Open A Shift in Power

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

Moderator: Gossamer

A Shift in Power

Postby Ayatah on December 12th, 2015, 4:06 pm

Image

11th Winter, 515AV. Midnight.


"Dirty, filthy Deyhan."

Ayatah of the Scattered Bones stared down at the sleeping woman, a mass of raven hair exploding out onto the pillow on which her head rested. Every so often the woman would murmur or moan in her sleep, but thankfully the stranger remained in her deep slumber.

The Myrian grunted and stalked off, picking her way through the otherwise empty room. Clothes littered the floor. Tentatively Ayatah picked up a purple dress, a thin swath of material that was not only impractical but outrageously barbarian. With a scathing look back to the sleeping stranger, Ayatah threw the dress back down on the floor. "Filthy Deyhan." She muttered once more under her breath. Quietly she searched for more suitable clothing to cover up her otherwise naked form. Eventually, and right at the rear of the wooden wardrobe, she found a set of Myrian leather armour.

After dressing herself, Ayatah continued on her quiet exploration, leaving the bedroom and entering a narrow hallway. The room she stood in was only slightly warmer than the bedroom, and uncontrollable Ayatah found herself shivering.

"Myri, smite this barbarian city for it's coldness." She grunted.

The next room she explored was another bedroom, but much smaller than the previous one. Instead of a large bed flanked by two small tables, Ayatah was faced with a smaller bed and a floor covered by wooden toys. Stooping down, she squinted at a collection of small wooden farm animals, their faces brightly painted into stupid, wide smiles.

Why a parent would ever allow their child to play with such ridiculous toys was lost on Ayatah. Where were the wooden weapons for them to train with? She scoffed to herself and dropped the wooden cow she had been holding. The figure clattered to the carpeted ground, earning a soft groan from an unseen companion.

Ayatah's head snapped upwards towards the sound. Of course! The child! He had recently stopped sleeping in the Deyhan's bed - weak little Deyhan child - and so she had not expected him to be here.

After waiting a chime to ensure he would not wake, Ayatah moved across the room to stand over the child's bed. He slept peacefully, one arm hanging off the edge of his low bed and another embracing a soft toy rabbit.

Weak little Deyhan child.

And yet despite her instinctive dislike towards the boy, Ayatah found herself smiling. He was a victim of this barbarian world, but Kuame himself was not at fault. He was a gentle boy, a little feeble by Myrian standards, but then again he had not been raised in Taloba. His entire little life had always existed beyond the reach of Myri, too far from her strength and bravery to benefit from it.

Ayatah continued to walk through the apartment, every so often pausing to investigate some foreign item and snarling at its pointlessness. Where were the skins? The weapons? All of the surfaces were covered with papers and pots of ink. In a sudden fit of disappointment and fury, Ayatah swiped at the table nearest to her, destroying the neat pile of parchments and flinging a small vial of ink to the floor. She watched the black liquid ooze out, slowly staining the otherwise pristine cream carpet. This simple act of destruction gave Ayatah a sense of satisfaction, and with a smug conclusive nod she exited the apartment.

Tonight, Ayatah of the Scattered Bones would prowl the streets of Riverfall.

About Ayatah's powerAyatah's power results in an alternate duplicate of herself to 'step out' from her body. In this thread, the alternate self is the ideal Myrian: she's vicious, aggressive, and generally bloodthirsty. Do mind the teeth, she's a biter

Image
Image
User avatar
Ayatah
The Scholarly Savage
 
Posts: 737
Words: 667148
Joined roleplay: December 27th, 2012, 11:30 am
Location: Riverfall
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

A Shift in Power

Postby Orabelle Deepseeker on December 13th, 2015, 4:23 pm

Image
"I cannot express how much I loooove this hair and makeup!" The plump woman admired herself in a mirror, making kissy faces and such. She wore a dark purple dress that was a bit too tight, showing every curve on her body. But it was the only dress she had that would match her purple pomade- though the color of her pomade was much lighter than the dress."You just haaaave to let me pay you!" The woman glanced at the coffee colored woman through the mirror who just stood behind her, smiling.

"Oh, it was nothing! Really, you don't have to pay me."

Orabelle really did nothing special to the woman. A little lip pomade, rouge and kohl with just a little blush is all that was needed. As for her hair, she used a bit of henna to color it. Then she braided it and wrapped it around the woman's head. "Just remember to tell all your friends about me." Orabelle began to gather her things. "Well, I have to go. I left my niece at home with the dogs."

Laviku only knew what the young girl was doing. When Orabelle told her she would be left home by herself for just a belle or so, her face lit up. She looked at the dogs with a devilish grin Orabelle only saw when someone have her a piece of candy. Orabelle was sure the girl was getting herself into trouble but not too much. She just hoped the two very large dogs she left to protect her didn't let her get into too much trouble.

