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About Phaedara

  • Rank
    The Nightingale
  • Birthday 08/20/1989

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  • Gender
  • Location
  • Interests
    Writing (duh), drawing, reading, video games (primarily PC), board games, exploring the wilderness, airsoft, medicine and cuddling all the animals! Oh, and definitely rain. I love me a good thunderstorm.
  • Occupation
    Veterinarian Technician

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  1. Hi, any plans for Seris in the future? I represent House Aetherion.

    1. Phaedara


      Yes! I do currently have some fun things planned for her (or so I hope) but it's going to take a while to get there since I'm in and out of Valucre so much lately.

  2. Phaedara

    What are you playing? [Table Top Edition]

    I haven't played any games recently, but I will always carry a special kind of love for Cosmic Encounters. Own every expansion that's available and the core box is so beat up from years of travel and countless game nights that it's practically falling apart (poor thing). Pretty much every board game night started off this bad boy and it's my favorite one to introduce to new players. It tends to break down barriers fairly quick as folks start backstabbing left and right. Good times man. Similar games of that vein that I enjoy are the Battlestar Galactica board game and the original Dead of Winter. All three have some treachery aspect involved. 😐 Not sure what that's supposed to say about me. Of course, RPGs are great. DnD for simplicity and quicker play, but Pathfinder for a bit of complexity and depth. One day I'll have enough free money to own Kingdom Death. All the pretty miniatures! But Ticket to Ride was the first board game that really got me interested in the hobby! That's a solid game! And kudos for getting through that novel of a rule book that Horus Heresy comes with. 😐 I ended up nope-ing out of that one, but I hear it's fun for WH 40k fans.
  3. Phaedara


    Eleri experimented with the chosen name, 'Rhast Maweyn', toying with the syllables as they rolled off her tongue and stretched her lips. Quietly, she repeated it until it settled naturally with her speech and decided that despite its translation, it was a good name. Of course, the elvish language--or what she assumed was elvish--had a way of making anything sound mystical and refined. It would, however, give native speakers some pause. Amused with the thought, Eleri chuckled inwardly as possible scenarios reeled through her mind. Deviating away from such musings, she watched Ashelewyn's attempts to tame the chimera pup with mild interest, introspectively comparing the tactic with those used to tame and train a horse--something she knew how to do well. There were considerable differences. Equine were skittish creatures and although food might be a motivator as reward for advanced maneuvers, there was little chance of taming a wild horse on hunger alone. Yet the elf was making definite progress in such short time, so even she had to concede to his approach. So despite some reservation, Eleri actively studied the demonstration, attentive to the budding relationship that blossomed between the two. However, at the mention of Eleri's role in their 'parentage', she wrinkled her up-turned nose to express her distaste with the analogy, her lips puckering to match. She thought to dagger him with a quip, retaliating against his order to participate in the lesson, but a soft rumbling disrupted her thoughts. With a brief glance down at her belly, the freelance almost looked embarrassed as she pressed her folded arms against it, as if somehow that would silence the hunger pangs from vocalizing their arrival. It would seem the mention of food had reminded her of her own standing malnutrition. With a resigned sigh, Eleri rose languidly to her feet before reluctantly making headway for Asheleywn's gear. She knelt down to shuffle through his things, pausing briefly as her eyes took in the condition of his bloodied cloak. She reached for it and rolled a thumb over the fabric, inspecting its quality and heft. It wasn't in terrible shape even though the chimera hadn't been necessarily kind to it. There was no doubt she could sew it into repair--if he'd even let her--but she reserved the thought for later, setting the cloak aside to continue the search. Spotting the satchel, she probed through it until she found the dried strips, the spicy aroma triggering her lips to moisten with eager anticipation. She ripped free a small piece and hurriedly shoved it into her mouth, rising to return to the group as she chewed. But as she turned, Eleri found an furry-scaled surprise charging at her. With an undignified, startled squeak, Eleri reflexively jerked her arms and outward leg upwards, bracing for impact as the chimera pup rushed at her with hungry intent. Fortunately, an irritable procession of bleating from the ram's head demanded discipline and the pup skidded to a stop. Warily, she relaxed enough to lower her limbs but continued to watch the chimera as it paced back and forth, eyeing her hungrily. "Fucking hell! You are starving aren't you? I'm guessing you didn't get the chance to eat before we...well...yeah." The cub's head kept its penetrating gaze fixated on her, wide eyes flicking to the tasty morsel in her hand as the dragon squealed with ravenous vehemence. The ram, however, seemed entirely disinterested in her, focus pointed in the direction of the elf with whom it had already built its rapport. "Okay, okay. I get it," she assuaged, gesturing for the chimera to calm. "I'm hungry too you know. But, according to grandpa long-ears over there, I'm supposed to make you work for--" In hindsight, if Eleri had paid even the smallest bit of attention to the chimera's swishing tail and rigid, lowered stance, she might have seen the lunge coming. But as she lurched back to avoid its leap, she instead found herself toppling backwards, tripping over the piled gear behind her. Before she knew it, the cub had snatched the jerky from her fingertips, excitedly tossing its head from side to side as if tearing flesh from a fresh corpse and then dropped it to the ground where it gorged on the meat with its carnivorous sibling. Instantly deflated, Eleri lay strewn over Ashelewyn's gear, eyes regarding the sky with subdued deference. "Well, that went great," she muttered crossly. "I guess this must be a sign from the universe that I should never try to have kids unless I enjoy getting walked all over--which I don't." With a pained groan, she picked herself up from the pile and rubbed her back where she was sure an axe hilt had bruised her. Defeated, she wobbled back to her own equipment, sparing a sidelong glance at the elf. "I think I'll skip on the rest of today's training session," she said, prying her trousers free from the mound and slipping into them, wriggling as they stretched tight over her thighs and backside. "After all, isn't there a 'momma' chimera we need to skin and gut?" Suddenly she clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a satirical, alarmed gasp and shot a glance at the distracted chimera pup. "Oops! Should I have not said that in front of junior?" With the roll of her eyes as if unimpressed by her own joke, she located her blouse and inspected it for tears or stains as she continued the line of questioning. "That is what you plan to do, right? As noble as your mission's original intent may have been, I can't just stand idly by and let a good pelt go to waste, especially when there's money to be made. A starving girl has to eat. And, more importantly, drink."
  4. Phaedara

