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Valucre

Anon

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About Anon

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  • Birthday January 15

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    anon.weylin

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    Male
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    New York

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  1. Anon

    Discovering Characters

    Woa I was asleep when you posted this but I'll post within the next hour for sure if I still can!
  2. Anon

    Discovering Characters

    Hey! Is this closed right now?
  3. Anon

    Izral - Seeking Bounty Hunters!

    Hey! If you've got space I'd love to join! One post per week is totally doable for me.
  4. Anon

    A demon spawns

    Hey! I would totally love to jump into this if it isn't too full already! I'm also good to commit for casual roleplay, I can probably do 3-4 replies per week but I should be able to muster some more if really needed.
  5. Anon

    Dancing on Moonbeams!

    @Aleksei ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As their dance concluded, Syr could feel Esme's fingers pressing into his back. He couldn't help but smile at her gentle panic. Frantic attempts at steadying oneself rarely ended so elegantly. A moment passed and he became aware that he was holding her too. The world seemed to still once more, and Syr began to wonder if this was a power she had, or if it was just power over him. Silence blanketed them both, insulated from the festival by their intertwining spirits. "You are a sneak!" Her words sundered their tranquil sphere, and her laugh enraptured him anew. So much so that he couldn't help but join in. Syr furrowed his brow and held his mouth agape in feigned incredulity, though the humor was clear in his eyes. His arms never left her form as he righted them both. The parting of their worlds was inevitable, and it was all he could do to convince himself otherwise. For now he sought refuge from the notion in her arms, where time always seemed to stand still. Eyes alight, he beamed back at her. "Now that's all a matter of perspective!" He exclaimed, "from where I was standing the whole thing was entirely expected!" He paused for a moment, tearing his eyes from her. "Speaking of perspective..." he trailed off. Glimmering harlequin eyes drifted gently across the sea of people. Only the height and majesty of the castle stood out from the endless, shifting forms. He pulled her a little closer, excitement burning luminescent spots in his eyes where the enchantment was beginning to fade. "I came here to see Renovatio, and so far all I've seen are a bunch of drunk people dancing, and you." He turned his eyes to the great dome atop the castle. "How about we get a better view?" Giddiness was welling up in him, threatening to turn him inside out. It was then that he became aware of the warmth washing across his cheeks. Some embarrassment subsided when he noticed that she had been blushing as well. It was more than attraction though, now it was the heat of excitement. From their perch on high, they would be able to see miles of this beautiful country. For perhaps the only time in both of their lives, they would experience the world the same.
  6. Phew! Sorry for disappearing there, I just finished school so I'll catch up and post in the next few days!
  7. Anon

    Dancing on Moonbeams!

    Music bound the pair as they gamboled formlessly through the field of revelers. His smile only widened as Esme lead him into the thick of the crowd. Chuckles escaped him occasionally as she seemed to use him as a plow to carve their way through the host. Most of his life was spent avoiding people, so the significance of his stature had been lost on him. Among so many others, however, he became almost painfully aware of just how much he stuck out when he wasn't trying to stay hidden. No matter. Esme twirled and pranced around him playfully before settling one hand on his shoulder. Syr clasped her other hand firmly in his, now resolved to make his last few hours in this world last lifetimes. Syr participated in the most standard court dance he could dream up for some time. It had been some time since he had danced in such a formal setting, and the sheer number of eyes set his teeth on edge. The monotony of the dance droned in his mind as his eyes darted from group to group "One, two, three, four... one, two, three, four" he moved from a place of studious memorization, rather than passion, "step, back, step, turn... step, back, step, turn." A light tugging on his shoulder snapped his attention back to the petite form clutching his, and he was suddenly amazed that he had ever lost focus on her. She suffered through the monotony, whether she was aware of his mild paranoia or not. Still, her smile was warm, and her hands were warmer. For the first time since they started dancing, Syr noticed his partner on her toes. The light tugging he had felt was her dropping to her heels momentarily to help alleviate some of the pressure. Guilt like a spear pierced his stomach, yet another feeling he had a tumultuous relationship with. Harlequin hues peered into deeper forest, searching for something, anything to reassure him. Hardly a moment had passed before he found it. Esme was there with him, for him, and was undeserving of such a macabre display. "Besides entertaining everyone..." The question was quite unexpected, but Syr had become accustomed to her perplexing brand of ubiquitous conversation. "Well, I came here to practice more than anything else. I'm a..." his voice trailed off, and a deeper darkness flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before returning to his more jovial demeanor. "I'm a traveler" he continued, "I pride myself on having seen much of Valucre, and I couldn't bear to miss the opening of Renovatio. Nor could I bear to miss out on all the new and exotic drinks people would order; I also pride myself on having the most extensive drink menu of any bartender in Valucre." He winked playfully and returned his attention to the dance. The Hooded Figure's eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment, as the warm breeze sent his horns flickering in and out of view. He maintained his hold on Esme's hand, and gently took the other from his shoulder. Stepping back until they were at arms reach, hands clasped between them, there was only one dance Syr could think of. Only one held the spirit of freedom he felt here; the freedom he felt with her. He pulled her to him quickly, spinning one arm over her head as she approached. Their bodies met, her back lightly brushing his chest, arms folded across her stomach, hands held at her waist. "Trust me" he mused playfully, "and don't blink." Music, patrons, politicians, merchants, it all melted around him. As he began the Valladeren, the sounds became those of the forest, and the revelers became its inhabitants. The movements were unusual, but anyone who had survived seeing both the dance and Syr's fighting would note the unmistakable parallel. Stances shifted from low to high, wide to close. In one breath Esme would be in the air, twirling around Syr's body and overhead; in another, Syr would be winding above the other party-goers in tight corkscrews and sprawling bounds. The pair twisted and spun and stepped around not only themselves, but the forest of people as well. Syr and Esme drifted with the wind, fluttering and swaying in the wind like the leaf which gave the dance its name. As the dance came to an end, so too, it seemed, did its structure. The last few steps were unpredictable and rather difficult for anyone who hadn't experienced it before. Somehow, he wasn't worried about her ability to keep up. He spun her around his body elegantly before tossing her in the air. He caught her at roughly chest level and lowered her to the ground, all the while maintaining his spin like a leaf spiraling to the earth. @Aleksei
  8. Anon

