DrinkPesticide

Nerrin Delevoye let out a snort from where he slumped, a seat opposite the barkeep of the Leyu'celia tavern, he'd grumble a couple misgivings to himself, before mumbling more openly to the people around him; "Personal aggravations aside, he's done a marvelous for us. If  the Ker'nor, Onyx, ebon-whatever can see a speck of sense, its people might share the same benefits Erolas has brought us." 

Ri'"Let's get this over with"Zinawr would grumble and groan at his 'poor' treatment throughout the days that followed. 

Edit, full skin or head? - Full skin, (if possible)

Race - Dark elf

Age - 37

Gender - Male

Hair style - A short fringe, medium hair round the sides. Shaggy overall 

Hair, eye and skin colour - Matte black, deep sea blue, and ash grey.

Outfit description - A dim, open, blue trench coat reaches down to barely below the knees, long sleeves with a small cuffs reach down to the ker's wrists. A simple white undershirt is shown, untucked over the waist, hiding any belt or other such waist decor. Upon the lower half is a pair of black trousers (go wild), and pair of boggy, brown boots.

Other details you want me to add - N/A :) 

Steve or Alex skin base? - Alex.

RP Name: Nerrin Delevoye

MC Name: CelluLoser

Known Arcane Arts: None

Position Desired: Student

When is the best time to contact you for an interview: Any times'll do

The server could always use a competent GM. +1

(Plus cat dad told me to)

The 9^th of the Snow's Maiden 1617 would be a bitter, ***-freezing day for the rest of Axios, though upon the small island of Khatua, the Kha' present still felt 'Absyyl's' diminished, however still warming daylight radiance.

Atop the temple of Metztli, a proud, fortified structure of stone, rising tall above all other structures upon the island, there would stand three figures.

 Atahuti, the soon-to-be Tlatlanni, wise, well beyond his years, a clean iron dagger grasped with in the white-furred pantera's mitt, the blade of the solar plexus would be buried into the solar-plexus of a tied and gagged farfolk, the tanned skin-victim breathing heavily as he averted his eyes from his stomach.

To the right of his gaze would stand Dra'Naima, a Khopesh blade held out in front of her, dwelling in stoic apprehension.

The final kharajyr, Ja'Zinawr knelt down, perched over the center of the whole gather, his features tensed, fixated upon the bound figure, laid beneath the counter-top of the altar, sat in the pantera's shadowy grasp would be a mortar of thick aqueous blue paste, Zinawr's dark claws sweeping the surface of it occasionally, globs latching onto the prongs upon his digits, being immediately scraped upon the tied man's throat, clearly lacking intent to harm him.

After a long-while, the priest would raise up from the doomed male, as Atahuti then glances up to Zinawr, his orbs scanning the old Kha' for confirmation in what was about to do, the digits round the hilt of his dagger shifting, and twitching in excitement. With a silent bob of the head, Zinawr offers the final motion the man would ever comprehend, drawing in a sharp breath the Kha' began to chant, the small crowd of Kha' in attendance muttering after him, some simply repeating, others fully comprehending the tongue, 

"Vunkeja Atahuti uv rec cehc, cu ra syo palusa dra jaccam uv ouin femm uh Axios." or "Forgive Atahuti of his sins, so he may become the vessel of your will on Axios."

With that, the now Tla' would tear the blade from the victim, his prey falling back limp upon the base of the platform, in a swift, fantasized motion, the man would plunge an armory of unfurled claws into the gaping wound, those present dragging in quiet exhales as the Tla' rooted round the now soup-like organs within the man. The lifeless body would give a final stir upon the Tla' reclaiming his hand from him, pushing up the heart into wide-view, his digits clenching round it as blood anointed the Tla' as a Metztli devotee. Moments later, a simple roar would echo the ceremony.

"Long live the Tlatlanni!"

A pantera, Ja'Zinawr, as declared by Sage Mukar, sat anxiously throughout Jakarra's speech, his narrowed gaze flickering about till it would direct itself to Ti'Atahuti and his escorting Dra' as the young male pair entered. He'd sit through the young leaders speech, bobbing his head along with his wise words until he rose up from where he was seated, drifting over to take a place behind the new Tla', a simple handaxe upon his side as he bellowed out, "Tla'Atahuti!" He'd give a final dip of his head, stood firmly where he was.

