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About Wanderlost

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    King of Swords
  • Birthday 02/29/1996

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    Lost in History

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  1. Madness Loves Company

    Yelstadt carefully observed the childlike woman and her shocking blue aura. Though it was the color of her hair and eyes, it seemed to reflect all about her, and he assumed it was some strange magic he didn't know. Whatever she was however, he assured himself that he was strong in his own right. Strong enough to have served in the military like the rest of his family. So he raised his eyebrows in a condescending, questioning way and spoke, "Fine. Lady. Woman." He planted his hands on his hips, then removed one to count off his answers to her questions on his fingers before putting it back, "No idea. Somewhere safe and familiar to her, and no. I'm a veteran, meaning I no longer serve, as should be evident by my lack of equipment. If you'd like to come along, you may, but having come up in the state she's in after a few days outside Inn'sth, we're not going to dally here for the Order of the White Hand--bless their souls and their hearts--to take her from me." He paused with a dry chuckle, casting his eyes away in a glance. "Funny, I'd turn almost anyone else over to them under these circumstances." He looked back to Rainza, "But she's different, and has always been a strange one. I refuse to believe that Yh'mi did this to her." "It didn't." It was Antique who responded, staring as distant as before, and it visibly startled the man. "I did this to myself," Her eyes wandered across everything in front of her, over Rainza in a cursory fashion and onto Yelstadt. In this strange moment of lucidity, she looked defeated and tired, even to the point of drawing her breaths differently. "I didn't expect you to be here in the end though. I thought I had lost everything, everyone to this..." Her eyes fell back to the camp around them, seeing ruins that haunted some small part of her past. Corpses and the very city itself laid to waste by incredibly weaponry, torn asunder by actions she had very carefully led a man to do, whose corpse came back to her in a moment of horror that widened her eyes and made her stagger back. All at once, she remembered him begging. Weeping and crying when he realized the truth of what he had done, and that every reason he had had was a lie. He just wanted to die. Wanted her to shoot him, and that's exactly what she had done, with a cold pit in her stomach where she denied the fear and the sadness in favor of heartless cognizance. The veteran watched as his aunt turned from horror at the very ground to shock at them and the rest of the camp, to a confusion as her eyes darted about. It looked like she was trying to make sense of some shifting myriad of scintillating colors, and it proved whatever had come to her had taken its flight. Yelstadt, seeing her now subdued from her strange episode, sighed and tried not to overthink the the state she was in. He slung his arm around the woman's shoulders with a grunt for the dent in his plate and walked her toward the gate to the North. As he walked on, he watched the short, blue-haired woman to see whether she was to follow.
  2. Hand’s Blade - The Initiation

    "True enough. Sticking as a group will likely be crucial for us." There was tiredness in his white eyes--not so much a thing of fatigue, but more the wear of so many years lived as they were. Still, he met their eyes each unwavering and concluded the interaction with a nod saying, "Well, best just to jump in and not prolong our suffering." Elias produced his shield and sword and readied them as they left the confines of the small camp for the greater darkness that ever loomed over it. There were sometimes voices in the camp. People walking about and conversing, but with the gate opening, a deathly silence blanketed them. He heard cackling laughter in the distance, but it was muted and far behind them. The sight of Yh'mi, a land of eternal night, of madness and suffering, where Gaia's hand might not even be able to reach, halted the Paladin-to-be, and he looked to the others for assurance before shaking his head and rapping his shield with the flat of his blade. He huffed and forced his legs to carry him beyond the wall. He could feel it, and it was sickly. Ever since being turned into an Aldrak, he had found that without making himself a part of the energy around him, he would whither like a starving man, and here was no exception. The only difference was that it was not pure energy that he fed on and returned to the world around him. It felt dark and tainted and it churned his stomach--or so he would say--as it coursed through him. Immediately, he was struck with paranoia that had his eyes darting across the crags as they gathered themselves and oriented eastward. He told himself he was too nervous, but something felt alien about the way that anxiousness suddenly rose to his throat and chest. He could hear it, and it was malevolent. He knew that chittering must belong to the chhitten. He wasn't walking blindly into Yh'mi--he had done his reading as well as he assumed the rest of them had, and it was quiet, but it was there. Perhaps only he knew those sounds for what they were as a result of his long elven ears, but it came from the crags. The smallest claw to a greater paw, they did not seem invested in swarming the group as he had read they were often wont to do. Not yet. Instead, their distant skittering haunted him as they walked on. He could see it, if only for a moment. A colorful face, definitely not belonging to the chhitten despite its exoskeleton, slipped from his glancing view in a distant crag. And it was so quiet. He kept having to check to make sure he had his fellow initiates with him. They were there, but he could swear it was about an hour in before anyone said anything, but eventually Elias spoke up. "There!" He pointed with his sword at a crack in the Broken Plains where a flood of chhitten rose and gathered, watching the group with a haunting air of what might have been curiosity. They began to move forward only to stop at a distant roar that echoed through the Whitewoods, which was now in sight of the initiates. It was in response to that roar that the tiny monsters fled. Not away, but in that direction, as if called home by a dinner bell, even crawling over one another to be the first there. With no actual conflict, nor blood yet on their blades, an ominous silence fell about them once more, and Elias looked to the others. "What was that about?"
  3. Yh'mi: Lirrey Lines OOC