    The Devil's Backbone

    The advantages of being an elf served Seris well in her lifetime, her keen senses making surprise an old acquaintance. The subtle, muted sounds of shuffling outside the inn had alerted her ears of the newcomer's presence, even though the door had yet to open. It helped that the inn was mostly silent with only the groans of flame and the soft squeaks of a glass cup undergoing it's nightly ritual with the barkeep's cloth to interrupt her focus. But there was no mistaking the uncanniness of the elf's ability. A moment later the door swung open with a heavy, insensitive thud, and the abrasive scrape and clatter of weighty armor announced the patron's entry. With fingers of one hand laid delicately on the stem of the wine glass, Seris offered no hint of diversion from the pages of the book nestled neatly in her hand, her pale eyes fixated on the printed text. To trust is to expose oneself to betrayal. After all, the nature of trust requires a reliance on another where the truster is under the impression that they control the reins, when it is plausible that the trustee ultimately commands the pulls and pushes that guides and strengthens the relationship. It’s understood that by violating this reliance, one provokes betrayal, but then this raises a thorny question: who is in the wrong? Is it the violator? The steed burdened by the trust thrust upon them, forced to maintain the order lest they outset confrontation? Or the betrayed? The driver who must forfeit and ignore all evidence that might cast doubt on the other’s trustworthiness to avoid stigmatizing the bond even on threat of being led astray? Eventually, the pained creak of a wooden chair bearing far more weight than it was accustomed to drew her attention to the man now seated on the other side of her table. If Seris were surprised either by his appearance or his massive size, she conveyed little evidence of it. Yet, a perturbing observation did bubble in her mind as her eyes glanced over him with benign interest; out of all the qualified members on the list of Mr. Lyles ever expanding roster of criminals that he could have sent for a business endeavor of such importance as this, he chose to send an Outsider. An Outsider not unlike herself. As strange as a concept as it may seem, Mr. Lyles was often hailed as a family man. After all, he kept a majority of his business managed and executed by members of his bloodline--a genealogy that reached across the midlands of Genesaris with surprising depth. Seris had been an exception to this rule. In the elf's younger years, she worked hand in hand with the grandfather and father of Mr. Lyles; Seris was the head of estates' best kept secret, to be passed down from generation to generation. She wasn't sure whether to be honored by the sentiment or unsettled by it. As long as she was paid, it didn't make much of difference most days. Either way, Seris eyed the man with blunted scrutiny. Why use an Outsider? Mr. Lyle's last attempt to bring an Outsider in, excluding herself, proved to be a mixture of success and failure. Although the man named 'Moss'--whose true name she learned was 'Caliben'--had succeeded in eliminating Bailey Valmer as an obstacle to gaining open access to Valjer's broken potential even if it hadn't been done solely by his hands, the outcome came with an unexpected cost. A tremendous cost. Simply by association with Caliben, Mr. Lyles would--for the first time in his life--know terror and pain. While the Outsider was off on his mission to 'dispose' of any 'obstacles', a strange man claiming to be a Thundermaster from Stormward came in search of him. Against all odds, the man had penetrated the steadfast defenses of the Lyles Family, invading the patriarch's home to demand for answers. When Mr. Lyles refused, the Thundermaster killed his eldest son as punishment, carving the young boy's neck open before his very eyes. Something about the event disturbed Seris, but it had been difficult to even mention the encounter with Mr. Lyles--the only one still alive to recount it--so she couldn't press for answers. But as result, the kingpin blamed Caliben for Estan's death and vowed to bleed the rogue dry by his own hands. Yet another Outsider sat across her table, a steaming hot plate of Valjerian fare served before him with all the enticement of an ugly whore pressed before a desperate, deprived man. A theory scintillated in her mind as an attempt to understand Mr. Lyle's intent. Perhaps recent failings with the Valjer folk caused by his nephew, Alcone, had brought to attention a need for a change of tactic. After all, Seris typically worked behind the curtain on these kind of matters, yet even she had been brought in to Valjer out of urgency to patch what had been nearly shredded beyond repair. The town-center massacre that took place some months before today had nearly toppled everything Mr. Lyles had worked up to. It almost brought down the wrath of the Imperial military, but Seris has been quick to staunch any military presence with some carefully placed bribes. Though, without a doubt, another such occasion would not make it as easy to dissuade military intervention. The graceful arch of her brow hinted at appreciation for the tone of which he commanded the barkeep and his daughter away. She examined him, pulling from her mind the roster of men and women that Mr. Lyles employed and found his name and mental profile among them. After all, it would be hard to miss a man such as himself, even if he wasn't the only muscle under the kingpin's employment. Although she knew him already, Seris kept her lips sealed and savored in the secret of knowing. It was often better to have them introduce themselves, as to bring light to the true character of a person. So, instead she flicked her eyes away as he assaulted his food, turning a page as if to return to her reading. "Straight to the point it seems," she remarked, pausing briefly to sip her wine. "I can appreciate that. Concision speaks volumes of a person's work ethic. But, as you should already know, I can't divulge any information until we've been properly introduced. So..." Prying her eyes from an interesting excerpt from her page, she regarded the man coolly even if she may have been mildly repulsed by the rapacious nature of his eating habits. Without any other prompting, she stared at him blankly before finally declaring, "Blood before Honor..."
  5. Phaedara


