trudged to the corner where a small cot was set among several shelves and crates. A match illuminated the man’s sullen face as he lit a nearby lantern. He placed it gently on the crate nearest the cot and sat with his back against the creaking wall.
He removed a small silver locket from a jewelry box on the shelf to his right and opened it to reveal small painted images. One was of a jollier version of himself with an unknown woman and an unknown man. The other painting was of a great ship leaving the dock. Each painting signed with a tiny yellow heart at the bottom. He close the locket and turned it around in his hands. The man’s damp eyes reflected the flame of the lantern but with each weak flicker of the wick, they seemed to burn brighter and brighter still.
“I swear to you,” He seemed to speak directly to the locket, “I will take back everything that was taken from us. Every single thing. Even if it brings this whole cursed town to death.” He closed his shaking fist around the locket as the darkest hour of night passed beyond the horizon.
Cautiously setting the knife aside, Pinn stood silent for a moment. She was processing what had happened, and what was going to happen. She then cleared a shaky breath from her lungs and straightened the fabric of her top.
“He is a nuisance. But no one to be concerned with. Poor thing suffers from delusions. I’m newer in town, so he fixates his loose rage on me.” Penn said shortly with a blunt voice. It was unlike her to sound as such. Her voice normally more melodious than the brisk writing-off of the strange man.
“I’ll fix you some stew then, dear. Best to wash that bit of bitterness away with some warm broth.” With a forced smile she dismissed herself to the kitchen to fetch the food. She included a bit of extra bread and fruit to help her guest dismiss the thoughts of the intrusion.
———————————————-
The man marched through the mud down the road under hunched shoulders cursing under his breath. His cloak was heavy with rain and soil and stuck to the back of his boots as it trailed behind him. Pale knuckles coiled cold fingers around the hilt of his old cutlass, he hadn’t loosened his grip the whole way from the inn to the churning docks near the edge of town. He plowed through the door of a shabby dock house and tore off his cloak. Even before the heavy fabric of the cloak slumped onto the ground, the cutlass streaked out from the man’s side and dug itself into one of the many old mooring poles.
The man let out a shout and finally let loose his grip on the sword. He left it wedged into the weathered wood. The man trudged to the corner where a small cot was set among several shelves and crates. A match illuminated the man’s sullen face as he lit a nearby lantern. He placed it gently on the crate nearest the cot and sat with his back against the creaking wall.
He removed a small silver locket from a jewelry box on the shelf to his right and opened it to reveal small painted images. One was of a jollier version of himself with an unknown woman and an unknown man. The other painting was of a great ship leaving the dock. Each painting signed with a tiny yellow heart at the bottom. He close the locket and turned it around in his hands. The man’s damp eyes reflected the flame of the lantern but with each weak flicker of the wick, they seemed to burn brighter and brighter still.
“I swear to you,” He seemed to speak directly to the locket, “I will take back everything that was taken from us. Every single thing. Even if it brings this whole cursed town to death.” He closed his shaking fist around the locket as the darkest hour of night passed beyond the horizon.
(I'm so sorry, it completely slipped my mind to reply O.o)
Terrian stretched, yawning, and starting down the stairs. It was still night, but she didn't tend to sleep that long anyway. She stopped when she saw the new person in the chair, frowning a little. Surely a tavern like this didn't get a lot of people coming around, not on a night like this, but then she remembered what Pinn had said about it.
She warily approached one of the chairs by the fire, sitting down comfortably again and glancing at the newcomer. She wasn't one to start conversations, but she left herself open to it if they wanted to talk. This tavern had a nice feel to it, despite how unsettled she felt at the letters she'd read, and she was feeling more relaxed than usual.
(I'm so sorry, it completely slipped my mind to reply O.o)
Terrian stretched, yawning, and starting down the stairs. It was still night, but she didn't tend to sleep that long anyway. She stopped when she saw the new person in the chair, frowning a little. Surely a tavern like this didn't get a lot of people coming around, not on a night like this, but then she remembered what Pinn had said about it.