    Yeah, probably better if I don't. I have been very out of it as far as writing is concerned. Better not to hold you guys up.
  4. Maybe it's time I quit lurking?

    Hey CJ. You are well missed in some of our hearts. I'd love to welcome you back personally if you choose to return. Iselyr and your dwarves are pretty long buried, but I'm sure more interesting things could arise. Glad things are getting better. Sorry to hear you've had it hard though. Happy Wednesday.
  5. Leather and Steel (Sticky Situation)

    @DrKruggles Welcomed into the personal quarters of his superior, Elias elected to disregard armor for a more formal, respectful attire. One from his days preceding Yh'mi which bore the mark of the sect that taught him selflessness and servitude in the worship of Gaia. Fidelitas, however, did not seem entirely pleased with a foreign mark of the same faith. "Do you wish to return home after what you've seen boy?" He asked. "Uh, no sir. Is the Quiet's symbol not welcome to the Order of the White hand?" Fear and hesitation did not become him, and yet, there he was with a hand shakily rested on his breast beneath the embroidery. The Paladin's lips twisted and then flattened. "No, but you are no longer one of the Quiet. If you intend to become a Paladin of the Order of the White Hand, you'll have to leave past affiliations aside." The younger man let his hand slip from his breast and fell into a sulk to gather himself, after which he nodded and affirmed, "Very well. You'll not see it again sir." The man paused, looked over his paperwork, then returned his eyes to Elias. "Right. Listen. Some of Smithy's things were stolen in the midst of that last attack. An adventurer--a humanoid of significant draconic heritage agreed to help him recover his things. He's strong and well-armed so I don't doubt his capabilities, but we must always be careful against the forces of Yh'mi. Find him and accompany him in this venture. Especially if this task leads him beyond the wall. I trust you know not to succumb to any form of greed, but Smithy does a lot for us and doesn't need to have to offer double payment for this; just consider your reward another step toward being anointed. He should be somewhere in Inn'sth, probably questioning people in Purgatory if he has any sense for these things, so you can start looking for him there. Good luck." Fidelitas said, taking up his quill and returning to his work in a dismissive gesture. "Thank you, Sir Fidelitas." Elias had much to think on, and his first passage beyond the wall had been challenging enough not to look on a second venture with optimism, but he kept his formality until after he left the Paladin's tent. Then he could brood and be pensive, and he was, but only so far as he could while paying close attention to the passersby. He hadn't been given a lot to go off of, but there weren't any people with draconic features to his recognition as he walked, which was well enough. He still had to return to his tent to swap out the robes of the Quiet for his armor and weapons. He arrived in the same gear he had ventured out in before--a tan coat of plates over a blue arming jacket, tights, and his favorite boots. Purgatory wasn't his favorite place. He had vowed to abstain from intoxicating substances when he was very young, and people tended to be much more dangerous when under their influence. Not to mention, it was more a place for guests than the Order of the White Hand itself, and he did not often get along with atheists, agnostics, or other rabble, as often they were too crass for his liking. Still, he held his duty above such things, and entered purgatory in search of the dragon man.
  6. Madness Loves Company

