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2/12/2025 14:45:51   
Citrion
Member

By Threads of Moonlight


The Rose. Even just a year ago, saying those two words made people look at you out of the corners of their eyes, a hand close to their weapon in suspicion. I suppose that's understandable. There were very few places in Greenguard where they didn't have influence on par with that of a monarch. Even Atrea wasn't safe from their prying eyes. And yet, now they are widely seen as a reliable sort of policing force. I have to hand it to Queen Victoria. Many people would have seen Jaania's disappearance as a No-Win situation. And yet, she's managed to pull peace out of the jaws of what would have been chaos. The Rose no longer act with impunity. They are held culpable for their actions under the authority of the crown. Not to say that they were dissolved entirely. From what I've been hearing now that I've returned to Greenguard, I certainly seemed to have lucked out. Edelia was so far removed from their sphere of influence that I have no real context for what it was like living under them. I showed my capacity for Weaving not long after we settled here. After our home was destroyed. Sometimes it's difficult to believe that our people arrived on this planet nearly a decade ago. Empress willing, we won't have to make another pilgrimage like that again within my lifetime. But, I digress. I've spent too long in Azaveyr. That was the whole reason for returning to the Land of Dragons. The sun will be going down soon, and I will be able to continue my travels back towards my old home. With any luck, I might even stumble across a companion or two. Until the sun rises again. - From the Diary of Naz'anin Khosra'vi, The Moonlit Weaver.

This story takes place in the world of Lore as established in Dragonfable. This topic is to be localized within the Land of Dragons, specifically the Kingdom of Greenguard. It has been a full year since Jaania, Warlic, and Xan disappeared at the end of Book 3. In that time, the Rose has been reshaped and somewhat rehabilitated in the eyes of the public, acting as an additional resource to most guard regiments among the cities of the Kingdom, rather than an untouchable force of oppression and change they now serve to defend against misuses of magic. As a sort of introductory for the character I will be using, this topic will not be pursuing an extremely strictly defined plotline. However, I would prefer for there to be as little actual combat as possible.

Thread Location:

This thread will start at nighttime opening in the lobby of The Shears, an inn nestled at the edge of the eponymous Greenguard region of the Kingdom, moving outwards into the forest surrounding the Inn as Naz'anin intends to continue making her way towards The Sandsea. Those who wish to participate in this should at least hopefully be willing to follow. With any luck, we can actually chronicle an entire journey across the kingdom. The real goal here is character interaction, rather than making any particularly large or grandiose plans. Speaking of character interaction, Bios. I won't be a stickler for it. Bios can follow the more or less standard format you'll find many users--myself included--following in Yulgar's Inn. I myself will be using the very character I have posted in the Inn, though for the sake of clarity I will be including that Bio at the end of this post.

Post Requirements: None. I'm very bad at posting on a strict time limit myself, so I won't hold anyone to a standard I myself cannot meet. However, because I am not requiring a timer, I am adding a separate limiter.

Open Slots: 2/3

This thread will only be open for a total of 4 people, myself included. This means that if we need to skip someone, it won't have disastrous consequences for the topic at large. I do insist that any participants in this topic at least have the courtesy to ask the person in question if they are fine with being skipped for the post round, however.

All in all, that's everything. Nothing super crazy, just a good casual intro topic.

My Bio:

"It's going to be dawn soon. I know you're excited to make it back to Atrea, but even you have to rest every now and then, Naz."

The figure speaking lit up the night around them like a walking fragment of the very moon that was beginning to descend from the sky, the horizon gaining the beginning strokes of purple and pink that marked the start of sunrise. Anyone could pin this creature for what it was. An elemental spirit. As for the person it was speaking to? That was a bit harder. Her figure was mostly hidden under the heavy cloth of a cloak that she had pulled the hood up on. The only hint as to what she was came when one looked down, spying cloven feet. An Atealan. Interesting. Standing next to each other, the duo made it very clear what she was. A soulweaver. That particular art wasn't usually practiced by her people. There must be some story there. Regardless, she clicked her tongue.

"For a supposed spirit of Balance, you certainly seem to enjoy pushing more than pulling." She mumbled as the spirit she had partnered with chuckled, vanishing into the night as she walked through the doors of the Inn, the light of torches and candles lighting up her features.