She waved to the woman before stepping out.

Orabelle was a woman easily affected by the cold. She was not outside for a good while before she began to shiver a bit. Draping her cloak over shoulders, she continued walking the streets of Riverfall with her head down. It was very quiet out that night, with the exception of a few taverns and clubs Orabelle walked by and could hear trouble being stirred up. There was also the soft purring of sleeping stray cats on the open streets and the humming of insects which was kind of nice. There was nothing for her to do during this time than think.

She began thinking about opening her own business. Nothing fancy or big, just a place where she can comfortably do hair and other things. A simple salon would do for her, like the very small section she ran at Red Diamond's Fashion. It was cozy and it had just the right amount of space for her to move around and work.

She dwelled on the idea of her own business for awhile now and she was so wrapped up in the idea, she wasn't even paying attention to where she was walking. Orabelle kept her head down too, the hood of her cloak up. "I could possibly ask the council to help me start this business up."[b] Orabelle told no one else but herself. [b]"I could ask them if- oof!"

Orabelle ran into something hard. It knocked her down on the floor, her makeup flying everywhere. "Shyke!" Orabelle said under her breath as she began sprawling on the ground to collect all of her things. She hardly paid attention to what she was grabbing and found herself pulling on a foot. "What the-" She looked to see a tall figure, that was fierce and scary. "I'm sorry... I was just-just-" Orabelle could not get herself to speak correctly.
Fratavan|Common|Thoughts

"A Svefra never goes back on their word... never."
User avatar
Orabelle Deepseeker
Nobody Special
 
Posts: 223
Words: 107164
Joined roleplay: December 26th, 2013, 6:23 pm
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

A Shift in Power

Postby Kaie on December 13th, 2015, 8:37 pm

Image
"It won't make you feel better, you know," came a smooth accent a few stools down from a young, green-hued Akalak. He grasped the handle of his mug and slipped his eyes in the Common-speaking voice's direction with a curved brow. The young Myrian woman flashed him her teeth before taking a generous drink from her own ale. "Not about whatever it is that's bothering you, anyway. Trust me, I've tried." The colored man scoffed and took a drink despite her advice. He paid the barkeep, then swiveled his head to address the unwarranted suggestion from the foreigner. "What makes you think I don't feel just fine?" The Myrian's lips twitched momentarily into a knowing smile before she indulged herself with more ale.

"That one's easy. You've been sitting here alone ordering drinks half the day." The Akalak's brow furrowed, but Kaie didn't need to press to further expose him. She could see restrained grief plainly in his dark eyes. "My son was born a few days ago." Kaie lifted her mug a bit off the table, eyes merely darting his way for but a tick in acknowledgement. "Congratulations then." She didn't mean for it to come off as sarcastic as it might've sounded. "He killed his mother." She cleared her throat in the wake of the awkward well, shyke, thought that first entered her head. "Sorry for your loss." The barkeep maneuvered quickly in their direction after finishing a short conversation with a client further down the bar. She began to raise a hand and open her mouth to speak, but the man blurred past her in favor of serving his Akalak brethren long before the jungle-born savage. Kaie ground her teeth together, internally shrugging the familiar event off before snagging the attention of a waitress nearly. "Next round's on me," she said with a quick gesture between herself and her new, green conversation partner down the way. Then she spun back around in her chair to throw back her mug of ale.

Something hit her, just about had her choking mid-drink in fact. It was happening again, that strange, alien sensation that had begun to prick at her now and then at the oddest of times. Her skin tingled as it transformed to goose flesh. A light bout of adrenaline began to feed at her drunken muscles, and a heavy feeling of dread swarmed like fretful butterflies in her middle. Hunted. That was the only word that came to mind, the only way to characterize the threatening, foreboding experience that plagued her now. She could feel its source behind her as she drank like a deer suddenly acutely aware of the tiger stalking it through the grass. The tavern was packed with hulking Akalak and travelers alike scattered throughout the establishment. "Get the petch out of here, Myrian," her body whispered with every tense muscle and quickening beat of her prey-like heart. She was powerless to its compelling.

"What about you?" The mug came down with a quiet thunk upon the counter, signaling its now empty nature. "What about me?" He nodded and gestured grandly to her entirety, arms folding over his thick chest. "You told me it doesn't make you feel better, yet you've been in this tavern just about as long as I have." The savage flicked the empty mug across the counter toward the opposite edge for the barkeep's convenience. Two silver Mizas were procured and likewise placed beside the mug. She grabbed at the black cloak balled up on the counter beside her. "That one's easy, too. I don't deserve to feel better." Kaie threw the cloak on and fastened it over her leather night armor, easily hiding the weapon belt that carried her gladius in a sheath upon her hip. The waitress returned to place a new drink before the green Akalak just as she made her way for the door.

