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Thaiis last won the day on December 3 2013

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About Thaiis

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  • Birthday 04/04/1987

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  1. "A necessary precaution. But my secrets are never for the faint of heart, should I speak from my 'other perspective' one might say I've lived more lives than that have been felled here. You've caught a glimpse of my 'Other,' but now is not the time to discuss such things." Statia wanted so badly to pry into the brain of her new friend, to get a feel for how she viewed DuVeau and her maddening cycle of taking the lives of the willing to prolong her own. Though willing was often a word used loosely when it came to immortality. People would often sacrifice those closest to them just to see the very souls they pushed into the Reaper. It was a difficult concept to understand. Like building a castle taller by sacrificing the foundation. But the 'Other' had little worry about who came to her to let her live through them. All she knew was that Statia was both the most perfect and imperfect host she could have. Were it not for the thought that this very task might undo her, DuVeau would unwind the girl herself. Unaware just how old the woman next to her, she merely regarded her with a final inclination of their head as they took on a somber silence for a short while. Their travels led them further into the muck and grime. And the stench; dear Lord the stench was something she could do without. Even through the veil of a scarf, she could all but taste the decaying flesh on her tongue, and it nearly forced a retch. She held her stomach, both internally and externally, but it was unneeded as her body slowly acclimated to it. She only dreaded how awful her robes would smell for the coming weeks. "On your toes." The warning was quick, as the necromancer was in their sights, just as they were in his. Or she figured it was a he. With little worry about his genital arrangement, she tossed her jeweled staff to the other hand and took on a defensive stance. Crouched just slightly, the necromancer sailed into the sky, and she clicked her teeth in annoyance. Already the flames began to rain, forcing her into evasive action earlier than she would have liked. Part of her was ashamed to be an illusionist, and so easily spotted, but her sense had been addled by the putrid stench of bile and death. She would need to adapt. Springing forward, she narrowly avoided a tongue of flame that sought to lick where she stood. Her robes nearly singed, she readjusted her position, finding a good bit of footing despite the shifting rocks beneath her feet. Already she could tell this would be an annoying fight, given their opponent used the shadows, and Luna couldn't get close. This was up to her, to an extent. "Trust me." It was a pair of words that she often used, but only genuinely meant them now. The little glimmer in her eyes spoke volumes of the plans she had in mind, but she couldn't communicate it just through a glance. Instead, she prepared herself. With a turn of her staff, the glimmering purple gem brightened the area about her in a flash before dissipating. A small, brief beacon that was out just as quick as it lit up. A second later, she was dashed with the green flame, stabbing at her form and absorbing her body. By the time the swift flame dissipated, only a smoldering lump was left behind, as well as a bit of purple cloth from her robe. There was a stillness for a moment, followed by the faintest wafting of magical energies towards the upper echelons of the room they fought in. Luna could likely tell it was illusion magic, and then a massive explosion, like fireworks in the darkness of the room. The purple cataclysm sent illumination through a large area, from her location no less, which was no a fair bit higher in their little arena. She had pulled the old bait-and-switch, masking her energies with a dummy to get in position to smoke out their target, and possibly disorient them. Now she'd likely be able to see their necromancer friend, and deal with them in kind. It was just a matter of playing to their strengths.
  2. The somber mood of the requiem was something he had gotten used to over his long life. So many lost comrades and friends, all struck down in the heat of battle, or by some unfortunate sickness. None of them were any less painful or sorrowful, making his heart hurt just from the thought of it all. But this was a different sort of pain. His beloved Queen was dead, like a mother who had been taken from a child before reaching maturity. The sense of confusion at the loss of such a woman, such a prime example of purity and leadership was worse than any inebriated state. It was as though his senses had been taken from him. With a sour look, he nearly turned to leave the second his massive form was spotted by Lucis. His friend, the Prince, or once the King now. He never imagined he would be such close friends with someone of such import. Though before he could turn his lumbering form, Lucis had closed the gap on him, now facing him and speaking fondly of his return. All of his feelings for the man, his friend and elder by a quite a number of years, all came crashing upon him like a turgid storm. With his massive arms, Rommel hugged Lucis close to his frame. The size difference was nearly comical, were it not for the despaired look on his face. The pain on his face matched the excruciating tone of his voice. "At the worst possible time, it seems, my friend. My deepest condolences." The embrace, as much as he wished to stretch it out, ended with a sigh. Letting the King walk free as he pleased. Bowing his head in thanks, and then dropping to one knee, he let his head remain down in respect and fealty. Though the Queen had only just been given a ceremony, he was not the sort to dally with things like politics and process of hierarchy. If Lucis was meant to be King, then that was that in Rommel's eyes. But his lowered state was only brief, likely giving Lucis the notion that he had more to say. "My apologies for my disappearance. Were I not to be gone for so long, I would imagine the late Queen's life would still be in tact. But I have learned that I cannot prevent the worst from happening, even if I could