Coming of age. (Open Rp)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by The Fox and The Spider, Feb 15, 2013.

  1. Show Spoiler
    Ulfric and Tityana.

    It was just another day, the sun now creeping over the vast horizon. Its radiant ray providing a sense of warmth as it beat against Ulfric’s tan skin. Gently his hands would rub against his rugged face, as if trying to fully awaken himself from his slumber. The song of various birds reverberated throughout the woodlands, as the hundred aromas of springs spice filled his nostrils. Scents most would fail to notice, taking such luxuries for granted.


    His frame adorned in a set of simple dark brown leather armor. Twin sheathed fanged short blades strapped firmly to his hip, as bow and quiver nested against his back. Today marked the twelfth year of his daughter’s birth. For four years now she has endured his training, becoming a hunter and tracker of the land. Removed from society to endure a life of solitude necessary to purify her gentle spirit, giving birth to one more suited for this trying land. Oh how her fiery spirit and unwavering resolve reminded him of her mother. Who gave up the ghost so many years ago.


    The flap of their tent would stir, being push skyward as the young child stepped forth from its mouth. The spitting
    image of her father, struggling to remove herself from her sleep. The arches of his lips contorting, birthing a subtle grin as those bicolored eyes of his lingered on his daughter Tityana.
    “Fashionably late I see?” He proclaimed, his offspring shrugging her shoulders. Wearing a similar outfit as her father, with bow and quiver likewise strapped firmly to her back. “Today marks the twelfth anniversary of your birth. Just one more year of training left.” Ulfric stated, watching as his approval caused a wide smile to plaster itself on her youthful face.


    Despite being young, she showed much promise. Picking up on the trade far quicker than he could have hoped for; let alone fathomed.
    “Father what do you have planned for today?” Tityana inquired into, her words posed well beyond her age. Coming as no shock to her father, after all she was half elven and her mother’s daughter. “Do not trouble yourself with such matters, after all life would be bland without some surprises.” He’d jest, his daughter only arching a brow. Her once wide smile becoming a frown as a sense of perplexity riddled her face.


    “Let us be off.” He continued, not permitting his daughter to even eat breakfast. “But I am hungry?” She replied, her words causing Ulfric to chuckle. “Do not fret my dear, there is an abundance of food within these woods.” His response leading Tityana to assume they were going on a hunt today, this was partially correct. Though the true purpose of today’s events would prove far more elusive.


    Making their way downhill and into the treeline, both father and daughter would creep through the foliage. Ulfric only permitting his gaze to drift her way from time to time. But refraining from babying her, after all she was more than equipped to defend herself from most beast.


    Being of age, Ulfric wished to test her Elven blood. To see if the innate power of her heritage stirred within her. Something that would of made her mother proud. Though to be honest he was uncertain, unsure if her human blood would overpower that of her faerie. Thus silencing her magically inclined tongue. Something that only time could clarify.


    Stepping through the woods they would make their way east, toward a body of water. A lake that served as good hunting ground. But a dangerous place nonetheless, for bandits at times tend to wander this way, in search for a stray merchant replenishing his water supplies. Abruptly he would halt, falling to the ground as his eyes peered outward toward the tranquil lakes surface.


    No words needed to be exchanged, his daughter scurried off to grab the heads from a few foxtails, vegetation that often flourished near body of waters. Albeit a lake or a swamp, they were edible and in abundance. However they lacked the desired flavor, throughout her training Tityana had learned to eat whatever she could find. As a result she was far from a picky eater.


    “Do you know why I brought you hear this day?” Ulfric questioned her, silently she would shake her head in response. “I wish to see if your Elven blood has bloomed.” His words offering little closure or comfort to the child, she seemed lost in its meaning. But cared not to beg for further explanation knowing full well that soon all would be revealed; still this wouldn’t stop her from bestowing her father with a look of bewilderment.


    Laughing out loud Ulfric would stretch forth his hand, ruffling her brown hair. He found her to be the spitting image of himself when he was her age. Frigidly she would look on her father, giving him a stiff lip of disapproval. However her father seemed unaware of this, for Ulfric had closed his eyelids.

  2. An elf, no doubt. The pointed ears that jutted forth from her dark brown waves that reached down its locks towards her lower back made it evident what race this woman belonged to. But a different tribe, perhaps. Elves were different in many ways from humans, from commonfolk. At a certain age, elven children were often sent to clans, knowing no blood family by the time they reached the age of five. They were different in the sense that every elf they met was blood family, but no man nor woman was their father nor mother. It was a complicated matter.