    A Wyld World

    The Hooded Figure sat, hunched, in his meager room above what could only, optimistically, be called an inn. Crimson stained bandages lay in a mound at his feet, soaking the wooden floor beneath. With solemn strides, he quickly found himself in the small washroom. A large wooden basin dominated the square, stone room. Wooden billows, half rotted and stained from years of water damage sat on the ground beside the tub, pointed at a smoldering bed of coals. Syr couldn't help but be somewhat impressed that he had the option of hot water all the way out here. Pumping the bellows a few times, he lowered himself gingerly into the lightly steaming bath. Salted water penetrated his weeping lacerations, forcing the Hooded Figure to grit his teeth against the sting. Unpleasant as it was, he had learned long ago that the cleaner the wounds, the faster they healed. After almost an hour of washing his heavily tattooed body, Syr lifted himself out of the now sanguine water, his wounds open but no longer bleeding. Head hanging low, the meliae walked back to the humble reed cot in the corner of the room. The Hooded Figure reached into his pack and retrieved several more rolls of bandages and began reapplying them, feeling his wounds slowly close as he did so. Before long the room was vacant,the bloodied footprints leading to the washroom only evidence that anything alive had been there. Nighttime surrounded him like a third layer, smooth and dark as his cloak. It had been some time since the celebration in Renovatio, and Syr had not yet finished mourning his departure from that world. The trip back, one of the few purposeful trips he had taken, was akin to attending his own funeral. Contracts and missions had occupied his mind and his time in the weeks following, seeking to drown his longing in blood and coin. There was nothing left for him here, however. Already, he had relieved every scared farmer and scorned lover of their coin, and every hungry beast and adulterous cretin of their lives. Loose gravel crunched beneath morose footsteps as Syr traversed the single path through the nameless village he had patronized for respite. With the light of the tavern fading to darkness behind him, faint whispers wafted from the wood beside the path. Filled with curiosity and nothing else, the Hooded Figure approached the sound as an owl approaches a rodent. "...the Marsh must not be allowed to overtake the village..." Two figures cloaked in shadow conspired together among the trees. Clouds drifted overhead, and the emerging moonlight illuminated the pair. Syr was thankful for the light, his seeing in the dark would have required that he make himself easier to spot. The pair seemed too different in stance and demeanor to be acquaintances. The larger of the two, a woman as far as he could tell, was clad in armor far too ornate for a normal traveler. A glittering, gold and ivory scabbard hung at her waist. Clutched beneath her opposite arm was a helmet with the visage of a roaring lion. The other, a more lithe, cloaked figure, had no discernible features aside from a strained, raspy voice which seemed to echo within its own mouth. "...coin and glory await you , you need only..." Syr didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence, leaping into the branches above with a practiced efficiency. He moved silently from branch to branch until he was directly above the woman. Looking down, he could see her more clearly now. Burning orange hair cascaded down over gold and ivory plated shoulders in several braids. Her face was delicate, but with the stubborn purpose of an initiated soldier. Syr couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at what he was about to do. Another drop of water in an ocean. Sensing malicious intent, the soldier looked up into the canopy. Syr vacated one of his sheathes and dropped down between the knight and the cloaked figure. She did her best to follow his descent with her head, but was just a breath too slow. As her head came level, his dagger found purchase beneath her chin. Inky black tendrils burst through the burning river of her hair, writhing in the air above her head before retreating back into her skull. Syr pulled his dagger free and grabbed a piece of cloth from beneath her gorget, allowing it to tear off as she fell backwards. He proceeded to wipe the black blade clean with the cloth before dropping it and sheathing the dagger. "Now then" he turned to the figure, "what's that about gold and glory." Glittering green-blue eyes flared red with rage, and the figure dropped its cloak to the ground. It was then that Syr saw that the creature was far shorter than he, but had been hovering almost two feet off the ground. Syr eyed the creature inquisitively. It was humanoid, with features resembling a man, but too soft, too brittle. Most telling, however, was the pair of lightly glittering wings protruding from the figure's back. "You dare deny me my champion!?" The voice boomed, sending a gust of wind billowing against Syr, who stood fast against the onslaught. "I'm offering you a better one" he retorted, unmoved. The creature glided toward him, tilted