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KittyvonCupcake last won the day on April 20 2015

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About KittyvonCupcake

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    The Moon of Titan
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    Hungry ghosts, the roar of the sea crystallized and shattered thrice for good luck, poorly recorded punk music.

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  1. Vesper Moontraveler’s ire was a gift given freely and with great generosity. She had a face built for expressing displeasure—one could see it perpetually traced in the downward tug of her mouth and the set line of her jaw. John was granted a thinly veiled sneer the instant “milady” purred from his silver tongue. “Lieutenant,” she corrected reflexively, plucking the tickets from his hand before she swooped into a baroque bow made complete with a militaristic click of her heels. “Lieutenant Moontraveler of House Dali, if you wish to be more specific. It has been a pleasure. My companion and I shall reconvene with you at the theatre. Would two hours before the play grant you enough time to conduct the tour?” Her hand would have been offered upon the agreement of their rendezvous time to shake, along with an affirmative nod and a two fingered wave tossed over her shoulder as Vesper directed Hariela away from the ticket vendor’s roost in the marketplace. Together, they winded through stalls and sidestepped around the wandering feet of the other shoppers. Vesper slipped the tickets in Hariela’s hand. A questioning glance followed. “What is it that you needed an extra pair of tickets for? If you misplaced yours, you simply could have had mine.” She shook off the sensation of unseen jaws nipping at her ankles. Time away from the ship after so long at sea felt unnatural. Every end of every nerve tingled from a lack of inertia, rooted back at a submerged fear of confinement. It was not as difficult here under the warmth of the sun where the tinge of salt air drifted beneath the whirling scents of the bazaar. “Keep your eyes and ears open when we’re at the theatre,” she said, leaning against a signboard advertising a range of needs from wanted adventurers to a wheelbarrow for sale. “Nobility has a tendency to play games. I admit that I’m surprised Varda is queen—we met briefly before, and she struck me as someone that misfortune seeks to prey upon. Then again, that may be true of all the Old Families from Ursa Madeum. At the very least, we will be sitting instead of dancing. Balls here always go awry. And masquerades?” A disdainful snort punctuated her next statement. “Bad shit always happens when they start prancing about in masks.”
  2. “Her people didn’t buy regular tickets. They were given them.” As had she. The Moontravelers, each afflicted with varying degrees of wanderlust, had a series of transport devices created by the more magically inclined branches of the Dali family that allowed for instant transmissions of messages and letters. And, in her case, a bundle of tickets for a play. She assumed they had been sent along by her brothers. To sit in noble restraint, confined by formal wear, would have proven an arduous task for them. As the youngest sibling of the family, she had once again drawn the short straw by default. Vesper dismissively flicked a piece of dust off of the left epaulette of her coat before turning her focus upon the ticket salesman. “You know, sir, your word choice piques one’s interest. You ‘suppose’ that you ‘might’ be able to grant us a trip backstage in one statement, and now you assure us that this can be done with a different colored ticket.” With a smile, she reached into an interior pouch of her coat and brought out a handful of coins. “Three gold pieces and a half silver per ticket. One gold apiece directly into your pockets after the personal tour.” @Vansin & @vielle
  3. “Five days.” Her footsteps were a steady metronome—one strike of the heel of her boot against the planks, a calculated pause, followed by another. The crew assembled on the Prosperina were an assorted mixture that contained a small unit of experienced naval soldiers loyal to House Dali, a generous helping of weather beaten sea dogs and a dash of ragtag strays. Some took a momentary halt with cargo in their calloused hands, heads cocked to hear their captain’s orders. Others leaned on the railing, squinting into the sun as they watched Vesper Moontraveler stride across the quarterdeck. Most knew her as the Captain. For some, she was Lieutenant Moontraveler. For a select few, she was Ves. “Five days to refresh supplies.” Strike, slapped her boot. A pause. Strike. It was an unhurried walk, one that relished a prowling hunt. Her right hand lazily nestled itself with the basket hilted broadsword at her hip. Crooked grins flashed amongst the crew as she met her mark: a man leaning haphazardly on the railing, hazy eyes fixed blearily upon his bare feet. “Five days...” she continued, lifting the