    Thrown into a roll to recover from the sheer force of the unnatural little girl, Yelstadt was left with a dent in his chestplate, a clutching wound, and a wheeze that sapped as much from him as the oncoming bruises themselves. He scrambled for his sword and assumed a better guard with distance between him and the dangerous thing asserting, "Stand down and back away and nobody gets hurt." The other woman however, who was immersed in a living elysium, had her fingers hooked in her collar with a blank stare affixed on the fallen warrior. She had encountered a paralytic vision. Somewhere in that shifting dream arose a skeleton. One fresh as it was nostalgic. Something in Yelstadt's position shocked her heart aflutter. She didn't see him, but rather a man with long silver hair and a shield. The first time he was impressed by how much she had learned. It made tears well in her otherwise inert golden eyes. Beyond that, who could say what she saw as the turning of her head dragged those charcoal ringlettes across her shoulders and breasts, but she searched the face of the aldrak and eventually dug into her pockets in a motion that hinted at a greater cognizance than she had previously born. The warrior watched as his seemingly insane aunt produced a golden coin and held it out to the girl as if she were doing a kindness by an orphan. Yelstadt sighed and lowered his weapon. Without his combat gear, all he had was a sharp length of steel and an affinity for pyromancy. Against something as supernatural as the shorter of the two women, he doubted he could win a proper fight. So he sheathed the sword and approached bearing a stern frown. "I'm looking after her." He said, cupping the woman's outstretched hand and lowering it gently, watching the girl for any further outbursts, the pain in his side serving as a reminder as to why. Seeing that she wasn't immediately hostile, he reached out and took the blade from her hand. "I'll give her this when it's safe to do so."
  7. Madness Loves Company

    Dismal though the streets may have been, Antique knew more pasts than present with her hand hooked on the arm of the many men of one who brought her along. That is, when she looked at him, walking in the myriad of environments she perceived, she recognized him as many familiar people, but couldn't find his name. Those golden eyes, dull where once they had shone, rested on the man until a pretty figment dragged her attention away. Nothing anyone else could see, but it was more real to her than the cobbles beneath her feet. That woman, who shuffled blankly alongside Yelstadt seemed empty of emotion, blank of thought with her hair a tangled, frayed mess that dangled all the way down to waist. He knew her as his uncle's ex, but what danger had brought her to such a nearly inert state that she could hardly walk on her own, let alone communicate? He was leading her through the streets of Inn'sth, carrying her belongings and contemplating where and how to stash her while he gathered his horse and wagon. However, a little girl made an obstacle of herself. Bright blue of hair and eyes and stern in a way that would be disconcerting anywhere but in Yh'mi. She stopped in front of Kaia and produced a weapon from her palm. Yelstadt reacted, but Antique was fascinated with that blue hair. It was so vibrant it dragged her away. Off to cerulean skies and bright waters. Until she was jostled of course. Then her mind grabbed at the nearest relations and urged her to act. In a motion of alarm, she reached out. The Shield son placed himself between his escortee and her potential offender, even drawing his sword, but before he could make the dangerous-looking child aware of his stance on the situation, Kaia's grip on his arm tightened. So much so that it hurt and she shouted, "Derrin!" With eyes wide and shining like a waning flame. Perhaps she had recognized the familial relation cognitively, or maybe he just looked like his uncle had when she'd known him, but he refused to falter over it. Hardening his glare he stated, "You threaten a veteran of the Terrenus military and his charge. Stand down, child."
  8. Hand’s Blade - The Initiation

