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Royal Peasant

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About Royal Peasant

  • Birthday February 24

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    Writing, Reading, Admiring Artwork, Tabletop games.

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  • Character Name
    Roylan G. Sirame
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  1. The depictions of the horned lord brought a intrigued look as the man under the crown of straw began to rummage through his old artworks and sketches as he went over what he envisioned the horned lord to look like. The embodiment of the primal as he pulled them out and compared them to the several artistic renditions that were shown of the lord within this new entry of the world. A few of the pieces inspired certain markings for the flesh as he turned over to the images shown and began to set down parchment and grabbed some charcoal as he began to scribble new ideas. Inspired by these pieces.
  2. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
  3. As the token 'Honourable Ame' here I welcome you to vale and hope you have been enjoying your time here so far! Remember, round yellows and berries are the token treat of vale. So enjoy them~
  4. A man with a hat full of straw and decorated with the fangs of a beast spied a newspaper at his local tavern with a touch of intrigue as he reached out and plucked it up and began to fan his fingers over the pages. Letting out a hum of consideration before he scanned more and more details and found a frown resting on his lips as he regarded the words. "So...aye young chick of aye large bird had roosted with the halflings, and they had been feeding it and living among them by what this says to me. Only for lads to come and hunt the young chick before it had even fully grown to spread its wings..." He fanned the pages some more, reading through and taking in the details before he let out a hum and set the pages down and sealed it once more. "They hunted it so the remains were their own, but all the same...dun't seem like this beastie was one that needed to be hunted. To think aye enjoyed aye drink at their new tavern aye moon ago and they got swallowed up by politics..." He shuddered. Politics. Pure nightmare fuel every time.
  5. Roylan Grant Sirame - Highlander nomad turned druid, and then bard after leaving the rimveld and escaping recruitment into the military of several nations. A chill and wholesome lad with his strawhat decorated with crackadonk teeth, loves to get creative in painting, tattoo's, crafts, and much more. Starting to grow white with age and gives off uncle vibes.
  6. Bagworm beetles must be protected.
  7. Expedition Log Four As it was starting to become the norm now, a new team of people for this expedition outside of the few returning, and ever curious bloom joined in. Though I’m admittingly starting to feel the change of time as my hair was slowly growing white now, even the tan didn’t help to make me feel any younger from the time in the south. Almost didn’t recognize myself in the reflection of water by this point. We set off to the strider and after a bumpy, almost sickening ride for several days we headed up to our camp and took a little moment to prepare ourselves by the stream. Checking supplies, armours, weapons and other equipment to make sure we were ready for as much as we could. We had brought goods that we believed we could trade with the tribe that had settled up within the land and was living among the nature there, not hunting, but more surviving with them. Something we could approve of. And as we were discussing how we would go to encounter them and what we had brought to offer in trade a familiar figure in the form of the same child we spoke too before showed themselves. Starting to believe this kid is somehow the scout and negotiator with outsiders of the island. Of course the fourth fleet also gave us a little bit of information as well, though it was only enough to let us know that the people of the island were hoping for a new meeting. We began to discuss it there, and she brought up how they weren’t open to seeing us right now. But they were considering us and needed our aid to show sincerity. Giving information of a deadly cloud that left behind medical residue that they could use, but they didn’t have the manpower to investigate closer and scout out from what was said. We discussed it with our group, and offered them alternatives such as getting herbs from the homeland and raising them, and growing them, but there was no way of knowing how that might turn out in this strange new land. Nor