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Lacernella Rubra

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About Lacernella Rubra

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  • Birthday 02/12/1989

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    Dhizzandra

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  1. “Huh, oh, yeah I’m fine, what’s that? Ohno!” Shanna gasped as they were suddenly running once more, feet sloshing upon the ground in tandem with the redhead, a sort of yelping cry torn from her throat when an arrow lodged itself into her newfound friend. “EEEEEEEAuugh!” Another tumble, sprawling against the landscape as Shanna gurgled and flailed desperately, her crimson gaze wide in horror as they were flung about per mother natures’ instruction. When she had decided that they had become bore some, they were deposited upon a bank just as soggy as the rest of the land. Shanna coughed and hacked, certain half the river had discovered a new home in her lungs, awkwardly pulling a leech from her hair with a shudder as it was flung aside with little care. Brutus seemed to fare little better, but at least now his coat was pristine and glistening white…or it would have been provided the hound had not laid in the muck with a groan, clearly desperate for a less exciting adventure. “I’m so tired of water!” Shanna’s voice rang out once it was clear of its watery timbre, the mage made an interesting schlorping noise as she stood, prying herself from the damp. “I really hate water!” Her exclamation followed with a throwing of hands. To further prove their string of bad luck, they found themselves surrounded! Would be hunters and slavers threatened their survival, pathetic as it might be at first glance. “Hey now, that’s no way to talk to anyone, you kiss your mama with that mouth?” Shanna puffed dangerously, the hellhound at her side growling in agreement. She was rewarded with a slap, jarring her face hard to the side. “Silence, witch!” One of the men hissed between rotten teeth. Shanna’s gaze shifted suddenly, gold tinging the crimson before her Hellhound struck, jumping from a stationary position to sink his teeth into the man’s hand, and while the man screeched and flailed, the joint ever so carefully popped free, locked between the powerful jaws as the wolf growled menacingly. However, in the next moment they were overtaken by an entity that could only be described as wrathful. The enemy was taken without little prejudice, and Shanna found herself lost in a vortex of the battle, the stench of blood filling her nose as the woman found it hard to withdraw her semi-conscious connection to the Hellhound. The smell of it curled her lip, lengthened her teeth, she gnashed her jaw in an attempt to abate the growing need for retribution as it spilled freely around her. “Are you….are you trying to run?” The woman asked suddenly, the three men that looked as though they would have fled across the entirety of the world, just to say that they had never been present for this massacre. A deadpan expression shifted towards them, the woman raising a hand. “I hate it when things run.” In her trek to find the Ars Nostra, Shanna had accumulated a vast wealth of magical power, it was only by some great flaw that none of it ever seemed to go the way in which it was intended. From time to time, however, Shanna managed devastating and terrifying spells that hardly prompted cause for magical backlash. The strong scent of lilies….and butter filled the air as the spell weaved around an outstretched hand before her fingers would suddenly curl inwards. Bones erupted from the bodies of the men, the entirety of their skeleton simply stopping whilst their skin and organs continued movement, a single motion had both items dropping to the ground in a heap that would likely scar any witness of such an action. The womans attention then turned, her wet hair plastered to her visage as brightness and sunshine seemed to return to her disposition. “Well, that was bracing! You sure are an exciting bunch, aren’t you?!” Shanna laughed, a high pitched sort of shriek accompanied by a snort.