forward slightly. "And you would offer me yourself cretin? You, who are so bathed in greed and yearning." Syr didn't even try to hide his scowl. Insults he was used to, being read so plainly he was not. "I offer you whatever you need if you can keep your promise." Syr leaned in to meet the creature, dropping the illusion over his eyes. Burning green eyes met burning red, and the creature was taken aback. "You are -" It stopped, eyes returning to green-blue, "you'll do just fine." Syr gave the creature a thin-lipped smile, "and what exac-" He was cut off sharply by an ethereal woosh behind him as a portal opened. "Goodbye... ashblood" the creature mused. Syr whipped around, rage and confusion burning in his eyes. Before he could utter a word, the creature extended one sinewy hand and a gust of wind like a battering ram struck his chest, sending him tumbling through the portal. When Syr got back to his feet, midmorning sun washed over him. Looking around, he found himself at the edge of a clearing in a different wood. He touched his forehead with two fingers, replacing the illusion around his head to hide his eyes and horns. Voices permeated through the trees, prompting Syr to don his hood. Emerging from the treeline, he could see that a small group had already gathered. In the center of the group was a man eerily similar to the one that sent him here. Approaching, he took his place among the various travelers and listened to instructions regarding strange energies and distant realms, and something about a bag. It became apparent rather quickly that he was to protect the frail looking one within this strange land. Time came for Syr to introduce himself, which he did disinterestedly. "I'm Syr, my specialties include death, reconnaissance, and appletinis." Instincts and skepticism guided him now. Something deep within him didn't at all trust being thrust through a portal, nor did it trust this group of strangers. He could only hope that this was all real, and that his body wasn't just lying somewhere while his mind wandered. "Ashblood" the word echoed in his mind. There should have been no way for that... thing... to figure out what he really was. Syr quickly realized that he had no idea what he was getting himself into.
  9. Anon

    Wyld World OOC

    Hey sorry I meant to post today but school got in the way. I have time to post tomorrow so expect one in the evening. Sorry about that!
  10. Anon

    Dancing on Moonbeams!

    Everything she was continued to hold him, binding him to her form. It was quite refreshing, feeling free. Here, there were no assumptions or expectations. Syr had begun on this journey with this beautiful stranger, and was determined to see it through. He looked at her more carefully now, free from the clamor of customers. A lifetime in his world forced his eyes to all of her softest, most vulnerable points, as was custom when he was forced into such close proximity to another person. Even so, his eyes darted quickly to hers every odd breath, and he realized that he hadn't been forced into close proximity; he chose it. Once he understood where he was, and more importantly why he was, the Hooded Figure found himself unable to tear his gaze away from hers. Esme traced every feature she could see with an inquisitive eye. Syr shifted slightly under her gaze, almost painfully aware that she could most likely see right through him. Once more, she made him feel just a twinge unsure of himself. Syr was by no means an unattractive man, but the kind of people that existed in Esme's world were far better looking than himself. His features were sharp and rugged, but with a smooth delicacy that suggested some inhuman influence. It was specifically this influence, he suspected, that kept him from looking like a moving sculpture and more like a living being. He opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by the most delicate hand he had ever seen. A storm brewed in Syr's stomach. He had promised this woman anything in exchange for... well he wasn't really sure what he had bartered for. Waves of excitement washed over Syr at the prospect of dancing. It had been ages since he had danced, and even longer since he had done it for fun. He stood immediately, beaming. He stepped behind the bar once more and unbuckled a belt underneath his vest, just above the one holding his pants up. Bending down for a moment, he removed the two daggers from the belt and affixed them to the sides of his calves. Once he had finished rolling his pant legs back down he emerged from behind the bar for the final time, and took his place before her, the leather sheathes rubbing against his bare skin for the first time in longer than he cared to admit. "The honor would be mine" he said, doing his best worst imitation of a pompous nobleman. Syr outstretched his hand to Esme, and took in her entirety for the first time. She was a bit smaller than he had expected, her eyes at about mid chest. Even with his lithe form, she could almost hide her entire body behind his. Syr turned to face the crowd, maintaining a gentle grasp of her hand, and allowed his guide to lead the way. @Aleksei
  11. Anon