The bitter cold of winter nipped like a persistent Akila at the sections of flesh completely exposed to the cold. The Myrian rubbed her hands together and breathed hot air upon them, but even that relief was temporary. At the very least, the farther she distanced herself from the tavern, the more the odd feeling she'd had earlier faded away. Yet the strangeness of the night didn't seem to have any intention of ceasing. Wandering the streets in search of Godiva's Refuge, she turned upon a new path just in time to see a woman rebound from another figure. Materials the young Myrian was admittedly not too familiar with scattered about the ground around the downed woman. Bladed boots trekked forward to help her recollect her items, but even they slowed at the sight of the other figure in their midst. Kaie's brow rose and her jaw slacked a bit. She found herself speaking into the night on a whim as if compelled by an outside force other than her own idiocy.

"A little cold to wear just leather is it not, Sister?" The Myrian tongue came spewing out from between her lips before she could think the better of her decision. But Gods did it feel good to hear it spoken even by her own voice all the same.



OOC:Post Word Count: 863
Image



Image
User avatar
Kaie
Player
 
Posts: 1569
Words: 1635789
Joined roleplay: May 9th, 2013, 3:13 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 7
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)
Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1)

A Shift in Power

Postby Wikus on December 14th, 2015, 11:48 am

Image
“Find that freak!”


The muffled voices of the drunken Akalak search party reverbed through the stone alleys, followed by an eager ovation by the remainder of the group whom devotedly followed their designated leader, the requirements of leadership being the biggest intoxication and loudest mouth which said leader clearly surpassed. Scrambled words made their way towards his ears, the noise of uneven footsteps coming from thick boots silencing with every step Wikus took towards safety. Ironic how even when nobody was dying to diseases he still felt chased by an angry mob, the pitchforks and torches having been replaced with half empty flagons and drunken haze carried by rainbow men whom couldn’t find a woman for yet another night. If only Wikus knew this race of men lived for hundreds of years, the situation would at least take a morbid and somewhat sadistic comedic approach. Instead, the situation proved to be far more desperate, clearly grazing the limit between life and death.


Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite fix his destination towards a set point even when he already knew which place he wished his feet to take him, yet the city was completely transformed by night. Known and regularly walked streets became alien in his eyes, the light from the lamp posts giving it a different sensation, a different appearance, all new to his eyes as they had only seen the streets bathed in sunlight instead of fire. Of course, there was the aspect of him walking the alleys, places he had avoided as much as he had avoided leaving his inn’s room at night. Today, the fears of encountering the dangerous beasts that roamed the nights had finally become a reality, the beasts assuming the form of colorful piles of muscle that didn’t quite understand his current position.


Peeking to the sides as he reached a small intersection within the alleyway, he held still until both eyes and ears confirmed the lack of blue personnel in the midst, slithering on to the right after a random pick – he was lost, after all – and keeping low as much as his own gigantic stature allowed him. His bare feet moved quickly and quietly through the freezing stone that composed the ground, cold enough to once in a while convince him that his own flesh had been left fixed on the stone after stepping forth. Thankfully, the chase had been enough to warm him and his feet both. Despite his size, he wasn’t a hulk regarding his build, and so he believed to be more of an overgrown gazelle than a bull, unfortunately lacking the agility of the first or the majesty of the second. The hessian sack hanged from his left hand, having been forced to replace the basket full of flowers for the sack full of sawdust under the unfortunate circumstances. A few curves spawned in the alley, bifurcations and dead ends being completely lethal to whatever orientation he still had. How easy it would have been if only those cursed blue men were sleeping at home instead of standing a drunken guard in the Lapis Park… His own room was at Atri’s Place, a location he chose the past season specifically for the proximity to said park, but quoting the owners own words could explain his frustration: “Damned be the Blue Bull!”


Yes! Damned be The Blue Bull and the blue boars that drank inside! Damned be the tavern that stood right next to the inn and hosted those disgustingly colored men! If it only was someplace else, then he would have reached the ponds, he would have bathed, he could have healed whatever it was ill in his body this night, whatever it was that was oozing this substance from his skin, dense as oil and black as tar… Wikus would have gladly asked helped from the inn’s host, yet he knew said owner offered no help. Atri refused to let his donkey stay in his room, Atri went angry when the chairs and bed disappeared as he salvaged the wood into something useful… How could he expect Atri to tolerate him leaking whatever it was he was leaking through the wooden floors? Instead of a bucket of water, he would have only given him a kick in the backside and throw him into the winter cold to freeze like a stray dog. If only he had reached the ponds and not an Akalak gathering, he wouldn’t be out here in this bizarre position, and he wouldn’t fear being identified and kicked out of the city to die in the harsh winter that was outside the city.


