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 Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2011 6:59 pm
My quest for an decorated saddle plague will go here. I'll edit in stuff later. For now, AVERT YE EYES.
Also, look at this.
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2011 7:01 pm
Your Keeper
Character name : Phillipa Verite
Age : Twenty-one
Region: Pwlanarfyll, born and raised.
Appearance : A short, curvy woman, by no means delicate, pale skin befitting a lady, freckling on her nose, and big blue eyes, coupled with a snub nose. Mousey blonde hair lightened by the sun. Overall, a fairly average picture, and not a person people would tend to look twice at.
Personality : The truth is, though it doesn’t seem to bother Phillipa unduly, her appearance truly does bug her. She’s incredibly insecure about almost every facet of how she looks. She tries to keep her body as tightly confined as possible (despite how uncomfortable it is) so that she’ll look slender, even though she knows that men prefer a woman with some meat on their bones. She also may or may not have some hopes that continually pressing the fat in might make it go away. She keeps a hairbrush with her at all times in a delicate embroidered purse. She clings to these little comforts tightly, not willing to give them up. She would do /anything/ to feel comfortable in her own skin.
Stemming from the insecurity is a sense of paranoia that is be entirely self-imposed. She simply assumes that everyone is criticizing her at all times, and that if they aren’t talking, they’re thinking about how awful she is, and if they’re whispering, it’s about her, and if they look too long, they’re critiquing her body or her wardrobe… You get the point. It shows in her eyes, and while she tries to keep control of her face, people often remark that Phillipa looks worried, or slightly afraid. For someone who has had the proper upbringing, she certainly spends a great deal of time worrying that none of it has been just right.
For all that, Phillipa is still a lady, and a relatively well trained one at that. She is capable of holding polite conversation, and well bred manners show in every movement (though she tries very hard to make them graceful, and that shows). Her one flaw as a lady would be that Phillipa is loud. Very loud. She doesn’t mean it, but it’s as if speaking loudly would make up for lacking in the appearance department. With friends she’s comfortable with, her topics of conversation can range from politics to science to magic- things that aren’t exactly appropriate for a young lady of her well-being. Her tendency is to be a bit over-exuberant, and not just in conversation. You should try and see her flirt.
Feeling rather aimless about her life as an unmarried woman reaching a ripe age, Phillipa has lately been trying to find where her true passion might lie. She enjoys, most of all, hunting, and there seems to be more than a fair bit of bloodlust lurking under the proper outer layer. Nothing seems to thrill her quite so much as the chase, and the ultimate end. Similar to that, she also enjoys hawking. Phillipa could spend days on the back of a horse, it seems.
History : Let’s get down to the crux of the matter. Phillipa’s family professes to be old blood, raise their children in the old way, try and make it look like their title (a minor Lordship with barely enough land for a decent farm) has been passed down from generation to generation. That could not be further from the truth. Just two generations back, Phillipa’s great-grandfather bought the title. They were wealthy merchants, and it was time for them to move up in the world.
The family kept in the mercantile business, though they liked to keep that information hidden. Phillipa became a daddy’s girl from a very early age, especially given that her mother had died during childbirth. She had an older brother, and both could be said to have been spoiled rotten- something that sometimes shows in their attitude, and in the way Phillipa seems to take her family’s wealth for granted. Her father was always interested in how science and magic melded together, and that interest transferred over to his daughter.
After ten years of raising his wild child by himself (well… with nannies, of course), Phillpa’s father fell in love and remarried. Her stepmother was a kind woman, and she and Phillipa became fast friends, though that element of matronly authority was never there. Phillipa was still given what she wanted, and only a series of strict governesses taught her how she was supposed to act, and what other lady-like skills were important.
The truth is, Phillipa has been growing rather bored with this rather staid lifestyles of parties and social gatherings, and wants something more. The Plague is, of course, making things rather more difficult to be a woman trying to find her way about the world.
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2011 7:05 pm
Your Plague- Tamriel
Item history:
The original saddle belonged to Phillipa's grandfather. He was not only a wealthy merchant- he was a well traveled one too. The saddle caught his eye, looking rather forlorn in the shop of a leatherworker near closing. The Plague had struck his town hard, and no one had the kind of money such intricate work required, and deserved. He bought it cheaply in a flash, not knowing that it would end one male line of his family entirely.
