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| [o]i'm a little tired, you see |
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Posted by: Sparx - 08-29-2017, 06:55 PM - Forum: Katakarthia
- Replies (20)
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<b>Thread Status:</b> open
<b>Players involved:</b> Sparx, Kila, Haji
<b>Characters involved:</b> Abraham, Zacrae, Alistair
<b>Setting:</b> City near the Fortress of Plenty
<b>Time:</b> Current, midday
<b>Weather:</b> Fairly pleasant, mildly cloudy with the threat of light rain in the evening
It was a very weird time to be a Faith angel. Not one, but two oracles now had died under extremely confusing circumstances, with absolutely nothing to indicate to anyone what could possibly be going on. People were afraid that the gods had killed their own oracles, and if that were so, could the gods be trusted? Who would die next? Why was this happening? Feelings of faith were hesitant and uneasy as these events continued to erupt, which was not good news for a species that only existed and thrived because of that faith.
Abraham Val'yera was feeling a bit fatigued.
Faith angels were known to be more nomadic than most of the other branches of the species, but the king of Faith was especially mobile in the past few weeks. Along with his close friend and advisor, Zacrae, Abraham had been scurrying across angel territory, especially places where faith angels tended to flock, trying both to figure out what was going on and keep spirits high as doubt rippled throughout the faithful. Abraham had always been fairly good at keeping his people together during hard times, but hard times had never been like this before. At least the war made sense!
Presently, the monarch had taken a seat in a quiet place in a Plenty-dominated city he had been visiting on his quest. It was fairly easy for him to bounce from place to place unnoticed, for someone of his status; Abraham was a pretty unassuming man, not even particularly angel-like in appearance except for the faint glow of his skin. Not to mention, he was not especially social and usually preferred to keep his public appearances to a minimum, so outside of his own people he was unlikely to be recognized. He liked it that way, for it meant he did not draw much attention while out and about.
Abraham ran his hands through his hair, taking a moment to relax after a long day of a lot more socializing than he was used to in a day. If not for Zacrae by his side the whole time, he probably would have had a nervous breakdown by now. Why couldn't things ever be normal and easy? Wasn't dealing with the war enough trouble, now something had to happen with the oracles? Jeez...
"What a day..." he breathed. "And we found out absolutely nothing. Do you think we've made any impact on the people, at least?"
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| Nathaniel Abbey |
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Posted by: tortricidae - 08-29-2017, 03:34 PM - Forum: Character Profiles
- Replies (1)
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Character's Name: Nathaniel Abbey
Nicknames: (Feel free to make some up)
Age: 1545
Gender: Not Applicable (he/him)
Species: Spirit Elemental
Abilities: Nothing too out of the ordinary. Magical Absorption. He can absorb all kinds of magic, but he prefers spirit based magically qualities. Often seeks souls of other species as his source of spirit based energy.
Appearance:
Natural Form:
![[Image: 0vgo32k6toz]](https://sta.sh/0vgo32k6toz)
![[Image: were3_by_deepfriedkilamari-dbiacr8.png]](https://pre11.deviantart.net/0f28/th/pre/i/2017/211/8/e/were3_by_deepfriedkilamari-dbiacr8.png)
Other Form:
When Nathaniel takes a more palatable humanoid form, he looks unassuming and benign. He has a warm smile, with pointed teeth and a light blue tongue. He has light brown skin with orange undertones, and long light blue nails. The palms of his hands and the bottom of his feet are a dark orange. His toenails are black.
His hair is short and wild looking. Two-tone light and darker oranges. It is the most unkempt thing about him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get it to behave. Sometimes, if one is staring for too long, they will notice that his hair seems to move with an odd energy that unsettles the very essence of one’s being.
His eyes are a pale blue, and glow intensely, giving away his elemental status.