  2. Slosh...slosh…slosh. “Augh! Brutus!” A pause. “No, not that way, the Crystals said this way! ...No I’m not listening to you, you’re being unreasonable.” There was a sharp bark of command following the statement, fluttering through the marsh and echoing ever so slightly as the sloshing resumed, with much complaining sounding from the person that seemed to be unable to quiet themselves. The sound of a secondary companion also was made known, however, it was much quieter than the initial, whining voice. “It’s in my shoes! Augh! It’s all the way up to my waist!” Came the whine once more as the mage slorped her way through the nearly chest high water in an attempt to get to the other side. For Shanna, obstacles such as this were necessary, avoidable, but she refused to move off track from the direction in which she had begun heading in. She might get lost that way, and she was ever so tired of that. Shanna had travelled far and wide, with great effort and great directional challenges. She seemed to have a nasty trait of showing up where she mostly likely shouldn’t be, or better yet, in places she never intended at all! It had, however, provided her with some prime information and lore, things she could return to the mages college with and give them the what for! “Stupid mage college, kicking me out. Show them.” The woman grumbled beneath her breath before letting out an excited gasp at the sound of voices ahead. “I must be close!” She chirped excitedly, overenthusiastic in her sudden rapid sloshing through the mud. As she became clear of it, Shanna practically ran forward, slinging mud and lord knew what all about as she fantasized a long, warm bath at the other end of her adventure. The white(though he was arguably more brown and dingy now) hellhound/wolf hybrid at her side gave an exasperated look at the constant fluctuations of his mages moods and folly, but followed obediently despite. As Shanna trampled forward like the proverbial bull in a china shop, he followed at a sedate pace. In her excitement, the mage came around a grove of trees and skidded to a stop at the sight of many people with weapons. “Oh! Hi…whatcha doing with all them weapons?” Her large, vermillion gaze stared at them for the longest moment before one of them gasped and pointed at her wolf. “Get the beast!” One cried. “What? NO. HE’S MY FRIEND!” Shanna stood in front of him, arms outstretched in a pathetic attempt to appear larger as she protected her familiar. “Witch! Burn the witch!” Came another voice from the back. Shanna’s gaze went wide. “Uh oh. Brutus, run!” The mage squealed as she pushed power into her legs, bounding away with a quickness that always surprised the hellhound. She never seemed to be quick when he wanted her to be, with a disgruntled noise he moved to follow. As they were pursued, Shanna attempted to focus a camouflaging spell over them, but unfortunately her magic went awry, as it tended to. There was a sudden explosion across the tree line behind them, pushing Shanna forward and onto her face as the tails of her hair singed, however, she noticed that she hit something…soft, rather than the harsh ground she had been expecting. Brutus was also thrown forward, yelping as he tumbled past Shanna and the young girl that she had run into. Groping about blindly, Shanna groaned as she managed to sit up, before gasping. “Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to run into you!” Her wide gaze stared at the girl for a moment, before a tree somewhere on the path behind them fell over.
  3. All mine.
  4. You made it! AUUUUGH -Raptor stomps through a village.- Yeth~
  5. <3 Be safe.
  6. The nymph had already escaped. She was free! The wind in her hair, the smell of the sea on her nose! However, it was clouded once more by the passage of the smoke that seemed to hang in a permanent cloud about the place. The sunny little village was full of the stuff, everywhere you went, someone was puffing a cloud into your face, or worse, you were being handed a pipe of your own. Such as things were, it seemed. The nymphs tail swished back and forth as though she contemplated fleeing...but she was noticing that her thoughts seemed muddled, slower...as though they were trudging through a deep river to gain a proper foothold in her mind. Slow and cumbersome, the lively nymph began to slow ever so slightly as her feet barely trudged towards the brownie stalls...food stalls were quite popular in this little town, it seemed. As she approached the food stall, she frowned at the crowd. So many people stuck around the food as well, it was almost impossible to get around them. The only squabbling this town seemed to have was over who would get the last brownie. A gentle sigh escaped as the nymph pouted and flopped on an unoccupied bench with a pout. Of course, she was only there for a moment before someone else asked her to light their pipe. With a defeated noise, she did so
