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Found 2 results

  1. A Halfling's Life [!] A portrait of Aech, expression devoid of laughter or mischief. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The grandfather clock upon a certain halfling’s wall tick, tick, ticked through the minutes. An amber eyed figure of just two feet gazing upon it’s glass face. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. How infuriating. Aech thought to themselves. How long have I been here, staring at the time go by? How long has time been staring at me? Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick- CRASH A crystalline dagger embedded into the old clock’s crystal pane, stuck perfectly between the minute and hour hand. . . just before the time hit 12. Aech with his right hand outstretched, golden and amber mists, trickling through their fingers like sand before dissipating back into the aether. Perfectly aimed. Perfectly thrown. Perfectly done. He supposed that's what happens when you’ve been alive so long. Practicing endless repetitions. Fighting in countless battles. Then again, she had barely been alive compared to many of her friends. . . Though surely, she’d lived a long life for a halfling. They studied their hand then, glowing orange eyes watching that glittering aura orbit around her fingers, weaving through the air. Watched as the magic traveled through where her ring and pinky finger used to be. . . How funny it was to think back to how she had lost them. Decades ago, before they were even an eminent. . . Must have been in Krugmar, multiple rexes ago... His gaze traveled up further his arm, the beads of orange light that pulsed through just beneath their skin. Illuminating a pathway to the many scars he had collected through the years. Burns along her arms from fighting a water elemental. . . Her magegold tattoos that ran like veins across her collarbones. . . Her two missing legs, of course. . . The stab through her hand. . . a large scar across her back from her first brush with the ferrymen… my, wasn’t that eventful. She recalled that injury, how it had almost been the death of her. Perhaps for a larger descendent, it was one to recover from quickly. But not for she. What a fate that awaited for such a small being, born with a heart of fire. Born to burn, born to fight, born to illuminate. Perhaps that was the day she realized how weak she was. And so began the climb. Training, learning, fighting, everything in between. Until they stood as they did today. Certainly no longer young, but with power thrumming at their fingertips, they had everything they had ever wanted. Money enough for anyone, gold and all that glitters in amounts a dragon would envy, and power. Strength. Magic. And yet. Bored. How infuriating it was, to have all you wanted! Life was meaningless without something to want, something to chase, something to become! To amble about your days with power so great you could challenge a god, power enough to raze cities! And for what? Never would the chance arise to be part of something more. She could feel it in her bones- her time was coming to an end. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Aech lifted from off their seat, floating through the air towards a nearby mirror. They gave the smallest of smiles, even in such a state of boredom finding amusement in their minor flight. The two atronach legs they had, which allowed them to float about as they did. They had a dire wolf to thank for one, and a siren for the other. So many adventures had she partaken. Adventure. Excitement, discovery, knowledge! That’s what she was missing. In their youth, such was commonplace! Everything was a new experience, there was thrill in everything if you looked in the right places. Pranks to be played, chaos to cause, memories to make. . . He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, perhaps even helped with a few. He had seen enemies die, some by his own hand. He had watched children grow old and die, he had loved, he had lived while many friends had not. But now. . . nothing. Just the clock. Ticking by. . . . Silence. Ah, that's right. They murmur to themselves. The clock is gone. Perhaps. . . it is time that I go too. [!] A portrait of a young Aech- full of mirth and joy. And so they sat before the fireplace. A hummingbird of copper and ruby feathers resting upon the mantle, old as a bird could be. “Are you ready to fly, my jewel? One last time?” They uttered out. A booklet of letters sat within their lap, each small letter handwritten with. . . the closest thing to love a sociopath could feel. She placed the small bundle of letters beneath the bird’s claws, and off it flew to the aviary. . . For clearly, such a small bird could not fly across Almaris alone. She smiled faintly as it flew off, though she was not sad. Rather. . . relieved. She stood from where she sat, and pain suddenly arced its way across her body. A feeling too frequent now. I’ve grown old. Somewhere within her, she knew tonight was the last night. The tiny halfling curled up in their chair by the fire, staring into the flickering flames. He felt his eyes grow heavy, his breathing slow. She wrapped herself tighter in a thick blanket, fighting the chill that threatened to pierce through her body. Dreamily, they thought of all the people they would see again, soon. . . Brian. . . Vesryn. . . Octavia. . . Plume. . . Alucard. . . Frisket. . . Her ex-husband, that would be awkward for certain. . . Countless others, to be sure, that their sleep-addled mind could not remember to iterate. Bah, no matter. I’ll be seeing them all soon. Vaguely they could process someone entering her home. . . Ah, she got my letter. Good. Valindra kneeling beside him, holding Aech in her arms. He smiled, as she held his tiny hands in hers. “Thank you.” He whispered. In and out of consciousness did they float, every now and then being aware of the tears falling onto their body. . . The mana gem that sat embedded between her collarbones began to flicker, as they used a last bit of magic to dry her dear friend’s tears with a breeze of warm air. Magic pulsed through their body, as for one last time Aech enjoyed the power it gave them. Am I selfish? She wondered. To leave so many behind? There are ways to evade death. . . and yet I let it take me with open arms. Do I fight to stay alive? Like I always have? No, no. . . I deserve a rest. His eyes closed.
  2. Basic Information Nicknames: Mister Dalma, The Fat, The Merchant Age: 206 Gender: Male Race: Mali'ker / Dark elf Status: Alive and well Description Height: 5'8ft/176cm Weight: 120 kilo Body Type: Mesomorph Eyes: Red, one made of dyed glass. Hair: Black and well groomed. Skin: Ashen grey. Markings/Tattoos: Faded tattoos with tribal motifs going down his arms. Health: Poor stamina due to his weight and has difficulties breathing at high altitudes. Personality: A very welcoming elf with a warm and pleasant attitude. He oozes of confidence and willpower. Effeminate and relaxed. His strong desire for wealth has however made him rather narcissistic and manipulative. Inventory: A pouch of minas, an ornate dagger consisting of silver and gemstones, a ledger and a stick of coal. Further Details: Calm and soothing voice. Life Style Alignment: True Neutral Deity: The Creator Religion: The Canonist Faith / Dark elven ancestor veneration Alliance/Nation/Home: The Kingdom of Oren / Ker'nor / Felsen Job/Class: Merchant Banker. Title(s): The Grand Merchant of Ker'nor, aka the Master of Trade Profession(s): Jeweller Special Skill(s): Networking. Flaw(s): Extravagance Weaponry Fighting Style: Dirty Trained Weapon: None Favored Weapon: None Archery: Above average. Biography Parents: Julius & Vivian Dalma Siblings: None Children: Prometheus Dalma Extended Family: Flavius (cousin), Cyrus (cousin) and Lucius Dalma (cousin) Pet(s): None Artwork None, but if anyone's offering I wouldn't decline!
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