As everybody start leaving the woods, Anastacia felt somebody tap on her shoulder. Exiting her familiar's senses, she looked around and blinked. Swapping between senses was always a little disorienting for her. Looking around, she saw that one tattooed person walking away, and felt a little...
Ashe, Anastacia's raven familiar, soared through the air, observing the chase. It was a lot more... violent than she thought it would be. Obviously, there was that incident with the Elves and Dwarf, but also that knight that got attacked by goblins, or that Tiefling burning things. It was...
Anastacia awoke to sun in her eyes.
"Gahh, Gavilar, why are the curtains drawn back?" she grumbled, arising.
"Don't worry, Young Lady, the glass is opaque right now," an elderly voice replied. "Nobody can see inside."
Right. She had to stay hidden. That hadn't even crossed her mind, which showed...
"Ati'ji, how does command work in your... foreign, but still human-esque culture? In our society, there's corruption, and leaders often might make decisions that will benefit themselves, but bring harm to others. The might not always have the best of others in mind. Where you come from, does...
Imire stands up, and begins speaking.
"Once, there was a dog. This dog worked on a farm herding sheep. The dog was big, strong, and it worked hard every day. Through the dog's hard work, the farmer could live, for if not for the dog, he wouldn't be able to manage his sheep. One day, the dog got...
Imire drops her casting, and the figure fades. "Yes, of course you should have stayed inside! Yes, the robes are sufficient for appearances, but if somebody had bumped into you, an extremely likely circumstance given the large crowd, they might have noticed the fact that you're chitinous! You...
"There he is!" Imire says with a cheerful face, contrary to her anxious tone. "I'll uh... go into my cell, thanks," she says, nodding at Alex. Hurrying after a flailing Ati'ji, she reaches into her entertainer's pack and pulls out a flowing, auburn cloak. Turning into the cell where he was just...
A sheepish Imire is brought into the jail, led by two guards. She stands at 3 feet, 6 counting her hat. A large, conical fish-like garment, grey and covering her face (Zant's helm, botw.) "This place is awful," she says absentmindedly, and then flushes with embarrassment. She roots around in...
New to the site, but not necessarily to role playing. I love roleplaying because there is a casual sort of benevolence, a lack of competition about it.