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Old Fart
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About Ravondir

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    Diamond Miner

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  • Character Name
    Ravondir Torena
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  1. >gets into serious RP
    >finishes intricate emote
    >server dies and removes all progess

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. The Wyvernbane

      The Wyvernbane

      yeah dude pVP is OBVioSLy the MAstERraCe

    3. devvy


      "serious RP" .. never heard of her??

    4. Ravondir


      legit RP*******

  2. The Mages Guild

    ((MC)) Name: AerielsVanguard ((RP)) Name: Ravondir Torena Known Arcane Arts: The Boon of Aeriel - Ascended Position Desired (Student or Instructor): Instructor When is the best time to contact you for an interview: Already completed.
  3. The Kadarsi Tribe!

    McName: AerielsVanguard RpName: Yaskue of Yulthar Char age: 24 Char Goals: ??? Disord(if private pm me on forum): funnay981#8612 Rp Race(we are leaning for more farfolk, Qalasheen but we accept all): Farfolk/Yultharan Details(about your char): An Easterner hailing from the land of Yulthar that has recently arrived on Atlas. He seeks somewhere to call home while he resides on this strange, new land.
  4. Origins of Aemineus

    Origins of Aemineus The dark-skinned fellow strode throughout the streets of the small human city Efaelun, gripping a yellowing piece of paper tightly in his right hand. His twin swords clanked at his left hip as the grimoire held by chains rattled alongside them. He glanced around at the nearby shops, only to see windows slamming shut while small, inquisitive eyes peered out at him. His expression didn’t change, he was used to these kinds of things- discrimination, isolation- he’s lived under these conditions most of his life. His leather boots padded lightly against the stone road just as he stopped before the blacksmith’s shop. He brought his hand to the handle to open it, although he found that it was locked. He called out to whomever was inside with his gruff, scratchy voice, “I saw you put up a bounty. Here to help with that.” Hearing these words, the blacksmith responded in an feminine tone, “Alroigh’. Openin’ up.” After opening a rather overwhelming amount of locks over the course of two or so minutes, the door creaked open to reveal a scruffy, fair-skinned woman with ginger hair holding a hammer at the ready. “You the one that put up the poster?” Said the bounty hunter, holding up the yellowing poster before her face. She scoffed at such a movement, though she read it and it said: Missing Husband - Retrieval Mission My husband has gone missing after he went looking for more resources for the smithy. Come to the local blacksmith for more information if you’re looking to further pursue this case. Reward can be discussed in person. “Yes, it was me, lad. Who’re you?” She gestured him in with a wave of her calloused fingers, moving towards the anvil. “Aemineus. Aspiring Marked Man. And the guy who’s going to bring your husband back.” At this, she plopped down on the anvil’s seemingly flat surface, letting out a sigh of despair, “Ya not even ah Marked Man?! Why shoul’ ah even give teh job teh you?!” Aemineus pulled up a solitary chair that was placed in a solitary position in the middle of the room, placing his buttocks upon it, saying, “Because I’m the only person whose willing to take up this job at the moment. Everyone else in this sorry hamlet is scared of a stranger.” The fire in the large hearth behind her burned with an everlasting intensity, allowing light to flood into the rest of the miniscule room. She ‘harrumphed’, a light shake of her head signalling her disapproval, though she said, “Foine. He wen’ ou’ to teh fores’s just west o’ ‘ere to gather some ma’erials fer deh forge. Some elves ‘ave been wanderin’ teh land recen’ly… ah told ‘im to nae go alone bu’ he sai’ we were runnin’ ou’ o’ stuff fer deh smithy.” After a few moments of silence, Aemineus asked, “And he went alone, without any weapons on him? Is there anything I can identify him with?” She responded, “Aye, ‘e wen’ alone. ‘E always carried ‘is amule’ on ‘im, golden ‘n always gleamin’ in teh sunloigh’. ‘E took ah steel shor’sword with ‘im too.” Abruptly, Aemineus stood to his feet, rolling up the piece of parchment before placing it somewhere on his person. After a clearing of the throat, he asked her, “How long has he been gone?” “Abou’ two days.” And, with the nod of the head, the bounty hunter started to move from the home. A few paces in, he swiveled back on his heel, telling her, “I’ll need two new blades when I get back. Longswords. One of steel and the other of aurum.” He said this in a rather demanding, mistrusting tone as he placed his hand lightly on the bronze handle of the wooden door. Just as he creaked it open, he assured her with words of compassion, saying, “I’ll bring him