bottle perched on the railing. Rum blinked in the morning sunlight through the glass. “...to refresh the crew.” With the flip of a wrist, it spilled directly atop his head. The beginning buzzes of laughter at his expense began to stir. They softened to a hum when the captain of the Prosperina raised her free hand and purred, “Good morning, Gaius.” With the hapless Gaius tugged to his unsteady feet by his collar and a snap of her fingers for her red coat to be brought out of her cabin—-the plumed tricorn hat, something a gag gift carted back from another port side market, had been rejected with a scoff—-with peals of mirth ringing out after she lasciviously crowed “I’m off to meet with the Queen”, Ves left the Prosperina under the care of her crew and departed to track down another recent foundling: Hariela. Cities were often glorified—-bustling ports and shining harbors, crowded marketplaces, noble towers that dreamt of brushing against starlight with outstretched fingers. If a city was a universe contained and compounded, a ship was its microcosmic reflection. Weaving through streets with names she had already forgotten, cut off from the constant motion of the waves, unable to hear the melody of the tides above the din of street hawkers and playful young children and gruff voiced men, Vesper felt a tug back to the Prosperina. The ship was her castle. And the sea? Her empire, untouched and untamed. A year spent at sail and still she wished to return. Five days, she told herself, suppressing a grimace. Five days and social engagements. After all, one must show their face every once and while, if only to let the soft noble class know that the dog of Dali still has her teeth. Hariela would not have been difficult to find. All that was required of Ves was to follow a trail of spent coins. She allowed the winding streets of Cal Eteris to lead her towards the open air market nearest to the ports where the younger woman had released her coins as swiftly as that bird she purchased moments before. The reverberations of the crowd buzzed all around. She paused at a stand for an orange and peeled it deftly as she continued her search. Sunlight glinted off of the golden loop pierced through her left ear. A trickle of sweat trailed down her tanned neck. She ran her hand through her cropped blonde hair and squinted into the crowd before her eyes settled upon one still point in the hive of shoppers: a man and woman, each settled into the distinct position of one trying to make a sale while the other considers her options. The distance between them was closed soon enough for Vesper to make her presence known with a laugh towards the end of Hariela’s last question. “Your new friend is more likely to be a scalper than an actor, Harry.” She flashed a white grin at the man with the ticket stubs. “Well then, can you promise a trip back stage? We’re fond of the arts.” @Vansin & @vielle
  4. Type Sentient Humanoid (Elf) Physical Appearance Though slightly shorter than most elves, the Oiche Duende tend to be taller than average humans. Height for Night Elven males range between 5’11 to 6’7 while height for females range between 5’7 to 6’2. They carry their lithe frames with dignity and their angular facial features amplify their otherworldly and aloof demeanor. Their skin tones range from ghostly pale to ink black and are decorated with geometric tattoos, often depicting runes and scenes from nature. When one comes of age, their face is etched with the design of their clan and runic symbol of their choice. The markings, more personal than a fingerprint, can be seen as a sacred signature. Night Elves are known for their silver hair, though the younger elves often dye it in unnatural shades. Their eyes have cat-like pupils, allowing for more visibility in the darkness. Common eye colors are pale violet, gray, and white. Those born with pure black eyes are traditionally revered as holy incarnations of the Twilight Gods. Location Nomadic, tend to wander in Lagrimosa. They enjoy coastal areas. A loose community has recently began to frequent Blairville. Organization & Behavior Though they are prideful of their clan name, rarely do groups of Oiche Duende exceed beyond nuclear family units. They are well suited to long periods of isolation, but are happy to be in egalitarian partnerships with a chosen lifemate. Their extended lifespans are rumored to be immortal, but the Duende population is small and dwindling. Younger generations often choose to intermingle with other races, something that radical nationalist Duende enjoy writing scathing newsletters over. Sem’ya, the term used for family units, and Uatha, single elves, keep in contact through specially bred messenger hawks and a great gathering of tribes that occurs every five years. The Teaghlaigh Sbor allows for Uatha to meet other Uatha, children to play together, and knowledge to be shared. The festival lasts for a month in a location selected by one of the eldest elves, known as theDrevniy Anam. Children are raised on the road. Siblings