    And chew on the thought she did. Already sorry for the eruption, Eleri bit the inside of her cheek as he attempted to defuse the tension between them by doing what she couldn't--apologize, or at least what she could gather was even an attempt. In her defense, it was unlike her to snap and fight back. Usually, she would just shrug her shoulders and move on, finding little value in trying to make peace with others. But as the woman passed a glance over Ashelewyn, eyeing him as he partially dressed, she wondered what else of the man she would have to learn to cope with. After all, she had been the one to say working together was about 'give and take'. Today, she took and he gave, a small victory on her part. Eleri almost felt sorry for it as she mulled on the thought, understanding dawning that her she had insulted him and the very nature of who he was, something he could not change no matter how he might try just as she could not help herself. They were both holding on tight to their differing views, much like young marsupials that clung to their mothers, dependent on them for their very survival. It was innate. But, just as much as she was afraid of letting go, she was also looking forward to the challenge. Skimming curious eyes over the elf, she soaked in the sight of him. Burnished locks of deep browns, still damp but no longer dripping with run off, were returning to their shaggy appearance as they dried, his tapered ears peeking out from beneath with pointed contrast. With his head turned from her, she admired his picturesque profile, gaze tracing the long bridge of his nose down to the sharp angle of his jaw, prickled with rough stubble. He posed a prominent figure, the toned lean muscles inviting her eyes now that his pants had been restored, his overexposure no longer a reason to turn away out of pious habit. Oh, what a challenge it would be. Eleri climbed out of the stream and was confronted by Crysta, the fairy almost chirping at her with what she could barely surmise to be either a greeting or command. Not sure of which, and not wanting to offend her new companion, she halted in place. "Uh, yes? Do you need something from me?" She tried to steal a closer inspection of the fae, but too much light diffused any traces of the tiny silhouette. Instead, a hum replied. Warmth permeated the closing space between them as the circling mote whirred around the woman, kissing her supple skin with traces of heat. Eleri nearly melted with unbridled contentment, shutting her eyes to relish in the fairy's pampering as the magical heat not only evaporated beads of stream water away, but also relaxed the tender muscles of her bruised body. "He doesn't deserve you," Eleri breathed, peeking an eye open as the mote passed over her. "You're spoiling him rotten, you know that? I hope he's treating you well at least." Crysta's humming pitched with brief inflection as if to reply. Without the ability to comprehend its meaning, she could only imagine a response made in acquiescence to fit her current musings. As she stood there, accepting Crysta's shower of magic while she wrung the hair draped over one shoulder dry, Eleri observed the amusing ritual between Ashelewyn and the chimera pup with an endearing grin. Well, he's done that before, she thought, watching him skirt the creature until it realized the game, the ram's head showing a surprising disposition for intelligence. A chuckle tickled her throat as the chimera pounced the jerky with hungry fervor, and returned her attention to Crysta to thank her for the unexpected, but gratifying service. "Do you have any other boundaries I should know about, Eleri?" the elf asked. "After all, we're parents now, and I hear it's bad parenting to argue in front of children." At that, her head snapped back to him and an involuntary, incredulous gasp escaped her lungs at the suggestion. "Parents?" she exclaimed with more ardor than anticipated. "That is not the term I would've used. Just so you're aware, I was serious about letting you do all the work," she said flatly, though a twinkle in her eye hinted she intended otherwise. Feeling mostly dry and relaxed now thanks to Crysta, but with her skin still too dewy to comfortably slip clothes on without tacking, she approached Ashelewyn and crouched beside him to examine the chimera. The ram's gaze skewered her with keen shrewdness, the slotted amber eyes sending a shiver up her spine. With its portion of the meal finished, the cub turned its scrutiny to the humanoid pair, a low rumble quaking from its throat as a soft purr. "But as far as boundaries go," she pondered, eyes pinned on the creature, "I think we'll have to wait and see what those are as we come across them. This is a first for me. Working with someone, that is. And I mean really working with someone--not just a one-off mission." She flicked her eyes in his direction and curled her lips in a smile. "But I promise not to bite so hard next time you accidentally cross one. I guess I was just a bit surprised is all." An irritated croak from the chimera's dragon head drew her attention, a fiery burp signalling its mild satisfaction with the small snack, but its penetrating eyes searched for more. Thinking back on his previous question, she turned back to the elf with a toothy grin. "I know what we should name it. Rage. Sounds badass, doesn't it?" But before he could muster a reply, she slapped his arm excitedly with an expression to match. "Wait! No! We should name it Mittens. Mittens is just the right kind of name that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies!" With a cat-like smirk, she beamed at him as her toes wriggled in the grassy dirt. Still hunched beside him, she folded one arm over the tops of her thighs and propped the other to rest the base of her chin in an open palm. "But, no, seriously. You should name it. You're the one who found him... or her... whatever. You're the one who found it. This was your quest, after all, and I just happened to be strolling by. Which, by the way, I left the rest of my things in town, along with my horse. Let's not forget those."
  6. Phaedara