She warily approached one of the chairs by the fire, sitting down comfortably again and glancing at the newcomer. She wasn't one to start conversations, but she left herself open to it if they wanted to talk. This tavern had a nice feel to it, despite how unsettled she felt at the letters she'd read, and she was feeling more relaxed than usual.
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Clandestino
Hello everyone!
I'm guessing this RP is still open? In case it is i'm just gonna leave my pitch here to wait for approval...
Name: Carmack Statton
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
Appearance: 6'3 feet tall, white skin with a hint of a tan, Emerald green eyes, veteran warrior build, chiseled.
Personality: Straightforward, keeps to himself but has a friendly demeanor, likes to crack jokes and will talk your ear off when engaged with a common interest. .
Skills: Strongman. Can wield most basic weaponry skillfully but prefers the close-and-personal approach.
History: Mercenary warrior from the north, left the comfort of a wealthy family at an early age to pursue a more adventurous lifestyle.
(Secret Fact: has a pet rock)
See the following images to get a good idea of his general appearance:
https://bonemarrowbrother.deviantart.com/art/Carmack-654680459
https://bonemarrowbrother.deviantart.com/art/Earlier-Carmack-Piece-654681184
https://bonemarrowbrother.deviantart.com/art/Experiments-654679738
Aquarius sat back in her seat, yawning and looking at the handle from her blade, gently drying it off. She looked at the fine details one last time before carefully putting it into one of the pockets of her almost dry cloak. She took a silver clam shell out of her pocket and twirled it in her fingers, unaware as a droplet of water seeped out of it and went onto her finger, until it was to late. Blue and black sparkles formed around her legs as she yelped, trying to move out of her chair, only to fall onto the floor as her large tail formed in place of her legs. Aquarius blushed immensely as she tossed her cloak over her tail, "Heh.....sorry...." she said as she shook the water off of her finger.
Aquarius sat back in her seat, yawning and looking at the handle from her blade, gently drying it off. She looked at the fine details one last time before carefully putting it into one of the pockets of her almost dry cloak. She took a silver clam shell out of her pocket and twirled it in her fingers, unaware as a droplet of water seeped out of it and went onto her finger, until it was to late. Blue and black sparkles formed around her legs as she yelped, trying to move out of her chair, only to fall onto the floor as her large tail formed in place of her legs. Aquarius blushed immensely as she tossed her cloak over her tail, "Heh.....sorry...." she said as she shook the water off of her finger.
@Clandestino
*Casually sidles up*
This is open, right?
*Name: Jo Feng
Age: 17-ish
*Gender: Male
Orientation: Unknown, probably bi.
*Appearence: [img]https://pre08.deviantart.net/0ba0/th/pre/i/2017/252/e/a/jo_redesign_by_shippyshipper-dbmxe3f.png[/img]
Personality: Very shy, especially around strangers. A bit of a doormat. Hisses at people when startled.
Skills: Knows how to read, good jumper. Likes quiet activities and music. Hates physical activity.
History: Lived with his mother, an herbalist, until she decided that he was getting too dependent on her and kicked him out. He's probably not ready to face the world yet.
EDIT: Update with visual reference.
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Clandestino
*Casually sidles up*
This is open, right?
*Name: Jo Feng
Age: 17-ish
*Gender: Male
Orientation: Unknown, probably bi.
*Appearence:
Personality: Very shy, especially around strangers. A bit of a doormat. Hisses at people when startled.
Skills: Knows how to read, good jumper. Likes quiet activities and music. Hates physical activity.
History: Lived with his mother, an herbalist, until she decided that he was getting too dependent on her and kicked him out. He's probably not ready to face the world yet.
EDIT: Update with visual reference.
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Demiguy; He/Him or They/Them
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YarnBarn @
NaettleLeaf
Yep! I'm just a little slow with school and all! Both accepted! You can go ahead and make your intro post or wait until the next story day, Up to you!
