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Artificer

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Artificer last won the day on December 24 2018

Artificer had the most liked content!

About Artificer

  • Rank
    Aficionado
  • Birthday April 15

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Some branch in time
  • Interests
    Hey! I'm a Computer Science / Math Double Major @ UC Berkeley, and am interested in ML, algebra, music, and more. With regards to roleplay, I'm into anything as long as its a kick-ass adventure with lots of action and lots of story. I come with the seasons, but I think Valucre is a place where I'm going to settle and make a name for myself with regards to writing. Interweaving a net to trap your characters in some convoluted plot is just one of my specialties; however, I'm still trying to improve my narrative ability! Definitely interested in your feedback, and again, hope to see you on the threads ~!
  • Occupation
    Full-time Student

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  1. Hey, I'd be willing to hop back on Frostbitten if you want.

  2. More midterms, then finals, then job applications -- oh my. 

    1. Artificer

      Artificer

      I shall be preoccupied until further notice. Hope I survive it all!

       

    2. vielle

      vielle

      good luck with things; hopefully you come back soonest! ?

    3. Witch

      Witch

      Good luck!

  3. ADIRA RUETA ELAEZAR His grotesque maw snarled in her face, foul saliva dripping out between rows of teeth. Blue eyes lit with a look like brimstone flame — ferocious, laughing, hungry. Scene by scene, claw by claw, she was caged in a maelstrom of her own recollection. The whipped winds of winter's wrath lashed out on her bare skin as the icy burn mingled with insidious heat. She would have frozen to death had it been not for that beast, but perhaps that would have been better. Dead. Without that image obscuring her mind's eye. It drew on and on, and what was only a minute seemed like hours. It was a cacophony of noises, but a single note chimed in. It was different, unlike the harsh timbre of the memory. It was soft. It was warm. A whisper. A voice. "He's not coming to save you," the wolf spoke. — But she could have sworn she had heard him. "He's not coming to save you," the wolf spoke louder. — But she wasn't listening. Cracks formed, until a single word shattered it all. "Adira!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * Her back stung with soap as careful hands cleaned the scrapes and scratches she had reopened just moments earlier. Adira dare not turn around. She knew who was behind her, and to be quite frank, she was surprised. All of the people she knew — the important ones at least — never came back... especially the ones that saved her. Memories flowed to the demon's taunts earlier, with images of her father, and then of that nameless man. Then there was Garnet. No one came back — alive at least. For their deaths, she was responsible. She thought she had been the cause of Garnet's death too. A man who offered his sword to her. A man who offered to help her. A man who saved her. A man who came back. The fresh pain of soap was welcome. It brought clarity to her hazed mind — let her know that there was someone else there. Again, she dare not turn around, not wanting the moment to end. Her thrice-painted eyes looked down to the sudsy water. There was a woman looking back at her — tan skin, long brown hair let down to her breasts, and two gems staring right back at her. She barely recognized herself. The woman in the reflection looked tired, weary, and just different. Had one year really changed her? She used to be a woman of resolve and wit. Why was she so weak now? So fragile? This person was not her. It was not who she wanted to be. A distorted head rose over her shoulder as a wet towel began scrubbing the collar of her neck. The ripples made it hard to make out who it was, but she saw those vivid green jewels which peered out. They looked wistful in the cavern grove, fierce when he fought in ice and snow, and so very brave when he sundered the two demons. — But now they were just remorseful. The words he spoke next were soft, and pained, and Adira did not understand the words. How could she hate him? He saved her. He came back. Raising her hand to her shoulder, she let her fingers brush over his, and grabbed his hand, and said nothing. Silence passed Then the words came out soft, muttered, and true: "I could never hate you Garnet..." Because you came back. Because you saved me. "— Because I love you." @The Hummingbird
  4. Sorry for not posting this sooner, but to everyone I'm roleplaying with atm, I will be taking a short hiatus for exams this week and next Monday!

    1. supernal

      supernal

      Good luck! 

    2. Malintzin

      Malintzin

      Good luck, P-dizzle!

    3. vielle

      vielle

      thanks for letting us know; knock them outta the park! ?

