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About Rhettthecoldone

  • Birthday January 28

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  1. Faeran, after having been taken away to speak with Fatebinder, sat cozied up at his home in Vallagne. His previous encounter with Razad Fatebinder led his requirement of rest to be true, not to fend off exhaustion, as his only spellcast was willed to deflect a cobra from assaulting his sister. Rather than exhaustion, he needed rest to decide. Would he choose Sulieronn, his former teacher of the arcane, someone he oh so sincerely looked up to? or would he choose Hohkmat, the home he had been living in for centuries now? “Eugh. . . All this thinkin’s gonna make mah brain go numb.” A soft grumble exited the clenched and gritted teeth of the ‘ker. ‘Decide later’, he thought to himself, ‘sleep now.’ And that is just what he did, lunardrowned eyes falling into a dreamscape.
  2. The Morwenna leaned atop his cane, a never-shifting gaze locked upon a dying man he had only ever briefly spoken to. His forever-glued face, a visage of no expression, just might’ve curled into a sly grin at this death, as he’d been informed the importance of such.
  3. Faeran'duil Lunuae-Reinhold set his mouth to the Breakfast Feast he had ordered just minutes ago. The food had emit strings of warmth that hit the elf's face with a simple grace. And so, he'd dig in, entirely inhaling the assortment of baked eggs, sausage, etc! The 'ker jolted up from his table in a sudden abrupt way. He was utterly flabbergasted by the exquisite, delectable flavors of the meal! For sure, the elf was satisfied with his meal. One glance at his face and you could tell he was enjoying it. Words couldn't even describe the grace blessed upon Faeran just then. He was speechless to reply, and simply continued eating.
  4. Let my future self have awesome sauce flames!!! (honestly kinda thought this was already a thing-) +1
  5. Faeran the elf wandered aimlessly through his abode in Vallagne. He wasn’t sure how to think of this… Elena had always been a a respectful and respectable person, at least to Faeran. Though he remembers the awfulness she performed, unintentionally tearing her apart from her own family. Something about hearing the news touched him. Maybe he should’ve seen her differently. Maybe he should’ve listened closer to her reasonings. Perhaps they weren’t as foolish as he thought. His gaze wandered up to the bright and shining, silvery entity in the sky. It was the moon that illuminated his ashen skin, in castings of silver light. Hushedly, he spoke… “Let ‘er be with ye, oh moon so bright.”
  6. Whistling away within his kitchen stood Lord-Aspirant, Faeran of Hohkmat. A snowy white owl made a sudden stop through its flight around Vallagne, laying a missive specifically at the open windowsill of Faeran’s home. The dark elven man reached for this rolled up missive, peering onto it curiously. “Well tha’s jus’ great!” The snowy owl took off into the sky after its reward of a mouse.
  7. Somewhere in the lands of Petra ventured a halfblood of two elven sub races. He kicked at the rocks on the dirt paths, singing tunes to himself as he thought up ideas for a Hohkmat District Renovation. Only there had he seemed to of stomped right on a paper, by accident of course. Faeran crouched to the earth to retrieve this mysterious flier. Someone must’ve dropped it against the ground on there way out of Vallagne. Well, he might as well give it a read… And that he did, heart dropping to his feet. In fact, his feet might’ve moved just like his heartbeat. The elven man raced for the Reinhold Manor! Once inside, a wide hug to both Atticus and Wilford were insisted upon. He never really gave hugs to the two, but he decided to get over that and show them the Moonboy love.
  8. A long time it had been since Faeran stepped foot into the surrounding settlements. The only thing he could quite remember was the terror consuming his visage upon entry. His eyes ventured the scene wrought of a twisting, ethereal heat. Colors he hadn’t imagined before danced through his ‘Ker-toned skin, originating from the torrent of hissing, Voidal flame above in the clouds. Perhaps it was the burning pyre above, or the dreadful familiarity of Veletz that had caused his sharpened facial features to twist. A grimacing affinity about the man had obviously set present as the most purest forms of his mana shred off towards the bearer of energies, Atticus, his brother-in-law. His hands set forth to harbour a darkened energy, smokes of a negative shadow whistling from his fingertips and shoulders. It was as if nature’s graceful breath extinguished a metaphorical flame about him, leaving trails of ebon exhaust to wriggle towards the flame-bearing sky. Mentioned smokes of negativity brought forth a light of sorts. A thrumming fizzle of bright illuminance gently departing from the dark. Shreds of moonlight delicately set onward, traveling with the apathetic movement of sluggish ocean waves. They met towards Atticus, fueling the man’s very figure with foreign mana. And at that, the spell was satisfied. Its hunger gratified by a selection of magis’ mana. In a quake of bolstering temperature and overpowering effulgence, that dream-like, elven man crashed to the floor in a heap of exhaustion. He wasn’t quite unconscious, though he wasn’t fully there in the moment. Faeran’s silver eyes graced the fume-filled area as he dazed back into a pool of memories. Beside him… where the ritual was done… he took note of the oozing, melted building that used to be the local clinic. It was where Wren took her last breath. Where the crimson seeping from her wounds spilled far too much. And then to the grasslands onward… where he was coerced to watch Wren’s lifeless body whittle to darkened, hovering ashes in an assortment of logs and tricking heat. Maybe at first his decision wasn’t clear about his thorough intentions. Was he performing the ritual by order? Or was he fueling the spell to watch his past burn away. Deep inside him, he thought. In fact he did wish this place gone. He wanted every memory, every thought of Veletz crisped away to a fine rubble. Faeran wanted nothing more than tragic death for this dreadful place. In no way had he felt even the slightest regret. All he wanted was death. Death and revenge.
  9. OOC ((MC Name: Rhettthecoldone )) ((Discord: _ratinahat )) ((Timezone: CST )) IN-CHARACTER What is your name? Faeran’duil Lunuae-Reinhold, though there’s no need for all of it. Just refer to me as Faeran if you’d prefer. Why seek membership to the Mages Guild? I wish to advance my knowledge of the Void and gain a more professional status amongst the society of magi. The Arcane studies are most fascinating to me and they always have been. I also hope to potentially locate a teacher for separate studies under the Arcane branch. Upon acceptance, I do intend to spread my knowledge over the Arcane to those I dub ready-minded enough. What arts, if any, do you currently practice? I am a Master Aeromancer and a Master Translocationist. What position do you desire to attain upon acceptance? I hope to obtain the role of Adeptus Primaris as I already have a wide selection of students under my wing that are all studying Aeromancy. When should you be contacted for an interview? I say whenever you deem fit! Send me a bird and I will likely respond sooner or later. Sometimes the birds at the Hohkmati Aviary aren’t the brightest. (I may or may not have witnessed one crash into the roof of a wizard tower, poor thing.)
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