    What's in your speakers, nukka?

  7. Phaedara

    PC Gaming

    There's tons of good things! But for an RTS, the most recent one I played was Northgard. Bonus if you like Norse mythology. I guess suggestions would depend on what kind of games you like to play. Single player or multiplayer, competitive or casual.
  8. Phaedara

    Custom title raffle 4

    Never give up! Never surrender! I'm in! And happy very early Birthday!
  9. Phaedara


    As Ashelewyn cast aside his gaiety, the flippant resonance of his voice now drawn taut, Eleri responded to the abrupt severity with a subtle frown of her own. Cresting waves rippled around him as he neared her on the stream's bank, barely obscuring the suggestive silhouette of his figure just below the surface. Their eyes locked, baring upon one another as if engaging in a game of willpower, each daring the other to turn away first. Or perhaps it were only Eleri who'd seen it that way, her tenuous pride bloated enough to even recognize the challenge. The edge of his words stung her more than she'd care to admit, propagated by the icy bite of his spectral gaze. But with easy indifference he emerged from the water, prompting Eleri to shun her head away and bite her lower lip, cross with his carefree deposition. She remained at the stream's edge, unmoved from her original position as she mulled over the bitter advice he felt inclined to share. This kind of thing was exactly why she avoided working in groups. Borders were often crossed, bristling with tension and eventually leading to hapless bickering. It seemed easier to just call it quits and resign herself to a lifetime of bleak solitude than to deal with such frivolity. In fact, she began to consider how long it would take to make the trek back to town, where her horse and packs were waiting at the stables, paid by what little coin she had left to spare. The path back was fairly straightforward now that she'd recovered her bearings, and even with the relentless thrashing of her aching head, she'd make it back with plenty of time to spare. It's not like she had committed a grievous amount of time to this endeavor anyway; Eleri happened to be in the area and blithe curiosity was the only motivator that had encouraged her to seek him out. There was absolutely nothing obligating her to stay. But gods, only if his poignant prejudice hadn't irked her so. Pivoting around with a less than graceful twirl, she circled to his anterior with no visible cognizance to his revealing visage. "Why yes, master," she mocked with a swooping bow, "I'll do as you bid as it offends you so, but not before we set the record straight." She pulled up with barely half of an arm's reach away, her armored and much shorter frame a comical contrast to his tall and nude one. "First off, you're not the first, nor will you ever be remotely close to being the last naked man I'll ever set my eyes upon. I'm not some dewy eyed virgin getting her first whiff of a cock waggled before her nose. But I thank you for the fine demonstration, anyway," she quipped, gesturing with a pointed hand to his manhood without a glance. "But there are some things I'd prefer to not overly familiarize myself with." Accentuating the gravity of her words with the expressive quirk of her brows, Eleri licked her drying lips before continuing. "And no, don't get me wrong. Just because I'd rather not set my eyes on your cock doesn't mean I won't be there to cup your balls to staunch the bleeding when a goblin gnaws one of your precious ornaments off. Hell, I'd pull your own dick out of your arse if it came down to it. But the way I see it, this," she said, mimicking the same gesture he had made in regard to their surroundings. "This isn't a state of emergency. Not anymore, not now." With a pause, Eleri sighed to ease her taxed lungs, consciously honing the rough edge of her tone. "That brings me to my second point," she began, her eyes flicking down at his bare chest and realizing for the first time their dangerous proximity. But there was no backing down now. With a soft flutter of her eyelashes, she peered up at him once more, making an attempt to seem more brazen than she actually felt. "I think it's only fair, as potential partners, to define some boundaries to be respected outside of the more... dire situations. It's about..." She she bit her lower lip, eyes shifting up to the side just as Crysta flitted into view, searching for the right word to say. "Communication." She returned her gaze to him, nodding as if to affirm the choice. "Communication and give and take. Cooperation. If we're going to work with one another, we need to be on the same page... Right?" The last line of her lecture seemed more directed at herself, uncertainty crinkling the corner of her eyes as her nostrils flared. This whole ordeal was beyond her. There had been a perfectly good reason she worked alone. "Bah! Hell if I know!" In a whirl of frustration, she snapped away and returned to the stream's edge, struggling to unbuckle the straps that secured her armor as frustration magnified the difficulty of what was otherwise a fairly simple task. "Look, do what you want, okay? After all, what do I know? I'm just some greenhorn wannabe-adventurer who obviously has no idea how to survive in wilderness by myself, let alone work with someone else who I'll just drag down with me." With the final plate of metal falling away with a heavy clatter, Eleri practically tore her clothes free and tossed them aside into the same haphazard pile as her armor, donning only the gauzy ivory camisole she wore beneath, with a pair of dark mismatched knickers to veil her virtue. If the stream had been any deeper, she might've dived right into its chilly depths with a poised lunge, anything to escape the elf's gaze. But, with one head-injury more than sufficient to endure for the day, she plodded in, an involuntary squeak escaping her lips as the cold breached her threshold. Yet, she pressed on and ventured as deep as she could, the water peaking just below her breasts. Eleri inhaled sharply to fill her lungs before ducking below the surface her loose ash-brunette waves resisting against the water's tension before finally succumbing to the depths below with the rest of her. She didn't realize how flustered her outburst had made her until that moment, hot cheeks prickling against the cold of the stream. Although the woman seriously contemplated remaining below the surface as long as possible to avoid the ranger, the wound to her head threatened to lapse the longer she held her breath. A short lived escape, she bubbled to the surface and gasped lightly, black spots flickering in her vision briefly before dissipating. Gingerly, she stroked her hair and ear clean, soaking the side of her head to wash away the grime though it were stubborn and resisted her careful method. Pain flared from the wound as she skimmed the tender skin a touch too rough, and she hissed in response with a visible wince. "Fuck, that hurts."
  10. Phaedara