  5. ADIRA RUETA ELAEZAR The large, stone tub was ornate, and again, beyond anything she could have dreamed of having back in her stead at Raven’s Landing. To say that the High Lord’s guest room was opulent would be an understatement. Everything about the man’s abode was so sumptuous, that a king would not be fit to lie in repose here in the halls. Stepping into the water, she cared not for the heat. As she sat down, she barely noted their host’s careful consideration of his guests’ accommodations. It was milder than the hot springs she was at earlier, yet the temperature was at the least of her concerns. It might have well been boiling water for all she cared. It was strange. The water was warm, fragrant with gamut of herbs, petals, needles, and salts. To be fair, it would have been enjoyed by anyone else. Had it been a few days earlier, it might have been enjoyed by her. – But she did not enter the bath tub to enjoy a luxurious soak. There was a small, delicate looking sponge on the bath’s rim which Adira took as soon as she saw it. Grabbing the scrubbing salts and soap from a nearby basket, she began cleaning her skin with the two. It had been roughly a day since she last bathed, but she smelled more foul than she ever had in the rest of her life. Her skin was caked with blood, sweat, and grime smeared all over. She smelled like a wet dog. She smelled like a wolf. Taking more soap, she began scrubbing herself more vigorously, desperate to remove the animal’s stench from her skin, but no matter how much she sponged her flesh – no matter how much perfume was in those waters –, she could not get rid of that foul smell. Her face contorted with desperate anguish. She could not get rid of his scent, no matter how hard she tried. In clung to her nostrils in thick, and the more she thought about it, the more powerful the memory of the odor became. Thoughts dipped into mad frenzy as she scoured her skin with the sponge, grabbing a handful of rough crystals of bath salt, before scraping their fine edges against her skin. Gently applied, the salts were not. Breaths became more frantic as she tried cleaning herself of the musk – of the taint. It wouldn’t come off… why wouldn’t it come off?! Her hands, her hair, her skin – it all smelled like him. Blood dripped down her back as she scratched her skin raw with stinging soap. The wet bandages around her finger stumps grew rose red as she scrubbed more and more. Why won’t it come off. Why won’t it come off… Get off… get off, get off! The world was spinning. Hands grabbed the sides of the tub. She was hyperventilating. It was all coming back to her, clear as crystal. Dropping the sponge in the water, she curled inwards, grabbing her knees with trembling hands as she rolled back against the tub’s rim. Adira wouldn’t see the entrance of the bathroom for she was facing away. She wouldn’t hear nor see Garnet for he was as silent as an owl. He would see and hear her, but she would not see him. Instead, the tears flowed once more, unbounded, mind trapped in the memory of that horrific encounter. In reality, she didn't smell of wet dog, nor of wolf – just blood, saltwater, and soap. @The Hummingbird
  6. WHITE WOLVES – γ.II, γ.IV, γ.V He was no coward. This – this is what he was going to prove to his brother. Leaping through the tongues of flame, his frost-slicked coat repelled the heat, and he brought his feet in close so that they would not touch down to the strange gel that the rifleman had ignited. True – he, his brother, and the two other wolves who followed behind were disobeying the orders of their superior, but the thought of being dismissed by his own kin as craven was not admissible. They were wolves, and they were proud. If his brother perished as a lone assailant, it would dishonor all siblings, and that was something that the wolf darting through would not allow. Really – why attack in single units? The wolves covered each other’s openings so that no wolf would have an opening to be taken advantage of. This is why they lived in a pack, was it not? A gush of air rippled through his fur as he watched his brother shoot up into the air, the mage ready to jump with sword drawn. A brief glance to the two other wolves who crossed the fire was all that was needed to coordinate the next attack. The first wolf – brother to the one in the air – leaped forward, aiming to intercept the mage mid-flight before he slashed his vulnerable sibling. Claws extended, teeth were open, and eyes never left that tuft of brown hair who so haughtily taunted them. The second wolf zigzagged towards the rifleman as the third veered to the side, readying herself to strike where the mage lands. Once these three were dealt with, the rest of the party would fall easily – that is, excluding the knight. @HollowCipher @Fierach @Thotification @danzilla3