  7. Fifty dollars for that french fry. Better believe.
  8. act i. The Profile Birth Name: Shanna Eichel. Age: 27 Race: Hume. Class: Mage. Birthplace: Celin City, Genesaris act ii. The Diagnostics Height: 5'7" Weight: 135lbs. Hair: Light Molasses. Eyes: Hazel. Voice: Lilting, but almost annoyingly so. If she were a videogame character, it's the voice you never choose. Skin: Light complexion. act iii. The Armament : Weapon: Grimoire, along with several small daggers, varying potions, and a familiar. She has magic, as well, but...it quite often backfires. Armor: Slightly reinforced leather gloves, boots, and jerkin. Accessories: Several varying potions of....questionable use. Mainly because it's never for sure if the potion was brewed entirely...correctly. The Familiar: Name: Brutus. Gender: Male. Species: Hellhound/Wolf mix. Halfbreed. act iv. The Dossier Likes: Fruit. Long Walks on the beach. Not blowing herself up when making a potion. Nice People. Dislikes: Being told what to do.(But come on, who does?) She also dislikes being threatened. Kind've another no brainer. She dislikes fighting. She'd sooner try to wiggle out of the situation. Attitude: Awkwardly optimistic, despite her often dismal predicaments. Of course, she realizes that she has no one to blame but herself for such predicaments, Shanna does not seem discouraged in her attempt to better herself as a mage, even when it does blow up in her face. Abilities: Potion mixing - Though to be fair, it's not her strongest suit...and often times the results are...not what was expected. Basic Spellcasting - Fireballs, snowballs, things of that nature. She refrains from casting anything too much bigger for fear of...mishap. Though she studies regularly, and practices on her down time! Polymorph and Requip style magics. - These are her strengths. These particular magics will never blow up in her face. Healing - More like bandaiding. Yup. That's the extent of her abilities for healing. Her goal is to find a series of books called the Ars Notoria. They are a total of 5 great grimoires from around the lands.(Or hinted to be around the lands, in any case.) Having and studying these would give her great power. Something to be known about Roleplaying with this character. They have a disaster sheet(See below.) This will determine magical interactions with the character. Shanna magical Mishaps: Roll a dice to see the mishap! 1.) Explosion. 2.) Turns whatever she is aiming at a random color. 3.) Slows down target. (Target will be determined by dice roll or ‘aiming’.) 4.) Target loses the last 24 hours worth of memory. (Can effect more than one target.) 5.) The target(more than one, potentially.) Loses the ability to speak, hear, or see for a temporary time of 2 hours. 6.) The target is morphed into another being. (A dice roll of a 1d6 will determine how far the transmorph goes. 1-3 is hardly changed, 4-6 is almost fully.) 7.) A foul odor permeates all targets, making anyone nearby sick. 8.) Targets are suddenly transported to an unknown location! 9.) The nearest target is compelled to profess their love! (This can be of anything.) 10.) For a total of ten minutes, the targets switch bodies. _______ 1.) The spell/potion/whatever works, but with it comes the scent of lilies and popcorn 2.) The magic works, but everything becomes pink. 3.) Magic works only slightly. The effects of the magic are diminished to only be ½ effective. 4.) The magic works, but everyone nearby becomes slightly hostile. 5.) Magic works, but with it comes the desire of servitude. (Effected characters will have urges to do chores/services for others for a determined amount of time.) 6.) Magic MOSTLY works. ¾ effective, leaving that ¼ up to chance. 7.) Magic works completely! No side effects! 8.) Magic works, but everyone in a 10 yard radius has lost all color.(Temporary.) 9.) Magic works, but someone, somewhere, now has an extra limb. 10.) Magic works, but – everyone in a 10 yard radius is suddenly naked. Formula: 1d20 > 1d10. Further dice may be needed depending on number of targets.
  9. Alexandria didn’t see Natasha’s threat to the dragon, or she simply didn’t care. She was exhausted from having summoned three times in the same day, her blood stores were gone, and the cold had hesitated her joints. The golden clad witch sunk to her knees as the dragon gave way to their victory, a heavy breath escaping her lungs as she slumped even further, gauntlet covered hands hitting the ice. The redhead didn’t move for a long time, shallow puffs of warm fog escaping her lips as her golden gaze stared at the dragon in what might be disbelief. However, a moment later, Alexandria’s head threw back and she laughed – heartily. A deep, rolling laugh that erupted from her mouth like a joyous song. Victory was theirs, and Alexandria was deeply exhausted, so exhausted that all of her summons had abandoned her, having found their jobs to be finished for the time being. “Good job, Natasha…” The witch managed as she slowly pried herself from the ice as she stood up, appendages dragging as though they’d been turned into molasses. Armor scraped as she stood, before she managed to find her footing once more. Her hands grasped her shield and pulled it to her with a grunt. “Stupid dragon.” She managed to shake her gauntleted fist at the scaled creature as though all of her problems would be fixed by that simple motion. “Clementine…” Alexandria peered around for her sister witch before grasping her forearm with her hand, pulling her sister witch to her. She clasped the woman in a hug, before releasing her as she peered at Natasha. “Good job. Now we just need to get it back to Luna.” She sighed heavily, gaze turning back to the dragon. “Fuck.” Alexandria grunted, lip curling a bit.