The single black cat guy swayed gently upon the Kharajyr dining table, among his latest feast of venison and melon, he let out a guffaw as he flicked over a copy of the post, "It's Zinawr's favourite!" The Kha' guy exclaimed, "It's gonna get messy!"

Zinawr would hold back vomit at each usage of: "I," valiantly penning on wards, like the little soldier he is.

((Help fix my rep ratio please?))

Nerrin himself would slip the letter mailed to him from the Delevoye letter box shortly after his ex-maliyu had padded off to do the deed, moving to shift inside to plop himself down at the desk with a quiet grunt. The lad fumbled at the seal of the letter, his brow furrowing further and further as he dragged his gaze down the letter, his lower lip shuddering as he finally finished his little read, slumping back his chair, a lazy grip upon the note.

"I..." He began, letting the final piece of writing he'd ever receive from Enara slip from his grasp. His gaze simply fell to the floor, a hand moving to blindfold himself, remaining silent for the next few hours.

MC Name:

MrMidiene.

Character's Name:

Nerrin Delevoye.

Character's Age:

34.

Character's Race:

Dark elf.

What magic(s) will you be learning?:

Sensory illusion.

Teacher's MC Name:

Trenchist.

Teacher's RP Name:

Liandir.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

Nada.

Do you agree to keep the MT updated on the status of your magic app by using the Magic List Errors topic?:

Yeee.

Have you applied for this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

Nope.

Why not. + 1

Having watched him fall, Zinawr bumbles over to the corpse, a toothy grin spread across his visage as he gave the apekha's body a sharp poke. "Another suicide, typical." 

Absolute mad one. + 1

"Utterly vile." Zinawr snarled, perking his head up to the view of Mukar's head on show, he'd make quickly to scramble for his possessions, leaving the city soon after, his head swaying with dismay.

A young ker's gaze would be caught by the notice, he'd skim his hues over the parchment several times over, absorbing the details of the position eagerly. Nerrin proceeded to shift to the closest flat surface, quickly penning down a response on a sheet of paper produced from the inner reaches of his satchel. He'd call for a pigeon, fastening the rolled parchment tightly to the avian's heel, he'd cast the bird towards the skies, frowning at the long wait to come.

The note, if unfurled and scanned over would read:

"Dear Sir, I, Nerrin Delevoye, find myself interested in the apprenticeship you propose in your notice. I find little to do in Leyu'celia other than cast my fishing hook and converse with a select few Mali I see dotted around the camp, it's for this reason that the chance to go beyond the camp for a reason other than simply visiting Linandria greatly perks my interest, along with the chance to learn new skills. As far as my current capabilities go I find myself to be a keen angler, though other than that I'm a blank slate looking for something keep my time and attention in the years to come. Concerning leaving things behind, I'll likely be urged to visit Leyu'celia to see loved ones and such at semi regular intervals, I could see why this may be terms for denial.

- Yours faithfully, Nerrin Delevoye."

((No idea if I post this here, or pm it to you. I could've checked, but oh well.))

Pantera master race?

Zinawr stood idly in the meeting hall, his gaze cast over a pair of Kharajyr cubs fondly, the pantera would have his right leg above the ground, his weight supported by means of a cane he leant on for support, "A while before Absyyl next attacks, Zinawr hopes." The Kha' murmured to himself.

Max is an efficient slave driver +1

Name? Zinawr.

Title? None currently.

Professions? Veteran farmer, adept chef.

Reasons for joining the priesthood? I wish to spread the faith of Metztli beyond the few Kha' that are still actually loyal to the goddess.

Are you capable of holding public sacrifices? Yes.

Top stuff.

Zinawr murmurs a few words in remembrance of his Father-in-law before moving on. 

"This fool, seems to think with the same idiocy as those who wrote Haelun'or's barrage of incorrect propaganda." A passing Ker mutters to himself, regarding the 'Ame speaking with a look of both anger and disgust.

Name: Denlor Cal'mir.
Age:44.
Race (If not mali'ker then an interview will be required): Mali'ker.
Notable Skills: Blacksmithing and farming.
How many will be moving in with you?: Just me, myself and I.
Do you accept the laws of Ebonglade and by extension Laureh'lin?: Indeed.

MC Name: DrinkPesticide.
Skype: You have it.

The Kha' slumped on the table would take a loose slice of cake laying idly on the table, throwing it on the ground near Mukar, hoping he is still under the obesity curse. "Quiet Mukar, some of us are trying to sleep."