back. Don’t worry.” He moved outside and the frigid air hit him like an Orc, causing his body to shiver lightly at the touch of it. Aemineus shut the door behind him, quickly moving towards the inn. He glanced from side to side once more, the final lanterns finally being blown out in most of the homes. The door to the tavern was suddenly kicked in, slamming against the wall to create a sound loud enough to create an echo throughout the town. As he entered, he noticed that the pub was strangely… empty- there was nearly no one there, save the bartender and the serving girl that seemed overly excited at his entry. They were seated just to the right of the hearth, which had lost all intensity it ever seemed to have, filled with ash and unburned logs. They both rised in unsettling synchronization, at the same time uttering, “Welcome to... Dead Lodgings!” Aemineus quickly slammed the door back behind him, though he continued to shiver visibly as the shabby windows and the condition of the door did next to nothing to stop the biting winds from flooding inside. “Fits the name.” he said, moving towards them at a gradual pace as he then asked, “Got any room for a broke man here?” At this question, the bar owner (presumably) promptly picked up his metal cup and threw it at Aemineus’ face. The bounty hunter easily smacked it away, where it clattered to the floor somewhere on the right side of the room. The barmaiden said, “Ain’t nae room fer a broke feller loike yerself. We barely eve’ tole’ate’ yer ski’ ‘round these par’s, lad.” At this, Aemineus offered no reaction but a ball of saliva flying from his opened mouth flying towards them, moving to turn and pace out of the tavern. He slammed the door behind him in an act of aggression, drawing forth a yell from the man inside. He padded towards an alleyway betwixt two of the small buildings, laying his tired body there. The cold kept him up for the longest of times, though eventually he managed to drift into a sleeping state. As light broke the surface of the horizon, the wanna-be Marked Man found himself awake. He sat up and looked about the alleyway and, as expected, nothing of significance had changed. However, there was a broken mirror near the back, and he went to pick up one of the more sizable pieces and lift it up to his face. His visible skin was as brown as ever, probably even darker from the amount of sun basking he did as of yesterday. His eyes were still a beautiful hazel color and his hair remained a charcoal black- he gladly noted that there were no gray hairs poking out. There were no scars and he generally seemed healthy all-around. As he continued to admire himself in the glass shard, his ears noticed a distinct ‘clink’ sound from somewhere near him. He turned the mirror ever so slightly to his left and saw that, at the entrance to the alleyway, there was a figure creeping toward him. They were small and had a head full of hair, though the rest of them was shrouded by the shadows of the buildings. “**** off,” He demanded, loud and clear, to the sneaking person. At this, they stopped in their tracks and slowly stood to their full height, which wasn’t very tall, only about four feet and eleven inches at the most. “Ah cannae do tha’, ser,” the child-like voice said as Aemineus turned to look at whoever they were, only to find a little child, assumedly an orphan. They were, as everyone else in this town was, scruffed up and quite dirty. He wore clothes that were obviously stolen, oversized and torn. His hair was a mix between a light brown and blonde- dirty blonde- as one might call it, and his body bordered on being unhealthily ectomorphic. “Ye look loike ye ‘ave moneh. Moneh tha’ ah nee’,” the kid exclaimed, his young hands clenching and unclenching as if he were ready to ****** something. Aemineus sneered, saying, “If I had money, lad, would I be sleeping in this alleyway?” There was a long, strange pause as the child mulled over what had just been said. The orphan’s hands moved up to his face as he started to wail like a baby, his face contorting in an ugly manner underneath them. Aemineus let him cry for a few more moments, though he felt a if he had to do something to comfort the child. He took a few steps closer to the orphan, moving to place his gauntleted hand lightly atop his head and rub it in an inelegant way, asking, “Where’s your parents, kid?” And the orphan said, “M-Moma is dead. And papa left a long time ago. I’m all al-” Suddenly, the kid laughed evilly as his small hands found the hilt of Aemineus’ ferrum blade. He tugged it free with all of his might, stumbling back as the bounty hunter tried to ****** his shirt up. The kid bolted from the alleyway and down the road, laughing loudly all the way as he exclaimed, “This’ll fetch ah noice price on teh marke’!” Aemineus took after him, though naturally he was slower due to the weight of all his equipment on his form. The town, which had been devoid of anyone when he arrived yesterday, was now filled to the brim with people. They