be everywhere I once." It was a sobering lesson, one he had taught himself in his travels. The former Knight of Humility understood he was still human, in a way. The Elixir that powered through his veins still made him a force to be reckoned with, but he still had the fault and emotions of a normal man. Another exhale passed, and he took time to wipe the falling rain from his brow, only to have it gather a second later. The same brow contorted into something more troubled than before, but it seemed to fade a second later. Something weighed on his mind, but he didn't wish for it to overshadow the event as it stood. "I wish to discuss with you, at another juncture, a possible reinstatement as Knight of Humility. If it's still available. If not, I would be remiss if I didn't beg a position in the King's Guard." He withheld his reason for returning, in favor of keeping things less about him, and more about his friend's grief. "But for now, I wish to stay and pay my respects, if that would be alright."
  3. I have come, at the darkest hour, and yet I am not ashamed of my absence. It was a thought that crossed his mind upon passing through the front gate of Versilla, and yet one that did not change upon seeing the confused faces of those who had still remained in the streets. His name passed like a fairy tale between them, like something completely forgotten and relearned with the moments. Had he been gone so long? Or was he just that easily erased from memory? Neither made him feel at home, but it could not change his conviction for what it was. He had come back to his homeland, only to find the woman he loved as much as his country had met her demise. Did he blame himself? At first, but even the Knight of Humility could only speak against himself so much. The Knight could not have forced himself to come along with her unless asked, and the Queen was far too independent to consider that. It was the one failing he could see in her, but it only made Rommel admire her further. As he approached the site of mourning, he set his axe safely to the side of a black iron gate, and did the same with his pack. There was little worry anyone would steal his weapon or his nearly depleted provisions. The latter he almost welcomed a homeless or starving vagrant to swipe them, for they would never be able to lift Sunder from its spot. His stride became smaller as he found himself not far from the procession, his once confident steps became less so, and his head, usually raised with pride, had sulked towards his shoulders. I cannot. I shouldn't come back now. It would be selfish of me. But he did not know how Lucis fared, or Dollya. He almost felt guilty for not coming sooner. Despite the rain, his senses caught sight of them from a distance, and his breath caught in his throat. The dread of being seen from this distance crept within him, and it seized the normally implacable knight in his tracks. Mere feet away from the man whom collapsed in grief he imagined, he wondered if leaving would be more disrespectful that returning out of the blue. The Giant steeled himself, taking in a short breath before inclining his head as he strode past the grieving soul and closer to the funeral procession. The mumbling of the priest became clear, even among the tumult around them. There was a thought, the briefest glimpse of one that told him to stand closer to Lucis and Dollya, but he would move to the back instead. He remained quiet, his broad head taking the assault of the rain without a single worry, as thought oblivious to its annoyance. The least he could do, if he couldn't bring himself to get closer to his friend, was to at least give his respects from a distance. As he had done for the past two years.
  4. The space between his heart and his throat shot with a dull pain, like doing his best to hold in a massive amount of water, and hardly succeeding in doing so. Each time he took a breath, it was painful, and he knew it wasn't any normal malediction or distress. This was an emotional pain that was mostly foreign to the massive knight. He shed tears for his sister, the one who raised him when his parents could not. And he shed tears for his fallen comrades in the privacy of his own quarters. But for the Queen, it was like there were no tears respectful enough to shed for her. Instead, he took to swallowing his grief and nodding to the elderly man as he went over the Queen's demise. Even though the death seemed an accident, or something close to it, Rommel still felt guilt for not being there to protect her. He had given his love and loyalty to the woman, something he didn't do without the truest form of affection in his heart. To know she was dead, or presumed dead felt like a true fault of his own. "I see." There was little hope in his voice. A keener man would see the Queen's end as not an end at all. But Rommel was not the smartest man in Orisia. In fact, despite his military training, strategic mind, and a track record of near flawless academia, it was all based around war. Even his vocational schooling was designed around war. Because war was one of the purview of his homeland, and he wished only to serve his country properly. Rommel did not see the news as optimistic, nor something he wished to pry further into, at least not with this man. Instead, he moved to his axe and pack, hoisting them up to once more place them safely on his person. With another forced smile, he bowed his head to the elder. "Thank you, good sir. It appears I have a trip to make in two days, then." The cheer for Long Live the King was met with one of his own. While it seemed disrespectful, Lucis was the only person he would choose to act in his mother's stead. As a dear friend and ally, he represented Orisia just as much as his mother. Rommel only hoped his friend had not changed, not been tainted by this loss, or something else in his absence. It was only a matter of seeing him that would inform the Knight of who his friend had become. With a final nod of thanks, he turned towards the edge of town, this one facing the Capital more closely. His stop was the stables, to purchase a horse, a strong warhorse that could hold his heavy weight. The time away had not lightened him, after all. With a horse in his care, he took the reins and gave them a whip, starting his journey to the Capital once more.
  5. Long time no see. Welcome home. :)