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YarnBarn @
NaettleLeaf
Yep! I'm just a little slow with school and all! Both accepted! You can go ahead and make your intro post or wait until the next story day, Up to you!
''Lost again, and you call yourself an outdoors-man...''
Carmack trudged clumsily in the dark and rainy woods. He'd been traveling aimlessly for three days since bidding his farewells to a group of nomads from the far east. He had been contracted to watch their backs in the highlands, where undesirables stalked the innocent and unwary for petty loot. Their journey was now complete while his own path remained unknowable, and unforgiving. His cloak had long since succumbed to the invasive raindrops and was now weighing him down more than it sheltered him from the elements at hand, and far more than the exhausted warrior cared to admit. There was no light to illuminate his way either. The torch he had discarded a while back might as well have served as a glorified clobbering tool in this torrent.
He was about to consider hunkering down beneath a large pine tree in the dark when a glint of warm light twinkled in his periphery. The man pressed on towards it with a renewed vigor, stomping over the underbrush and breaking off twigs whenever they decided to dig their tangled claws into his cloak; like old regrets that stung ever so painfully in those bizarre and inviting ways that get you to reluctantly look back, and see it again, but now was not the time for mournful recollections. Carmack desired warmth and comfort of a more civilized inclination. These things include a bed, humane cooking and a fireplace, a big rocking chair and the furs of great beasts to snuggle into with a mugful of warm mead. He smirked at his own childlike imaginings and kept on trudging.
The Red Mourning is what the squeaking sign said to him as he approached. Carmack thought he had heard some sort of ruckus from it's direction while he was still finding his way through the thick of the wood, so he took a glance through one of the windows near the main entrance just to be safe( He had made the mistake of walking into a rathole before while there was a fight going on and suffered the bruises). It appeared however that his worries were for naught. he perceived a lanky roguish-looking person and some kind of mermaid thing looking uncomfortable on the floorboards, the woman with the sharp eyes didn't look too distraught about this, so he assumed the she was not under the sirens spell or being threatened by it in the least.
Carmack gave some thought to why his initial impression of the mermaid was that it was some malignant aberration obsessed with sucking his blood or something, so he gave in to his rational side and decided to deal with it when the time came with an objective and reasonable approach.
He sat down on a dry stool (a bit of the roof extended over it and the small perimeter of the tavern) close to the entrance . He began to dig through his back pouch for his tobacco and pipe. After a few minutes of striking his firesteel he managed to light a small flame on a bundle of twigs that he then used to light up the pipe with. He wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere before entering the tavern and dealing with whatever headaches awaited within. Staying outside for this was only polite he figured. Some people didn't like the smell of what the pipe brings out, and he knew better than to give the host a bad impression at this time of night.
As he watched the smoke disperse among the droplets he was brought back to a somber place in his head, a place of contemplation. He wasn't comfortable with people all that much but he tried to promise himself to just take it easy and try to act like a human. This type of self-negotiation never works but you can't blame a guy for trying, right? He would play through all the imaginable scenarios of how he would play this social game this time, but he knew he'd end up shrugging it off once he took the steps through that door.
As luck would have it though, there was still some time....
''Lost again, and you call yourself an outdoors-man...''
Carmack trudged clumsily in the dark and rainy woods. He'd been traveling aimlessly for three days since bidding his farewells to a group of nomads from the far east. He had been contracted to watch their backs in the highlands, where undesirables stalked the innocent and unwary for petty loot. Their journey was now complete while his own path remained unknowable, and unforgiving. His cloak had long since succumbed to the invasive raindrops and was now weighing him down more than it sheltered him from the elements at hand, and far more than the exhausted warrior cared to admit. There was no light to illuminate his way either. The torch he had discarded a while back might as well have served as a glorified clobbering tool in this torrent.
