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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| The Scent of Blood Brings Murderers; For Andromalius | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 17 2009, 05:12 PM (49 Views) | |
| Katrina Lovell | Sep 17 2009, 05:12 PM Post #1 |
The Black Panther
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The shadows over the city of Eldahar grew slowly, long stretches of shallow darkness consuming the kingdom of Ashoka with much to much hesitation for the black panther’s patience. Time was not something she lived by typically, sure she could be killed but she still looked like she was in her mid twenties though she was way beyond those years and waiting along the hot sand all day made her sure she’d have gray hair once she was done. Katrina never went into cities anymore, not during the night and certainly never during the day but she had heard whispered rumors that a very interesting man would be here and she had to check for herself. She missed her dense, cool forests - the scents and the beauty that let her hunter instincts become honed and typically unmatched to her prey but if she wanted to learn anything she had to leave the comfort of them for the dry heat of the desert. Snorting out a breath of hot air she pawed the ground in frustration, if she had to go in at all she would not submerge herself in the destroyed city until night had fully captivated the land. The past several years have been the same thing day in and day out, particularly boring if you asked her but it was her choice in lifestyles that led her to isolation aside from the stray wanderer who pissed her off just before they went missing. The scent of blood, it called to her like a siren and it lived under the soft armor of another’s skin whispering sweet nothings to Katrina, begging her to taste it, bathe in it. It was a drug and she wasn’t even a vampire, it made no sense to her but the sensuality of spilt blood was the best aphrodisiac she could think of and she was about to enter a city where gallons, tons of blood had been spilt. Part of her wondered if she’d get side tracked, even old and crusted it was still blood - it was still a drug, her personal narcotic but she had to resist the lust that would consume her and she knew that. The shadows had deepened to a dark twilight, the sky no longer held the glow from the sun and the black panther took a step forward shaking her head of the thoughts of blood and violence as she trudged the last distance to the city. Her velvet fur blended into the world of shadows that the broken city walls created, a heavy paw lifted and gripped upon a raised and crumbling stone before she lifted her body with grace and power. Katrina’s eyes scanned the streets, the city was once beautiful according to others - but this, this destruction and destitute is what she truly found beautiful because what was more beautiful then a city watered by the blood of its people? Leaping down from her perch she made her way through the shadows of the buildings, there were few people here and those that were most likely wouldn’t appreciate a panther roaming the streets and though she welcomed a fight she had other things to do. Her long sleek tail swept at the air behind her, cooling her down when the night temperature didn’t drop quite fast enough for her liking - she also used it to see behind her, stroking buildings and displacing air like a blind arm. It was natural for her to move with the shadows, they were a comfort to her as well as a shield and unless someone was looking for her they wouldn’t notice the feline who crouched and prowled within the deepest shadows. Following the flow of sparse foot traffic Katrina was led to an inn, her crimson eyes glanced up to read the sign ’The Harlot’s Inn’ and a snort whispered out from her muzzle. Lustful bastards… Katrina whispered to herself while keeping her eyes carefully away from the blood spattered streets, she held her breath as effectively as possible though each time she breathed through her mouth she could taste stale blood on the air. Alright where are you?… She murmured mentally before sitting back on her haunches, her long tongue coming out to groom her forepaw while her eyes remained trained upon the Inn, it was the only logical place people would go in this city from what she could see. |
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| Andromalius | Sep 17 2009, 11:04 PM Post #2 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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Just as the out-of-place jungle cat began to settle and lick herself, the swinging doors to the burlesque house obtrusively exploded at the hands of a drunk and laughing Morrim native soldier. He stumbled backwards, attention still trained on the scene he was leaving, as another one eventually came to join him, bottle still in hand. A couple of girls dressed in hardly anything spilled out onto the streets as well, all eyes still trained inside. But their heads began to turn and their eyes began to shift as the final party member took a step out into the fresh, coppery night air. He held a big, pearly grin, eyes cast downward, but stepped lightly until he came to one of the women. "May I repossess my cloak, Miss?" he asked the girl, the pitch in his voice carrying a hint that he had asked her before and she hadn't obeyed. Simple, light flirtations. They'd been hurling them at him all night, and right now, he didn't particularly mind. He'd had a good time, a half hour of nothing but affectionate cuddles and amusing stories. At first, the girls had been wary of him, but as soon as Abigail had initiated conversation with him, their fear gradually receded until finally it had been replaced by love. "How come you hunky fellas never ask for any action?" one of the girls in the street inquired as Andromalius grabbed up his cloak and pulled it over his shoulders. "I'd be willin' to give it up for free-" the harlot blushed as she realized she'd just given away the fact that she was extremely interested in him. "I mean, you look like you could give a girl a good time! S'all..." The soldiers chuckled and she got playfully elbowed by somebody. "Because that kind of fun is reserved for one woman. And trust me when I say you don't really want it. If you get me riled enough, blood will start flowing regardless of who it's from." He snapped his jaws in the girl's direction, smiling deviously. She giggled and fell back behind her friend. "Ramses, Armstong, why don't you two stay here tonight? The encampment is well guarded, we won't miss you." The white-haired, Banshee overlord began his walk away from the house of sin. He was sent off with many thanks, and many blown kisses. He merely waved without turning. The sound of the party that had spilled out of the place gradually receded as everyone else went back inside. It was quiet again, and he was alone again, but after what had just happened, he was quite content to be in isolation. Sweet girls, they were. Ashes would like them. Just as the serene smile began to play at his lips, his eyes lifted, feet coming to a stop where he stood as if he'd just realized something. He gave a glance over his shoulder in the prowling creature's direction, but failed to spot anything, regardless that he was looking directly at her. She would be able to see the whites of his eyes very clearly, but hardly a thing otherwise in facial definition. People wondered how he knew when someone was there. It was only a hunch, the feeling of eyes on you, the kind that most brush off without another thought, but those feelings were usually correct, and Andromalius was an aggressive enough spirit to stop and stare back. If nothing really was there, so be it, no one would see him staring at nothing, but if it was, the satisfaction of catching such an act was all the greater. His body turned to match his head, pointed directly at her. A heavily gloved hand reached back behind, up under his cloak, and withdrew an ebon pole a foot and a half in length. The silent streets were ripped apart by the metallic hiss as the pole unfurled into a lance as tall as its handler with a wicked blade gleaming on top. |