were they able to get enough medical supplies from the fleet to tend to their needs. Eventually the group decided in whisper to aid, and with the girl's guidance we reached the mountaintop that the creature was spotted landing as one of their own shot an arrow towards the cloud to see what would happen. Honestly the young lad that did it was luckily it didn’t fall on them with how deadly the fumes seem to be from what was said. Thankfully the path there we were not bothered by the many dangerous creatures of this island. We prepared ourselves, with only one among our numbers that had a breathing contraption that would allow them to take in clear air within the fumes they took the front while the rest of us gathered cloth, leather, and other forms of masks and tightened them around our heads to block the fumes from reaching us and holding them back for as long as we could. Then we waited til nightfall to try and limit the sight that would fall upon us The moon is truly a breathtaking sight on this island. But that is for another time. With the hint of the black mist slowly beginning to flow from the gap of a tree that hinted the direction we needed to go we slowly crept up. Keeping as high to the crevice walls as we could to avoid breathing in this mist ourselves as we heard the sound of movement before us. Rain began to fall, and the land itself became even more difficult to see with the shadow of the smog that was before us. So we moved slowly, cautiously. Not wanting to alert the entity that had landed that we were there as we moved to investigate it. And heard it slowly moving further and further away as he tracked it. A wailing call to the skies came with several echoes in response, that had us consider retreating if they began to descend. But thankfully its pack remained in the skies and didn’t follow. While barely being able to catch the sight before us. But soon enough there was a break in the crevice, a lift up that flowed over some bushes where the majority of the mist seemed to be gathering. With careful steps the majority of us hunt back, as the shifting figure of the creature's form seemed to be sighted. As our main member with the safety of the mask that allowed them to breathe cleanly moved closer to investigate. The mists began to give way as the creature appeared to be eating mushrooms, mushrooms that were growing from a gathering of corpses that were set upon a pile. Allowing us to see a scale tailed, four limbed and winged creature that reminded us of a bat. With many more noses on its face than you would expect and long wings. Which one appeared to be injured by a hole that was through it. Likely from the young lads arrow. When it noticed our ally that had moved forward and began to collect some of the mushrooms for samples it wasn’t hostile. In fact it was curious. Sniffing at them and taking in the scent and looking almost like they were nervous, and afraid of them. But also curious. The moment they spoke to warn us to keep our distance the creature showed a quick, and potentially dangerous agility with how swiftly it sprank back and clawed itself to the walls. The caution and tension continued to grow as the samples were taken until the creature's neck began to bulge much like that of a frog as the mists covered and hid their form from view once more. With a cry to retreat we began to head back the way we came as those dangerous fumes flowed like a cloud of shadow behind us. By the time we had reached out of the crevice the morning sun had begun to rise to greet us. And the youngest to join us and their friend hugged each other in relief as the others caught up to us on the mountain top. And of course. The girl that had shown a skill to vanish out of sight and return at all appeared and the information and samplings that were discovered were spoken on. We had gained favour, and information of another creature of this island while giving the locals a potential source of medicine through the mushrooms that they can gather if they are cautious. Now we just needed to speak to one of their elders. One potentially being a bit intense and will dig into us to get as much information as they can. Knowing our luck, that is the elder we were going to encounter and have to deal with. Let's hope she’s like the majority of vale’s own slightly mad crew and likes to drink as well. Overall, it's been a relatively nice, and informative expedition once more. And with the Siru' iheiuher adding its name to our own personal bestiary.
  8. Ooooh, I like the song! It sounds so much like my cousin that I had to double check to make sure this wasn't one of their own tracks. Very good choice my friend.