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Acies ab Vesania

      Acies ab Vesania

      Here and there. Been busy between school and work, but I slip in a post or two now and then.

    3. Thaiis


      Awesome!  I have Trillian now, instead of Yahoo.  If you ever want to talk.  Name is: thaiis77

      Like my YIM name!

    4. Acies ab Vesania

      Acies ab Vesania

      I'll have to add you when I get home. Doing a nightshift OT right now.

  6. It was as though she had been dreaming, and woken from a deep slumber when the words were uttered on her lips. Latin, she thought, the word foreign on her tongue and in her mind, as though attempting to recall a past childhood. Or even a distant memory from a land she had traveled. The small fishing hamlet she was born in, raised in, sacrificed in, had not taught her of this language, though it did not stop her from inhaling the near sulfuric air of the cave about them to get her bearings again. That brief dream, it felt like years, but it cleared her weary mind once more. "I've got it. Worry not." Inclining her head with a brief, small smile, she followed till she was needed. Already, before their hands could touch, the crackle of latent energy sparked and popped around her. It attuned her to the flow, though she was so desperate to hide her secrets from this woman; from everyone for that matter. But this place was suffering, and her old self, the other side of the mask, it did not have a say in this. The dark half of the mask uttered its sweet nothings, bribing and coaxing for her to give into a promise it made a long while ago. With a final exhale through her nostrils, she closed her mind, only to open it again. To not allow the parasite in her consciousness to take over, and then to let her channel her own power into Luna. When their fingertips touched once more, she jumped, a static shock so sudden and surprising she nearly felt like leaping away, but she held fast. That shock would only be brief, and only one time as far as she knew. As their minds connected, fusing into one, becoming a fleeting part of an entity of pure magic, she could feel her body submerging and not in a physical way. Like dipping into a pool of cooking oil, without breath or sight, and she trusted Luna to pull her free. The weight of the oil above her was thick, heavy with doubt and reservations. And it prevented her lips from parting, if just to utter the words. The force of it all nearly made her collapse, though they were spoken with a conviction that seemed almost unlike the Illusionist. " Et in his, qui credunt in te. Deus liberare dicuntur mala. Expurgate in communi judicio de terra. Omnipotens manus tua, quia filli sumus " Those words, so foreign and unknown were vocalized a million times in her head, an echo clearing and pushing the oil away. There was nothing to hold her back, and she felt each little tingle then. Her barriers, as emotional and mental as they may be, had dropped for long enough to connect with Luna. But she was in no rush to put them back up, instead gazing off in wonder at the echoing cries ahead of them. "It does sound like it's in pain...but it's to be expected. We should hurry." A suffering animal was not something she took too much pity on, but it was done by her hand, or Luna's. She was still uncertain just how much damage the two of them had done against such mighty creatures; big as they were. Trudging ahead, she too wondered if she should flash a cantrip or two to give them some limited sight. But that would need to come later, if just to conserve her own reserves. While Statia and her Other Self were not as aged as Luna, they were still both capable of 'running out' of magic. Her stores were finite, and she didn't wish to test their limits. "Should you need, I have a fair store of power remaining...there was no need to use so much. We could have shared a fair amount each. But if we are to come against something truly sinister, do not be afraid to 'ask' for some." The coy, nearly cruel smile was more of a bargain and a contract, something that Luna had done for her. Statia was no stranger to them, and with their new bond of trust, she wasn't ashamed to offer one or two to her