    The Devil's Backbone

    They say that behind every successful man there’s a woman. For Mr. Lyles, the kingpin of cartels in the dark Underground of Union City, that woman was Seris. Few mentioned her name or even knew of her dealings; she was ghost that haunted the halls of the treacherous and false-hearted. But a life in the shadow of the infamous czar suited her well as she cared little for notoriety. As long as she was paid--and paid handsomely she was--Seris had little reason to complain. But this was hell. Valjer City. Of all the assignments her employer had the impudence to send her on, this was by far the worst. Cold, drab, and primitive, Valjer had little to offer her. Its residents were stale and simple minded and holding conversation with any of them had proven to be a chore at best. But yet, she endured for as long as the steady trickle of coin lined her pockets with an occasional gift to reward her perseverance. Mr. Lyles pockets were deep and he was always the impeccable client. Therefore, Seris resigned herself to the temporary station in this frozen pit of despair. As long as she had a fire, a few good books--many of which were gifted by Mr. Lyles himself to motivate her stay--and decent wine, she was content. She was particularly amiable today as Tom, the owner of the sole tavern of Valjer, had picked an exceptionally agreeable vintage this evening. It was almost enough to soothe the ire that tickled her mind. Idly, her long, delicate fingers smoothed the creases of the missive that bookmarked her page. Expect assistance soon. Assistance? She didn’t need help, not yet. Sure, the populace had become unruly with recent operations in the lumber yard; as it turned out, folks on the outskirts of town didn’t like being forced out of their homes and livelihoods to make way for industry. But Seris had it under control for the most part, slipping coin into the right hands and blackmailing those that kept their fists closed shut. Leisurely reaching for her glass, Seris brought its edge to her full lips, tongue wagging apprehensively for its sweet nectar. When nothing but a scarce drop wet her buds, she sighed audibly and lowered the glass with a soft clink. As if manifesting from the very air itself, Tom the bartender appeared at her side, refilling the glass with careful diligence, not trusting his daughters to tend to an emissary of such influence. Or, at least that was the impression he had of her. “I apologize for the wait, Madame LeClair,” said the bartender timidly. “I was busy in the back and I didn--” A firm, raised hand signaled him to immediately cease speaking. Coolly, Seris skimmed her pale-blue eyes from the pages of her book to regard the wheat-haired man, burly and stout as the rest of the Valjerian kin. She didn’t smile, nor did she really even frown. Her blank expression forfeited little thought, a chilly void of emotion that often made others uncomfortable. “Your apology is accepted. I have no need for excuses.” She lightly fingered the stem of the glass before cupping its bowl with subdued anticipation. “But before you return to your duties, if you’d prepare an extra plate for a guest I’m expecting this evening. Assuming he or she is not delayed, they should be here shortly.” The bartender nodded solemnly as he retreated to his station, discreetly passing the order to one of two of his pretty daughters so he could remain attentive to the elf’s needs. There was little else he could do, after all, with no patrons. The tavern was eerily quiet these days. Ever since lumbering operations had started last summer, the once teeming life of Valjer had slowly drained into nonexistence. Valerie Valmer had promised great change since the sudden death of her husband who felled at the hands of cultists led by estranged assassins. She had pledged hope and prosperity to a town that was fading and dying to tradition. When Seris first made her appearance as an envoy to Mr. Lyles, a 'businessman' who sought to bring Valjer back to life with the promise of boom and industry, the town had rejoiced. Even Seris almost felt remorse knowing his plan involved gutting the tiny village clean, leaving it out to dry and rot away. Now, no one cheered. Mr. Lyle's ‘watchers’ strolled the streets at night, ever vigilant in their surveillance for inadmissible exploits aimed to impede the kingpin’s operations. Rumors of an uprising had plagued the town since this past winter, but Seris had been quick to extinguish the spark before it had a chance to ignite. Or so she thought. Two weeks ago, the lumber yard had caught fire. The damage surveyed would set them back several months, much to the dismay of her employer. Nevertheless, he trusted her ability to regain control--she had always gotten the job done--but the incident left him ambivalent about future occurrences. Apparently, he had seen fit to send another underling to assist her in these matters. So, Seris waited for their arrival. Sipping her wine as the hearth crackled and splintered with yearning fire, she felt a somber lull wash over her. Perhaps this is what impending doom felt like.
  11. Phaedara