  10. The Nitemare found itself fizzling out of existence, and Alexandria felt it’s dismissal like a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. Such was life. Alexandria would have to make it up to the nitemare at a later date. For now, she was far more concerned regarding the sudden rolling motion of the dragon. Her form dove, since she was still standing near the wing, Alexandria pushed herself off in the opposite direction that the dragon was going, neverminding her summons or the orcs. She knew Natasha was gone, wherever she had gone, and Clementine was relatively safe. Alexandria hit the ground hard, and rolled, the air pushed from her lungs as she let out a sort of squealing groan as she clung to the snow. Blood pooled around her waist, the broken vials on her belt spilled across the snow, staining it with a stark contrast as Alexandria watched the Orcs wrangle the dragon through hazy vision, eyes narrowing a bit. As Alexandria watched through hazed vision for a moment, she reached out with a hand to find the blood. With all of her vials broken, she grunted and drew on her final summon. Eltab had been lost in the movement of rolling, disappearing into the snow and ice, not to be seen again. Presumably the demon lord had fled in preparation of saving his own skin. "Upon the path of the Divine I walk, While by your side I shall fear no darkness for you banish it with the light. Upon the path of light, I summon thee, Seraphiel, to aid me with this darkness." Alexandria managed, before she coughed harshly and drew in a shuddering breath. A sudden, blinding light filled the area and feathers scattered across the battleground as the Seraphiem appeared, seemingly to glare over the field for a moment before a shield seemed to fall over each person with a wave of the Seraphim’s lance. The graceful creatures wings folded upon itself as it send out it’s divine power to shield the orcs and witches from both the cold and the dragon. Those that were injured would feel a gentle warmth seeping into their bones, their wounds slowly stitching together as the shield surrounded them. It wasn’t instant, all they had was this. Alexandria managed to stand as the shield formed, hissing as she held her side a bit. Her sword lay on the ground, and she reached for it, before watching the dragon. With a sudden idea, she drew her sword back like one would a spear. Thankful for the balance on the blade, Alexandria threw the sword, since the dragons head was backwards, the target was quite clear. She knew Luna wanted the dragon alive, but at the risk of how many witches? So she drew back, with the thought of her sisters in mind, and ran forward with a roaring cry – something akin to the great Vikings as they went into battle. She aimed for the chest, throwing her weight and momentum forward in hopes of piercings the dragons breast.
  11. The miasma of smoke that spilled from the Inn was suffocating, how the people inside manage to survive such a thing was concerning, troubling, even. Aone rubbed her orange hued eyes as she whined pathetically, it burned, itched, and made her feel rather strange. The fire nymph swished her spaded tail as she tried to draw in a breath, engulfed in another cloud of smoke as a patron exhaled. A cough shook her lithe frame and her horned figure bent, hissing softly as she ducked beneath a table in hopes of finding cleaner air. There was none to be had. Aone coughed once more, her bare feet scrambling at the wood to escape before she was roped into lighting someone elses’ pipe. Since they had discovered her ability to bend fire to her whim, the townspeople had roped her into their delightful partying…but now her mouth was dry and she desperately wanted nothing more than to find some Lava to consume. Admittedly, it was a vastly different experience to the other towns in which she had been in, most had shunned the nymph in fear that she would leave their homes in ashes. With a wiggling motion, Aone’s orange and scrolling rune covered body burst from the door, behind her a rolling mass of clouds that threatened to consume the very country side as she drew in a fresh breath of air as though her lungs might collapse. “Nyah!” She stuck her tongue out in a childish motion towards the innards of the inn. She was met with cajoling, before she spun suddenly and started her march down the pathway, not seeming to mind where she was going at all. “Icky townspeople, smell funny.” Aone muttered to herself as she patted a cloud of smoke from her tunic.