were all notably members of the lower class- peasants, poor merchants and beggars. Every so often, there was an armored fellow, though they seemed as if they were members of an organized military force that was stationed nearby, not wanderers seeking shelter. Aemineus continued to rush through the hordes of people, pushing some aside as he spotted the kid making a hard right into another alley. He followed him, only to realize that the kid had led him into a rather obvious trap. In this place there were a group of homeless fellows, fists clenched as they looked towards the armored newcomer. There were at least five of them and they were willing to do what they could to survive in this town. Aemineus’ hand instinctively fell to the hilt of his aurum blade, starting to pull it from his sheath, though it had stopped. He couldn’t betray the code, even if he wasn’t a Marked Man yet. These people were not monsters, they were just doing what they had to do to survive. And so, remembering this, he brought both hands in front of his face, taking up a defensive stance as they started to rush towards him. The first one ran at him, leaping towards him as he brung his fist in a wide, diagonal arc towards Aemineus’ left temple. The bountyman took a singular, large step forth, his own clenched hand slamming into the core of the fellow. He coughed up some saliva, falling to the ground as he clutched his stomach- Aemineus found little time to revel in his defeat, however, as his head jerked forward. The impact did not force him to stumble, for the one who did it was too feeble- he whipped his body around, his flat palm smacking the face of the poor beggar that hit him. In his anger, Aemineus tightly grasped the torn tunic of the fellow with both hands and brung him up into the air above his head. Letting out a monstrous yell of pure malice, Aemineus smashed the head of the beggar down into the dirt ground beneath him. As the cranium of the man made contact with the ground, a loud crack was emitted, making everyone halt in their tracks. His breaths came out of his open mouth in hefty amounts as the world seemed to pause. He let go of the beggar’s body, the corpse flopping to the ground in a puddle of mud. Aemineus slothfully backed away from it, his wild eyes glancing from the body to the beggars whom were in shock at what just happened. A feminine voice came from the back of the group, calling out, “My babe!” A lady in somewhat better clothing than the rest had pushed the men aside, falling to her knees beside the body. He looked down at the ground, his face returning to its typical, bothered state as his chipped and worn ferrum sword was thrown at his feet. “GE’ OU’! LEAVE US,” the lady yelled at him, her voice cracking as tears flowed freely from her eyes. As he picked up his sword and sheathed it once again, Aemineus noticed something about the beggar-made-corpse. It was simply an older looking version of the orphan that stole his sword earlier, though even skinnier than he was. He could tell that the kid was approximately fifteen years of age and that he was obviously lacking sustenance most of his life. “I… uh… I’m sorry,” Aemineus said to the group, moving to shakily depart from the alley. However, as he reached its entrance, there had been a crowd that gathered to see what was happening and, soon, three guards bursted through to see the result of the brawl. “Ge’ ‘im,” one of them commanded to the two others, and they easily apprehended him via tightly taking hold of either of his arms. Aemineus offered no resistance to the men, for he knew what he had done- the rest of the village would soon know it too. After his hands were tied up expertly by the guardsmen, they led him through the streets until they reached a high-standing building on the outskirts of the town. It was in better condition than the rest of the town and many loud noises could be heard from inside. They stripped Aemineus down and gave him some ragged clothes that barely fit then threw him in a cell. Within this cell, there was no bed and instead, a singular bench to either sit or sleep upon. There was hay inside to serve as a bit of padding for the ground and, in the corner next to the window, a cell partner. In the other corner, there was a wooden bucket and a stench that could burn the nostril hairs of any regular man. “Enjoy ye fockin’ stay ‘ere, degenerate. Yer fate’ll be decoided by ‘morrow,” the guardsman said, spitting at Aemineus. Aemineus dragged himself towards the hay bed, moving to roll over and onto his side so that he faced the wall. The guy sitting idly next to the window spoke up after the guard left, “Oi, lad.” The bounty man responded, aggressively, “**** off. I don’t want to talk.” His cell partner grunted, and then all went silent as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky became illuminated by the moon. As they both descended into slumber, all Aemineus could think of was: How the **** did everything go this bad?
  5. ask the toxic Australian anything