  9. Lets see what you come up with for myself.
  10. Father Circle Trial Summer guided the sightless Through the biting chill of night Only darkness greeted the directed Sound, scent, soul. All that was felt in the newfound world A world untouched. Untamed senses outstretched. Hindering, humbling, and heavy. Suns Sightless Summer. It was a strange experience, to be blind; to have the eternal night brushing one’s senses. Where not even the outline of structure in the night can guide one's hand or steps forward, reliant on the hands and guidance of a mentor to mount a steed for the ahead while the only senses that he found was sound, rippling through the dark like a droplet on a river. Trot, Trot, Trot. Ruffle of fabric. Dance of leaves and a tickle of cold on the skin. “Are we in the north?” His voice felt consuming. “No. We are not.” Her voice felt distant. They arrived, and with an unsure step he carefully brought his feet down upon the unseen ground. Grass was felt, banishing the idea that they were in the north. As his mentor's voice danced in the air and he turned, trying to keep focus on the sound as insects buzzed loudly within his ears. Final words were given, the earth feeling coarse, and dry. He didn’t know this land. The ruffle of feathers echoed in his ears and the sound of the retreating trots of a horse grew distant. He was alone. Dry earth. Ticklish grass. Caution driving the man on all fours like a beast. Pushing forward, he crawled. Like an ape. Drawn deeper. It was getting…warmer? But wasn’t it already the day? It began to burn on pale skin. Scorching. Hot. Darkness revealed naught. The heat of the night had hidden the truth from his senses, making him believe that night was day, and day was night. Something that he became painfully aware of as the travel he made bared the heat on his skin as night began to turn to day. Not able to find shelter the heat bared down, suffocating his senses. Drawn by the sound of insects he found bark, wood. A tree. Grasping blindly. Insects grasped and crunched between jaws. Nourishment. Nectar. Refreshing in the burning drought. The sun scorched blindly on flesh. Fingers dug between roots. Digging out a hole. A burrow. Hiding from the heat. For several days hiding within that burrow when the air began to grow hot, and scavenging insects from the tree, clamouring up the branches and swinging upon them while being lured in by the sounds of fluttering wings, buzzing, and the feeling of carapace against skin. Yet it couldn’t last. The insects began to learn. Growing distant. Retreating from the tree he had made a burrow under. He needed to keep moving. Food is scarce. Hunger gripped and thirst clung. Braving the heat again. Only to slip. What was thought to be even ground revealed a slope. Gravity claimed away and tumbled the vessel down. Impacting against earth, ground, and then scorching sands. He stumbled down the side of what could have only been a cliff, a hill, perhaps even the side of a mountain. He could not know in the darkness. Earth and stone scratched and bruised flesh as he fell down, slipping further and further down the slope while protecting his head until the soft, but scorching heat of sand greeted him. And the sound of splashing waves - the shoreside? The heat bore down and the need for shelter had him pushing to the waterside, dipping in the salt and cooling off from the scorching rays. Salt surrounded the sense of smell. Waves echoed in the ears, drawing out all. Warm waters cooled and protected from the scorching heat. A moment of reprieve followed by the sting of a claw. Crabs are cruel demons, he decided then, when one latched upon his toe and soon became his dinner. Cracked under fist and bone then eaten raw. It was delightful compared to the crunch of insects he had been reduced to eating for the last few days. The shell of the crab had been kept and tucked into his pants for use later as thirst tugged on his dry lips and tongue. The juices of his prey could only sustain him so far. But what was that…smell? Flowery aroma. He knew that smell. Or something similar. Drawn to it, the touch of an oily petal touched his fingers. Then the texture of a fruit. Plucked. Feasted. Thirst quenched. The world swam. Diddyfunkle. While the fruit were refreshing, and likely saved him the aftereffects, it cost the time he needed to train his senses to stretch even further. He began to hear sounds where there wasn’t any, the scorching sun felt strange and tingly on his skin. Everything was different, soothing. He was hallucinating. No colours to see, only the world began to swim and dance all around. Passing out and awakening, unsure of where he was. Only feeling the scorching itch, and burn of blistered flesh from the sun he had laid within under the effect of the diddyfunkle. Pain spiked with every movement. Shaking the limbs. Aching the flesh. But he needed to.To move. Lost, lonely, light headed. Wings followed. He was starting to notice that the sound of wings seemed to circle him ever since he arrived here. The weight that birds were likely waiting for him to perish so that they could scavenge his corpse filled his mind in that moment. Doubt almost consumed his mind before he focused, calmed himself with a moment of meditation in a form that screamed with scorched flesh. And then the buzzing sound of insects returned. And he found an edge to a mountain side. Though If it was the same or another he had no