Nathaniel is an incredibly rich being. He has access to more wealth that all others in Seliel City, and he dresses extravagantly. The finest silks and the softest cottons. He frequently adorns himself in exceedingly rare accessories that have a variety of magical properties to protect him from harm.
Though infrequent, he does sometimes wear clothing that shows off the odd markings left over from his natural elemental form. He is also unable to hide the spiritual tail from his natural form, so he hides it in sashes of similar color and texture.
Personality:
Nathaniel is an asshole. Wicked and sharp, he rules over the company he developed with an iron fist and will punish and make examples of anybody who dares to speak against him. He has no qualms about showing his wickedness because there is not a single person who will stand up against him in any of the societal rings in the city.
He relishes in the control he has over others and things of increasingly horrible ways to keep others down. He has deliberately salted fields, sunk cargo, and razed the homes of the innocent in his displays and he feels absolutely no remorse for any of his actions. Money and wealth is equal to power and he doesn’t care about anyone who doesn’t stand with him.
And even then, he doesn’t care about his peers. He only cares about wealth and power. And perhaps his husband, Markus Justinius, but that feels shaky at best. Sometimes people think it’s a competition between the two of them to see who is more wicked and the stakes keep rising.
Nathaniel takes what he wants, throws money at anybody who complains and has those who don’t accept intimidation and gold conveniently disappear.
However, he is a damn good liar and uses his wealth to manipulate others, even his own family.
History:
Nathaniel was created out in the wilds far from any kind of civilization. He managed to survive the grueling first few days of his life and took to surviving through sucking the spiritual energy from living creatures around him, fueling his power and strength. The longer he was alive, the more souls he absorbed.
Generation after generation, he grew stronger until he was able to take another form, where he lived in huge cities and sucked magic out of every aspect of the areas around him. He was particularly fond of mages, using them as vessels for a more consistent flow of magic. He’d spent time in Yfrelo at the Mage’s College for a few years, eating the edges of the wards around the city despite the consequences of doing so.
After a while, he left and roamed Sleibte until he moved onto Xira, where he started a business shipping small loads of cargo along the rivers. The cargo loads got bigger and bigger and he branched into other areas of business: real estate, agriculture, and wealth management. He bought lots of land in Seliel City as it popped up and turned over the properties into homes for people to live in. Every time there was something available, he scooped it up until he was literally paying people to leave their homes and relocate so he could control larger and larger areas of the multiple districts in the city.
He met his husband around this time. The story of how they met is constantly changing, but he was seduced by a beautiful bird that made him laugh and was excellent to bounce ideas off of. He gave Markus anything he wanted, and Markus kept him on his toes and sharp as a tack.
Nobody was able to stop Nathaniel from his acquisitions because he operated under a lot of different names and personas – often with Markus’s help, the damn bird. Sometimes the original owners of the land would mysteriously disappear, but a fat bag of gold usually kept the suspicious ones quiet. And if not, hmm, how odd. Never heard of Seth Allens. Must be talking about someone else.
Turns out, Seliel City needs a new leader. Nathaniel happens to know a guy perfect for the job.
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| Markus Justinius |
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Posted by: gabriel - 08-28-2017, 07:32 PM - Forum: Character Profiles
- Replies (1)
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wings not rendered in this artwork (but wings are always present)
Character's Name: Markus Justinius
Nicknames: Mark (to most), MJ (to one person only)
Age: He lies every time. Who knows. He's clearly an adult.
Gender: Male
Species: Kelahati (Crow)
Abilities: Smooth-talking, literally. He can talk his way out of damn near anything. Flight, his big black wings are not for show. General chumminess with corvids, it's how he gets his trade secrets.