Wikus kept lamenting himself as he finally saw an exit of the alleyways. The exit was into one of the big streets apparently, and so the pace must be increased if he was to come out into the open. Many could be walking the street, which meant Wikus couldn’t vacillate not one bit. Taking the turn to the right, he advanced quickly with short steps, trying to inspect the environment as much as possible. His vision wasn’t very clear, quickly proven as he bumped into something – a living something, he thought, that turned out to be nothing but a post he had failed to see.

The bare naked Wikus stood at 6’5, a giant amongst his people, with a sack in his hand and another on his head. With a sense of urgency, before checking on what he bumped or before his instinct of running away was ignited, the first thing he did was introduce a hand into the sack full of sawdust and rubbing it on his chest, as said point was the one affected the most by the pole's contact. It had already began to pool out the black ooze above the previously applied sawdust, proving his flesh was going to secrete whatever this was whenever touched. The sawdust in his hand covered the ‘wound’, absorbing the substance and gluing itself onto his flesh just like the black-spotted layer that covered his entire body – a stark naked man covered entirely in sawdust and a sack on his head, from which only two badly made holes allowed him to see.


Where the flesh of his chest touched his hand, new black bleeding would occur. Despite said secretion being painless, it did ignite Wikus’ cowardly instinct of pulling away, which he did with a couple of hops back, his hand flying back into the sack to retrieve another handful of sawdust and prepare it for launch if whatever it was that touched him wished to attempt a capture. “No! No” he said, slowly pulling back as he readjusted the improvised mask of his head with the free hand. Visibility was extremely bad within the sack, even further as the black substance had created black spots on the hessian itself without Wikus noticing, and possibly causing an unexplainable mess inside. “You me no see…” He whispered almost as a threat, the adrenaline allowing him to pull some words in common with an uncharacteristic haste in him, his accent still being horrible. “You me no see…”


Quickly he applied another layer of sawdust onto the hand , covering it and halting the black oozing before getting another one ready in case he was attacked. Perhaps if he wasn’t so cheap and bothered to buy another set of clothes, he could have come on out dressed this evening instead of keeping them from getting black stains. If he wasn’t so misinformed, he could have asked for water in the Inn instead of roaming the streets naked. If he wasn’t so paranoid, he wouldn’t have placed a sack on his head to hide his identity. And if said sack wasn’t obstructing his vision as much as it did, he could have found some orientation far quicker. He had to reach Lake Knirin at all cost.

Finally, when no signs of life came from whatever he bumped into, he dared to take the patience and use it to properly adjust his improvised mask, and saw nothing but the immobile post. Disappointed and somewhat ashamed, he sighed and once again regained his fleeing rhythm - inadvertently walking away from a group of women whose problems seemed far more problematic than a post, quickly proven as their speech in the empty streets reached his ears and turned his body around, fortunately finding himself standing far enough to not quite worry about their possibilities of capture.

Would they give him directions if he asked? was his only doubt, the one that halted him from jolting away.

OOCWikus' power revolves around ink, and how he can secrete it. I apologize for his strange antics. Word count: 1423
Last edited by Wikus on December 15th, 2015, 9:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Wikus
It burns when I pee!
 
Posts: 274
Words: 367528
Joined roleplay: August 26th, 2015, 9:48 pm
Location: Syka.
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes
Medals: 2
Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

A Shift in Power

Postby Ayatah on December 14th, 2015, 7:54 pm

Image
As soon as she stepped outside, Ayatah was cold. The hairs on her neck prickled at the drop in temperature, and she snarled aggressively as if Morwen herself stood before her to heckle. She missed the jungle so much that the thought of that lush green warmth made her stomach twist painfully. Why would someone leave the sanctity of Myri's chosen kingdom for such a cold, bare shyke-hole?

Grunting angrily, but nevertheless shivering uncontrollably, Ayatah continued to stalk through the paved streets of Riverfall. Her breath led her in willowy, white tendrils that both disturbed and intrigued the Myrian. She had never seen them before, being from a place of such a temperate climate.

Where were the trees? The jungle canopy? Ayatah tilted her head backwards, drinking in the blackness of the sky above her. Leth stared back, as did the innumerable stars that flickered in and out of reality. Though Ayatah had seen this sight before - walked this very path, in fact - she was seeing it with new eyes.

Blinking, the Myrian set her focus back on to her journey. She continued to trudge forwards, every so often pausing to glance within a shop front, her hands outlined by mist on the window. These filthy barbarians owned peculiar tools, items that Ayatah did not recognize and could not fathom the use of. And the clothes -- utterly impractical. As a gaggle of laughing women passed her, Aya found herself eyeing their long dresses and low-cut tops. They watched her in return, forming a united front of disconcerted women. Finally, when she lunged forward in a hungry snarl, they shrieked and scattered away, calling out insults such as Freak! Animal!