When Phillipa's grandfather died of natural causes, he left the saddle to one of Phillipa's cousins, a bright young man with an unfortunate tendency to be a little headstrong. He also had a rather unfortunate taste for cheap prostitutes, which would lead to his ultimate downfall.
The saddle certainly was beautiful, and something to be admired. The cousin used it exclusively, proud to have his great black charger prance beneath it. He even rode it to the brothels, though he would at least throw a cheap cloth over it, as if that would hide the excellent molding. People recognized its inherent worth, and he was admittedly extremely proud of it, boasting of its craftsmanship constantly, making up stories to entertain women about its origins.
Cheap prostitutes aren't generally known for their cleanliness. Unfortunately, Phillipa's cousin wasn't terribly intelligent, and mistook the whore's fevered face for one flushed with excitement. He thought his own skill in bed was rather prodigious. When he came down with obvious plague symptoms a scant few days later, no one seemed particularly surprised, or particularly sad. He died in the saddle, his last wish to sit on his horse again, on his beautiful saddle.
His will was the only part of his death that was even remotely surprising- he had left the saddle to Phillipa, knowing that she loved hunting, despite the fact that the two weren't close. The male line of that part of the family ended with him, and his father was eager to get rid of his shameful son's possessions. He gave the saddle to its rightful, new owner quickly.
Phillipa loved her new saddle immediately, but has noticed that there seems to be an air of corruption about it. But no, that's surely her imagination.
Personality :
Let's look on the bright side- at least Tamriel is valiant enough that it almost makes up for his pompous attitude. Almost. It seems like he mostly means well, and does genuinely want to save people, but his own vanity gets in the way, and seems to corrupt all his good intentions. When rushing in to be the hero, regardless of whether or not he's done a good job, Tamriel expects praise and recognition. He wants the ladies to swoon, and the men to stand in awe, and has a tendency to believe they're doing just that, even if they aren't. A sense of pique emanates from him when he feels that he isn’t receiving the recognition he thinks he so richly deserves.
Part of it is simply that Tamriel is spoiled. Like Phillipa, he's used to the finer things in life, and has come to accept them, even if the country seems to be headed in a negative direction. The concept of excess doesn't exist- there is no such thing as too much, but there is such a thing as too little. He was fortunate enough to come into being in a household that lacked for very little, and to a woman who believes that being a little spoiled is not necessarily a bad thing. Tamriel particularly likes clothing and fabrics, and attempts to follow fashion as best he can. He freely gives his own fashion advice, whether or not the person wants it.
Tamriel’s projected demeanor is one of a shallow, silly, dim fop, and while that may in part be true, Tamriel is brighter than he lets on, and as said previously, he has a bold streak that can lead him to be rather selfless... For the right audience. He always has his audience in mind, and how he chooses to present himself depends entirely on the people in attendance. Ridiculous pet names usually accompany anything he says, along with grandiose, sweeping arm gestures that say almost as much as his mouth does. He’s a rather comical figure, but there always seems to be something serious and held back in his body, and in the lines of his mouth.
Away from the silliness of socializing, Tamriel is an altogether more serious figure. He’s still interested in his fashion, and he still tends to act as if everything is simply a grand joke, but his choice of reading material says otherwise. Tamriel very much enjoys reading, and will take whatever he can get his little hands on. His choice of material is surprising for those who don’t know him- treatises on battle, works from generals on their successful conquests, and on mistakes they have made. He’s very, very interested in military strategy, though in his own words, “War could be so much more stylish.”
At the very least, Tamriel likes the principles of battle. It seems so noble, so true, so pure hearted. Besides, everyone loves a war hero. They lavish him in attention. Towards that goal, Tamriel tries his best to be the noble hero, rescuing people; however, as stated before, he is constantly looking to make sure that someone is there to see his rescues, and to appreciate him. He’ll charge forth like a mighty warhorse, but you best believe that he’s keep one eye (literally or figuratively) on who is gathered around.
Concept ideas: I'd love to see something rather... gaudy, and possibly blonde. Maybe a face that eventually ends up being rather equine (insert Sarah Jessica Parker joke here). Fancy clothes?