    Wyld World OOC

    Sounds good to me! Ill probably post either today or tomorrow.
  12. Anon

    Dancing on Moonbeams!

    Fear guided the Hooded Figure now. Far from the unfeeling assassin one would picture, Syr's acute sensitivity to his own emotions had saved him more than once. This time, however, he knew there was nothing he could do. When one explores the many ways to die, this circumstance never seems to come up. As Syr was quickly realizing, this may be one of the more cruel ends one can endure. He was not long for her world. Each shift in her form killed him more. Each of her coltish gestures drew a breath he would never get back. Soon those breaths would be the only things left to prove that he was here at all. Well, if that was the case then he had nothing to lose. Syr had been close to dying more times than his pride would allow him to admit, and each time he hadn't been scared enough to let go and rest. There was no fight this time. Esme leaned in to meet his whisper, and lightning jolted down Syr's spine. His smile only grew. She turned to the crowd and back again in a whirl of fabric and delicate curls. The ease of her joviality struck him once more. Another breath gone. He feigned offense when she mentioned that a guide would come with a price. "Price!? I never!" He blinked rapidly, pressing a hand to his chest, "I've been giving these drinks away for free, and now you're telling me that I have to pay?!" The smile returned to his face and he whirled around on his heels. Reaching high above his liquor shelf, Syr pulled down a segmented metal door. He disappeared behind the bar for another moment, the sound of closing cabinets and clicking locks suggested that he had finished tending bar for the moment. When he returned, he leaned in again. He had been captured. He had let himself be captured. With a gentle wave of his fingers across his face, his radiant eyes returned and his hair reverted to its normal length. The rounded tips of his small horns peaked through as his hair as it blew in the breeze. "For that guide that good, I'd pay just about anything." He walked around the counter and took a seat next to her, beaming. "Name your price." @Aleksei
  13. Anon

    Two Realms As One

    Hey! Yeah I'd still be more than happy to get rolling with this thread!
  14. Anon

    Dancing on Moonbeams!