clue. Fingers dug, scraped, and grasped at soil and stone. Tugging, biting painfully at an already abused form. Pushing through limits. Away from sands. Stone. Fingers finding grass, earth. Shade of a tree sheltering flesh. It was a different tree he had found this time, and he could only assume that he had found a different mountain. Or a hill that he had scaled on all fours. The leaf span of this tree was able to cover him, reducing the need for him to dig under the roots, so he instead pulled himself into a nook within the trees and began to rest. Taking a solid day of rest just to recover before his senses stretched out. Insects surrounded him from all around, but also…birds, and what sounded like a trickle of water? Water on a mountain. A lake? An oasis? Movement fled him as he moved to the edge. Finding nectar of sweet, cool waters. Flowing waters through a current. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he had fully tamed his thirst and had coverage from the sun of the scorching day. The scent of flowers, of flora, filled his breath and the crisp cool water. Life was around him. And if there was a lake? That meant one thing. Fish. He pushed into the water and attempted to catch fish as he felt the ripples of their movements against his skin. It took time. Practice. Eating the flora like a herbivore and drinking from the water until finally his fingers clenched around the scaled body of a fish. It was delicious. All was consumed. Head, eye, flesh, guts. It all went down. Nourishment. Sharp fangs tearing into flesh. A fish a day kept the hunger away. Time passed like this uncounted, the shift from scorching heat to warm summer being his only clue of the passing time. Soon followed by him getting used to the shifting sound of nature around him. The insects were quiet during what he felt was the ‘day’, yet the fish were louder, splashing and feeding. At night the song of the insects grew more vibrant, making it easier for them to be hunted. And so he existed for a while, catching fish, hunting insects, occasionally eating a flower when a day of hunting was sparse. Until one day he made a strange discovery on the lake…a boat. Tied up and bound at the bottom of it with a stone. Perplexed. Confused. Bamboozled. A boat in the middle of nowhere? It made no sense. Was there descendant life nearby? Here!? Confusion leads to curiosity. To blind exploration. Fingers searching the surroundings and seeing what they could find. No words were given, for he did not desire to meet anyone. Just understand more of where he was. And understand he soon did. Finding what felt like marks in the earth…of a battle. Old. Ancient. Abandoned camp with a blanket so worn with holes and full of insects that it must have been left here for a very long time. Further exploration found a hot spring that he took a moment to bath within. And felt the presence of other animals joining him in the waters. Soothing the aches and pains that lingered. And finally…what felt like an altar, damaged, destroyed. And a pedestal where a tome should have rested, stripped clean. A cult of some faith lived here. Had lived here. But something dealt with them. In fighting? Rivals? But they were gone. Long gone. Ruins reclaimed by nature. It was a strange relief knowing he was the only ‘descendant’ within the land. Tension he didn’t know had built up eased, and the continued path of survival reclaimed his form. Dead flesh from the scorching heat peeled off and washed away in the flowing hot spring, giving way to flesh that seemed to be able to handle the heat better. Able to bear and adapt to the flame of the land's fury. Time passed, his habit of checking the moon turning to counting the shift of temperature to mark the time that continued on. Until the day the rain came. The rain was heavy. Hammering the land and loosening the soil. The lake grew wild, the currents stronger. It gripped upon him and washed him away through the current. Direction less, breathe lost. Water filled his lungs. Impacting an unknown shore and hacking the current out. He hadn’t been prepared for that. The rhythmic repetition that he was slowly growing used to with his sense of touch, hearing and scent, washed away by the storm of rain and water. He didn’t know how long the waters had pulled him, how far away he was from where he originally was. But he felt he went down, flowing away from the mountain. And once again he was battered and bruised from the descent of the mountain. The rain made it difficult to tell left, to right, or hint in which direction to go as everything echoed its song. He could only rely on his touch. Digging into the ground and pulling forward to find shelter. Sand and earthy grass mixed under touch. The prickle of a cactus stung. Biting skin and clinging. Repulsed and a new direction found. Clear water found upon fingertips, a rocky growth giving shelter. A new nest was found. Rest and slumber came swift. The rain lasted slightly longer than expected, and the thorns from a plant that grew on the rocky walls burned as it cut and dug into flesh. Several pointy plants had wounded his hands now that they were starting to twitch from them. Or perhaps it had been the venom of the plants themselves that were making his hands tremble and twitch. It took a day for the sensation of touch to return to them where he nibbled on the moss that had grown near the water and drank of its source. The shell of the crab