Appearance: 6' tall, 140 pounds, athletic build. He has broader than average shoulders, and thick chest and back muscles. His long legs are well-muscled, as he often has to sprint and lunge himself into the air to get airborne. He is often at the forefront of fashion, and inspires many designers. He enjoys the latest designs, the riskiest cuts of clothing, the adornment of sparkling gems and jewels. He has a face generally regarded as handsome but cold. His profile is fantastic, his stark angles making any silhouette of him striking. His hair, eyebrows and eyelashes are a glossy black, and well taken care of. His eyes are mismatched, the right iris black, the other gray. He has even, perfectly aligned teeth, but his smile is reminiscent of a predatory snarl. His mouth is wide, his lips thin. In the canvas of his face, it is like a well-placed gash. His skin is pale, almost gray in color. His long, thick, hair is layered and cascades down his back and shoulders. Though he likes jewelry, he doesn't like hair adornments because they pull at his hair. Aside from his wings, the only other tell that he is a raven kelahati is his laugh, an ugly thing that definitely sounds like the mangled caw of a coughing raven.
In his raven form, he is larger than the average raven, almost of size with a condor, and a beautiful glossy black. One eye is black, the other is gray and around his legs are gold bands with precious stones fit all around it.
Personality: Markus is a scummy bastard, do not be fooled. Though he is shown to be warm and friendly in the public eye, he is actually a narcissistic, self-centered scumbag. He likes wealth, and he likes power and he will do just about anything to obtain it. Most people find that he is genial and interesting to talk to, and don't get that scummy vibe from him. This is because he is a charmer, literally convincing people that he is a good guy. He doesn't often show his true colors, and does a lot of PR work to show the public that he really does care about their welfare (spoilers: he doesn't).
Though he is chatty and doles out flattery by the bucketload, he isn't flirtatious. Perhaps the only person in the entire world that could claim they have Markus's loyalty, with actual certainty, is the City Leader of Seliel (maybe not even him, though). Generally, however, his lack of promiscuity has more to do with his elevated views of himself, and less to do with remaining true to his current lover of many many years.
One would have to do a lot of digging and uncovering to find that Markus is the hand behind anything shitty that happens in Seliel, but you can best believe he's there. Often, his insidious ideas are all it takes to spur action.
History: Native to Seliel City, Markus had spent most of his life as a raven, if he is to be believed. Sightings of a giant raven amongst a conspiracy of ravens were common before Nathaniel was elected, however. Designers did not catch wind of the wealthy, and striking Markus Justinius until around then as well. Though in his raven form, he was a loathsome terror, as like to snatch the jewels from a woman's throat as to eat the sweet from a child's hand, the people have yet to connect him to the mean feathered beast, especially seeing as it stopped showing up around the time Nathaniel was elected as City Leader.
The truth? Well what is the truth? Markus was probably born poor. He might have forsaken his bipedal form to eat and free himself from the shackles of poverty. He might have been an earnest thief turned sour from years and years of observation of the populace.
Or, and this is far more likely, he was a bad little egg from the get-go. When he hatched, he cawed the loudest, ate the most, and might have shoved a few siblings from the nest. He might have been taught to be a raven by his parents and refused to be people on principle. Might have bullied his way into one of the biggest conspiracies in Seliel and subsumed others. He might have been the leader of such a conspiracy when one Nathaniel Abbey came to town. One Nathaniel Abbey might have been such a handsome thing, such a powerful and unique and delightful thing, that he decided they must be his. He might have seduced Nathaniel, might have turned bipedal simply for the advantage of effect on the other.
The truth is, Markus is a really good liar. His stories either always change, or remain steadfastly the same (and ever as untrue). The easiest way to tell there's a subject he doesn't want to speak on, say, his history, is the amount of stories he'll make up about it.
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| Osira Swansong |
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Posted by: Kila - 08-26-2017, 07:39 PM - Forum: Character Profiles
- Replies (1)
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![[Image: Z8HdlKD.png]](http://i.imgur.com/Z8HdlKD.png)
Character's Name:
Osira Swansong
Nicknames:
Osira, Osi, Sira, The Heron King
Age:
1,000
Gender:
Male
Species:
Kelahati (great egret)
Abilities:
Osira's magic is tied to his voice. He weaves spells through song, a unique ability passed down through his family. With his songs he can weave illusions, heal wounds, or create barriers. The illusions he waves are often used to visualize the stories contained in the songs, though he is capable of weaving minor illusions to distort the environment. His magic is primarily supportive in nature, and his songs bolster the abilities of his companions or those around him. He prefers to use this magic for healing, be it healing people or the land itself.