    At a certain age, they are sent away to live with a tribe of their parents' choosing. For Evesarafel, or Fel for short, her parents chose a hard life, one of training and practicing her magic and honing her skills as a warrior. This tribe used skin markings, tattoos if you will, to show rank, dominance, or criminal pasts. As a 18 year old woman who blossomed early on in life, she fell on harder times. Falling in love was great, but when it isn't there to catch your fall, and the man's arms that you trust so dearly fall weak and let you drop, you learn that love doesn't last. And neither did the life sprouting in her womb. That life was lost alongside her pride. Marked as a whore with tattoos that resembled thorny vines swirling close to her eyebrows on her temples, she was forced to live her life without pride, without love, and without her child.

    In the place she buried her child, who she believed would have been a daughter, she planted an Oak. Though it was planted between two large rocks, she knew that, with her child as its nutrients, it would thrive like no other. Her heart often yearned to know the daughter her womb gave up on, and upon seeing that Oak tree, thriving to an already staggering height of twelve bow-lengths tall, she would weep. This weeping grew less and less with every year that passed, but the hole in her heart merely grew colder.

    Fel greeted her twenty-seventh birthday with a new marking. Every three years, the elves in the Aithen tribe would mark themselves worthy of another three years. In Aithen years, Fel was only ten. But by this age, an Aithen woman was to have children to continue the race. For Fel, however, it was never going to be easy. Every elven man she met looked down on her for her markings, no matter how long ago or how faded her markings had grown. For her twenty-seventh birthday, she commissioned a marking that forced her to lay still on her stomach for nearly six hours, the longest she'd had to lay for a tattoo. This marking signified that, despite being marked as a whore, she was comfortable with life. The lines, curving and curling like honeysuckle vines from her hips to the nape of her neck showed a form of comfort, the way a man's arms felt when they embraced her, the way the Great Mother held her every night as she slept, looking over her in the darkness. But honeysuckles do not comfort. They strangle. This strangulation resembled the way she felt, night after night, not knowing of a man's embrace, nor of the feeling of having a child of her own. The Great Mother was the only one for her now.

    Fel stopped abruptly, hearing footsteps nearby. She hunkered down on the treeline, crouching with her bow in one hand and arrow in the other. She was not the best at bow hunting, but her close ranged attacks were never really stealthy enough for her to hunt with. The lake was close, so perhaps a deer? A rabbit? Hell, a squirrel would do fine, if she could just get it to stand still long enough. Animals had grown scarce recently besides birds, of course, and the occasional deer was a miracle to be seen. A deer would last her at least two weeks if it was healthy enough. After getting her last tattoo, which was still sore and scarring on her back, Fel moved to the woods to start anew, and it went well for a month or so. Until she ran out of food. Then the real work began. But something else was living in these woods, killing off the game before she could get to it. Whether it was Ulfric and Tityana, no one could be certain.

    "A girl?" she muttered under her breath when she saw the young girl go to the lakeside to get foxtails to eat. "Wise choice," Fel muttered again with a nod. Fel wore a wolf's hide as a type of skirt, covering the waist of her torn and tattered hide pants, a piece of leather stolen from her clan before she left was stitched into a type of natural covering for her breasts that tied much like a bikini. Her shoulders were often covered with leather pauldrons, but she'd left them back at her camp as she searched for food. Instead, to keep her skin from blowing her cover and alerting any animals nearby, she rubbed a thin layer of red clay mud on her shoulders. She braided the front part of her hair out of her face, tying it into a knot on the back of her head and bare feet kept her from making more noise than was necessary. This was her hunting attire. After realizing that wearing her full leather armor was tiring and time consuming, she eventually ended up wearing this small amount of clothing which left her shoulders, back, and stomach all exposed to the elements, but all of which have kept her hidden while hunting all this time.

    ((OOC: I suppose I'll wait to see if you'll still reply to this even after 3 weeks of posting this. I hope you do. I'm very interested in continuing with Fel and hope things can go well with Ulfric, Tityana, and Fel. :D Wasn't so sure if I wanted to encounter your characters just yet, so I'll let you decide. ))

  3. Everything seemed as it should, the tracks by the lake told Ulfric that other than a few deer and wolves, not much else wandered this far from the main roads. The sense of solitude and isolation would undoubtedly serve them well. Being a human, he had little knowledge in the way of elven power.