Ayatah turned back, a sickly satisfied smile creeping on her lips. Now that was more like it! She paused to stretch her arms and legs, limbering herself up for some unknown confrontation. But as she patted down her thighs, bare except for the leather armor shorts she wore, Ayatah realised with horror that she had exited the apartment unarmed. In the excitement and confusion, Aya had shamed Myri in the weakest possible way.

Her lips curled back in another bad tempered growl. Now she was not only angered by the barbaric world she found herself in, but Aya had irritated herself. She turned on her heel moodily to return back the way she had come, in order to collect her daggers. But instead someone else collided into Ayatah. The other woman soon began to apologise in a language that Ayatah could just understand, but simply refused to acknowledge. There was only one language that would form on her tongue, and it certainly was not was this woman was spewing out to her.

Now even more enraged - with herself, with this stranger, with this forsaken shyke-hole she'd found herself in - Ayatah stomped her foot down, entrapping one of the many items the woman had dropped in the collision. She had no clue what the object was, or it's purpose, and neither did she care. Instead Ayatah stood herself firm, staring into the face of the woman and waiting for a challenge. All that Myrian fury had built up and up within her and now the Myrian wanted a confrontation. She needed to feel the rage leave her body in the form of a fight, or at least a impassioned argument.

But then!

But then a delightful sound flooded Ayatah's ears. It was the langiage of her mother, of her home. Another Myrian! She twisted her head left and right, searching desperately for the speaker. Finally she saw her; and the woman was a beautifully comforting site. "Sister!" She called out, arms thrown forward as if to embrace this beloved stranger. For Ayatah, Kaie was an island paradise in a sea filled with sharks. "This barbarian land is wrong in all manners. But I will not abandon our customs."

Finally she lifted her foot off the barbarian's trapped belonging, and in doing so Ayatah reminded herself of this other woman's existence. Hatred and aggression bubbled up in her belly, and Ayatah hurled a globule of saliva right beside the woman. "Filthy Deyhan." She spat with as much poison as she could muster.

oocOrabelle... I am so sorry :'(
Image
Image
User avatar
Ayatah
The Scholarly Savage
 
Posts: 737
Words: 667148
Joined roleplay: December 27th, 2012, 11:30 am
Location: Riverfall
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

A Shift in Power

Postby Eldrid on December 14th, 2015, 9:38 pm

Eldrid shuffled out of the Valkalah Academy with a stack of books in her arms. Night had fallen while she had been working and collecting books to prepare her for the various festivals she would likely have to setup for. She looked around the area outside the academy, unaffected by the cold due to her hardy Akvatari physiology, however she could make out very little in the dark shadows which clung to the alleyways and part way around the various lightsources around the city. The lone, grey-winged, Akvatari took to the air with tentative glances in each direction before her, watching the shadows for any signs of movement. Eldrid was well aware of the high standard of law enforcement in Riverfall, however, she had quickly learnt to trust very little in this city, especially sugar pots and wells in winter. At night however, when every corner was blanketed in shadows, Eldrid could find some form of enjoyment in the way the light and shadows pooled, creating bizarre and otherworldly shapes. These shapes were one of the few items she had thought held snippets of the riddle of life when she was younger. These days they still held some, albeit lesser, form of fascination for her.

She had settled on visiting Semele park before she headed home to the Blue Gem. The place had a reputation with artists apparently on account of its marvelous statuary, and it was open through the night to boot. Eldrid had decided she would see to getting some reading done while she was in the park to get a feel for the place and return either the next day or night to begin her drawing.

Her grey wings disturbed the cold night air as they carried her strange seal tailed form through the air at a stately pace, giving her time to absorb the nightlife of the city. She could see the magnificent glowing towers of Laviku and Nysel shimmering in the distance. The air was mostly quiet in this area, no exceptionally rowdy taverns or such. Fainter sounds of businesses closing up for the night drifted up to Eldrid's ears along with sounds of the waterfall in the distance and the odd noise of a restless animal. She basked in the quiet for a moment, enjoying the freedom a lack of noise and distraction granted her mind, until the loud voices of two women, speaking a tongue Eldrid had never heard before cut across her peaceful drifting.

The slender, delicately featured Akvatari descended slowly towards the commotion, pausing at first where she could make out the scene below while still staying in the night shadows. Below, 2 out of place women stood near the doors to a residence, the source of the two loud voices. On the floor one of the pair appeared to be assisting another women in collecting a variety of small containers of some sort. The one standing by the door seemed to be acting exceptionally familiar with the similarly built woman.