Name(s): Naz'anin Khosra'vi | Argentum
Title(s): The Moonlight Weaver | The Elemental Spirit of Balance
Age(s): 22 | Unknown

Appearance(s): The young woman known as Naz'anin is often considered by the native races of lore to be fairly beautiful, a sentiment typically agreed upon by other Atealans. Possessed of a notably athletic figure as well as standing about a head taller than most men even, she has been known to cut an imposing figure, especially given the nearly glowing neon blue of her eyes. The fact that her facial features are also rather sharp and severe hasn't been particularly..helpful in that regard. Like the other members of her race, her skin is a deep, dark color. Hers in particular leans more towards the darker purples that are somewhat uncommon amongst the Atealan, contrasting nicely with the sea-foam green that has settled into her long, carefully braided hair. In terms of attire, she seems to be of the more practical mind. The only piece of armor underneath her clothing that would mark her as a full fledged weaver are the very gauntlets on her hands, styled in a mix of Atealan and Edelian aesthetics. Her spiritlooms bring to mind not only the legacy of weaving that she has come to carry, but that of the legacy she left behind as a prospective Ascendant. The rest of her attire trends towards comfort, with armor being sparse, put on only the most important parts of the body. Previously, her choice in color exclusively leaned towards that which was dark and dull. However, she has now taken to embellishing her outfits with splashes of color here and there, typically by adding metal or patches as needed. This attire is hidden during the day, buried under a thick cloak that fades from a deep black into a brilliant white. Her belongings? Stuffed in a pack that she has fashioned to function in the style of a messenger bag.

Argentum is an..interesting sort, as Elemental Spirits go. Elemental Spirits tend to take on a similar appearance to that they had in life, and Argentum is no exception. However, their appearance is more...ambiguous than many would be comfortable with. A fact that seems to greatly entertain the spirit. As a spirit aligned with elemental silver this is the primary color of their body, which is built to be rather slim. Standing at a head shorter than their Weaver ally, Argentum is the more approachable looking of the pair, standing at close to the midpoint of the average height of both men and women. A fact that has only served to further enshroud the concept of their original gender. In possession of softer, less severe facial features Argentum cuts a rather stark contrast to their soulally. And yet the pair trust each other implicitly, working together as closely as any bonded pair of weaver and spirit.

Equipment: Spiritlooms, Belt of Elemental Gems (Used for on the fly swapping of Spiritloom Elements), Change of Clothes, Cloak, Potions, Wand (Forged in Atealan style, for use of magic outside of Weaving).

Skills:

Soulweaving: As a fairly recent graduate of Edelia, Naz'anin is considered a full fledged soulweaver, well on her way to proper mastery of the art. As such she is capable of many great feats via the manipulation of soulthreads. This enables quite a few interesting applications of magic, especially when combined with her teachings from a previous life.

Atealan Magic: Before becoming a Soulweaver, Naz'anin was in training to become an Ascendant. This means she is well versed in elemental magic as well as several rituals more particular to her people.

< Message edited by Citrion -- 4/14/2025 23:05:30 >
Post #: 1
4/14/2025 22:50:44   
  Starflame13
Moderator


Adapting this from a different RP that didn't get off the ground! Let me know if there's any concerns or additional changes that need to be made.

Agnes Olwyn
Human, Witch


Agnes hails from the Deepest Neverglades surrounding Aika Village, where the ferns are so thick footsteps barely make a sound and the trees grow so vast that entire ecosystems live within their canopies. She seldom speaks of the years she spent there - a wandering child welcomed and mothered by a hidden village, then the mother herself of countless other wandering children. That burden (and blessing) now falls to others, as Agnes in her later years found keeping the rambunctious children out of her stock of herbs an exhausting annoyance at best. Still, her herblore and skills at folk medicine are second to none - and many once were found knocking at the door of her hut to ask her advice over a cup of tea.