His magic does have an offensive use. He can sing dissonant chords that rattle the mind and make ears bleed. Osira, however, is too gentle a soul for such things, and this magic is a last resort.
Osira, like all kelahati, can speak to animals, and sense changes in the land. His wings allow him the power of flight, and he specializes in endurance over speed.
Appearance:
In his human form, Osira stands as a 5'10" tall man with a slender build. Most of his perceived bulk is from his layers of clothing. His skin is a rich brown color, with cooler undertones. With a long, straight nose and a strong chin, Osira is considered by many to be a handsome man. His eyes, set under thick pale brows, are a vivid shade of baby blue. In stark contrast to his skin, Osira's hair is light blond in color, and runs wild down to the middle of his back in choppy layers. It's kept out of his face by an ornate golden headpiece with long, curving horns and a bright blue gem in the center of the crest. His ears bear similar stones hanging from his earlobes. He even bears a bit of a scruffy beard on his chin.
He's often found wearing deep grey robes, almost black in color, with loose sleeves that are fitted at the wrists with grey cuffs. The collar of the robes cover his neck, and are woven from golden fabric. A golden sash runs around his waist, accented with a beautiful blue gem. His robes are accented with golden patterns similar to a rising sun, and trim the edges of the fabric. Under his robes, Osira wears skin tight black leggings, which cover his feet much like sandles, though the rest of his feet are left bare. Around his hips he wears a wrap, with a long ceremonial sash running between his legs. Over his shoulders, Osira wears a shawl that appears to be crafted from golden feathers. His fingers are tipped in golden claw-like jewelry, which can be removed.
On his back, Osira has a pair of large white wings. They are his pride and joy, and are kept in flawless condition.
He takes the alternate form of a great egret, pure white in color, with eyes just as blue as in his human form.
Personality:
Osira is a calm, gentle man. He's well spoken, and carries himself with a dignified demeanor. He moves slow and with purpose, with great care as to how others perceive him. He's a man of high standing, and treats all with respect until they do something he deems disrespectful. Even his speech is deliberate, if not a bit long winded at times.
A compassionate man, Osira cares about the plights of those around him. While many might think he's above such things, he's never above a problem, no matter how small or trivial it may seem. Even if all he can lend is a listening ear and some fatherly advice. He's very fond of children, and loves telling stories of all he and his people have seen.
He's a friendly man, and very social. He knows how to carry on a conversation, and is quite a charmer when he wants to be. He prefers to be diplomatic, and has a rather tight leash on his temper. Many may find him boring in public because of this, but behind closed doors Osira can be rather brash and to the point. Especially when alcohol is involved, though he tends to avoid the drink, as he's well aware of the fool it makes him.
Osira's heart is closely guarded. Few are let in close, but those who are are treated like family, and have his unwavering loyalty.
History:
Osira was born into leadership. His father raised him alone. Ike was a legend, a graceful, strong man who had great expectations for him. He valued the history of their people, of their tribe, and preserved this history through song, like his father before him. Osira was taught this from day one. He was from a proud people, and he would be the one to lead them one day. His childhood was spent singing the songs of his people with the other children, learning the art of weaving magic through song. His father raised him well in the marshes and wetlands of Sleibte. He was raised to be a strong, wise leader. The backbone of his people.
When he was a young man, a plague swept through the village. Among those who fell to the disease was Osira's father, who against his son's urging worked tirelessly to heal their people. The long hours and near constant use of his magic soon sent Ike to his deathbed, where Osira tended to him. His dying words to Osira were a song of wisdom, and grace. A song that transferred Ike's knowledge to Osira. The tribe wept, and the funeral pyre was stacked high, their songs of mourning rose with the smoke.