As Eldrid came closer to the commotion she tucked her three borrowed books under her arm. She could not be sure, but she also thought she had seen a man running away from the commotion, naked. However she thought this might have been another one of her hallucinations, strangely she hadn't been reading when it happened this time though.
"Pardon me my friends?" Eldrid began with a disarming voice before she realised the pair of large women were full grown Myrians. A fearsome race the Akvatari had heard of only in stories, morbid tales at that. The one assisting the ochre-skinned woman seemed to be far better dressed though.
"Is . . . Everything okay here? Can I help somehow?" She asked with a slightly forced sense of interest. Whatever was happening here did not look like it was friendly, at least not if the myrian woman standing by the doorway, wearing only leathers was involved.
User avatar
Eldrid
Player
 
Posts: 68
Words: 42824
Joined roleplay: November 28th, 2015, 1:36 pm
Race: Akvatari
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

A Shift in Power

Postby Orabelle Deepseeker on December 15th, 2015, 10:38 pm

Image
A woman much younger than Orabelle yet a lot bigger than her came to her rescue. She began collecting Orabelle's cosmetics that were out of her reach. "Thank Laviku you're here, I don't think I would be able to get everything in time." She took smile glimpses at the bronze-colored young woman, hardly getting a good look at her. Despite not really looking at her, Orabelle could tell she was not human. And although her skin matched the six (or four) armed race known as eypharians, it was clear that she was not one. She could not recall any other race with that color either. A mixed blood like herself is all she could at least assume at the time.

After grabbing what she could and returning it to her little makeup kit, she took the rest of it from the other woman but not forcefully. "Thank you." Orabelle could finally be face to face with the woman briefly while being on the cold ground. Her perfectly kohl outlined eyes scanned the woman who had help her. Indeed, she was very different. But she was not the most unusual person she had saw thus very night.

The grunt of another person caused her to shift her attention elsewhere. To a beastly women in bazaar clothing. This woman had a similar look to the other... they possessed a lot of the same traits yet they were very different. For starters, the woman who was kind enough to get her things did not manifest the same horrid face expression as the one towering over Orabelle on her knees right now. The Svefra-eypharian felt threatened and the cold stare of the woman intimidated her. The woman's stare froze her in place.

"Sssssssorry." Orabelle apologized once again, the word sorry sounding more like it had come from the mouth of a dhani. She was so nervous and afraid to get up. The moment the barbaric woman looked at the other, she took her chance and shot up off the ground. But she did not move from her spot, due to something else catching her eyes. A man who wore nothing but a bag over his head. Nothing. But. A. Bag.

She blinked twice to make sure she was not hallucinating and sadly, she was not. Orabelle was more confused than ever. She just didn't know what to do. She didn't know if there was anything she could do. This was all very unusual and she has never experienced such a thing in Riverfall. "Uh... hello!" She raised her hand with the silver undan, the bracelet shook and jingled as she waved at the man covered in sawdust. "Are you okay?"[/b

Calling for a strange man with a bag over his head may not have been the smartest idea. Especially since she was already in arms reach of a deadly myrian.

Luckily, someone joined the group. An akvatari. Orabelle was not familiar with the creature but she could tell the akvatari woman was safe to be around. [b]"Everything is fine."
She told her, speaking too soon. It was not long after she said that, one of the myrians spat at her, the saliva landing in her eye. She squealed like a child as she reached for her eye, wiping the warm spit off of it.
Fratavan|Common|Thoughts

"A Svefra never goes back on their word... never."
User avatar
Orabelle Deepseeker
Nobody Special
 
Posts: 223
Words: 107164
Joined roleplay: December 26th, 2013, 6:23 pm
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

A Shift in Power

Postby Kaie on December 18th, 2015, 10:48 pm

Image
Warm seas of relief swelled within her middle. Her ears swallowed the fellow Myrian's retort as hastily as an alcoholic might enthusiastically down the first mug of ale. The exhale of momentary relief lasted only as long as her mind forgot the strange sensation that had overtaken her at the last tavern, which wasn't more than a few ticks. As her amber eyes took in the familiar figure from her motherland, she couldn't help but find it amusing no sense of impending harm could be perceived from the most fearsome looking in the streets that night. Kaie accepted her with a broad grin. "I couldn't agree more, but the Goddess Queen has no use for soldiers merely defeated by the cold. A little extra fur is still a far cry from blasphemy," she reasoned with a airy laugh. Her eyes still searched the woman casually, mind desperately trying to conjure up what connected the two rather than simple ancestry. The black fur-lined collar of her cloak danced softly with a breath of wind. Yet it wasn't the wintry blow of Morwen that seized her attention next. Just when her lips began to purse with mild displeasure at the sight of the clumsy barbarian's mistreatment, her jaw unhinged instead when she discovered something far more unusual.