  7. WHITE WOLF – γ.III As the white wolf closed in on his quarry, sharp eyes caught a glint in the flickering flames. To the side, there was the mage he was eyeing earlier, but instead of fear or resolve, there was a glint of maniacal insanity burning in his eyes. Was that a smile? A finger pointed towards the location, but he was too slow to react to the mage’s indication – he had been too focused on the rifleman. There was a pulse beneath his feet as the ground quickly bubbled, snow exploding as a huge burst of air erupted from the single point the boy had pointed to. The burst sent the lupine soaring upward into an unintentional jump, leaving him completely exposed in the air. He saw the zephyr poised to leap, and knew that his fate was sealed – that is, until he heard the flames part ways, three sets of legs sprinting through the line of fire. Eyes quickly darted to the source of the noise before quickly returning to the incoming mage. Twisting his body in the air, he faced the mage head on. It was his turn to smile. His kin – for once – had actually listened to him. @HollowCipher
  8. WHITE WOLF – γ.III The rifleman aimed his rifle, but not towards the wolf. It was a curious gesture – one which the white wolf that was fast approaching the rear-flanks dismissed as human infirmity; however, when the shot thundered and hit the snow, a foul, stench exploded as smoke hissed down a line. Isaac did not miss his mark. A wall of fire erupted from the drifts directly in front of the wolf. The beast was sprinting so fast, that it had no time to slow its approach to the growing conflagration. Rough skin sizzled as he stepped into the flames. The thick, viscous liquid which smelled of sulfur mixed with dragon’s breath stuck to his paws and fur near his feet, leaving him running with burning stride as he retreated backwards and away from the men. Circling around, he ran through the snow in an effort to remove the substance from his feet, but to no avail. In anger, he ran around the drawn line of fire, and focused all attention onto the rifleman who concocted the devious trap. @Fierach @Thotification @HollowCipher
  9. ADIRA RUETA ELAEZAR The meal was lavish in more ways than one, and it might have been the best food she had ever eaten, but it was hard for her to appreciate its divine taste given all that had just happened. She wanted to enjoy it, but she couldn’t. She gave a fake smile and feigned pleasure, but inside she was trying hard to keep those thoughts which threatened to consume her at bay. The woman knew that if she stopped chewing for even a moment – stopped focusing on something that wasn’t Garnet, the banquet hall, or the literal god in the room – that those thoughts which she didn’t want would come creeping back, dragging her back to that dark hour with its claws and icy tendrils. Yes – yes, she knew. She knew that he had tried his best, and the curse which she had hired him to help her rid was gone. She knew that the godless monster in that cage was erased – the voice inside her head vanquished –, and most of all, the beast – her tormenter – was dead. Yet still, at the man’s words, she put down her fork, and stared at the plate in front of her. Here she was, to cure herself of a curse, only to gain a new one in its stead. The curved claws on her sides – the foul tongue on her skin… it was all so freshly cut into her memory, and was deep to the bone. A shackle could be broken with ease, but a memory is something that would be with her forever. She turned away from Garnet, and spoke faintly above a whisper. “No,” she said flatly. “But you came back for me, and saved me in the end, and for that, I thank you.” With that, she stood up, and proceeded to walk towards the throne of Ryzerus, gave a brief bow, and walked to the rooms. She needed some time for herself. @The Hummingbird
  10. THE WEREWOLF WITH GREEN EYES The lycanthrope knew that this day would eventually come – the day that he returned. It was not oft that men were forgotten so soon as they were tossed away, but it seemed that few men like himself were an exception. He had been with the scouting pack that night, as he had accompanied them without question for nights on end. The orders which compelled him had brought him here. He strode forward, eyeing the dwarf’s light at the head of the party, fists clenched so tight that his claws drew beads of blood from his palms. ‘Wait, mutt,’ the beta wolf ordered, freezing the lycan in his spot. He dare not disobey even though he knew he could slaughter that white wolf in an instant. He would have his chance. Cregsgy wasn't going to get away from this. Not this time.
  11. ARON CREGGAN STONEHEART Wiping the blood clean off his axe, he felt a shiver down his spine as he saw his own, scarred reflection in its silvered blade. Something didn’t feel right. Something about the air, and how tense it was despite thrashing wildly against them. It was a thought on the fringe of being thought, and yet was not birthed to full cognizance. He was forgetting something. Something important – and it made him freeze. A quick pitter-patter of snow was all the warning he got. He had failed to listen to his own advice. A great, white wolf flew through the air, jaws open, head twisted, teeth aiming straight at the stout dwarf’s neck. Caught off guard, his axe barely rose to the oncoming enemy. He wouldn’t be able to block it.
