Manna Beast
I don't trust trees. They're shady.
Original poster
STAFF MEMBER
DONATING MEMBER
MYTHICAL MEMBER
- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- All day, every day
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- -Fantasy with means of magic and sword based feelings, i do prefer a bit of romance in stories
-Modern with again a fantasy feel
-Cut in anything with a bit of Romance and I can give it a try.
Character played by Mana:
Glory was it? How could it be glory to abandon that in which once thousands called home and more used as a beacon that guided their path's? Where was the rich tapestry of her ancestors that had been written in the rice pages of the withered libraries she had scrounged through? Was it all a lie, she couldn't give that a honest answer or even a worthy lie.
The war had been in full swing even before her birth, perhaps a good hundred or so years and yet it had reached and tore so many even after many had fled their capital. Once they stood proud alongside so many mortal races only to have a mighty blow come from the north and strike. Numbing their forces before they could even begin to defend. They had been sly, casual as if nothing was about to come cracking down on the elven empire. Offering the act of treaty, the monsters in hobbled skin and gnarled features did well to take on the crown, to destroy all the elves sought to be. She didn't really know what was the truth now, so much information had been skewed through the years that to say what really happened, could be a bold face lie. She dare not go committing those vile words to the air.
Anger frothed and bubbled in her people's hearts only to be poorly hidden behind strained smiles and tired souls. It was better to be an child in times like this, innocent due to the undying need of the parent to preserve a reserve of virtue for as long as possible. To have their young blossom and grow without the hatred lurking in their once prideful hearts. She had been oblivious to it for so long, how her father's face struggled to conceal the burning pain in his spirit in hopes that her own joys would eventually wash away his ache. But nothing is forever. He knew that she would come to realize that the simple life of the farm house away from the once rich capital would come to her and her elder kin. She had been lucky in a sort not to know the heartache of her mother passing, she had grown up with knowing she had a mother but knowing her never plagued her being. Rather it seemed normal. But perhaps that was due to the quiet life they held onto. They grew their own meals; struggled with poor crops that lead to hungry bellies in winter but it was never enough to really make things seem, hopeless.
Then that day came of thunder. Not your usual thunder that reigned the skies but one that clouded the ground. Heavy cloven hooves kicked up a cloud of dust outside of the house, her father shoving not only her inside but that of her brother - easily a good thirty years elder than herself- where a storm of sullen men and healing women were all riding past their homestead atop their strange beasts of burden. Unlike the round ears of the human's beasts, the elves adopted a creature that seemed to be somewhat familiar. They were not horses, they stood higher at the withers with protruding horns that came up from the forehead of their crowns, thick and twisted in a clean spin. Pelts longer and certainly dirtier than most would care for, she had come to learn they were talbucks. Some sort of creation of stag and a variation of other beasts that would make a majestic strong neck mount to carry the agile warriors of elves.
But why they had come so close to her homestead was always a wonder. A wonder that would eventually be called whether she or her father had wanted.
They were always looking for fresh blood was it were to raise arms against the horde who had been seemingly winning the chaos of the war. They needed soldiers and were looking for anyone old enough to hold a sword or offer an manna ability.
Shaking her head fruitlessly with the nostalgic memories; her belly drug against the coarse decayed trunk of the splintered tree; hands curled to perch in shameless wonder to the vast broken void that was the remaining tower that had been the palace. Why she had come here was a wonder just as much to herself as anyone, but she came nonetheless.
Nostrils flared taking in the smell of silt and decay that ruled over these lands, troubled spirits could be seen in the distance at the base of the tower, wandering aimlessly, searching for their everlasting peace. Was this why she had come, to see if what those men in the tavern had said was true? She had never seen a spirit up close nor was it advised too. But her cat like curiosity tended to get the better of her.
Like freshly plucked rare stones from the earth's crust; the blue irises glimmered in a hauntingly vivid glow beneath the scarlet sky. The sun had long set leaving a few trails of a goodbye beyond the horizon that painted a beautiful hue for the stars to speckle; her mind was acute to the tower.
Her nature came simple, she listened carefully to what was around her. Unlike her brethren, she had been born with the ability for shamanism though to say she listened to that was sorely misleading. The carefully crafted leather and cloth around her frame suggested to say she was crafty sort, more in the talents of thievery than peace. Both could be true or they couldn't be.
All she knew was what was, was no longer and now was the time for the younger generation to start making their moulds on this broken earth. Where there kingdom fell, they had to forge and cultivate new means in restoring their honor. Any means necessary.
This was her starting point, she needed to know if the old lands held something to their survival and eventual rise back into the respect of the lands.