    The Final Beginning

    As she burst through the foliage like surging water released from its floodgates, Aelyria readied her sword, eager to strike. But to her surprise, she found Caliben standing freely nearby, disengaged and unharmed. Beside him, a woman regarded her with a listless frown, withdrawing her weapon with easy certainty as if the other woman's hostile presence wasn't a cause for concern. That briefly stung her pride. Clenching her jaw tight, Aelyria inspected the woman with burning scrutiny. The woman's outfit practically screamed of Terrenus origin, but with alterations she assumed were made to fit the Taen lifestyle. Her eyes gleamed over the rifle with a passing glance, taking note that the woman was also equipped with a holstered pistol, one similar to those she had seen carried by a few Terrenus military. But before she could pass judgment on the stranger, her eyes caught sight of Ted, slowly creeping up from behind. She couldn't help the involuntarily flicker of her eyes in his direction, but it was so brief and subtle that scarcely anyone seemed to notice. "Anymore of you coming?" The woman asked, eyes flashing at her behind tinted eyewear. "Nope, just us," Ted announced, lazily clasping his arm around Caliben's shoulders. Aelyria's brows furrowed at the demolitionist, noting his clammy appearance. What in Velmesh is wrong with him? But quickly losing control of the situation, Aelyria reeled back her gaze to the woman. With no scabbard to go with her blade, she secured it in a loop at her belt, as if to respond to the woman's unconcerned attitude with one of her own. Of course, if things were to go awry, she at least had her powers to rely on--assuming they still worked. "Caliben." Aelyria nodded lightly in his direction. "I see you've made a new friend," she said with a sharp sting to her words. Her eyes flicked back to the woman, one hand resting on her hip while the other hung loosely at her side, ready to conjure black flame at the first sign of danger. "Care to introduce us?"
  12. Phaedara


    “We do work well together. If you’re up for it, that is.” Eleri didn't think it possible to endure such a roller-coaster of emotion as she felt at that moment. Her eyes narrowed at the elf contemptuously as he turned for the stream, souring her face and mimicking--with great exaggeration--the haughtiness he displayed in the denial of their partnership. The bastard is toying with me, she thought irritability, though a twinkle of amusement in her eyes hinted otherwise. A croaking roar drew her attention back to the chimera, the hovering pup unconvinced of what to think of the strangers below it. Eleri hadn't been serious about keeping the thing; it seemed a kindness to just kill it now than to let it struggle in the wild on its own. But as she crossed her arms and inspected the beast no larger than a newly born foal, she weighed the pros and cons of nurturing it into adulthood. It would be a formidable ally if they could tame it, and if they could manage to train it to carry them on its back, they'd practically half their travel time by taking to the air. She paused, taken aback by her own introspection. Was she really considering pairing up with the ranger? Up until now, she worked alone and strictly alone. It was too much work, too much drama dealing with others. You're the one who mentioned it, idiot. Wrinkling her nose, she turned her head to study the man she unwittingly allied herself with. What she found, however, was a trail of leather armaments leading to what was undeniably the most disconcerting yet impressive image she'd witness today. Immediately, she shied away from the naked figure donned before her, half-turning and throwing up her arms as if to guard his striking vestige from her eyes. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there cowboy!" Eleri exclaimed sharply, startling the chimera above her as it responded with an involuntary jerk further up in the air. "That's a bit unnecessary, don't you think?! Seriously, what is with you and your impulsive whims! I'll say it again, a little warning would be nice!" With a heavy yielding sigh, she lowered her arms reluctantly, still keeping her head turned but with enough peripheral vision on him to know he were still there. Once he submerged himself deep enough to bar her from his salacious exhibition, Eleri turned to regard him with badgering disapproval. "First off, if we are going to work together, I think we need to talk about setting some boundaries." Leaving the chimera pup to its own musings as she had nothing to offer it, she approached the river bank to stand by its edge, arms crossed and hip jutting to the side. "If I had wanted to see a naked elf, I'd have gone to one of those fancy whorehouses in Umbra where at least they're clean and pretty to look at."
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    What are you playing?