finally proved its worth as he scraped the moss from the stone to eat it. Recovered, thankfully no breaks from the slip down the water slide. Then..a cluck. A cluck of a chicken echoed out. Body froze. Stomach rumbled. The blind stalked the sound…waited. Pounced. Neck snapped in jaws. Crimson soaked skin. He went feral for a moment. Or was he just returning to how he was in his youth? He stalked the chicken; or at least he assumed it was a chicken, by its sounds. Lowered his form to be less noticeable, waiting for it to draw close before he launched at it. Sharpened canines biting down a thin neck before he jerked, felt a snap. And the body grew still within his jaws. He ate well that day. The feathers felt pleasant on his skin. He didn’t know where he had ended up but he could feel that the grass here was…softer, cooler. More vibrant in its life. And he couldn’t feel any sand around as the echo of crashing waves filled his senses from the left of him. Waves echoed in his ears. Cool grass under toes and knuckles. Insects were scarce, he couldn’t hear them anymore. But animal sounds tugged his senses. No trees to be found, only brush, green, and animals. An open plain by the sea. He had gotten utterly lost in the darkness and the rain. The origin he had been left at felt so distant, yet it could have been at his back for all he knew. Or even just ahead of him. But with a lack of insects around he began to regress to a..primal, natural state. Hiding in the bush and pouncing upon shifting and moving prey. Finding rabbits caught within jaws, chickens snapped and plucked. Bones and feathers began to decorate his hair and tattered fabrics around his waist as crimson clung and stained his skin until he washed it on the coast side. Berries found by following the trials animals had left with his fingers allowed him to quench his thirst. His mind regressed. Settling on basic needs. Food. Thirst. Shelter. The food cried and fell still under my jaws. Fruits and berries fed nourishment. The sun still burned. But shelter in trees eased the heat. Strangely the wings of the stalking bird still echoed above… The predator he had become was tempted to climb and hunt the bird that he caught circling above him so many times now, the flap of the wings, the ruffle of feathers. Even the cry of a hawk's call. Which increased when he caught the sound of swooping wings as a rabbit, or mouse he had been hunting became the prey of this bird instead of himself. It almost became a competition. Who could catch the prey first, the land bound beast, or the avain in the skies? It soothed a loneliness he didn’t realise he was feeling to humour the idea that it was the same bird each time, despite how unlikely that was. A grunt, a squeal. Something was rushing towards him. He dove out of the way. The feel of something sharp. Cut his flank. A heavy trotted foot. A huff of breath. A boar. He listened for the charge. Waiting. Ducking. Rolling. Evading. Landing kicks to its flank. A leg snapped. The boar tumbled. He pounced. Boar tusks added to the decorations of blood soaked feathers, rabbit toes and scrapes of pelt he hadn’t eaten upon his garb. It was too much to eat alone, eating his full and then trusting on nature to take their own filling. Listening, and agreeing with his senses as he felt wings descend upon the boar, and the brush rustle as other creatures grew near. The carcass was going to be plucked clean. But the wound on his side wasn’t going to deal with itself. The bite of salt water splashed and washed the wound. Leaves were cleansed and laid over the cut, and the vines of a king were bound tight around to apply pressure. The wound burned. Stung. And itched all at the same time. The leaves were packed tight. Nature’s bindings. And he laid still. Feeling the flow of crimson still. But he felt light headed. Tired. Sleep came soon. He, luckily, didn’t bleed out. The binding was tight enough to stall the blood flow. Even luckier that it didn’t get infected without clear, boiled water to cleanse the wound. But as he was healing. he went over his senses through the darkness. He was used to the sense of sound now, enough to catch the movement of beasts to avoid attacks, the sound of movement in the wind. The sense of smell gave him an idea of what was nearby, of what he was stalking, from the scent of pelts, to the markings left in surroundings, and even the aroma of flora. His skin had hardened under the trial and rough treatment. Yet he had honed his sense of touch, to the point where he could trust himself to move through branches within the trees without risking falling. He had returned…to nature. Sightless, Soundless, Boundless. He grew in the flames. Hardened against stones. Held by the grasp of rootes. Scent, Sound, Sensations. Honed, practised and grown. The lack of vision. Of colour. Have a way to a new world. A beauty in the ripple. The pulse of shadow. A canvas of the night. An Ode to the Blind.
  11. A mind in a blindfold heard the whisper in the wind of a creature travelling through the waters and heading to the shore. It took him a moment to ponder the words as he was digging a burrow to hold up in to hide from the scorching suns before before a delirious mumble escaped his lips as he began to wriggle into the dirt burrow he had dug out. "Are the creatures from the wild island escaping to see the rest of the world?..." He would need to investigate this...later...when he can see.