Frantically bobbing about, with none but a sack to mask his identity and another full of woody dust over his shoulder, was a stark naked man hurrying through the streets. Would this be Riverfall's village idiot? the jungle-born found herself pondering as if some greater knowledge of the city's customs could shed light on the bizarre event. Sawdust stuck to his skin like feathers to tar. It made her uneasy just the way he stopped and stared at them, exposed and helpless in a way no man across the Suvan Sea wanted to be viewed. She blinked twice and shook her head. What was the point in trying to make sense of the ordeal? Kaie crouched down and picked up two of the scattered items no longer trapped by an angry foot. She handed the strange cosmetics toward their owner, simply nodding when she was thanked for her efforts. With the arrival of another creature, one she'd never seen before, toting a collection of books. Gods...it's like a seal, a butterfly, and a barbarian had a three way...not that I'd put that all past a barbarian. Both bronze palms slid down her face. At least the cosmetic-toting woman didn't seem nearly so unhinged by the creature's appearance as she had.

Your race isn't exactly a fan favorite around here, Kaie. The other Child of Myri around here is spitting on a fallen, frightened woman. And need we mention the streaker and the book-reading woman-butterfly-seal brave enough to get involved? It wasn't like she needed some sixth sense to tell her the situation wouldn't look good for her if some sort of patrol came around. At least if she did something stupid enough to get her thrown out, they might at least put her on a ship in the right direction. Diffuse this. She readjusted her cloak just as well as her mindset and cleared her throat. "Eh. Leave the weak barbarians to be pitied by their Council, Sister." Though she doubted the seemingly kind, human-looking woman in their midst understood Myrian, Kaie shot her an apologetic look anyways. "Have you and I met before? Back home maybe?"

OOC:Word Count 1,437/ 50,000
Image



Image
User avatar
Kaie
Player
 
Posts: 1569
Words: 1635789
Joined roleplay: May 9th, 2013, 3:13 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 7
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)
Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1)

A Shift in Power

Postby Wikus on January 11th, 2016, 5:27 pm

Image
OOC NoteI didn't realize it was my turn - I'm so sorry for the delay. Wikus makes an out from the scene, so have fun! Sorry once again >.<

Whatever dark and mysterious power was manifesting in this particular street to attract all these strange beings, it was frightening at best. The number of individuals packing up in the middle of the street was increasing moment by moment, and the dusty man could only cower in fear. Apathy was usually his defense against civilization, yet under the special circumstances one could only step back. For a moment he fantasized about the hub being Endrykas and him being still amongst his people, for then the four women could be easily claimed and packed into his tent no matter how bizarre they were individually. In this strange land, however, being a lone naked man in the sights of the female quartet was nothing but scary. If the light didn’t tricked his already poor vision, he would swear two of those were those tan and violent females that act as brutally as the blue men. One was a flying creature one could associate with a nightmare, and the last female was nothing but a wimp who was being bullied by the rest.

Wikus backed away, step by step, as he no longer wished to be a part of this congregation. Asking for directions would have been a gamble, and most of the outcomes would result in him either losing consciousness due to blunt force trauma or suffering mutilation in his body parts as those females clearly liked being in control of a leash. Sure of his decision, his steps gained some confidence without losing their slow pace. Their words and speech was delivered in a tongue he didn’t quite understand, not because of his poor knowledge of Common, but rather from the panting sounds trapped underneath the sack. Being trapped inside said item, he felt the need to cough, which once done brought yet another dark stain on the improvised mask. Lining up the sack’s holes to match his gaze, his temporary sight revealed a horrible detail in the stone. His bare feet were also oozing this black substance and clearly left a trail of footsteps wherever he had stepped.

Gazing back at the alley from which he came, the trail was also present there – along with a small group of the Blue Men, whom stalked the naked pray with their shiny and intoxicated eyes. The fact that they could remain silent without bursting out in nasty giggles or drunken battle cries was astonishing to the naked victim, whom now was forced to engage in a silent stare between both parties. Nobody moved nor breathed, instead remaining still as if said stillness could confuse the opponent. Wikus took the opportunity and, in a bold move, decided to return his concealed gaze onward to give some confidence to his predators. “I am going to cliff!” he called out, as loudly as he could for both the group of females and the group of hiding males. Lowering his sack down, the one from his shoulder that is, he would casually open it and sprinkle the street randomly with the ash.

It was as if he was planning seeds in a field, casually doing the motion as if he was somewhere far away. He repeated it thrice, before finally breaking down his lie and moving to action. Raising the sack with two hands, in a swift motion he’d perform a chopping motion which sent more than half of the sawdust out in the street – the cold breeze making them flow in all direction like some sort of rough fog. It was in this moment when he turned around and ran away with all his strength. The quartet of Akalaks that hid in the alley realized this and came out of their hiding place, yelling out as they chased the naked stranger they wanted to beat up and kick out of their more or less civilized city. The trail of footsteps remained, unfortunately, yet Wikus was way faster than the drunk fools that chased him. Also, his feet were light as he was naked, which is a trait he would remember next time.


677 / 50000
User avatar
Wikus
It burns when I pee!
 