Leadership was hard without his father's guidance. While he had been raised and trained for this, it was hard. The people were on edge, and many of them had lost family during the plague. With a heavy heart, Osira made the call to move the remaining villagers to a new settlement. Thankfully, the kelahati people are resilient, and the journey was uneventful. The new settlement sprang up, and his settlement flourished, regaining the glory it had in previous generations.
With the deaths of the oracles, Osira made the decision to head out and find the cause and record the events in song.
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| Shout it Out! |
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Posted by: Kila - 08-24-2017, 02:16 PM - Forum: General discussion
- Replies (22)
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Got something great you wanna scream about? Shout it out here! This is a place for congratulations and good things, since the discord moves super fast and great things get missed!
I'll start off~
I'm cancer free, bitches!!!
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| This or That? |
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Posted by: Kila - 08-24-2017, 02:08 PM - Forum: Games
- Replies (9)
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A fairly straightforward game ;o
Windows all the way. Apples are too user unfriendly for me.
Cake or pie?
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| What Happens Next |
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Posted by: Kila - 08-20-2017, 05:25 PM - Forum: Katakarthia
- Replies (21)
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<b>Thread Status:</b> Open
<b>Players involved:</b> Kila, and anyone else who wants to hop in!
<b>Characters involved:</b> Var (Kila)
<b>Setting:</b> The Enkratis den and surrounding packlands
<b>Time:</b> Late morning to early afternoon
<b>Weather:</b> Dreary and overcast, drizzly and cool with low humidity
<link href='http://castlegraphics.atwebpages.com/html/css/antarsia.css' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><center><div style="background: url('http://i.imgur.com/L0wWtSE.jpg')no-repeat center top #eff7ff; width: 600px; padding-top: 670px; text-align: left; border: solid 1px #083242; display: block; position: relative;"><div style="display: inline; position: absolute; background: #376ed4; opacity: .3; width: 490px; height: 500px; top: 70px; left: 35px; border: solid 1px #083242; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 10px; color: #a2afc0; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; line-height: 140%; padding: 0px 20px; text-indent: 15px;" class="text"></div><div style="display: inline; position: absolute; width: 600px; top: 5px; font-family: Oldenburg; font-size: 60px; color: #2b324c; text-align: center; line-height: 60px; letter-spacing: 15px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 1px #2b5265, 0px 0px 3px #2b5265, 2px 2px 3px #2b5265;">Var</div><div style="display: inline; position: absolute; width: 485px; height: 490px; top: 75px; left: 30px; border-width:0px 1px; border-style: solid; border-image:linear-gradient(to top, transparent, #ccbcbc 50%, transparent) 1; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 12px; color: #cdfeff; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; line-height: 140%; padding: 0px 20px; text-indent: 15px;" class="text">
Their queen was dead.
Var had instructed the pack to lay her to rest along the southern border, on a bluff overlooking the lake. It felt only fitting, but as they buried their queen it began to drizzle slowly, as if the sky itself were weeping for their loss.
A heavy air fell over the pack, and Var felt his shoulders droop as he lead the pack in a howl. Their sorrowful song rose to the heavens, echoing their anguish.
With heavy paws, Var returned to the den. Drops of mist clung to his thick pelt, weighing him down even more than his mood. His golden markings, usually so bright and vibrant, dulled. So much had gone wrong. A second oracle dead. Their queen, at that.
With a lumbering sigh, the giant wolf collapsed onto his side in a bed of dry grasses within the den, back to the outside world. The pack wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for this. The young were going to need him now. They were going to need his advice and guidance, and Var needed to grieve. He had come accustomed to seeing his packmates die before him, but this death was a true loss for the pack. The oracle was important. How was the goddess to speak to them without her?