Caint Bloodfeather
-Description-
Age: Elven terms - 202 Human terms - 22
Height: five foot eight
Weight: one hundred and thirty six
Bust/Trim/Bum: 36D/32"/ 34"
Hair Colour: Platinum Blond almost white
Hair Length: Small of her back
Eye colour: Royal Sapphire Blue
Personality: Will be played out as the rp goes along to give better tangibility
~~~~~~~~
Tall grass unkempt from the years past danced along with the sway of her hips, moving through the grain even though she knew theses limits had long ago been breached. It was unsafe here and yet who were they to say that this was the best action, to tether and lock down the once magnificent reach of the Ivory Palace. Where the rich cobblestone stood now had been broken to crumble away like dust in the wind, forgotten for the greater glory.Glory was it? How could it be glory to abandon that in which once thousands called home and more used as a beacon that guided their path's? Where was the rich tapestry of her ancestors that had been written in the rice pages of the withered libraries she had scrounged through? Was it all a lie, she couldn't give that a honest answer or even a worthy lie.
The war had been in full swing even before her birth, perhaps a good hundred or so years and yet it had reached and tore so many even after many had fled their capital. Once they stood proud alongside so many mortal races only to have a mighty blow come from the north and strike. Numbing their forces before they could even begin to defend. They had been sly, casual as if nothing was about to come cracking down on the elven empire. Offering the act of treaty, the monsters in hobbled skin and gnarled features did well to take on the crown, to destroy all the elves sought to be. She didn't really know what was the truth now, so much information had been skewed through the years that to say what really happened, could be a bold face lie. She dare not go committing those vile words to the air.
Anger frothed and bubbled in her people's hearts only to be poorly hidden behind strained smiles and tired souls. It was better to be an child in times like this, innocent due to the undying need of the parent to preserve a reserve of virtue for as long as possible. To have their young blossom and grow without the hatred lurking in their once prideful hearts. She had been oblivious to it for so long, how her father's face struggled to conceal the burning pain in his spirit in hopes that her own joys would eventually wash away his ache. But nothing is forever. He knew that she would come to realize that the simple life of the farm house away from the once rich capital would come to her and her elder kin. She had been lucky in a sort not to know the heartache of her mother passing, she had grown up with knowing she had a mother but knowing her never plagued her being. Rather it seemed normal. But perhaps that was due to the quiet life they held onto. They grew their own meals; struggled with poor crops that lead to hungry bellies in winter but it was never enough to really make things seem, hopeless.
Then that day came of thunder. Not your usual thunder that reigned the skies but one that clouded the ground. Heavy cloven hooves kicked up a cloud of dust outside of the house, her father shoving not only her inside but that of her brother - easily a good thirty years elder than herself- where a storm of sullen men and healing women were all riding past their homestead atop their strange beasts of burden. Unlike the round ears of the human's beasts, the elves adopted a creature that seemed to be somewhat familiar. They were not horses, they stood higher at the withers with protruding horns that came up from the forehead of their crowns, thick and twisted in a clean spin. Pelts longer and certainly dirtier than most would care for, she had come to learn they were talbucks. Some sort of creation of stag and a variation of other beasts that would make a majestic strong neck mount to carry the agile warriors of elves.
But why they had come so close to her homestead was always a wonder. A wonder that would eventually be called whether she or her father had wanted.
They were always looking for fresh blood was it were to raise arms against the horde who had been seemingly winning the chaos of the war. They needed soldiers and were looking for anyone old enough to hold a sword or offer an manna ability.
Shaking her head fruitlessly with the nostalgic memories; her belly drug against the coarse decayed trunk of the splintered tree; hands curled to perch in shameless wonder to the vast broken void that was the remaining tower that had been the palace. Why she had come here was a wonder just as much to herself as anyone, but she came nonetheless.
Nostrils flared taking in the smell of silt and decay that ruled over these lands, troubled spirits could be seen in the distance at the base of the tower, wandering aimlessly, searching for their everlasting peace. Was this why she had come, to see if what those men in the tavern had said was true? She had never seen a spirit up close nor was it advised too. But her cat like curiosity tended to get the better of her.
Like freshly plucked rare stones from the earth's crust; the blue irises glimmered in a hauntingly vivid glow beneath the scarlet sky. The sun had long set leaving a few trails of a goodbye beyond the horizon that painted a beautiful hue for the stars to speckle; her mind was acute to the tower.
Her nature came simple, she listened carefully to what was around her. Unlike her brethren, she had been born with the ability for shamanism though to say she listened to that was sorely misleading. The carefully crafted leather and cloth around her frame suggested to say she was crafty sort, more in the talents of thievery than peace. Both could be true or they couldn't be.
All she knew was what was, was no longer and now was the time for the younger generation to start making their moulds on this broken earth. Where there kingdom fell, they had to forge and cultivate new means in restoring their honor. Any means necessary.
This was her starting point, she needed to know if the old lands held something to their survival and eventual rise back into the respect of the lands.