    Knelt in a desolate and somber silence, Elias reflected simultaneously on Chastity's words and the hole in his heart. He knew himself as a sword left to rust, and struggled to feel hopeful in the face of this opportunity to serve as more than just a religious civilian. For all the love of Gaia's caress, he was empty save for his faith. All that had made him human was gone in so many more ways than one, and he was choosing a path that would carry him away from a chance at such redemption. Yet he would become more pious than he ever could have as flawed as a man. It may have been unusual, attending on one knee where others stood, but he refused to rise, as the sect he came from believed in such shows of respect, and he believed in the purity of Chastity. It wasn't until they were dismissed that he rose, and then he bowed and addressed Chastity with a humble benediction. "Thank you sir. May Gaia herself heed your wisdom." When he departed from the little church, he was not prepared, and he took the time to acquire provisions such as food, drink, and supplies before he made his way to the gate, all of which he was able to contain in a knapsack of moderate size. His sword did not require sharpening, as he saw to that each evening after prayer, just as he tended to his armor every morning before breaking the night's fast. He held routine dear and important, as discipline was all he knew. His mother had always told him that time wasted was time lost, and he lived by that. Some half hour after their congregation had convened, the soon-to-be-Paladin arrived with his longsword at his left side and his knapsack hanging from the opposite shoulder. White of hair, eyes, and flesh, he knew his was a disconcerting visage, but he had learned to trust Gaians to forgive that of him. He wore a tan coat of plates over his blue arming jacket, and had tights and sturdy boots for his legs. He greeted the man sharpening his sword and any other present attendees saying, "Well met friends. My name is Elias, nice to meet you. And yours?" @Impulse
  9. Elias Harl

    Role plays including Elias, according to his personal timeline. Hand's Blade - The Initiation Leather and Steel
  10. Elias Harl

    Species: Aldrak (Former Elf) Name: Mariandre Elias Harl Nickname: Elias Classification: Paladin of the Order of the White Hand Hair Color: Stark white Hair Details: Kept short and combed back Eye Color: White as a blind man Complexion: Pale, almost sickly Age: 26 Height: 5'8" Weight: ~520 lbs. Body Build: Athletic, wide-shouldered Abilities: All the powers of a Gaian Paladin when in the lands of Yh'mi, as consecrated by the Order of the White Hand. Innate Aldrak abilities he hardly knows how to harness, with little to no knowledge of physics or intuition as to their function. Ability to assess a target's health through a divine sense in vague detail. History: Mariandre belonged to a small village near Last Chance by the boarder of the Great Pine Barrens, but that was back when his hair was blonde and his eyes were green. He was a boy then, and loyal to his religious upbringing. Praying to Gaia gave him a community and loved ones where it seemed his parents only gave him chores and work. Having had to cook their food, clean house, and tend to almost everything else as his father played the merchant and his mother worked her forge. He was not unloved, but he did not learn affection, intimacy, or any commonly familial values from them. Only work ethic and objectiveness, while his true family wore robes and worshiped their Goddess. The best of his days were away from home, visiting major temples and serving as a boy of the faith. The worst of his days came in later, grown years. After the fighting with his parents separated him, and he returned to help them on his own terms. When they reimbursed him for his efforts and he found a sort of humble contentedness with his choices. The days came then, with fire and swords, when he was taken captive in an attack on his village and eventually sold into slavery. He was brought to Kelore in Draco South and kept as a servant, cleaning the cells of Aldrak slaves until he had the glorious misfortune to become one himself. Many years of pain and suffering under that collar ended thanks to a benefactor of the Gaian faith, who had been making trips to Kelore in order to gather intelligence and further relations. Elias had had the fortune of time granted to tell his story on two separate occasions, and was later stolen away in the night. His benefactor woke him and broke him free, leading him back on a long journey that eventually brought him home, to the partially overgrown remains of his home. The solemn visit left him alone in the world, save for the family of his faith, and free of all the atrocities against him. With no other place to go, nor any reason to seek another option, he joined the clergy in Palgard, and was almost inevitably recruited to the Order of the White Hand, aided by his dissatisfaction with his sect's inaction, and since then, he has fought and bled among his betters against the great evils of Yh'mi. Details and Notes:
  11. Returning for Good