friend. And luckily, she had ways of sharing that didn't involve dark magic. But that was only if push came to shove. As they came into the realm of rotting, dying flesh, her nose curled only to pull a handkerchief from her little pack and put it to her mouth. It was nearly enough to make her wretch, but she held fast, giving a deep inhale to regulate her breathing behind the scented cloth. It would serve her well, for now, allowing her to acclimate, but she would refuse to lose her lunch in this place. Whatever awaited them smelled awful, and had the darkest of auras she had felt in years. The sinister pull was the antithesis of intoxicating, and plenty sickening as a result.
  7. It was good to be home, if just for the sobering feel of the Orisian Tradwinds on his face. It was a foreign feeling to have it dance over his heavy beard, and even more strange to not know just where he was right away. The fishing hamlet provided no knowledge of where he was, nor did the edge of the coast he stood upon. Every time he looked, it all felt so alien and unlike what he remembered. Had he really been gone so long? Or had his land changed in his absence. He laughed coarsely, finding it a ridiculous notion to consider a cataclysm of epic proportions would shift the land itself in his absence. The internal ravings of a crazy, old man if he had ever heard them. The service did not go unheard as he arrived upon the hamlet. His smile waned to the thin line of grim countenance that was very unlike him. Always smiling, and yet he couldn't help but hold a somber tone for the dead. It was the very thing that brought him to the realization no one was immortal. That every being would one day perish and decay. All would fade into the wheel of time, even should one refuse to believe in such a thing. He spoke no words as he approached, setting the heavy axe carefully and quietly upon the coast of the lake. The lone pack on his hip joined it, resting in the damp soil for the time being. Though he held a keen interest in the memorial service for a fallen countryman, he stood far in the back, perhaps bringing more attention to his titanic form, but he did not desire to push through the masses, as easy as it might be. For the first lines, he was a blank slate, merely paying his respect until his own fated woes fell upon him. Were he the sort, his jaw would have dropped, and his eyes bulged in fear, but he held his composure. A Knight did not falter, even in the face of a beloved's death. The love he shared for his Queen was not romantic, nor familial, but perfectly out of love of country. She was the figurehead he all but worshiped. All but wished he could stand next to in protection over her. And yet this service spoke of her death, of a long-since seen idol in his mind. It was all he could do to buckle under his own weight and drop to his knees. But he did not wish to dawdle, as much as the pain struck his heart, wrenching and pulling to cramp around his chest. He did not know such a pain existed in his body anymore, not with the amount of spearheads and arrows he had pierce his flesh. This pain could not stop him now. Quietly, he stood by till the service was over, bowing his head and forming a powerful salute over his broad chest shortly after. It was a sign of respect and love, one he shared with those close to him. And when it was over, he approached the vigil master. His head was low at first, what one might mistake for hesitance, but instead held a similar respect. This man paid his dues to the Queen as much as he had, and he did not wish any disrespect. Raising the gargantuan head high, he did his best to smile, but even his usually bright gaze was rusted with grief. "A wonderful service, sir. Please, I have need to know how our beloved Queen passed. You see, I have been away for a long while, and am ashamed I was not about to help Her Majesty." His Knight's Crest might speak for him on some level, but he did not wish for it to be the only thing, and instead motioned towards the lake. "I am friends with Prince Lucis of Orisia. Where might I find him?"
  8. I'd like to get back into something!  Got any leads or suggestions?  Would love to RP with you again at some point.