are common, but the Sbor is their chance to make lasting outside friendships. Family Life As a sort of Divine toss up for their extended lifespan, pregnancies are fairly uncommon. The Duende place no emphasis on marriage. It is not uncommon for both male and female elves to float from one lover to the next if they desire companionship. As a result, Sem’ya will sometimes be single parent units. Children commonly remain with the mother until they are old enough to choose which parent to travel with. Ultimately, however, this choice must be approved of by both parents. Childhood is not regarded as a revered state of whimsy distinctly separated from adulthood, as often seen in other cultures. From the time they are toddlers, little Night Elves begin their practical educations and are expected to assist with day to day tasks. Naturally, being toddlers, these expectations are rarely met in full. For outsiders, it can be unsettling to see stoic little ones tending to the fierce birds of prey and massive wolfhounds with a natural ease. Most children take the clan names of their mothers. Prominent clans like the Rhovan, Zvenda, Gilrin, and Fia boast over a hundred members. Animals are common sights among groups of Duende. Many keep Siar, dogs with the appearance of domesticated wolves for hunting and protection. Wagon caravans, typically seen with larger Sem’ya groups, are pulled by Eilc Eir, silent white elk. For those without caravans, Eilc Eir serve as well respected pack animals. The dark hawks, Iora Spoir, fly high and hidden in the night sky. If a Duende is exiled, his or her hawk is killed as a symbolic gesture that equates to a great big middle finger. Culture In ancient times, the Oiche Duende had an expansive population. Currently, their numbers have severely fallen. With a lack of a formal census and a generally distaste for bureaucratic paperwork, the exact population is unknown but is estimated to be around 4000. The pursuit of knowledge is a key value for the Night Elven. They are loosely pantheist, sensing power in all natural things. Religion is tied with folklore, of both Elvish and human culture. Most adults align their interests with one concept, study it extensively, and move on to another idea after their previous study is exhausted. Books upon books of nature, practical magic, demonology, psychological theories, engineering, forms of martial arts, and what fungus grows upon which cheese have been recorded and passed down family lines for centuries. They often will teach in small villages for extra coin. Some find it necessary to remain in one place during the winter seasons, a hard task for a restless people. Music and dance has serene, yet restrained, themes. The stars and the moon are classical sources of fascination. Even the youngest elf feels a kinship with the celestial. However, there has been a recent deviation from tradition among Duendaic youth. Whether through conscious rebellion or innate evolution, younger Uatha have found themselves drawn to the cities of Terrenus. Occasionally, Uatha in the cities band together in loose affiliations similar in concept with family clans. Attire Clothing for the road is simple and sturdy. Most elect to go barefoot. No Oiche Duende is seen without a collection of rings encircling their fingers, however. Crystals, talismans, little bits and bobbles decorate their wrists and dangle off of their necks. These are their few frivolous possessions. For attire meant for festivals, the fashions are sensual, bold, and darkly bohemian. Most elves, male and female, choose to keep their hair long and secured back in braids. Facial piercings are common. Language Duendaic is a language akin to Veldamari and other Elvish languages, though it has a distinct lack of idioms and a simplified structure. There are only two genderless pronouns, ye and yu, to represent a singular and plural noun respectively. Common Tongue’s usage of “a” and “the” are eradicated. For us Earthlings, it is comparable to Gaelic. To make matters even more confusing to outsiders hoping to learn the language, there are wide variations of dialect and liberal integration of other languages. Most Duende are fluent in multiple forms of communication. Innate Abilities Agile and graceful, Night Elves that choose to learn combat can be deadly foes. Predominantly nocturnal, they have strong night vision, but they can be easily blinded and disoriented by flashes of bright light. Their hearing is keen and their reflexes quick, traits commonly shared amongst those of Elvish blood. They are sensitive to the workings of magic, making them strong spellcasters with a weakened resistance to outside mystic forces. When they do choose to make emotional connections with others, their partner can quite literally feel the Duende’s essence beneath their own skin. For other species, this can gravitate between a pleasant tingling sensation to uncomfortable itching, depending on the emotional state of their partner.
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