  12. MARCEL “SNIPE” LANCASTER The night was beginning to become more… lively. He could see that wolf that had charged at the dwarf, and instinctively held his arm out backwards towards Varda, as if to shield her from whatever thread was coming from the front. “Stay here with the horse,” he said as he hopped off and withdrew both sabers from his sides – the ice caking the hilts cracking as he unsheathed the frosted blades from their confines. It had been far too long since he had had an honest fight – a battle where he was not encumbered by lupine form. It was almost refreshing, to say the least, that the cocktail the man had procured had kept him as a human for as long as it did. A nervous pang came again. When will its effects end, he thought briefly. “Knox!” he yelled out. “Arrow’s notched, bow’s drawn Marcel! Can you see them in the snow?!” the man responded. “It's hard – it's a complete whiteout!” Biting his tongue, the watch was bitter. As a man, he could see nothing in the storm, but yet he half-expected to be able to discern some shape nonetheless. He had become far too reliant on fighting as a monster, he concluded. “I think I see something approaching from the side,” Marcel said, knowing all too well it was a lie. “A few wolves circling around, I think, going to the right and back.” Lancaster grit his teeth. He couldn’t show weakness, not to Knox. He was much more than the curse which bound him, and thus hoped against hope that he was right. Marcel, Knox, and Samuel – and Varda – would hold mid-guard. It would be up to those in the front to keep eyes on those approaching head on, and those in the rear to watch their backs for a flank.
  13. WHITE WOLF – γ.III ‘I will not wait,’ the first muttered lowly. ‘You disobey,’ the second replied. ‘And you do not? They killed our siblings, and yet you wait for them to kill more?! Look to the front – our brother has leaped into action. We may be lesser wolves, but we are proud wolves nonetheless. I see our kin killed, then I too shall go in to kill their killers. Does your blood not boil for them?’ ‘It does, but I will not disobey. I will have my chance at that man’s neck when the rest arrive. Hark – the beta calls the rest of the pack. If we wait, then we will have revenge.’ ‘Unless I taste that man’s blood on my own teeth, it will be no revenge for me. Stay back if you wish, coward. You are no brother of mine, nor are you a brother to the dead,’ he snarled, before dashing forward onto the rear of the party. What was a man’s strength to that of a wolf’s? Surely, it was inferior. Damn the mage who taunted them, and damn the woman and rifleman behind. They would not be the ones to fell him today. The gunman and the mage would be an issue, so he eyed those two carefully. What harm would a mere woman do anyways when compared to men who did not even have to move to attack? It was sloth at its finest – men’s weapons of warfare which required no honor. The gun was a coward’s weapon, and so too was the spoken spell. Men who used rifles fought battles of entrenchment – where men hid from each other in pits as they prayed for a target to spring out into the open. No nobler were they then the magicians who lazily spun together magic to their whim. Where was the honor in teeth gnashing against blade, or claws against shield? The wolf would kill the arrogant mage first, and then the rifleman would come next. He would appear as a shadow quickly darting into the border of lantern-light, ready to dodge to the side at a moment’s notice. The glimmer of the gun-barrel made him repulsed. How many wolves had fallen to the guns of the Corvinites who had taken over The South?
  14. WHITE WOLF – β.I As the gelid gales brought white winds in streams, so too did they carry messages from afar. Of course, no human would be able to understand the barks and howls as anything intelligible – they would merely assume that such communication was base and feral. It was this gross underestimation that allowed the pack to organize and kill swiftly. ‘Brown-Haired Boy – Rearguard – Mage. He sees us. Instructions?’ Kill the boy, is what the beta would have said on any other occasion, but he held his tongue. Both the scent of blood and the putrescent odor of spilled guts still emanated from the center of that group, serving as a stark reminder of the initial slaughter. He had sent five wolves to kill the man who seemed to be the strongest, but now they were five less strong. He would have to send for more. ‘Keep watch of rear. Do not attack – observe and ready – many will not be able to see through the snowstorm, so keep watch on those who seem keen. Will send for more.’ With that, he signaled to two more in their scouting party to move to support the back. ‘Two are circling back to join you’ ‘I want to kill this man.’ ‘Wait. Do not disobey.’ A snarl of indignation was the only reply back, but the wolf knew that the other would not disobey. The beta was second in position to the leader of this warpack. To anger him would be to anger the one who stood above them all, and no one dared question that monster’s authority. The kin of lower rank may weep over the loss of five, but in reality, it was not a loss. Those who had died had served their purpose valiantly, and without question. They knew that the pack was above all other reason. They knew – as all wolves knew – that to sacrifice oneself for the good of their brethren was among the highest honors a wolf could bare. That is not to say that their murderers would go unpunished. Now, it would now be the responsibility of the entire pack to slay their slayers. With that, he called upon the rest of the pack that lay restless in Cobran, and within moments, the night exploded into a chorus of howls.
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