    1. Praetorian


      Not yet, I'm still getting back into the swing of things. I was going through some martial problems so I ended up dipping out for awhile.

      But there is definitely some chaos afoot. Someone started a terrorist organization and there have been some small scale skirmish/borderwars going on in Terrenus. I'm still trying to figure out if I'm going to get myself caught up in any of that.


      But if something super interesting comes up, I'll let you know. Likewise, if you stumble upon anything that might end up being epic, drop me a line.

  9. Ma'am.  I am back.  <3

    1. Fallen Joy

      Fallen Joy



  10. My love! Welcome back. <3

  11. Shunk! The shore buckled, gravel spreading and shifting upon the impact of a wind-borne vessel. The small rowing boat, while settled on land, still buckled and swayed a short while until its cargo slowly emptied itself. A lone sail stood just proud enough to be considered seafaring, and the once proud red and gold coloring had faded over time. Likely the age of it numbered just short of two years, the brine having stripped it of vibrancy and reducing it to something of a reminder of brand of a former soldier; perhaps a knight of some sort. The frayed wood hardly stood to the cold morning air, and with the frigid morning air, it was a wonder the boat didn't buckle underneath the weight of its passenger. A heavy boot came down, then a second, and both seemed to have more impact than the boat itself. The large man stood beyond six feet tall, and the mass of thick, granite sinew spoke volumes of his profession. A Knight, to be sure, and one of great pride and Humility. His armor remained unchanged, still tattered and scarred from battles that filled the very pages of history themselves. His face, now not only a tale of scars and weathering, but the thick patch of black and silver that covered his chin and above his lip was an indicator of his absence. With a roll of his shoulder, his red cape shifted in the bare breeze of the sea, only just barely obscuring the Order of the Blackheart's emblem across the face. A large thumb and forefinger reset the polished, fine pin of his former Order. He could not imagine who had been set to replace him, and he didn't dare think to wrest them from control. Despite the time beyond the reaches of Orisia, it was clear his fealty remained to his Queen. And to his dearest Friend. Gripping hold of the heavy pommel, he shifted his unwieldy axe, heavy enough to be considered a giant's weapon, and set it upon a broad shoulder. Nothing else remained on his person, save his armor, his weapon, and the reminder of his loyalties. The first few steps on his home turf reminded him of the legacy he had built here. The foes he had slain in the name of his Queen. And further the flag he had risen in the name of his Kingdom. Those steps carried him to the crest of a short hill that overlooked a small fishing hamlet. From here, he would get in contact with old friends. Perhaps reset himself into the military. Maybe one day see his Friend and his Queen once more. He did not know how much had happened in the time he had been gone, but the distance had put things in perspective. Yes, he had been gone for a long while, and he did not expect to be welcomed home with open arms. But this was the land he was born in. Doherty Rommel has returned.
  12. Just caught up on Arrow and The Flash. Fun shows, quality and drama could be better. But I also get upset by inconsistencies in comics/television and such. lol
  13. I'm back. We'll see how long it lasts! I really hope I can stay for longer. Glad to see this place still around and doing well! Hope all of the people I used to RP with haven't disappeared forever!
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