    Hey. I hope this attempt works out. I struggled for years to stay interested in Valucre even though I love writing here. It took a lot of changes in a lot of different areas for me to stick around here without disappearing for long periods of time. Even then, I'm not always role playing. It's been a month or two since I was truly active and I still think about writing every day, I just don't do it every day, and that's fine. I'm getting back into it, and didn't really miss anything because I've stayed in OOC discussions and continued to remain active even with few to no posts. So be patient with yourself. You'll figure out what works for you, I'm sure. Let me know if I can help, or if you'd like to do a thread together. Welcome back, Happy writing
  12. Versatile Red

    Trying her patience had been one of the first ways Rafael discovered cracks in Marie's otherwise infallible composure. She had been sitting well as the purity of her blood for some time, notepad and pen in hand, straight of posture and ready to talk business with him until the chiming of that damned clock announced the hour, which they had agreed to meet ten minutes prior to. Now those silly accouterments waited on the table, and she examined the "accidental" wound that bled from under her nail. Of course she didn't bite at all about her fingers, but she knew the open wound would irk and tempt him, and excusing it would be easy enough. It amused her that the parts of blood that had dried were difficult to discern from the polish on her pointed nails. Then she checked the colors against the crimson lace that spilled from beneath her cuff, and found dismay that the lace was darker. She rolled her eyes and looked away. The stone walls in this room were unadorned save for a singular diamond-shaped clock and a handful of candle sconces. Three creaky chairs were arrayed around a table that she thought must have been cherry wood under a reddish lacquer, though her knowledge fell short of expertise. It made her sigh. They often met in nicer unused guest chambers if they were to meet in the castle. He had to be displeased with her, and given that she had made such egregious errors in judgement and action in the presence of Gabriela's latest captors, she didn't try to think of any other reason why. She had done all that he had asked and grown rather close to her cousin, which would only aid the both of them in the future. She had to assure herself that she had some legitimacy to her arguments. Still, it was not the cold, passive observer Marie usually made of herself who looked up when the door swung open, but the younger of two purebloods, prepared against the possibility of a losing battle. Her eyes were flat steel in a lake of pure flesh framed by woven gold, and she wore colors more than details. A long, dark red collared dress that matched her lace beneath a purple coat that buttoned at the waist. Holding no reservations against it in the comfort of the man she was repeatedly horrified to acknowledge as the closest person to her, she allowed her face to reflect some of her ire and impatience, but not for long. Never for long. She broke it with a smile that brought the rest of her face to its typical leveled and unnatural blankness. You're late, Spoke her tone, though her words were, "Rafael. What a fortune we would find the same quiet room," As she stood. She came nearer, as was only right to do, and knew the scent of her perfume would reach him in the act. It was a watered down scent of blood and roses, which she was exceedingly proud to have commissioned; every breath of it aroused and focused her, and such a constant state had been exciting in the days since she'd acquired the finished product. Her red smile fell flat with her cold hand tight in his, and she watched his face to gather what she could of his mood, curiosity a solemn light in her emotionless features. @King
  13. This race is rather unique... Finding a reference image was so hard I resorted to actually scratching one myself on a piece of paper like the neanderthal of an artist I am. Race Name: Dyde Basic Physical Description of the Race: Praying mantis/Diablo II Duriel boss-inspired alien insectoids. Age of Race: Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. Place of Origin: A distant planet referred to as the Dyde homeworld. Character Sheets for Reference Qin the Dyde Edit: I'ma play the "What counts as a player made race game." Race Name: Edian Angel Basic Physical Description of the Race: Humanoids bestowed with a divine gift by the god Siwel. They are identifiable as such by their coal black hair, golden eyes, and a unique symbol relating to their fate on their palms, which only appear when illuminated by light other than the sun. Age of Race: At least 3000 years. Place of Origin: The Solace of the Broken Valley, Shattered Continent, The Edian Realms. Character Sheets for Reference Antique, Alarin, Thelan Player Lore Article for Reference
  14. So, I've got some entries for this. First though, I'd like to clarify that your intent is to catalog player races and not measure the general distribution of character races about the Val population... Meaning we don't care about elves or halflings or humans people have.
  15. [Interest Gauge] Paladins of Yh’mi

    I'd be more than happy to participate in such an endeavor.