((Title is a work in progress, but I’ve been wanting to use this character for a while, so here’s a medieval fantasy jump in! Anyone’s welcome to join, jus be mindful of the FR rules and courtesy’s of rp))
With the sun beginning to set, evening had drawn forth with warm shades of orange and purple painting the sky. The road ahead had become barren, the distant smell of campfires the only sign of sentient life as adventuerers, merchants, and other caravans temporarily moved into cut out clearings for the night. Any well seasoned traveler knew that following a path flanked by heavy forest on either side would bring trouble, especially on a windy night with rustling leaves plenty loud enough to cover oncoming footsteps.
Yet the road had not been entirely abanonded, a lone dark skinned Genasi following it— on foot no less— having apprently missed the memo or not caring enough to heed it.
Multi-colored lanterns in the distance became visible shapes rather than blurts as they were nearly there, ears perking just in time to hear a rock kicked behind them... but not quick enough to stop the oncoming attack. Just as they’d whipped around the loud sound of blunt metal making contact rang through the air, loud enough even to echo over the wind.
Zaheer hadn’t had any time to register what exactly had happened as their bone mask had been knocked off their, an odd shaped thing with two large horns protruding our and upward from it. Lack of it exposed solid blue eyes and white face paint dragged down the upper half of their face and messily dripping down to look a lot like a skull. From their place now kneeling on the groun, arms wobbling with the dizzying effort to keep upright, they called upon their magic—
—and imedietly regretted it. The feeling of magic pulsing in their blood went straight to the throbbing in their skull, threatening them with an intense wave of nasue if they dared try anything farther than that. The rattling sound of their poor familiar being gracelessly stuffed in a sack certainly didn’t help.
Just a their vision was starting to slowly return, the strong hands of a half orc effortlessly took hold around their bicep and hauled them upright. The grip shifted to their wrists instead now being twisted behind them as restraint by the man, which partially exposed the blue glow spiraling up their forearms. Feeling was slowly starting to register more, mental pounding turning to a throb at the feeling of another being’s hands sliding over the belts, pockets, sheaths and what have you littered about their clothes.
Bandits. That’s... less than ideal.
((Edit: Any edits were to spelling and such since I posted this so early my time ^^’))
With the sun beginning to set, evening had drawn forth with warm shades of orange and purple painting the sky. The road ahead had become barren, the distant smell of campfires the only sign of sentient life as adventuerers, merchants, and other caravans temporarily moved into cut out clearings for the night. Any well seasoned traveler knew that following a path flanked by heavy forest on either side would bring trouble, especially on a windy night with rustling leaves plenty loud enough to cover oncoming footsteps.
Yet the road had not been entirely abanonded, a lone dark skinned Genasi following it— on foot no less— having apprently missed the memo or not caring enough to heed it.
Multi-colored lanterns in the distance became visible shapes rather than blurts as they were nearly there, ears perking just in time to hear a rock kicked behind them... but not quick enough to stop the oncoming attack. Just as they’d whipped around the loud sound of blunt metal making contact rang through the air, loud enough even to echo over the wind.
Zaheer hadn’t had any time to register what exactly had happened as their bone mask had been knocked off their, an odd shaped thing with two large horns protruding our and upward from it. Lack of it exposed solid blue eyes and white face paint dragged down the upper half of their face and messily dripping down to look a lot like a skull. From their place now kneeling on the groun, arms wobbling with the dizzying effort to keep upright, they called upon their magic—
—and imedietly regretted it. The feeling of magic pulsing in their blood went straight to the throbbing in their skull, threatening them with an intense wave of nasue if they dared try anything farther than that. The rattling sound of their poor familiar being gracelessly stuffed in a sack certainly didn’t help.
Just a their vision was starting to slowly return, the strong hands of a half orc effortlessly took hold around their bicep and hauled them upright. The grip shifted to their wrists instead now being twisted behind them as restraint by the man, which partially exposed the blue glow spiraling up their forearms. Feeling was slowly starting to register more, mental pounding turning to a throb at the feeling of another being’s hands sliding over the belts, pockets, sheaths and what have you littered about their clothes.
Bandits. That’s... less than ideal.
((Edit: Any edits were to spelling and such since I posted this so early my time ^^’))