It was such a skill that brought her to the Kingdom of Greenguard - a traveling party of the guardsmen passed near the hidden village, one of their number near death, suffering from a grievous wound and half-mad with the infection and fever brought with it. Agnes bargained with the group - some say for supplies, some say a promise of safety, some say for the man’s first born - and swore in turn that the man would reach the city alive should their end of the bargain be fulfilled. She traveled with them to reach Swordhaven, sitting with the injured soldier the whole while. None knows through what method she healed him, but when they arrived scant days later his eyes were clear, his fever gone, and his wound well on the mend beyond even the hopes of the local doctors. Indeed, beyond even their believability…

None quite know why Agnes chose to settle in the city rather than return home afterwards. Some say she was promised a hefty reward, an annual income as a gift to stay and cure other such impossible injuries. Others suspect blackmail - why else would a woman so wild remain in the city but out of fear what the remaining knights might do to her home now they know the powers that lurk at its heart? Indeed, many a man from that initial journey has had their fair share of accidents in the years since - although, of course, that is part and parcel for guards in such a busy town as Swordhaven.

Whatever the reason, Agnes now lives in a squashed hovel in the forests surrounding the city. Prior to the Rose gaining power, seldom an evening went by without her hosting a visitor of some sort - a guard with an injury from training, a mother seeking cures to an ailment, a scholar about to drop dead from exhaustion but desperate for one more hour of studying. The witch takes no coin for her services, but often bargains favors in many other ways - and several of the poorer children find themselves brave enough to knock upon her door and ask a bite to eat in exchange for running one of her numerous errands. She spends many evenings carding wool by the fire, many more knitting the spun thread, as she regales the gaggle with legends of times past - each with a lesson tucked between words. The stories are occasionally punctuated by the immense jack-o-lantern that sits beside her hearth, its toothy grin widening slightly as it chortles at the gasps from the listeners.

With the Rise of the Rose, the path to Agnes's hut vanished. Mothers with enough desperation, or children with empty enough a stomach, occasionally found their way to keep her stories alive, but not a single soldier and not a single Rose ever crossed her threshold. Now that Queen Victoria has returned balance to the kingdom, the path has opened once more - but Agnes finds herself itching to stretch away from where she's been confined for so long, and ready to see how the world of Lore has changed from when she last crossed its forests decades ago.

Abilities

Physical

Agnes is an older woman now, bones easily chilled by winter’s cold, and moves slowly as her joints creak of age. Some of this is, indeed, played up for show when she has visitors - but it is no lie that she is less agile than she once was. She keeps at her sides at all times a broom, and uses it much like another woman her age might use a cane.

Medicine
While termed a witch, the majority of Agnes’ skills come from knowledge. She keeps a wide host of plants in her hovel, and window boxes filled with carefully tended herbs that none quite dare to pinch. She knows how to cure aches and pains, how to stave off fevers, how to set a broken bone and stitch a gaping wound. She cannot cure a broken heart or a lost baby’s breath in such a way, but it hasn’t stopped people bringing those ails to her all the same.

Magical
The Gift: Agne’s hands brew the most fantastic of potions - theoretically with the aid of the correct ingredients, but in actuality with nothing more than the force of her will. The elixirs bring great courage and fearlessness, the tonics heal the injured from the brink of death, the teas bring calm of mind and clarity of thought - or perhaps, a hint of persuasion to those thoughts, for those she asks to drink. She cannot fully take control of any mind, but imbibing in her mixtures does bind the drinker somewhat to the witch, and even the steam that arises from her kettle or her cauldron can have similar effect. Speaking of…

Her Cauldron: The jack-o-Lantern serves as her brewing cauldron when Agnes must travel away from her hut. Jack has served as thus since her youngest days of brewing the simplest of remedies for cough, and over time and exposure to her brewing has gained a form of limited sentience of his own. His croaking voice adds details to the stories he bore witness to, and occasionally gives would-be-thieves the fright for their lives when they stumble upon his berth. But his power is tied to that of his creator - and such words only spill from his mouth when Agnes is within the room.

Also, couldn't resist throwing in the poem that partially inspired her!


The witch of the hut, moves slow, moves slow, as she sweeps around the room.
In every corner flies away the dust by the tips of her trusty broom.

The witch of the hut, she hums, she hums, as her chores she moves along.
And by her sides the pumpkins grin as they croak in time to her song.

The witch of the hut, moves slow, moves slow, as the autumn leaves drift 'round.
They settle about the forest floor with scant a whisper of sound.

The witch of the hut, she grins, she grins, as the kettle's put on for tea.
She always brings out three sets of cups - for her, and you, and me.

The witch of the hut, moves slow, moves slows, as night falls about her home.
And though there's naught but wind and dust she never drinks alone.
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