  12. With not an inkling of the danger looming on the horizon, the nymph sniffed much like a wild animal at the streets of cobblestone and market stalls. She seemed mostly unnoticed for the time being, but there was quite the bustle about the business district, it seemed. What a pleasant discovery for the nymph as she stepped forward ever so lightly, her footsteps imprinted upon the cobble in smokey ringlets, vanishing from sight only after a moment or two. Aone perused curiously, a comforting warmth wafting from the nymph as she looked over the wares, the shopkeepers pausing now to stare at the oddity that graced their stalls. A few gaped, pointing at the strange horned creature that they knew to be a potential sign from the fire God, Pyrozen. Nymphs were regarded well, for the most part, though Aone had the misfortune of meeting some rather unpleasant monks on her last visit. Likely they had been antagonized by the man who had thought to remove her from the temple to start with, but she was too naïve on human nature to know the darker truth of the matter. Her fascination with humans and their …oddities(For she didn’t understand their materialistic nature) had always brought her a sense of confusion. Why did they need so much? They seemed to fear everything, as well. The only thing Aone feared was a lake or river. But the humans feared her, she could hear their soft whispers and panicked looks. They were afraid that she would burn everything, which just solidified their ignorance. Fire Nymphs were much like rapidash. They didn’t burn you if they didn’t want to, and aside from the unnatural warmth and fire-spelled runes that traversed her skin, the nymph herself carried no flame. Her bare feet padded ‘pon the ground before bringing her to a pause just at a little knickknack stall, and she peered curiously at the carved crystal, her head canting to the side. “Why did you shape them?” She asked the stallkeeper, who was quite baffled that the creature seemed capable of speech. Perhaps their god was testing them. He muttered a quick prayer, before answering. “Because people like to put them on shelves in their homes.” He offered quickly, fear permeating his stench. Aone wrinkled her nose a bit. “Oh.” She pouted, as if disinterested in that answer.
  13. The resounding kathunk of her blade gave Alexandria sheer delight. The feel of her steel sinking into the tendon brought for a delighted savagery from her maw as her eyes lit with pleasure. Unlike Natasha, however, Alexandria merely ‘sawed’ her sword, instead of pulling it fully out, using the sharpened edge to cut into the wing even further, like a steak knife might with a piece of meat. Her cleated boots held her in place as she shifted them, digging them into the sharp scales as she hunkered down, determined to keep her place as she buried her sword as far as she could, bringing her shield up to her side as Natasha would yell. Alexandria hunkered beneath her shield, making herself a smaller target, and solidifying her potential of remaining atop of the dragon. As the force of the tail threatened to topple her, she pushed back ever so slightly with the shield, determination in every fiber of that will. It was only Natasha’s warning, however, that allowed Alexandria the foresight to prepare for the onslaught. It had been a good idea for Alexandria to make an effort to learn Orc, after all. As she remained, and she heard the dragon start to spittle its fire towards her sister witch, Alexandria’s vision clouded at the edges, tinging red as she drew back up to her powerful height of 6’1”. A displeased, vulgar roar left her throat as she slammed her shield down in a minor temper tantrum, her hands moving to the vials of blood that surrounded her waist. A single hand drew two vials, the tops torn off by sharp teeth and spat to the side as she poured the blood along the dragons scales whilst chanting. "Hear me, Demon of Eltab, Lend me thy strength and will to crush my enemy before me. Let my will become yours, with these words, I summon thee." As the blood hit the scales, it began to bubble, boiling over as it suddenly roared to life. From it came a behemoth of a creature, bull like in its appearance. It’s thick, red skin cracked and rolled with muscular joints, and spikes adorning its arms, knees, and horns ‘pon it’s head. Its muzzle was tightly wrapped closed, it’s pumpkin gaze wild and demanding, feral. Spike covered fists rose in a fit of fury as it suddenly launched forward, running up the dragons neck to follow Grud, the demon lords fist drawing back pierce the back of the dragons skull with the non-lethal side. It knew of Alexandria’s desires, all of her summons having some telepathy with her per their contract. It brought its massive hand down, prepared to see the dragon into dream land. Meanwhile, the Nitemare was growing weak—He had run across the mountain range in search of them to start with, and had not stopped since. It had been a long journey, and now a frightening battle. He was wearing thin, and it showed as his sides heaved with each breath he took. When the fire came, he whinnied in a panicked sort of voice and ran towards Clementine. He had been given very explicit instructions, afterall. Save the sister-witch, if nothing else. He would slow only enough to lower his head, and plow straight into the witch. He had carefully lowered himself to send her tumbling down his neck and into the saddle, a very special saddle that Alexandria had made for her prior. However, the high back of it would stop Clementines’ movement down the creatures body, that didn’t mean she would stay in it unless she grabbed onto something. With a heaving movement and the few dredges of energy he had yet to use, Ciaran(the nitemare) ran. He ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him, away from the breath. Magic charged his thundering footfalls as he jumped, throwing himself and Clementine back behind the dragon entirely, perhaps even further into the cold, but it was away from the immediate danger. But perhaps out of the frying pan and into the fire.