    However he was certain the much like a bird doesn’t learn its song or flight from its mother, his Tityana would learn to sing and fly on her own. It was in her blood, her genetic memory to accomplish such innate abilities. Though the question remained, how long would it take before such ancient power, calls out to her from within her blood?


    Casually the middle aged man let out a soft yawn, his palm rubbing against the grain of his rugged face. Like all men and women of the wilds, he found himself enjoying the warm rays of the sun, the distant cries of the bird, and the unbridled wind through his hair. Lazily Ulfric rose from his seated position, patting his baby girl on the head. Ruffling her hair even more, knowing full well the angered look she was giving him.


    “Now, now pup. Today is a special day.” He whispered, his words filling the day with promise in her young eyes. Tactfully Tityana pushed her father’s hand away from her head, moving toward his side as they peered over the lake, which reflected the sun’s rays gloriously.

    “How so pa?” Despite her age, Tityana was quite mature and observant; she knew long ago that something was different about her father’s stride. It came as no shock that her father avoided the question, undoubtedly about to use some excuse to brush it aside as he often did.


    “We are not alone…” he whispered under his breath, Tityana rolled her eyes at his flaccid ploy to dodge the question. “Come on don’t try and dodge my question.” Being young she lacked the keen senses and sixth sense of a seasoned veteran like her father. For though the intruder remained hidden, and made no audible sounds. He could still feel her eyes barreling down on them, eyes not of hate or anger, rather of curiosity.


    With a wave of his hand Ulfric silenced his pup, pulling out his bow and an arrow from his quiver. As soon as he pulled the string back effortlessly, he’d let go, permitting the arrow to fly through the air, cutting through the wind and brush. By design he purposely missed the elven woman. The young pup gasped, knowing her father never to waste an arrow needlessly, adding creditability to his claim.


    “Why don’t you show yourself? You’re good and not unskilled, sadly not good enough to conceal yourself from my third eye.” His thick Irish accent distinguishing itself from the normal manner of which the local humans spoke. T

    ityana had assumed her father mad as silence was all that first greeted them. “See pa there ain’t nothing there!” She blurted, Ulfric was not convinced and remained adamant on his stance. Ignoring his daughters words entirely, his frigid yet unwavering visage troubled his daughter greatly.
  4. Fel found herself bringing a hand to her own mouth to cover a yawn, being forced to mirror the human in his actions.

    'Shit..' Fel's thoughts ran through her mind, realizing she'd been sensed by the man. But all racing thoughts halted when Ulfric's voice flew into her ears. A man's voice. Not one that was speaking in elven tongue, not one that was scolding her for her faded markings. It was one simply calling to her to make herself known. Should she show her face? Truly with every other man she'd ever met she showed her markings proudly, wanting people to know her past, without guilt of holding a love-child in her womb. But something was intensely different.

    She reached over to her shoulder, swiping some red clay and applying it to her markings and slipped her arrow back into her quiver. Fel made it look as if the red clay mud was war paint of some sort. But she was hunting, so why would she need war paint? But he was a human, or human-like, so how would he know of her ways? Perhaps she needed that war paint for some reason. Oh, to hell with it. It was merely a passing, why would he care?

    Fel rose, snatching up the arrow he'd shot into her hand and holding it at her side. Her eyes landed silently upon Tityana, first wondering why a man of such an age was with such a young girl. A daughter or neice perhaps. Sibling, maybe. In the elven ways she knew no blood relations, so it was still odd to her to see a man with his daughter.

    "Perhaps it is you who should be more wary of your surroundings? Your little pet could have been shot if I had believed she to be a deer," she nodded toward the girl before raising her green eyes to Ulfric. "And what would a human be doing in this forest? You have been the one killing off the game, no doubt? Game has become scarce in these woods." Fel stepped forward, gliding through the brambles that had been a barrier between them. The thorns plucked at her flesh on her stomach and sides, though she paid it no mind. She was far too used to the prick of the thorns of the forest. Fel held out the man's arrow, arrowhead towards him, and her bow sitting silent in her hand at her side.