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| Katrina Lovell | Sep 24 2009, 06:52 AM Post #3 |
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The Black Panther
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A group of drunken soldiers fell out of the Inn with whores coming in a close second, Katrina’s attention snapped up and she lowered her paw slowly while her big feline head shook without amusement. This was why she typically kept to herself, she hated the actions of most - in fact they tended to annoy her beyond belief. It hadn’t always been this way but now that it was she doubted there was any going back, her crimson and gold eyes scanned the group before landing on a white haired man who glided with much more posture then the others who were swimming in lust and alcohol. Kat’s ears swiveled to the sound of the mans voice, picking it up as he attempted to retrieve his coat from one of the harlots - this was who she had been looking for but it almost seemed to easy that she found him so quickly. The group shared a couple last words before the majority went back into the Inn and the white haired banshee was left alone, his steps began to carry him forward before he stopped and Kat’s ears swiveled curiously. When he turned around to stare straight at her she held her position within the shadows knowing that there was no way he would see her - or at least she assumed but of course as the whites of his eyes stared her down she couldn’t help but wonder. Katrina flicked her tail when the sound of hissing metal reached her ears before she opened her mouth in what would be considered a smile in this form before she reached out with her mind and whispered along the edges of his conscious. You know it’s kind of rude to stare. The black panther rose from its haunches allowing her body to meld away from the shadows as she stepped forward to reveal herself, her crimson eyes trained perfectly upon Andromalius with curiosity. The muscles in her body rippled with each step she took forward, her fur twitching slightly under the gleam of the night sky before she shook her head in amusement this time. The trinkets around her neck rang out with the movement and then settled quietly back into her fur as she sat down a few feet out of reach of the lance he carried. The black panther’s head tilted back to look at him properly before her tongue snaked out to graze her teeth and taste the scents of old blood upon the air with a soft rumbling sound. You can put that away you know, I’m not going to attack. Kat’s head tilted to the lance as she whispered against his mind again, her voice was soft and there was a purr attached to each word she spoke though it couldn’t be confirmed whether that was her real voice or just because she was in her panther form. Of course she had no idea if he would listen or even believe her, she often lied and she could very well attack him though at the moment she had no desire to. As the black panther sat there on the edges of the shadows she had left her tail swayed back and forth watching him intently for any sudden movements as well as his reaction to her appearance. ((bah sorry this took so long and that it's short >.>)) |
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| Andromalius | Sep 25 2009, 01:53 PM Post #4 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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At the borderlands of his psyche, Andromalius could hear what started as a faint whisper, and grew to a tone as if someone were casually speaking, standing right next to him. The voice was smooth, female, and informed him it was rude to stare, which provoked an annoyed little smirk to pull at the left corner of his lips. So there was someone there, and what an opening line to say to the Emperor of the largest kingdom in the world, as if he would care that he was doing something considered rude. As the large, feline form oozed out from the shadows like a giant ink stain, the mage idly began to twirl the lance in his hand, leaning back to take on much less of a serious position. If she wanted to kill him, she would have already tried by now, so what was her motive? Just a fan seeking an autograph, perhaps. The Banshee tilted his head in mild curiosity at the panther. A shape-shifter with telepathy, how handy for her. In the middle of her next communication attempt, the same metallic hiss sounded as the weapon shrank back down to its convenient travel-size. "Thank you for your permission, Ma'am," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he leashed the weapon to his back, beneath his cloak, once again. He approached her shamelessly, without fear, taking a few brisk steps to close in the distance between them. His cloak billowed up for a moment from the sudden movement, and fell to gather once more around his feet. He was close enough now to see in detail, an angelic face on a dark soul, black eyes hovering, unamused, on the prowler. Tonight, he'd donned a mostly white outfit, a white sleeveless shirt, generic and discreet, with a strap of leather constricting each bicep. White cotton gloves reached his elbow, fingerless, and setting atop were intricately designed, steel bracers, the metal twisted along his forearms as if it were some kind of exoskeletal bone structure. His nails were black, the talons disappearing against the backdrop of the night, save for that gleam when the lantern light hit him just right. A belt of black dragon skin was leashed to his waist, and his bottom half was covered by white sorcerer's robes, a sharp, black tribal design creeping up its sides. The cloak was black leather, singed in many places from the last day he wore it: the day of the war. Finally, all of his hair was pulled up into a high tail, save a portion of his long bangs which shielded half his face, rolling white locks falling down his chest to end at his abdomen. Overall, his appearance was lacking much in regality. He looked more like a common mage than a king, but retained his dangerously beautiful appeal. "Regardless if you feel like attacking me or not, I'm not very threatened by you. You're on my ground. With the wave of my hand, I could have everyone in the city get out of bed to come kill you." A black eye winked down at her, the smirk growing to now encompass all corners. "State your business in my city." She'd only said two things, and already, her arrogance was astounding. Depending on how she responded, she could either leave with all her limbs, or only manage to get out with one or two. |
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