  12. I would say that I'm a bit of a introvert myself, yet when it comes to me having friends it usually worked by us having a common interest. Something we both liked and could bond over. For example, where we are right now! Lotc. I have made several friends since I ended up joining this place that have been a delight to interact with. Another common interest I have made friends with over the last ten years would be d&d, or dungeons and dragons for those not aware. My oldest and closet friends I met through the game and have been close with them for over ten years now. At the very least, having a common interest serves as a ice breaker even if you both aren't in the same games, hobbies, or interests when it comes to discussions and conversations. Not sure if this advise will assist at all but I do wish you luck in gaining a few life long friends!
  13. Expedition Log 3 As usual we started our journey by travelling along the rocky shores towards the strider to head on out on the expedition, this time it was a new team entirely. All besides a trusty lass with a pair of goggles that had been around for each and every expedition. Curious to see how this expedition went as each one had given us new insight. Like all the previous first encounters the group were awed by the sheer size of the strider, and eager for those that were part of the seed that used these striders to take such a long journey with them. The journey took several relaxed days and we clambered down the strider's legs and splashed into the waters before swimming to shore. And that was when we spotted that we weren’t the only group on the beach this time, another group had arrived from another strider and had landed on the island to explore. A few familiar faces spotted. A word to keep a distance from each other was said for our own explorations and we took the right side of a furrowed trail that led deeper in land while they took the left. We began to travel, armoured up and helmets slid on our heads to be sure. Keeping a cautious eye on the figure as we followed the path and slowly began to see the sight of something like tail feathers within the dark that it had reached in our preparations and caution of the other group to continue on this path. We waited for a moment as the morning sun began to rise up to get a closer look, and then we began to see the glistening shine of some feathers that were peeking from behind trees that hid most of its full form for a moment. But by the sound of tearing flesh we had an idea what was going on. They were truly beautiful feathers, but to our surprise we found a child that was hiding next to a tree and spoke up to us, calling the creature the feathered sun and advised caution to not disturb them as they were feeding. So we kept our position out of sight by the tree and didn’t move forward. Though we had tried to keep a conversation going with the youth and ask questions. But the moment that the bird had begun to raise its head up, detecting the approach of the other group and soon finding us as well the girl had vanished from view and into the tree line. This was the second time that we had discovered a creature that fed upon crocodile-like reptiles, when we finally saw what it was tearing up and feeding upon. Unlike most places where this creature would be the natural predator with its sheer size it seems like there were tons of other beasts that were its predator within these lands, even enchanting birds that were truly massive, though on closer inspection it seemed to be a mix of reptile and bird. With sharp talons like the spitting reptiles we had previously encountered before. And that was when the ground had begun to shake, and the locals from the trees advised that we retreat and turn our gaze unless we were brave. Now I wasn’t about to risk our group over the child’s challenge of bravery and had us retreat over the thundering ground as the bird itself grew nervous from their position. Two of our members of course didn’t turn their head as the birds feathers burst into a bright light as something from below launched up and bit down upon them, dragging them into the depths. Leaving naught but two feathers. We took a moment to check the other group and saw that the majority of them had blinded themselves by taking the challenge, though they were also growing in number and appeared to have grown in size. Back up most likely. And while we were tending to the two that had been blinded from our group, thankfully only temporarily, we moved towards the child that had moved to the edge and questioned them about what had just risen from the ground and see if we could glean any more information. From what we discovered it appears that those creatures are considered the ‘Apex’ here, and are seen as the ‘god-creatures’ by the locals of the island. Her clan in particular was going to keep an eye on us to make sure we aren’t poachers before they were willing to give anymore information to us. Collecting a feather, only one to examine and investigate to not risk a challenge of arms from the other group, we began to head back with a final word to the child that we hoped to speak to them again in the future. A few of our members had grown a little panicked, considering the size of the bird and the size of the massive maw that reminded us of a giant sand worm, but we continued on. Heading back to the strider and beginning to return home with our newest discoveries, and worries. With a warm heart we settled down, and began to discuss resources, and plans for the next expedition. And the concerns that might be brought forth from them…
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