He was about to consider hunkering down beneath a large pine tree in the dark when a glint of warm light twinkled in his periphery. The man pressed on towards it with a renewed vigor, stomping over the underbrush and breaking off twigs whenever they decided to dig their tangled claws into his cloak; like old regrets that stung ever so painfully in those bizarre and inviting ways that get you to reluctantly look back, and see it again, but now was not the time for mournful recollections. Carmack desired warmth and comfort of a more civilized inclination. These things include a bed, humane cooking and a fireplace, a big rocking chair and the furs of great beasts to snuggle into with a mugful of warm mead. He smirked at his own childlike imaginings and kept on trudging.
The Red Mourning is what the squeaking sign said to him as he approached. Carmack thought he had heard some sort of ruckus from it's direction while he was still finding his way through the thick of the wood, so he took a glance through one of the windows near the main entrance just to be safe( He had made the mistake of walking into a rathole before while there was a fight going on and suffered the bruises). It appeared however that his worries were for naught. he perceived a lanky roguish-looking person and some kind of mermaid thing looking uncomfortable on the floorboards, the woman with the sharp eyes didn't look too distraught about this, so he assumed the she was not under the sirens spell or being threatened by it in the least.
Carmack gave some thought to why his initial impression of the mermaid was that it was some malignant aberration obsessed with sucking his blood or something, so he gave in to his rational side and decided to deal with it when the time came with an objective and reasonable approach.
He sat down on a dry stool (a bit of the roof extended over it and the small perimeter of the tavern) close to the entrance . He began to dig through his back pouch for his tobacco and pipe. After a few minutes of striking his firesteel he managed to light a small flame on a bundle of twigs that he then used to light up the pipe with. He wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere before entering the tavern and dealing with whatever headaches awaited within. Staying outside for this was only polite he figured. Some people didn't like the smell of what the pipe brings out, and he knew better than to give the host a bad impression at this time of night.
As he watched the smoke disperse among the droplets he was brought back to a somber place in his head, a place of contemplation. He wasn't comfortable with people all that much but he tried to promise himself to just take it easy and try to act like a human. This type of self-negotiation never works but you can't blame a guy for trying, right? He would play through all the imaginable scenarios of how he would play this social game this time, but he knew he'd end up shrugging it off once he took the steps through that door.
As luck would have it though, there was still some time....
"The Red Mourning?" Jo looked at the sign swinging above the tavern door. He was soaked to the bone, having been caught unexpectedly in a sudden deluge a few minutes prior.
"Odd, it's not on this map here..." He held his sodden map up. The low-quality ink was starting to run.
In all fairness, the map was pretty old. He'd almost fallen in a stream that wasn't supposed to be there, and some of the road names were mislabeled.
Jo looked up at the sign again. "A hot meal and a warm bed..." he murmured. The temptation was pretty big.
After one more glance at the muddy, rain-soaked road behind him, Jo made up his mind and crossed the threshold of the Red Mourning.
While there were a few people sitting around the room, the first thing Jo saw was the fireplace. He made a beeline for the fire, and sat down on the hearth. "Ahh..." The warmth of the flames felt good to the soaked traveler.
Even if they don't have any rooms, I'll just sit here until the rain stops.
[He'd rather be left alone, but feel free to bug him! I encourage it :)]
"The Red Mourning?" Jo looked at the sign swinging above the tavern door. He was soaked to the bone, having been caught unexpectedly in a sudden deluge a few minutes prior.
"Odd, it's not on this map here..." He held his sodden map up. The low-quality ink was starting to run.
In all fairness, the map was pretty old. He'd almost fallen in a stream that wasn't supposed to be there, and some of the road names were mislabeled.
Jo looked up at the sign again. "A hot meal and a warm bed..." he murmured. The temptation was pretty big.
After one more glance at the muddy, rain-soaked road behind him, Jo made up his mind and crossed the threshold of the Red Mourning.
While there were a few people sitting around the room, the first thing Jo saw was the fireplace. He made a beeline for the fire, and sat down on the hearth. "Ahh..." The warmth of the flames felt good to the soaked traveler.
Even if they don't have any rooms, I'll just sit here until the rain stops.
[He'd rather be left alone, but feel free to bug him! I encourage it :)]
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Demiguy; He/Him or They/Them
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