    Stardew Valley has had multiplayer beta out for a while now. It's fun~
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    Seris, The Nightingale

    SERIS, The Nightingale Honor, Justice, and Virtue. These three things Seris spent two-hundred and twenty-five years trying to avoid. Honor got you killed. Justice was a fickle mistress. And virtue offered no reward. An elf born in modern day Raven's Landing, Seris spent her youth learning the ways of avian care under the tutelage of her parents and the masters that employed them. Though most of her memories growing among the feathery creatures were fond, Seris speaks little of her childhood and of the reason for leaving her homestead. All that is known of her stay in Raven's Landing is the origin of her special connection to birds. Although most Raven's Landings residents preferred hawks, falcons, and eagles for their predatory instinct, or ravens and crows for their cognitive ability, Seris preferred nightingales and starlings--small, unassuming passerines that were common enough to be dismissed. They were the perfect companions for secrets. With ivory skin marked by few imperfections and stunningly pale baby blue irises peering from almond-shaped eyes, Seris was a testament to elven beauty and grace. Often, her champagne blonde hair was tied up in a careless fashion, just enough to get it out of the way but with little regard to maintaining her natural beauty. Straight and lean with subtle curves sculpting her body, she carried herself with unwavering decorum that could be easily mistaken for arrogance. Beneath her signature woolen trench coat, she donned three bands of tattoos on each wrist, but for what purpose or meaning no one knew. Although at the front the elf was cold, detached, and generally apathetic to everyone and most of everything, it was easy to win her sober affection with the gift of a book. With nothing better than a night spent in, sitting by the fireplace with book in one hand and wine glass in the other, Seris' only ambition in life is to expand her ever growing personal library. And although she may be reserved, speaking little unless required and even then being short and concise, spurring a discussion on philosophy may prove it difficult to quiet her tongue again. So why did Seris--who long ago abandoned her surname--become a criminal? As with everything else, no one knows. BASIC INFORMATION Moniker: Seris Alias(es): Too many to list Sobriquet(s): The Nightingale Gender: Female Actual Age: 225 Apparent Age: Early 30's in human years Race: Elf of unknown degree Orientation: Straight Profession: Informant, Smuggler, Con Artist PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION Height: 5'6" Weight: 130 lbs Figure: Straight and lean with subtle curves Complexion: Ivory Skin with few imperfections Hair: Champagne Blonde Eyes: Baby Blue Voice: Often toneless, but can be purposefully modulated when the situation calls for it. Tattoos/Brands: Three tattooed bands, 1/2" wide each across both wrists in deep, dark blue ink. Scars: None of significance, but she is not without them either. Other Identifiers: Full straight brows, almond-shaped eyes, high-bridge nose, and heavy-lower lips. MENTAL STATE Demeanour: Generally seen as apathetic but level-headed, and she's reserved but speaks with precision and clarity. She's not like to crack a joke and it would be hard-pressed to get her to smile, but she's not without some feeling. Business comes first though, always. Likes: Sitting beside a fireplace, curled up with a nice book and a glass of wine while all in perfect solitude. Dislikes: Noisy people, incompetent people, disrespectful people, and perhaps people in general. Desires: To live in modest comfort and to own as many books as possible. Phobias: Insects. Especially silverfish, cockroaches, termites, and booklice. Anything that will destroy her collection. They're also just repulsive as is. Motivations: No known motivations. She simply wants to exist and live comfortably meanwhile. Quirks: Loves to discuss philosophy whereas most of the time she keeps to herself. Hobbies: Reading. Occasionally she writes, but only to make notes about whatever it is she is reading. Talents: Musically inclined. She doesn't make a hobby of it, but her singing voice is rich and somber in the most beautiful of ways, a sharp contrast to her speaking voice. TYPICAL ATTIRE AND ARMAMENTS Casual Headwear: None. She'll often wear her hair up but not with anything ornate. Protective Headwear: A removable cowl from her woolen double-breasted trench coat Casual Upper Body: Black wool trench coat over a dark maroon silk split neck top and black strappy camisole underneath Protective Upper Body: Umber-brown buffed leather bodice for flexibility Casual Lower Body: Black trousers with a leather belt to secure them Protective Lower Body: None Casual Footwear: Cuffed knee-high boots with buckles below the cuff and at the ankle to adjust for fit Protective Footwear: None Typical Armaments: Scimitar and a one-handed crossbow with bolts that can be easily tipped with various toxins or nerve agents Accessories: Leather gloves with protective padding at the knuckles and a dark charcoal-grey cashmere wrap scarf BACKGROUND INFORMATION Father: Undisclosed Elf Mother: Undisclosed Elf Siblings: Undisclosed Other Significant Relatives: Undisclosed Birthplace: Raven's Landing Hometown: Union City in Genesaris
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    Eleri stiffened when the elf approached. The young woman wasn't accustomed to outsiders breaching the invisible webbing she cocooned herself within to keep the dangers of intimacy--even strictly platonic intimacy--at bay. On any other occasion, she'd shy away, retreating to the safe confines of personal space and retorting with some impersonal excuse. But with Ashelewyn, it was different. Even compared to their first encounter, when she'd been intimidated by his stoic presence, her reaction now was different. She froze, the full wonder of his charming elven features arresting her eyes, fixating them on him against her will. Fuck. The last thing she needed was to feel remotely attracted to him--to anybody. There was enough on her plate to deal with than a passing fancy on someone she barely knew. She reasoned her physical attraction was natural; after all, he was an elf, a transcendent race that