A new oracle would have to be chosen, but the royal line...
Var huffed again, and closed his eyes. His thoughts were too much. Today was too much.
It was time to grieve. Thinking could come later...
</br></div></div><div style="text-align: center; font:6pt merritweather; color:#58555c; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 150%;">html by <a href="http://castlegraphics.deviantart.com/" style="text-decoration:none; color:#58555c;">castlegraphics</a></div></center>
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| Iara Wayfinder |
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Posted by: Kila - 08-20-2017, 02:49 PM - Forum: Character Profiles
- Replies (1)
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![[Image: TP7m4Ur.png]](http://i.imgur.com/TP7m4Ur.png)
Iara's character page
Character's Name:
Iara Wayfinder
Nicknames:
Iara, Iar
Age:
40
Gender:
Female
Species:
Wolf (Chortari)
Abilities:
Iara is a master of subterfuge and distraction. Her ever shifting coat and markings make her hard to ignore, and she uses this to her advantage. It's hard to look away from her, in fact. Very hard, and there's a strong urge to do what she says...
She's a hypnotist, and her coat is her weapon. Once drawn in, it's hard for many weaker willed individuals to resist her suggestions. Her thralls aren't limited to just wolves, either. Many animals fall prey to her blinding display, making her a valuable and effective huntress.
Iara can also disappear, quite literally. She has some command over light, and uses it to completely hide her form. While she can't hide her scent, she has a great deal of experience in avoiding others. Iara loves to eavesdrop, and uses her unique talents to spy and gather intel.
Appearance:
Iara is beautiful and elegant in all she does. With a slim, graceful build, her body is lean with long legs, a rather long build, and a long, fluffy tail that trails after her like a wisp, she is truly a sight to behold. Her eyes are a vivid magenta color, and stand out against her dark fur. Her pelt is made up of deep, rich purples and orchids that shift and swirl in the light. She never looks the same twice, and for many, her constantly shifting colors are...distracting.
Her pelt is nothing compared to the markings that cover her body. Long, thin lines swirl and spiral over her muzzle, neck, torso, and back. These lines shift in color, from white to mint to lilac--much like an aurora. She is a rather dazzling sight, especially when she wills the lines to glow. It's rather hard to look away.
Personality:
Calm, collected, and forceful, Iara is very much like water. She bends and adapts to any situation, never losing her flow. She's often aloof and in her own world, but perhaps appearances aren't all they seem. While she often seems distracted and in her own head, Iara is watching all. She has an eye for detail, and is rather fond of eavesdropping on others to stay in the know.
Perhaps more social than other's in her pack, even if only by appearances, Iara can put on a smile and schmooze with the best of them. She knows what others want to hear, and boy does she say it. Flattery will get you everywhere, and Iara has places to go. Everything she does is to further her own status within the pack, and her ambitions are a closely guarded secret. While she wouldn't overthrow her king, she certainly wants to be queen, and will do anything within her power to obtain that title.
She has few true friends, and views most others as pawns in her little game. When crossed, she'll bide her time and strike back at the opportune moment. It's probably best to stay on her good side.
History:
Born and raised in the Chortari pack to a pair of low ranking wolves, and seeing the treatment of her parents, Iara made a promise to herself to rise in the ranks. Her climb through the ranks has been a long battle, and she's struggled to prove herself from a young age. She made a name for herself as a promising hunter, and when her magic finally developed she made herself an indispensable asset. Able to manipulate prey and completely hide from them, she provided for the pack. Able to turn invisible, she could gather intel and snuff out problem members before they had a chance to cause trouble. Now, she aims her sights higher: the position of queen. |
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![[Image: tumblr_owjwkxjncb1rqcj16o1_500.png]](http://68.media.tumblr.com/58cadbe852192c3b89f7df14945cd847/tumblr_owjwkxjncb1rqcj16o1_500.png)