    how does it feel to be Austrailian
  6. skinwalker's skin shop

    Just for when you're doing skins again.
  7. Graphics And Skins - Skin Shop

    shiiiiiiiiiiiiid i was finna hit you up until i saw that real life money had to be paid. i'm broke as hell
  8. Dominion of Malin 'Rap'

    damn, why yall getting on the homie like this? yeah sure his 'rap' was a straight-up miss, but he doesn't deserve all this heat for just one post. I repeat, this man does not need all these roasts he was trying to write a rhyme because he was bored and wanted to pass the time. okay, I admit it was kinda trash but gah damn yall ain't even gotta bash
  9. [CA] [Za'rei] Ohlea

    you motherfucker no offense meant
  10. [ET Art & Writing Contest] Seasons of Atlas

    This is my story submission for the ET Writing Contest! WARNING: THE FORMATTING ABOVE IS ABSOLUTE ASS, CLICK ON THE GOOGLE DOC LINK FOR A BETTER LOOKING STORY. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sYhnu2aaML1Y55qx-mOsmhG7vppqr87biadIYeaXJAQ/edit?usp=sharing
  11. The Sage of Tomfoolery

    As Ravondir reads the piece of parchment, he states, "Huh. Damn pamphlets."
  12. [Denied] [Interviewed][Pending][Actor] Tsuyose

    Uh. . . accept this man on the spot. He has a great wealth of knowledge and plays one of the legendary Paladins. He's written/assisted in the making of much lore and his roleplay is far beyond the quality needed for ET actors. I give this application a +1.
  13. [Feedback/Suggestion] Holy Mages

    Yes, we were able to open up a rift to the Soulstream in order to store corrupted weapons/objects so that they would be purified. This was soon removed by the LT for the reason: 'why would Aeriel let you open a portal to her realm'? I kinda see what they meant, but the location of where the portal led to in the Soulstream was never specified. But the thing is that after that was removed, I realized that more 'spooks' were able to open up portals to our realm and waltz inside. They brought multiple people, some of them not Ascended, into the Soulstream while we could not open up a portal to toss corrupted items inside. Now, if the LT were to allow us to write lore for our own diety's realm (no, we did not write the lore for the Soulstream), maybe we could fix some of the problems we currently have. But this has nothing to do with the current argument sooooooo it's irrelevant The problem is, with this, that you can't keep up with every individual sin that a character may commit. And the Aenguls cannot see into your thoughts like a mental magic man could. If someone (Ascended/Cleric/Paladin) were to go on a killing spree, the respective diety sends a vision to their highest members and send the holy orders out on a hunt for them. We've also though about Aeriel simply disconnecting Ascended herself, which was also denied by the LT. Aeriel does not hold our souls and thus she cannot disconnect us, because disconnection ultimately results in the forced ripping apart of your soul (unless you consent to it). And no, that's stupid. They should not be able to see into your mind, just. . . no. And we are slaves to our deities, we follow their every order and literally die for them. I do remember a time on mid Vailor, during the Harbinger event, Tahariae sent all of his Clerics a vision telling us to jump from a high place. Two Clerics did not complete this action, and thus, they were promptly disconnected by Tahariae. I'm not sure how that worked, but maybe he just cut off the supply of Light that he gave them or something along those lines.
  14. [Feedback/Suggestion] Holy Mages

    expose this man
  15. [Feedback/Suggestion] Holy Mages

    I currently like the way the Ascended's healing system works, it gives us consequences for healing so we can't just *heal heal* "oh me so tired ahhhh" *faints*. I hear a lot of people complaining about how Clerics healing is just *heal heal tired*, but I haven't many solutions for it. They can have a lot of aesthetic which enhances the roleplay, but it doesn't really fix the problem. Ascended Soulflame, if you hurl it against armor in the form of a fireball/magic missile wouldn't do much. However, if you were to do a torrent of it right in front of the armored foe it would get in through the openings/flaws, even if it was just a little. I'm not sure about how Flames of Reckoning works so meh. Cleric wards need some work, yeah. The Ascended have enchantments, but they are very different than the ones that the Clerics have. They're called infusions and can be placed anywhere on the desired object. These infusions can do many things depending on what pattern they possess, and take on the effect of the Ruinous or Rapturous Soulfire (which depends on who made the infusion). But what the Clerics do is put their magic into a weapon which can make an iron blade hurt like it was aurum. They do have a blinding flash of light 'spell', yes, but I don't believe that it can knock a Descendant out cold. I am not sure where you got that from nor how that would make sense. But when a Cleric does it, it's essentially a flashbang that affects everyone around them, even allies. Fire isn't much of a defensive thing. . . so yeah. I've never seen a Cleric conjure up a shield in the middle of a fight to do that in the longest of times, so I don't really think that it's a problem. If they do summon a shield/weapon of light, I believe it's extremely exhausting to the point where they can use it once per encounter. But I doubt anyone is going to use it soon. There is a bit of balancing that needs to go down, I agree. I'm just not sure how to do it because me am no lore man.