    Nothing moved. Time itself dared not distract the fleeting moments between when Esme had picked up the glass and when it had touched her lips. Anxiety writhed beneath Syr's decorated skin. In all of his years of killing and serving drinks, Syr had only been this nervous once before. There were no magitech-augmented lions or lava falls this time, but the thought brought little comfort. It was times like this when the Hooded Figure loathed being without his hood. Then she smiled. Syr couldn't recall anything so luminous in all of Valucre or beyond. She laughed and the world quieted to listen. Delicate and free, the sound gamboled around his spirit, refusing to be lost in the cacophony of the festival. Words escaped him. His greatest tools, his most formidable weapons, nowhere to be found. In their place was feeling. Warmth radiated toward him, within him, surrounding him. He suddenly felt at once both tremendous and tremendously little by comparison. This small, fragile, sublime woman had toppled him where no other creature could. Esme began clapping for him suddenly, but it was not jarring as clapping tended to be. Everything she did seemed so gentle, so comforting, he wondered how the two could ever exist in the same world. His most honest answer was that they couldn't. One hand shot up to his forehead impulsively, middle finger pressing firmly between his nervously furrowed brow. In an instant the fulgor left his eyes, leaving dim forest hues to greet the world. Additionally, his hair seemed to lengthen ever so slightly, as to more completely cover his small, light brown horns. Syr smiled gingerly as he watched her collect her things. It only widened when she introduced herself, and expressed her desire to stay at the bar for the time being. The thought, immaculate though it might have been, was fleeting. Commotion elsewhere had drawn a fair crowd away from the immediate area. Based on the climate of the partygoers, it was either something spectacular or something morbid. Either way, Syr was getting more than enough of the spectacular before him that he couldn't be bothered with the morbid. Even so, he had forgotten his charge there for a breath too long, and a customers had begun vigorously waving his empty glass in the air. Syr took the few steps toward the man and seized the glass, placing it beneith the counter. Grabbing several bottles from the shelves behind him, Syr began his flourish again. This time, he knew she was watching. Esme continued to hold Syr's undivided attention, even if she couldn't tell. So much so that he almost spilled a little when she compared him to a wizard. Without taking his eyes off her he plunked the drink onto the counter and slid it to its customer. "Oh, I'm no more a wizard than you are a fish" he chuckled lightly. Leaning in closer he lowered his voice, "I do have a few tricks, but it'll take more than that to get them out of me." Once again his smile returned, this time with a newfound recognition of the woman before him. He was sure about her now. Her manner, her cadence, her posture. Everything about this marvelous woman pointed to honesty. Given the world Syr lived in, it became increasingly more apparent why he was so drawn to her. Few people in his line of work were honest. Of those few, even fewer survived long. In her world, he imagined it was much the same. And as she inquired about his freedom to roam beyond the bar, he desperately ached to be a part of her world, like one aches for air beneath the sea. Sighing gently, he took care to move all of her items behind the bar and secure them in a locked cabinet. "I can fo wherever I please here" he mused when he was once again standing. "But in my experience the bar is the best place to meet people." Slowing a bit at the end of his words, he realized that even a light protest may encourage her to find company elsewhere. "Though, it seems as though I have already met enough someones." His smile became less and less mischievous with each word. Soon, all that was left was earnest. "I suppose I would be willing to leave the bar if I had a trustworthy guide to help me navigate the ocean of aristocrats and nobility," he chimed. "Unfotrunarely, guides seem to be in short supply, and I have no bearing of my own in such circumstances." @Aleksei
  15. Anon

    Dancing on Moonbeams!

    @Aleksei Curious thing, a spirit. Often elusive and uneasy in the presence of those it deems greater or more predatory. More often domineering and confident in the presence of those weaker. Rarest and most beautifully of all: tender in the presence of those kindred. Syr's spirit was energetic at best, tumultuous at worst. At times both uneasy and domineering; at times neither. Now he felt a new flux in his soul. An unfamiliar - but not altogether unpleasant -lilt taking his spirit. "Excuse me, sir" The sound tore him from his performance, though it wouldn't seem so to onlookers. He was used to people shouting their orders, but no voice quite struck him like hers. There was a kindess not commonly found, nor commonly advised. Syr quickly ended his flourish and served what drinks he had in progress. "Could I bother you for just a cup of water?" Curiousity only continued to grow as Syr processed the strange request. He hadn't looked to the source of the voice prior, preoccupied as he was with customers on the other end of the counter. Immediately he could see what made his soul sing; she was gorgeous. With hair green as the forest and eyes like glittering gems, he found himself quickly perplexed and enamored with the woman before him. The whole scene was too intriguing, so he decided not to comment on her commandeering a large section of the counter. Since he was here as a volunteer, Syr wasn't too worried about seating. There were no paying customers to lose anyway. Esme was quite a bit smaller than himself, and much paler by comparison, flushed as she might be from dancing. During his occasional glances into the crowd, he could have sworn he caught the briefest glimpse of her. She looked different somehow, sitting in front of him. Here, now, she seemed more - tangible. Dispelling the thought, he considered her and her order more carefully. Her cadence had been cautious, and her order universal. It didn't take the until-very-recently-Hooded Figure too long to figure out that she had no idea what to order. It was his fault for not including a menu, but this whole endeavor was so last minute that he barely remembered to pack his suit. Syr darted around behind the bar for a few brief moments, pouring liquids of various colors and consistencies into a cup and shaking. He reached below the counter and produced a piece of ovate stemware, like a slightly more robust wine glass. Luminous orange liquid filled the glass three quarters of the way up, and was garnished with a slice of what could only be described as a very unhappy cross between a melon and a peach. "Here" he prompted, sliding the drink closer to his guest. "It's a specialty of mine, I call it 'The Pheonix', it should put some pep back in your step." He smiled as only he could, at once both mischievous and earnest. "And its Syr, like cooking steak, but I get that a lot." He pointed to a bare spot on his lapel where his nametag should have been. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly as he realized that she hadn't read his name wrong and was, in fact, just being polite. "I see extravagance wears you well" he chided, clearing his throat. "Must be careful not to drown in all of this," he motioned to the various pins and baubles occupying more than his width on the counter. "I can hold these back here if you'd like, unless you'd planned on going swimming again." He smiled warmly as he eagerly awaited the look on her face when she tried the Pheonix.
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