bespoke of beauty and elegance. Anyone in her shoes might feel the same. So, pressing her sensibility aside, Eleri refrained from recoiling at his touch for two reasons: to avoid offending him and to circumvent any delusions that they were anything more than colleagues. She forced herself to imagine his hands as the cold, objective tools of a healer's survey, turning her head obligingly for his closer inspection. But, they weren't cold hands. They were warm. As his fingertips brushed her skin, the butterflies fluttered amok in her stomach and she nearly swatted his hand away from the discomfort of such abnormal apprehension. But before she could find the opportunity, he relinquished control and stepped away. “It looks like I underestimated you, Eleri," he admitted, breaking her concentration. "I won’t patronize you and say it was because I was worried. You aren’t a child anymore. I’ll not treat you as such again.” A twitch of her lips indicated a hint of a smile masked behind balmy indifference as she shrugged in reply. Although he had been right to doubt her due to prior experience and their lack of rapport, his faltered support had discouraged her, but even then she hadn't expected him to actually apologize for it. It left her a little stunned, being taken back by his civility, and she struggled to find a response as he swept past her onto things of greater interest. After all, how did one reply to something like that? She could easily deem his apology as back-handed, as if he regarded her as a mere welp still sucking at her mother's teat when they first met. She may have been inexperienced, but she hadn't been that useless. Nevertheless, she assumed Ashelewyn's intention was of the kindest order and although the polite response would've been to reassure him that she took no offense, she couldn't quite convince herself to say it. So, ever the bluff, she feigned nonchalance and reserved her voice. It helped that Crysta provided a much needed distraction--an excuse to her absent reply. The starguide diffused her ever bright glimmer and drew Eleri's attention to the delightful surprise of her tiny, womanly figure. Today would be an ever-growing list of firsts it seemed, as she had never lain eyes upon the fairy without her glow. She nodded with an appreciative smile in response to the ranger's translation, eager to one day understand the complexity of the communion shared between them. As the bonded pair approached the mangled corpse, Eleri scooped her sword from the ground, taking care to wipe the blade clean with the cloth he refused before returning it to its scabbard. Confident she hadn't missed anything else, the young freelance trailed after them, wincing slightly at the pain that erupted with each wobble of her head. Eleri tenderly pressed against the wound to inspect it, gauging its severity by touch since she failed to keep a mirror on hand. He had been right. She would need to be seen by a healer at some point if she didn't want a white scar to mar her face. Stopping some distance away to avoid the splatter of blood as Ashelewyn pried his axes free, she felt the familiar, overwhelming desire to fill the silent void. "You know... you're not so bad yourself. But it's not like I have to remind you of that as I'm sure you're well aware of your talents," she ribbed, sniping at his unfettered confidence. "But, all in all, I think we make a pretty good team, don't you think?" Of all the witty remarks Eleri anticipated, none involved the distracted ramblings of elvish origin. Judging by the venomous bite of his tone, she guessed the meaning of the words were brazen enough to make any person of the delicate nature blush. Her grin widened; there was something endearing about the way he was so intent on retrieving his axes that he couldn't quite contain his frustration. After a bitter success, he pulled back and said, "There's a river up ahead, at the bottom of the gorge." "Really? Good," she muttered, pulling lightly on a lock of hair that was stiff with dried blood. "I could really use a wash. Even though I look absolutely stunning in red, I don't think this particular shade suits me." When she turned back to the elf, she found him distracted once again but this time in conversation with Crysta. With only Ashelewyn's half to decipher from and part of that too low to even hear, she couldn't understand what was wrong. Before she knew it, the ranger dashed into the woods at a full sprint with the zipping mote of light leading the way. "Wait--What? Ash!" Startled, Eleri jolted in place, confused whether to stay with the dead chimera or chase after them. With no direction or instruction--as the elf had been fond of giving thus far--she hesitated before giving into pursuit of the pair. "Oh blessed Arcane, wait!" Chasing after the ranger proved more difficult than she cared to admit. Each bounding step made her head throb and intensified the pressure on the back of her neck. What should've been a relatively easy stroll through the forest became a ceaseless, tiresome odyssey. Eventually she slowed, taking advantage of the trail left behind. Well, at least they had the forethought to leave me some clues. By the time she emerged into the rocky trench of the gorge, her face was contorted with pain and flushed red from the effort. She spotted Ashelewyn with Crysta bouncing around him and sighed with mild exasperation. "What in the gods names was so important that you two just took off without saying so much as a word?" she rasped exhaustively, hands pinned to the hilt of her swords so they had somewhere to rest. "Did you sign up for the Shrine City triathlon and forget to tell me? Phew. Next time, a little warning would be nice." But as she traced the ranger's gaze, her eyes widened. Hovering just about their heads with all its natural affinity for flight, a chimera pup squawked pitifully from the mouth of its dragon's head. Its center head, the cub, hissed at the unwelcome guests, while the ram lamb regarded the trio with disinterest. Eleri carefully shifted to Ashelewyn's side as she gawked at the creature, her parted lips curled in an euphoric smile. "That is the cutest, ugliest thing I have ever seen!" She snapped her attention back to him, displaying a sardonic impression of an eager child in want of a puppy to take home. "Can we keep it? I promise to not take care of it and make you do all the work!"