  5. Tityana watched intently as the elven female stepped forth from the foliage. Being half elven herself she found it exciting to finally meet one of her kind. Though elves were generally known for being of good alignment, Ulfric had not been sold. This woman’s actions remained a mystery, and sometimes an unknown factor proved just as nefarious as one of spite. Carefully the more seasoned of the two examined her, noting her stride, posture, expressions and even markings.

    <o:p> </o:p>

    One might foolishly lump her as a scout for a raiding party of some kind, but Ulfric was more than aware of the religious applications of such markings. Cautiously he extended his arms, shielding Tityana as he narrowed his gaze. Intently he listened to her words, digesting each syllable, trying to discern if she be friend or foe. No doubt she was doing the same…

    <o:p> </o:p>

    Finally the silence would be broken, as the first attempts at solid communications were attempted between the two. “She is no pet, she is my daughter. The one good thing I’ve brought to this world.” His words filled his pup with a swirl of emotions, joy being the most predominant, followed by pride. No doubt this woman would find the firmness in his words as off putting, especially considering the gap between their societies. Primarily their family and social structures…

    A wide smirk suddenly adorned his rugged face, as Ulfric lowered his arm from his daughter. She had assumed much, and in the process underestimated his prowess. “You could of tried to hit her with an arrow, but you would of missed the mark.” Whether or not this was sheer arrogance, or boasting justified would elude the elven woman. Tityana looked up at her father, tugging ever so lightly on his leather top. “Father…Is she why I’m here?” Her inquiry oddly placed, yet meriting an answer from the old ranger.

    <o:p> </o:p>

    “No, not entirely.” He quickly retorted, putting away his bow. Some might see this as an act of complacency, though in truth Ulfric was fairly certain he could draw and fire an arrow with grave haste, if the situation should arise. Once more he’d pat his daughter on the head, as if telling Tityana all was well. “Do not fret pup, I doubt this one means us any harm. Miscommunication is all.” He stated ever so nonchalantly.

    <o:p> </o:p>

    Those bicolroed eyes of his attempting to lock with that of the strange woman, his chiseled chest puffing out as he spoke. “We have not eaten many deer. The last several seasons I have taught my pup here how to live off the land via the use of vegetation only.” He spoke with a sense of sincerity, and if she should attempt to cast a spell of detection. The elf would surely learn that now lies spewed from this mortals lips.

    <o:p> </o:p>

    Tityana broke free from her father, taking a few steps closer to the woman in order to close the distance. Being young she had an innocent fire burning in those youthful eyes of hers. “My name is Tityana, and that is my old man Ulfric. We are rangers!” She boasted, pointing her thumb to herself before drifting it toward her father. A sense of pride lingered on those words, as if she fully understood her role. “That’s enough pup.” The rugged male replied, turning his attention toward the lake.

    <o:p> </o:p>

    “What are the odds?” He mused under his breath, far too inaudible for even the keen senses of an elf to register.

  6. Fel let her arm drop to her side, listening silently to the man and his daughter.

    "Daughter.." she breathed quietly as she looked down at Tityana with a sense of longing. She looked back to Ulfric, letting her heart race lightly as she watched the man's aura glow around him, a way of sensing lies, but her stomach forced her out of her spellcasting. A grumble and then an ache in her stomach, warning her of it's emptiness. She had not eaten yet.

    "I mean no harm, not at all. You speak the truth, human," Fel nodded, sliding her bow against her back underneath her quiver to sheath it. She grinned when Tityana spoke to her, bending at the waist with her hands on her knees so they were eye-level as they spoke. 

    "It's very nice to meet you, Tityana," Fel greeted. "Saesa omentien lle," she spoke clearly as she raised her hand up to shoulder-height. A traditional greeting in the elven ways. Though they were cut into tribes as children, all elves spoke the same language. "You are an elf as well, my dear, are you not?" she asked, standing up straight with a grin. 

    "So why would there be so few game in this season? Surely, you must be killing off game. You are both well-fed, and foxtails and shrubbery is not a diet to make one as well-fed as you two," Fel pondered, her brows furrowing with confusion. She watched as Ulfric's eyes met with her own. 'Two different colors..?' Fel thought to herself, 'This man is so different in his looks from the elven men I've known... But he acts just as put off as every man ever has.. Maybe this is the destiny that the Great Mother has chosen for me.'

    She grinned, though, down at Tityana, forcing her out of her thoughts and worries about the edible creatures of the forest and the eyes of the man she just met.

    Fel paused, looking to Ulfric for answers. "Rangers?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at the man.