Posts: 274
Words: 367528
Joined roleplay: August 26th, 2015, 9:48 pm
Location: Syka.
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes
Medals: 2
Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

A Shift in Power

Postby Mo'esha on January 13th, 2016, 2:23 am

Image

Mo felt her way along the dimly lit alley, noting the cracks in each cold stone as she moved slowly toward Godiva’s intent on turning in for the night. The night was cold, and she gathered her pale cloak tightly around her shoulders as a light breeze stirred its hem around her ankles. A woman, a Konti at that, alone in a dark alley of this city was particularly inadvisable. But as she breathed in the clean, cold night air she was grateful for the solace. Instinctively she cupped her aching head with one hand, praying to whomever might listen, that things might return to normal.Avalis, holy mother, why do you delight in my misery?She prayed mentally, but was interrupted.
A foul stench slapped her sharply in the nostrils as she neared the mouth of the alley. Thick and acrid, it burned the back of her throat like bile left to sour in the sun. The wretched scent was so strong that it made her head spin and doubled her over in the street. The lamps and stars that lit the night made whorls of dancing light as Mo gripped the corner of whatever building she’d been tracing. Pathetically, she leaned out of the alley and into the main road, retching and gaging. It was no use. Still folded in half – head in the street – she gave a sickly whimper, scraping her tongue roughly with her fingernails and praying that the revolting sensation might somehow be torn away.
So focused was she on her own plight, that she paid little heed to the commotion down the street. Lhex be willing, they were surely far better off than she. “Ooooh this night could not get any worse.” She groaned to no one in particular, hands searching blindly behind for something on which to brace herself. Finding nothing but air, she glared into the dark as if the night had stolen away her support. No sooner had her gaze fallen back to the bare stone of the street, she was wracked with another heaving retch, the caustic fetor of fear and panic choking the air from her lungs. By the time she realized the footsteps approaching, it was too late. Glancing up the crowded street, she was struck – dead in the face – by a bare, oozing, flopping… man.
She skittered to the ground, thrown back into the alleyway as his dense, naked thigh careened into her cheek. Staring after him she all but forgot the fading stench that seemed to dissipate as he disappeared down the street, seemingly unphased by the collision and followed quickly by a gang of raging Akalak. For a moment she stared in stark confusion.
What the petch just happened?The air swelled and ebbed with the scent of iron and blood as the mob of indigo men passed. Was she bleeding? A familiar burning warmth crept over her skin as the force of the man’s blow began to sink in. Reaching a hand to her face, Mo’esha was surprised to find not blood, but paste. It was thick, black, and gritty, covering her left cheek and temple. Staring down at the disgusting ooze, Mo frantically wiped her face, making all manner of raucous as she tried to cleanse herself of… whatever it was.
The gritty goo only smeared, and clumped to her fingers. Sickened, and desperate to remove it, she turned toward the group slowly gathering down the street. Gods be willing, someone would help. “Blegh.” The Konti expressed with frustration as she spread her webbed fingers, the ooze stretching between them in long, sickly strings. “BLEGH!” She exclaimed again as she approached the group of women. Too many scents to name commingled in the air, forming an overwhelming and overpowering cloud in the street.

Blood. Soil. Fish. Ale. Powder. Humidity that made no sense. Peppers.

Too much. It was too much. And with every step Mo took it grew stronger. She focused, trying to fight through the overwhelming sensory overload, and she noted scents beneath those scents. Rage. Longing. Confusion. Relief. Curiosity.

But that can’t be.She thought to herself.But you are Konti.She thought again, hesitantly. Attributing this new revelation to her heritage and her gift. Being disconnected from her race since birth, she had no way to know, and no reason to think any differently… yet.
Having stumbled her way into the midst of the women – who she only now realized seemed less than friendly. She hesitated, unsure now of how to proceed. With her petite head held low, a posture still lingering from her time in Kenash, she gauged the women around her. The larger two seemed to be absorbed, more or less, in each other; the one appearing downright hostile to any others. There was a human who seemed as frazzled as Mo felt. And there was… Eldrid.
Oh thank Gods.Mo thought to herself, at least she knew the Akvatari to be friendly enough. And truth be told the human did not look entirely unfriendly. Perhaps she could find some help after all.
“Excuse me” Mo waited for a pause in the conversation to interject. “That man. He hit me. And he was covered in… in…” The Konti could find no words to describe the repulsive ooze, and so she opted to instead hold out her grit covered hands to explain. “I can’t get it come off. It just…" The distressed Konti wringed her hands, demonstrating the sticky, staining nature of the stuff with an exasperated sigh. “Can one of you help me, please?”

Word Count926

User avatar
Mo'esha
Player
 
Posts: 44
Words: 26964
Joined roleplay: December 21st, 2015, 12:56 am
Race: Konti
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Next

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests