LINK TO PROOF:[Journal] SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff (Defensive)
While she was uncertain what she would ever personally be needed for, Nkosazana followed when she was called, taking quiet, obedient steps behind the one who had come for her. While she was tempted to ask questions of him, as a knight-apprentice and a follower of the Knight's Code, she knew better than that. She needed to know her place. Follow her orders. These were things that she was aware of, and even if she did not know what she could be needed for, it was not her place to question any of it.
Her boots clicked against the cold floor, and she gasped to herself, in awe of the large room and in even more awe of the pool she saw at the center. What was that? It drew her in, much like a moth to a lantern light, and she took cautious steps towards it, all the while looking around for any hint or clue as to if this was what she was supposed to be doing.
It seemed those that had led her down the stairs were long gone, though, and all that was left was herself and the pool that was now in front of her. It was ... beautiful. Glistening in an almost silver colour, despite the fact that there was little natural light in this room, it was quite awe striking. Nkosazana brought herself closer to it, realizing that within it, there appeared to be weapons as far as her eye could see.
Weapons.
Was this what she thought it was?
Drawn to the water, Nkosazana stuck a hand in, reaching down and feeling her hand grasp a staff --
===================
"Zeeeeee! Give it back!"
"No, Zana, it's mine now! All mine!"
"Why are you such a meanie mean mean!"
"Kids, kids." The warm voice cause Nkosazana's attention, and she glanced up, spotting her mother, a tall, almost intimidating woman with dark hair and eyes much like hers. To the young girl, though, she was not intimidating at all, and Nkosazana pouted a bit, running towards her and grasping onto her leg. When her mother reached down to pat her head, Nkosazana felt a smile form on her lips, instantly feeling better.
After a few seconds of warm silence, her mother turned her eyes to the one Nkosazana was whining at, a young boy not much older than her, with narrow eyes and a small smirk on his lips. The thought crossed her mind that he was always such a bully.
After moving Nkosazana a bit, her mother moved to get down onto her brother's level, kneeling in front of him. "I know you like your sister's things, dear, but you have your own toys. Perhaps you should let her play with her toys, and you can play with your own?"
"B-b-but!"
"Darling." She scooped under his chin, directing his head towards hers. Nkosazana stayed behind her mother's leg as she watched. "No buts. I thought you liked your little wooden horses! It took quite the effort for your father to make those."
A distressed, "I do!" escaped from her brother at the suggestion that he didn't like his own toys. Nkosazana felt a surge of childish victory, bouncing a bit behind her mother, though she attempted to calm herself before her mother turned around and scolded her for acting so excited.
Thankfully, it seemed her mother hadn't noticed her daughter's reaction -- or perhaps she just hadn't cared to comment on it. "So perhaps you could play pretend with that? And give your sister her toys back?"
"Okay..." Her brother walked back up to her, handing her back a small, wooden doll. He slumped his shoulders, a small, overdramatic sigh coming from his lips. "I'll go play with the horseys..."
===================
Nkosazana's grip was tight on her new staff as she pulled back, blinking at the sudden flash of memory that came back to her. She had a brother? And a mother? And a father, too, that implied. Where were they? Were they anywhere near Camelot? They were not here with her, certainly. Her eyes darted around, looking for an answer or an explanation for the flashes of a time long gone, but she found nothing. There was no one else here. No brother, no mother, no father, no friends, no guards, no one.
She was still all alone, and no small flashes of memory would change any of that.
In her hand, though, she possessed something new. Part of her remembered reaching into the water below her, grasping an item and pulling it out with her. A staff. This was hers, and this was what she had been called down to this room for. Swallowing down hard on her memories, Nkosazana grasped her new staff tightly as she took quiet steps back towards the stairs.
Soren moved down the stairs, going where he was directed until he found himself in front of a pool. There was a slow realization that he was alone now, just him and the beckoning water, but that was fine. There was no reason to resist it.
At the water's edge he peered down, staring at the mass of weapons that seemed just below the surface. Yet there, perhaps just within reach, he sees her. A beautiful, two-handed sword. Not beautiful in her gilt and finery but in her simplicity. The way that even through the distortion of water he can imagine how balanced it would feel in his hands.
He reached in without hesitation, and the memory struck.
He had promised he'd only be gone for the winter. He'd be back in time for the first planting, with the money earned from whatever work he found to help tie them over until the crops began to pour in. They barely scraped by, a meager existence, his bride who could have been married to a noble and him, a nobody from a family that could barely hold itself together.
He hadn't minded the winter's work. Hard labor. Fighting. Work that pushed him to his limits and sometimes past. Sleeping in barns and wherever he could find a bed, eating only what he had to to have coin to take home with him.
He rounded the bend and destruction stretched before him. An entire village razed to the ground. He stumbled past it in a frantic run, but there was nothing to be found. The burnt shell of a house.
The bones that told more of the story than he'd wanted to know.
He opened his eyes, reeling from the memory but knowing how young he'd been in the memory, knowing he must have been well past that before he'd ever pledge himself and given up so many of the memories that were still lost.
Sword in hand he turned and staggered up the stairs.
ramenli
Alarming Consumer
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Hitsuzen
Naughty Advisor
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Posted: Sun May 10, 2015 10:08 pm
LINK TO PROOF:Journal SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff (Defensive)
Yuki was silent during the long journey into the depths of the castle, unsure, asking himself over and over again if he really was ready to take on the calling of becoming a real knight. So much had happened, but had he really done enough to be worthy? Were the choices he made honorable in the long run?
Surely he would not have been summoned otherwise, he tried to reassure himself in the darkening stairwells. They kept descending, for what felt to Yuki like hours. He couldn't have imagined that the castle's corridors dug into the earth so deep, or how long it had taken for the construction to reach this far.
At long last, he spied the faint blue glow ahead of them. Yuki stepped into the chamber, eyes fixed on the pool glowing in the middle of it all like the water itself was enchanted. A strange sensation, like a whisper on the wind that just tickled over his ears, a caress to his senses pulls him to the edge. There were so many weapons beneath the still surface of the pool, and yet the young man had never been so sure of something in all his life.
He thought.
Kneeling down, the knight-to-be confidently reached into the pool of cold water and metal, closing his fingers around a staff firmly.
-------
It was a small, sturdy cottage that he had built for them himself. It was outwardly just a thing of mud and clay and stone, but it was theirs. Their home was warm, most often in mood if not always in temperature, and what meager possessions they had they were thankful for.
But her beauty and her smile was the only thing that Yuki lived and breathed for. Everything he did was with her well being in mind, before his own, as much as the woman would often scold him for it.
He was lying halfway off of their pallet, torso upon it and his legs bent off the side. His wife sat above him, his head in her lap as she combed her thin fingers through his hair, ever now and again picking out a piece of dried grass or straw and tossing it off aside to the dirt floor.
"I've no idea what to do with you," his love was saying with an amused lilt in her voice. "Sometimes, I think you might give a blind man your eyes, if you thought he might see with them."
He laughed then, shaking his head softly. "But then I wouldn't be able to see your lovely face." He extended a hand up, caressing one of her cheeks and smiling warmly as she leaned into his touch. "It's just a few days. We'll have the job done in no time, and the pay will really help."
Her smile shifted into a frown, and so did his, worry creasing his brow.
"Kioko?"
And she gently flicked him between the eyes. Yuki shut them and rubbed the spot, but his smile returned with his soft sound of protest. "What did I do to deserve that?"
"You promised you'd never leave me, not even for a king's wealth."
"And I never will, love, there just isn't much here. I have to go where the work is. Where we can be paid for our labor." He smiled, in a sheepish sort of way. "If you forgive me for going, I'll bring you back some of those little blue posies that you love so much."
Her eyes lit up, just for a moment, before she curbed the response. "But if you pick them, they may wilt before I see them."
"Then I'll take you to them. We'll run through the fields and lie among the flowers."
But the world was dangerous, and they both knew it. It wasn't reasonable for them to wander off on their own, especially not for something so petty as this. Still, she appreciated his gesture, and smiled softly. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, and he knew it was because she was afraid of him leaving. Afraid that their temporary farewell would not be temporary. It wouldn't be the first time that a group of villagers had left, and not all of them returned home.
"I'll miss you."
"And I you. Every moment."
There was a moment of silence between them, in which he reached up to link their fingers together, the dull shine of their wedding bands coming to rest against one another as he put his palm to the back of her smaller hand.
"We'll be able to run free one day, Kioko. With joy, instead of fear."
"I may be too old and frail a woman when that time comes, my love."
He closed his eyes, trying to will away such a picture as her being anything but strong and capable. He released her hand and gently took her wrist, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing her knuckles.
"I will carry you."
-------
The moment that the flash of memory released him to the present reality, Yuki realized that he was clutching the staff to his chest. There was a painful lump in his throat, and he swallowed against it as he stood.
Grasping his staff in his left hand as he walked back toward the cavern's entrance, Yuki gazed down at his left hand and noted the absence of his ring. It raised the question of why he no longer had it, but that memory was still locked away.
He missed her.
OOC
My character's name: Yuki Character's journal link:Here BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Reference here; without pointed ears. Rank of character Apprentice-Knight Sacred Points obtained: 0/100
Posted: Sun May 10, 2015 10:15 pm
LINK TO PROOF:[Journal] Sacred Weapon Type: Shield
Alexei is not the type of man to bring attention to himself on purpose. He is the type of man that enters a tavern with a smile and greets the party, but does nothing but make conversation and drink flagons of amber, foamy ale. Alexei never expects special attention, nor does he crave it.
So it is with much surprise and a little bashfulness that he plays off excellently that Alexei leaves his tankard at the table, eyes alight with excitement and a minute amount of apprehension.
What if he had done wrong? Alexei is not the type to assume the worst in people (for he has not seen the worst of people, for this Alexei surrounds himself with the best of people and has not put himself in a situation of a quicker expiration date), so he quickly pushes the thought from his mind. They had said this was for his promotion, after all.
He is not apprehensive as he is led through to the pool, but Alexei wonders when he was left alone. He wonders what Knighthood will do to him, if anything. Will it rush to his head, as the alcohol did? Surely not. Alexei wanted to save, to help. Such intentions, coupled with a strong heart, did not go awry.
His hand dipped into the clear pool, goosebumps running up his arm.
"Alexei." His father drawled, seated on the wooden throne of the keep. He was no King, but a lord of the land, and in the man's mind, that made him just as much royalty as the King. "Alexei, are you listening?"
"Yes father."
There has always been tension between them. Alexei did not want to languish in the keep, he did not want to sit idly by and watch as the world spun around him.
Alexei's father stares at him for a long while, cold silence building up until an iceberg has formed.
"You cannot continue to languish all day and expect to rule when I die, Alexei."
"I am only following the example you have set, Father."
---
The fires blazed, the chair stood empty. Panicked screams and hopeless wails, helplessness stagnating in the air. Alexei ran with Claudia, forsaking the scorched Keep, forsaking his father and forsaking her.
The man gave a long moan, hands around his new weapon. It was almost there; the reason he'd come to Camelot. He remembered the bawdy woman in the banquet hall was his twin sister, and that they'd run - but from what. Something has torched their land, but why?
It was a peculiar time to be called, honestly, but Piper was more than happy to have an excuse to get pulled away. Between Percival freaking out and Gawain apparently going bonkers on everyone (maybe his age finally got to him?), she really needed the space. So the missive to go to some mystery wherever for her ceremony into knighthood was greatly appreciated, even though she wished her escort was a bit more chatty; the heavy silence bothered her immensely, paradoxical after the cacophony that was the fight she was leaving.
There was no further instruction once they reached another cavern. She'd kind of hoped that maybe something more exciting would happen. Then again, it was a little cool, looking at all of those weapons in the pool...Was there a trick to it? A special one she needed to be looking for? Her hand was guided towards the left, fingers curling around what seemed to be a staff.
The memory is fleeting: a brisk run to the left, left, right, stop in the niche. It is her favorite spot to escape the guards because she doesn't have to crouch so much to hide her hair. It's tied back today just in case, and she uses it as a cushion as she sneaks a bite of her spoils: one apple, two loaves of bread, and God help her but she even managed a hot stick of pheasant today. Her mouth is watering; she stuffs it in her mouth and barely feels the meat scald the roof of her mouth as she devours the piece under a minute.
Her triumph doesn't last for long, however. She has tarried in her spot; the guards have caught the smell of her catch, and a strong arm checks here when she tries to escape. There is talk about this particular street rat, of shaving her head as punishment this time (no, one says, it would be too easy for her to hide without it), or taking off her hand. They settle for the brand, and as she screams her protests and blubbers and begs (what can she do, she has no family, she has no money, no-one will take her in for apprenticeship), all while a part of her remains rebellious. Even if she could have any of these things, she knows she would never willingly submit.
The poker sticks to her flesh with a horrifying sizzle, and the world grows white with pain.
Dizzied and in shock, Piper fell over, clutching at her weapon like it might keep her afloat on the solid ground. Mine, is all she can think, over and over. Mine, mine, mine. Her glimpse did not help; her past is neither to be proud nor shameful of. It simply is. A thief turned to a knight-apprentice, and now a fully fledged knight in her own right.
And now she had to continue existing, by any means necessary.
OOC
My character's name: Piper Blacke Character's journal link:xxx BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Lean, russet skin, poofiest black hair you've probably ever seen, scarf over thief's brand on her cheek, mischievous looks Rank of character Knight-apprentice (1d4)
Even this slight interruption proved difficult for him, because he'd promised he wouldn't leave her side, and yet they had to enter into the chasm alone. Robert spent far too long promising her he would return as soon as possible, before actually entering and heading down the stairs. When he reached the pool, he took no time to enjoy it's beauty, and simply waded in, clumsily searching for a weapon that suited him.
Instead, the weapon decided that he suited it, and he could feel it's call the moment he laid eyes on it. His hands both reached down into the water to take it, and the world plunged into darkness.
He's staring up at the tower, and it's all he can do to not ride away because she won't come to the window, no matter how many times he calls for her. He wants to save her, because that's what he was made for, what he was born to do and groomed to excel at. This was the tower, and she was the maiden, even if she kept refusing to heed his romantic sonnets and beckon call. He would keep trying, until she finally accepted his proposal. He was supposed to be her Prince Charming, but his voice was getting hoarse from trying so hard. When she finally graced him with the sight of her, it was only for a single, solitary moment.
And that moment was spent by throwing the refuse of the day out of the window.
Honestly, women seemed like more trouble than they were worth.
When he flopped back into the water, he sat there, ignoring the dampness soaking into his trousers, and let his mouth gape open in surprise. That was her. Did this mean that in their life, she did not want him? Did this mean their memories were going to tear them apart?
Was he the same man who'd tried to ask a woman to marry her simply because she looked like she needed rescuing in a tower? Had he done any better here?
Yes, damnit. He told himself, as he pushed up to his feet with his sword. He was better here. He had to make her see that. He had to prove himself, before it was too late. Before her memories exposed him for the fraud he once was.
LINK TO PROOF:journal SACRED WEAPON TYPE:offensive staffranged I CAN'T DECIDE I GUESS...RANGED...
They tell you it's time and you wonder: for what? But-- wordlessly, stoically-- you descend into the darkness, the walls illuminated with a pool of water. There is nothing and there is no one and that emptiness echoes out for what feels like an infinity, and--
You reach into the water, fingers grasping a stave, heavy and ugly, made for war, made for destruction and--
The crossbow fires and you smile with empty eyes, advancing to remove it from the mark. A single mother of three, but one that hadn't paid her taxes due to the lord of the North. It's not your duty to pass judgment on your Lord's requests. You merely enforce the law, judge and jury and executioner, until a better coffer can come along.
Pitiful. Vicious mercenary turned sellsword, stuck in a faraway land. Your name used to mean something, and now--
Only peasants quiver at the sound and shape of it, not lords.
Maybe it's time to change that.
You pull the staff from the pool and clutch it in the dim, surrounded by the deafening silence of solitude and the roaring of your own heart.
Posted: Mon May 11, 2015 6:25 am
LINK TO PROOF:here SACRED WEAPON TYPE: staff just any staff zoo help save me i've spent over five hours agonizing between offensive and defensive JUST STAFF
Each step was taken with utmost care, with cautious calculation and attention to detail and a very, very deliberate attempt to not get lost within her thoughts. Precisely none of what she was seeing could grant her any sense of security within her position here - not yet, at least - and though she fought against this inhibition, it had still begun to nag at her.
This was not what she wanted.
Mildred was well aware that she no longer deserved this; one couldn't earn a place somewhere they did not belong, after all. Attempting otherwise was little more than a delusion, and she would not so willfully delude herself into the hands of someone who only valued her as a pawn. Someone who saw her only as a thing to acquire, a tallied addition of one.
So she would take what she had earned, and use it for what she did want. That would be feasible, correct? She had agency over her own merits, her own power, didn't she?
※
Among the rows and stacks and shelves of books are notes and star charts and mathematics surrounding her, resembling something of a paper whirlwind suspended in motion and pinned to every viable surface, penned in writing she knows is her own. There are revisions to be made, per her father's advice, and she can feel the tight-chest-heart-fluttering urgency of knowing that she has only until sunset to accomplish this. If her work spans any further, she will lose the stars for an entire night, and there is still so much to be seen, so much to be shared, that she cannot bear the thought of such a loss.
It is with an eager mind that she puts pen to page, but she does not smile.
The schedule of her father's devising is strict and rigid and she allows herself no time to deviate, allows herself not a moment outside of it, and she might have despised it if it did not feel so vital, a compulsory necessity of everything she is and everything he guides her towards. There is a warped safety and comfort in calculating each action she takes in her waking hours, a safety and comfort in the fact that it is understood how critical a requirement this is. Her father's house is one of logic and knowledge, and there is no place here for the emotion and sentiment of the outside--
There is a familiarity that arises when she hears his voice, and the quill is set aside in a manner that is so undeniably close to being reflexive in nature that she has assuredly done this time after time. This is not a deviation; this is an expectation, an allowable reminder that she knows precisely where she belongs.
So she waits below the windowsill and listens to this voice she's come to know, listens to all of the poems and the promises, counts and catalogs each word with a practiced efficiency. She waits until the silence emboldens her enough to stand again, and when he sees her in that window, his voice carries a celebration of victory in every letter.
And as she hides her face and muffles a sigh into the cover of her palms, she hears him plead for her hand in marriage, hears such desperation in that single request, hears him pause to await her reply as her stomach lurches; and she closes her eyes and breathes in calm and tries to find her voice as she finally gathers her strength to respond that her answer has always been--
※
What?
How?
The weapon was dropped back into the water, if only temporarily, as she stared down at her empty hands. The hands of an astronomer. A scholar. Betrothed to...no, no. That simply could not be the case.
And yet...what other reason might she have to be here, a woman whose strength of mind far exceeded that of her body, whose life was dedicated to the heavens, not the earth. Whose every waking moment was in pursuit of knowledge, of feats of math and science...
Every moment excepting the visits she seemingly anticipated. From the man she now knew as the single person she never doubted was suited for knighthood.
He must have been immeasurably important, must have meant everything to her, for her to foolishly attempt to apprentice as a knight. It must have been impossible to withstand an existence without him, if this had truly been the best option. But to have felt that way, she must have felt that they belonged together, belonged only where the other chose to be.
She felt that way, and the King thought it necessary to forfeit the knowledge that she could feel whole. So he could have his own victory.
The cool water did not soothe the ache of her fingers as she clutched the weapon, grip tightening beyond what her bones could comfortably stand. If she could not trust her mind to remember, she would force compulsion into muscle memory, carve it into her own flesh, but she would never let go of the place--the person--she'd earned. Never again.
While reluctant to leave Percival's side Camilla dutifully follows the guard out of the Treasure Room and into the corridor however to her surprise instead of going up they went down! "Wow... Just how deep is it here..." she whispers in awe as they go deeper and deeper... Finally after many flights of stairs they reach the bottom and enter a gigantic cavern! Inside the gigantic cavern was a equally gigantic crystal clear lake who's beauty would be hard pressed to be rivaled! But rivaled it was! By the thousands of gorgeous weapons which lay just below the surface! "Wow......." she whispers breathlessly before settling into a hushed awe... As if speaking or raising her voice might be offensive to the beauty before her...
So entranced by the lake and weapons was she that Camilla failed to notice the guard leave... She also failed to notice she was now alone... But it mattered not to her the only thing which consumed her thoughts in that moment was the sheer beauty before her... Finally... She began to move... but not of her own volition... Something was calling her... pulling her... to the lake... and she didn't even realize she was moving until she found herself on her knees staring at the weapons in the water "Wow........" she whispers again in deep awe... It really was all she could say at the moment... Soon her eyes began to move from weapon to weapon admiring the beauty and craftsmanship of each one until they finally settled on a sword... Suddenly she found that she could no longer take her eyes off that one particular weapon... And the longer she looked at it the more she heard it... a calling... The sword was calling her...
Eventually she could resist it's call no longer! Without even thinking her hand begins to slowly reach towards the sword with her eyes never leaving it... she had to touch it... had to hold it... It called to her... drew her to it like nothing had before... Finally her hand reaches into the cool crystal clear water but the moment it does-!
Suddenly she was dancing! No... not dancing... Fighting! Whirling! Slashing, Stabbing! Her opponent a great deal bigger then her was armored to the nines with a huge hammer weapon! But it didn't matter! Focus! Strike! Dodge! Go for the joints! All armor has weak points! A crowd was cheering! Was this a life or death battle? No! It was a Tournament! The cheering and adrenaline! The thrill of battle! It all was intoxicating! Keep going! Keep going! Stab! Slash! Dodge! Now! One more! And! "Yield!" Her call to give was strong as her blade pointed neatly at the man's throat frozen was he and the rest of the audience as a tense silence filled the grounds finally reluctantly he said it "Blah I yield!" The crowd erupts into cheers and her blade is withdrawn a cheerful smile paints Camilla's face as her weapons are sheathed and her hand outstretched "Heh! That was a great battle! Thanks!" she says excitedly at first he hesitates but soon grins and grabs her hand firmly "Yeah... I guess it was!" he admits
There's smiles all around! She had won the Tournament! Eight people crowd around her full of happiness and congrats! The first seven were two adults a male and female, a male not much older then herself, a female younger then her, twin boys who were much younger, and finally in the arms of the woman were two babies a male and female they all looked so proud of her... they looked so happy... Yet... Their names... Their significance to her... she couldn't remember... all she knew was they were deeply important to her... But! She did recognized one! The eighth! Someone she knew if only a bit! As Camilla looked into the timid yet cheerful green eyes of a certain pale skined, red haired boy she finally realized just who she was looking at!
"Shayne!?!" she exclaims as her senses finally return to her a hand her left went to her head while her right remained in the water wrapped around something a look of confusion paints her face as she tried to process the memory... "Ah... I... I know Shayne from before... But... How...?" she asks herself in a tone barely above a whisper... There could be no doubt now... She knew him from her past but how did she know him!? Was he a friend? A servant? A sibling? She just couldn't tell... And who were those other people? Why... Did they feel so important to her...? Camilla tried to dig deeper into her mind deeper into her memory... but it was for naught... like before she was met with a wall of fog that simply would not let her pass...
Eventually she decided to take a break for the time being... She was starting to make her head hurt and it finally occurred to her that her hand was not only still in the water but wrapped around something! "Hm? Oh!" When had she...? Slowly she lifts whatever it was out of the water then gasps in awe! To her amazement it was a sword! The one that called her!
Posted: Mon May 11, 2015 4:51 pm
As each knight calls to it, so the weapon responds. For a moment they hear something --
- The name of their weapon.
OOC
Please refer to the OOC post to see what weapon type you got and then post in your JOURNAL a name for your weapon! You can also look up a more detailed image/ look up variations of the weapon you got/ design a weapon based on your weapon type and post it to your journal! Feel free to write a solo in your journal regarding your reactions to your new weapon. It feels different, as if it wants to speak to you but can't. You feel as if it is somehow alive, moving as one with you.
This weapon CANNOT talk, all you feel like is that it deserves a name, one that comes to your mind (that subconsciously calls to you). You cannot perform any special super snowflake sparkly charged attacks with it, it just gets upgraded to 1d6 and works as a weapon with a better affinity for you.
1) Must be medieval in type AND follow the weapon type you got in design. KEEP THE DESIGN SIMPLE. Should have a lock +chain on it. 2) Please keep it under 5 feet in height and 2 feet in width 3) It cannot be named off an existing "legendary" weapon ie: Excalibur, Caliburn, Mollinjr, THE LOKENSTAFF, etc 4) Please only apply it in play AFTER chapter one. You are free however, to begin using it in the ARENA. 5) Yes a weapon type can overlap. Unsurprisingly, more than one person can end up with daggers, for example. Just because the weapon type overlaps, it doesn't mean by far it is the same in appearance at all.
Blade Kurodax
Shun received a pair of Katar. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
chiickadeex
Chel received a resilientClaymore. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
medigelx
Jack received a hardy longbow. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Bloodlust Dantex
Damien received an elegant naginata. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
poke mattixx
Poke received a heavy Zweihandler. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
shyanimegrlx
Danirate received a thin Rapier. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Rathuruex
Reith received a curved Ocachi. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Huni Pix
Ruth received a weighty Javelin. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is gender neutral in nature.
Poke Mattixx
Jason received a balanced katana. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
The Semblance of Unityx
Hollandaise received a complicated crossbow. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Inu-Mitsux
Titus received a pair of beautiful butterfly swords. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Meeganex
Shu received a pair of angular hook swords. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Phiferwolfx
Uru received a hefty executioner's sword. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Syusakix
Wilson received a resilient flatbow. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is gender neutral in nature.
Syusakix
TK received a simple Bo. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Luridelx
Estel received a decorative Quarterstaff. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
chiickadeex
Lock received a beautiful wand. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Seussix
Wrath received a slightly battered backsword. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
and be bluex
Julian received a spiked flail. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Sheyenne Thunderstormx
Shayne received a gentle reflex bow. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Nio Lovex
Riley received a long sickle. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Zee Oddwynx
Johan received a meticulous glaive. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is gender neutral in nature.
Pixie Nyxiex
Noemi received a painted buckler. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
[A.V.]x
Jake received a rather large broadsword. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
The Semblance of Unityx
Horace received a twisted cutlass. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Eightx
Na'ima received an impressive halberd. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
[A.V.]x
Jala received a pair of sabres. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Amasisx
Arrakis received a wavy flameberge. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
Seiana_ZIx
Nkosazana received a twisted Shepherd's Crook. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
ramenlix
Soren received a traditional Arming Sword. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is gender neutral in nature.
Hitsuzenx
Yuki received a pair of simple tonfa. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Carhop Cavalierx
Alexei received a decorative kite shield. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
medigelx
Piper received a metallic trident. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Nio Lovex
Robert received a basket-hilted claymore. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
lurks beneatxh
Konstantin received an oriental shuriken. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is gender neutral in nature.
Nothing Yetx
Mimsy received an judicious pole-axe. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is masculine in nature.
Rikku Takanashix
Camilla received an unyileding Bokken. It is chained. You feel like for some reason it is feminine in nature.
LINK TO PROOF:[journal] SACRED WEAPON TYPE: shield
Quillan hadn’t even noticed he was being taken somewhere until he had reached the chamber and the others had left – he had merely thought he was following a group of knights to whatever their task was because he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be doing. He walked towards the large glowing pool which was impossible to miss, and the closer he got, the more he felt like he had to get even closer … before he knew it, his hand was touching the surface of the water, reaching for one of the weapons underneath …
[color=white]
His best was just never enough, was it? ”Why can’t you just understand like your older brothers and sisters?” said the disgruntled man as he sat down with a sigh.
I’m trying…” Quillan said through gritted teeth, wishing right now that he could punch his father, but he knew he was too weak to actually do anything - both physically and mentally. His father rambled on and on about how he wished his youngest son would put his efforts into swordsmanship instead of reading and writing and the young boy could only imagine running up to the man who stood several heads taller than him, and balling his hand into a fist and hitting him square in the gut … but of course, if Quillan were to actually try, the knight would just dodge to the side because his movements were “too slow” or take the hit because he was “too weak”.
”Stop daydreaming!” a voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
”Yes father.” came Quillan’s weary reply.
Quillan was brought back to the present. He couldn’t help but wonder why he was trying to be a knight. He knew he was weak, but he thought maybe he had some noble cause, some against-all-odds drive in him that made him become an apprentice knight. But it seemed like he’d bitterly hated it in the past. Looking down in his hands was a shield. It was too late to regret it now, and all he could do now was step forward.
Posted: Mon May 11, 2015 5:36 pm
Lawrence wasn't afraid when he was called, in fact he was never afraid of anything at all. It sounded like a good thing on paper but in practice it was not, in this present climate of stress and danger, it did not benefit a person to be completely ignorant of the relative danger of the world around them, and as far as the problems that beset them at present, he was utterly oblivious. Still, there was a weapon to be retrieved and he did not know what to expect down there in the chamber they brought him to. He moved with purpose down into the darkness, realising as he progressed into a vast cavernous chamber that his eyes had not adjusted to the gloom but instead the entire place was lit from within by a strange pool of water.
He paused, beset by the sudden sensation of being watched, only to realise that he was not, that the only thing in this room with him were hundreds and hundreds of brightly gleaming weapons, which though expensive, could not watch him.
The most beautiful one of all though seemed to gleam brighter than the others, and more clearly, coaxing him closer. He was not normally drawn to objects, decidedly indifferent to most things overall, but he simply could not take his eyes off of the gleam.
He reached out, closing his hands around the shimmering handle and there was a jolt of memory.
It was raining, but the rain didn't bother him. Nothing could bother him when he was partaking in his favourite hobby. It didn't matter that Horace was technically compliant in a relationship with him, it didn't matter that things were pleasant and easy, conflicts were low.
Sometimes he just wanted to follow the other man. And he had, all the way home, and even then he still waited and he wasn't sure what it was all for.
Things jarred back and he raised an eyebrow, concerned by his own memories, concerned by what he used to be and how little that meant in the now, how little anything meant in the now.
There were still no answers, and once again he was alone.
Things were going too quickly for Zar, there was too much at stake and not enough history to found any of it on, he couldn't even remember why he had joined this cause in the first place, simply that he was here and the world outside was falling into ruin. It did little for morale though, the vast yawning gap that had become all that remained of his memory, he couldn't remember growing up - had he ever grown up? - he couldn't remember family, friends, anything at all. Even Barth was tied to him only by virtue of the rings that they both had been wearing when they arrived - and that didn't say much at all. For all he knew the other man could have been a theif or a con-artist and he would be none the wiser. All he had to go by was a simple gut feeling.
Unfortunately that gut feeling was all that there was and was better than nothing at all, so he trusted Barth, trusted him as much as he was able and tried to use that trust as some reason to keep to the strange things they were being asked to do in the name of the "Great King" who he had never event seen.
When called he obediently made his way down the steps, hesitant and upset by the whole prospect, he liked his present weapon, what was wrong with it? It had served him just fine up until this point and the idea of using some other unfamiliar and possibly inferior one set him on edge. However, being who he was, he did not have the balls to argue with the knight that sent him and knew that wether he liked it or not he was going to come back with one of these unknown weapons. It was dark, gloomy and oppressive down in the dampness and at first he thought the distant glow was something waiting for him, something vast and terrible underground. Maybe he had been played, maybe he was simply sent here to die instead.
It scared him that even that did not seem too unbearable, he was lost without his history and without anything to tie him to the world at large, if he vanished it would not be a tragedy, not really.
Treasure didn't interest him, even when that treasure was row upon row of dazzling weaponry, he was simply intimidated by it, it was too much. It overwhelmed him and he couldn't even bear to look too closely at the arrayed and razor sharp edges. He slunk back, shaking his head vigorously, only to bump into another weapon by the wall which fell with a clank to the floor. He picked it up and -
They wanted him dead. He knew, he wasn't stupid, he was everything a daughter should not be, defiance embodied and yet was first in line to their wealth. He could see the resentment in their eyes when they looked at him. The only way out was to escape by marrying someone, and as he'd found out the only individuals on the table were Isander - who was gorgeous, wealthy but also very possibly also out to kill him - and Barth - who had nothing to his name, was a b*****d (literally and figuratively) but who seemed actually trustworthy.
This knight thing was another plan to get rid of him, but he was willing to go along with it, because in many ways it was easier than making the choice that loomed over him. He didn't genuinely think that Barth or Isander wanted him for anything other than his name or his wealth and that scared him almost as much as people trying to kill him. Was it worth living a full life without ever really knowing if you'd ever really be happy?
Barth seemed to mean well, but he just didn't know, he didn't know if it was just ambition, and how would he ever know?
So he left.
He found himself standing once more in the dim light of the underwater lake, clutching the weapon he'd picked up to his chest, and he shivered despite himself. He didn't know how to feel about any of it.
LINK TO PROOF:[x] SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff (offensive)
Posted: Mon May 11, 2015 6:23 pm
LINK TO PROOF:[Journal] SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff (Offensive)
Ignatius couldn't help the surge of excitement he felt when he was called.
He was called! He was needed for something that only he could perform, clearly. His time as a knight-apprentice had stood out and mattered, and now it was time for him to do something special for the knight that had come to fetch him. Ignatius would show that he was worthy of this honour, and he would not disappoint those who came for him, nor would he disappoint any one else, whether it be the Great Knights or the Great King.
He was worthy and proud, and he was ready for whatever awaited him at the bottom of these stairs. These ...long ... deep... stairs. Where were they going, anyway? What could be down here? Was this the dungeon? Ignatius hoped they were not going to the dungeon. He didn't particularly enjoy places of imprisonment. Was there a dungeon here? Honestly, Ignatius did not know for sure, but he had to assume there was one. Why wouldn't there be? They were in the great castle Camelot, after all.
The room that they arrived at was much different than a dungeon, much more empty and with many less chained people contained within. It was relatively empty, actually, and even the knight who had come with him had left him alone, leaving him with just a pool of water and himself. A pool of water, though, which drew him in, Ignatius taking relatively quick steps towards the pool to get a closer look at the silvery waters.
There were weapons as far as his eye could see, and Ignatius brought himself closer to the water and the pile underneath, sticking both hands within to pull out what was calling to him...
===================
"A toast!"
Ignatius stood, with one foot on the table, another foot on the ground, a gallant pose and a large grin on his face. In one hand, he held a large mug full of some sort of spirit. His other was on his hip, giving him a pose much like one a drawn hero might take. "That you, Markus, will never again fall on your face in an attempt to sweep your wife into a dance!"
There was uproarious laughter at the table, a wide grin on Ignatius' face as he looked to the crowd around him. It was nighttime, he assumed, though it was hard to tell much of the difference when looking up at the sky. Perhaps they were taking a risk, by holding such celebrations outside, but they had always told themselves that they would never let a little horsemen or shadowlings get them down and disrupt their celebrations. Without a bit of a celebration, after all, where would they be?
It seemed that they were able to forget about the trouble for a while. It didn't even matter, where they were, laughing and smiling and slamming their mugs together in agreement with Ignatius' toast.
Ignatius, though, had not sat down yet, and still had his eyes on the named Marcus and his bride, who was giggling politely behind her hand. "To you and yours, that you may have a happy life forever, and stay a true light among the darkness!" That earned more cheers, naturally, and this time, Ignatius hopped down from the table and slammed his mug against those of everyone's around him.
It was nice to be surrounded by all the people of his village, so happy and joyous and celebratory. It was a feeling he wanted to carry forever.
"Hey, Ignatius?"
Behind his mug, Ignatius smirked, turning a quirked brow to the groom on the other side of him. "Yes, Marcus?"
"Thanks, you moron," he elbowed him, and Ignatius laughed.
"Of course!"
He could have sworn he saw stars twinkling in the distance ... but he knew that had to be his mind playing tricks on him.
===================
Because he knew the sky was dark.
Ignatius reeled back, grabbing at his chest uncomfortably. What was that? A wedding? Were those his friends? Back at his home, his village, not Camelot? None of those faces looked familiar. Had any of them come to Camelot?
Uneasy and, for a few fleeting moments, even nervous, Ignatius gripped tightly onto his new weapon, glancing warily at the pool.
No matter what he had seen, he was still down in a deep place, near a cold, emotionless pool, all by himself.
He didn't want to be alone, anymore, and darted towards the stairs to join his fellow knights.
LINK TO PROOF:Journal SACRED WEAPON TYPE: staff (offensive)
He felt the pull. The way was open to him, for some reason he knew this truth. As he walked down the youth didn't really pay any mind to his surroundings. As he came upon the pool he stared at the glittering weapons. Head tilting before something slammed him to the ground. He looked to a weapon...reaching in for it he took hold.
Then the memory took hold of him...
-*-"Ouch! Bayram! Take it easy a little will ya?” it was Koray squeaking. He was younger. Behind him was a bigger male with his hair color. The male was braiding his hair back into an intricate pattern. Off to the side another sat on a nearby bench. He was carving a serpent out of wood. Koray could feel his want to learn that craft. The elder glanced to him and then smiled.
“Bayram, mind our baby brother’s tender head would you?”
“Sure Efe. Tuncay teaching Altan how to skin that rabbit we caught this morning?” Bayram asked over Koray’s head. Koray looked back and forth between them as they spoke.
Efe nodded his eyes intense as he brushed off the small piece of wood. It was practice for him to learn the pattern with his hands so that later he could mold the metal in the wood’s pattern. There were many other serpents sitting on the barrel next to him. A set of identical males popped into Koray’s view. One literally in front of him with a huge smile as the other leaned over Efe’s shoulder.
“Can!! Cem!!!” Koray exclaimed with giggles as the one in front of him shooed Bayram away to take up a more gentle hand at his hair. Bayram threw his hands up and walked to a nearby fence. “Thanks Can…”
As he watched his brothers interact the youth felt...secure. They were safe here just the seven of them. Seven because Tuncay and Altan appeared with news that their Mother was cooking the freshly skinned rabbit. Though Koray wanted to know all about that he knew his brothers would never allow it. He was the baby, he was to keep their Mother company...it was his duty. His eyes fell as he looked to his lap. Seeing the shadow which fell over him Koray glanced up.
Efe stood there, the eldest of them kneeled down to offer Can a tie for Koray’s finished braid. Koray smiled at his elder as the male smirked. “Close your eyes baby brother.”
Doing so he felt something being tied around his neck. Reaching up he felt one of the serpent's, eyes snapping open he looked down giddy.
“Now...this is wood. I expect it to break, but it's going to be the framework for a sturdier one. You like it?” Efe asked as he slid to sit beside the other.
Koray threw his arms around his brother’s neck. “THANK YOU EFE!!!!”-*-
Falling onto his hands and knees the youth heaved and fought back tears. Seeing his serpent pendant swing. He shakily reached up to grasp it. This...this was something his brother worked hard on...why did he have it now? Where was all his brothers? Why….why was he now alone?
FYI brothers names and meanings xD Efe - elder brother, brave Tuncay- bronze moon Bayram- festival Can- soul or life Cem- ruler Altan- red dawn