My main one
"Saddle for the Order of the Dragon, possibly given to King Henry V when he was admitted into the Knightly Order of the Dragon in 1416 by King Sigismund of Hungary. It is one of a series of medieval saddles all decorated on the theme of St George and the Dragon. they are ornamented with bone inlay plates and some, including this, have inscriptions in German and Latin".
Another
And another
Oh god so many
I'm running out of titles
Grainy close up time
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Posted: Wed Dec 28, 2011 1:17 pm
The perpetual frozen winds of the Northern Sanct travel down to the rest of Panymium from the frigid mountains. Jack Frost's breath whips and nips at your dainty flesh, whether you be human or Plague. A harsh Winter, this one will be, and all folks poor and rich, comfortable or homeless, will have to work hard to survive. How does this Winter go for you and your Grimm? What hardships do you endure and how do you overcome them?
"We are out of cream." The voice that spoke came from only a few inches off the table, petulant and demanding.
"I mean, honestly. How can I be expected to eat this without cream?"
"Look." Phillipa lifted her eyes from her cup of tea, color rising in her cheeks. "There's simply no cream to be had. Not unless you want to pay the vast sums of money they're demanding for such a luxury. I don't. Father doesn't want to. Last I checked, you had no money."
The tiny figure only responded with a pout. It was true. He had nothing to his name, and lived off Phillipa's generosity. It wasn't as if he could do much more.
Sadly, a lack of cream was just the start of their troubles. Phillipa's family may have been wealthy had they had a title, but that wealth came from careful investment, and fripperies like cream and new clothes and anything that wasn't strictly necessary was not going to be bought in this time of hardship. It was something both Plague and girl had trouble wrapping their heads around, try as they might.
"You're wearing that dress out? You wore it out last week." Tamriel sounded bored, reclining on a cushion with lidded eyes, apparently not affected by the sight of a half-dressed woman being fussed over by her maid.
Phillipa's tapping foot showed her irritation, both at the question and at life in general.
"Father says that my old dresses will have to do for a while more. He says that new dresses are an extravagance." There was definitely a whine in her tone. "I did my best to insinuate that no man would marry me, but he would hear none of it."
Tamriel gave a sympathetic grunt, but felt the need to add, "Surely he can't begrudge me. I'm such a tiny fellow. It's like dressing a doll." He was less than subtle about his desire.
"Your clothes cost the most of all, since you want the most ridiculous fabrics, and a new outfit every week. No, if I have to suffer, you shall have to join me." It felt odd, to be carrying on this conversation with a tiny, vaguely male figure that may or may not have something to do with the plague, and who had previously been a saddle that smelled oddly of corruption, beneath the smell of leather. So far, all Tamriel seemed to be able to do is send out little sparks.
The Excito frowned, thinking long and hard for several moments. An idea struck quickly, and a grin blossomed across his face in a fashion that was distinctly unsettling.
"What if we re-purposed some of your old clothes? And some of mine, I suppose." Tamriel's tone suggested that it would really be all of Phililpa's clothes that would be re-used.
"Sew them ourselves?" Phillipa's mind turned. It wasn't a bad idea. She knew the fashions of the time fairly well, and what she didn't know, Tamriel seemed to. The little fellow did get about. The trouble was the actual sewing. Tamriel was far too slow, and while Phillipa could sew, her stitches were not neat and even. They tended to be large and sloppy.
The concern must have shown on her face, for Tamriel waved a hand airily and added, "Haven't you noticed how adept your little maidservant is? Her hand is so tidy. With me guiding her, she can create something beautiful and new. Maybe even push the boundaries. You are keeping your servants, aren't you?" It was a legitimate question. As costs rose, servants needed to be paid more.
"Father feels that it would be in poor taste to sack them, given the economy. He doesn't think they could get re-hired. So we'll have her around for a bit more."
Tamriel's joy at this was evident. He clapped his small hands together, a grin encompassing his face. "That's one thing. Then there's the matter of new reading material. I know I'm not alone in the desire for something new." His smile took on a distinctly sly tone at this, his look focused wholly on Phillipa, who was biting her lip, torn between desire and practicality.
"You know books are expensive," she began, hesitance still on her face. "We might... We might have to reread things." there was horror in her voice and on her face, echoed quickly by Tamriel.
"Re... Re-read?" It was going to be a very, very long winter.
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