...had seen a few mountain goats on the way up, when she wasn't taking a turn pushing the back of the wagon. It was all she could think about when she *was* pushing. Her wounds from the sand hydra's bite had, at the very least, scabbed over, but the sand and dust made them itch. Bruises from...
GROUP 2: @Corn Orc Vandal @BlueXBlood @Xen6n @Aegis
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Bal'kafaz held her annoyance from her expression as best she could; showing anger outside of the arena only led to pain and suffering. This foreigner clearly had no awareness of their cultural differences, despite their shared...
Group 2: @Corn Orc Vandal @BlueXBlood @Xen6n @Aegis
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Bal's face scrunched in confusion at the other half-orc's absurity. She rubbed her temples, then the back of her neck. Gods, she was tired. The large half-elf held her tongue, having learned from a young age to do so. Though...
Her brows furrowed. "My fever? What-" Bal'kafaz opened her eyes again to find Khadija doting on her, the other half-orc awfully close. "I'm.. I'm fine," she huffed, swatting the bard's hand away. It was a lie, of course; she was far from fine. Nothing seemed broken, at least, but everything...
"-orderofseekers?"
Everything hurt. Bal'kafaz awoke to unfamiliar voices, the rumble of a cart pulling her along, and the dry, gritty feeling of sand mixed in with blood all over. The warmth of the desert sun was missing, and as she lifted her eyelids, gentle starlight twinkled overhead. The...
@Corn Orc Vandal @BlueXBlood @Xen6n @Aegis
PREVIOUSLY:
The heavy scent of moist salt permeated the arena in Kiledo, the hot desert sun assaulting the blood-soaked sand. Bal'kafaz could barely hear the thundering roars of the crowd that surrounded her; the dull thrum of her heartbeat...
FOREVER A WIP
Role: Criminal
Race: Half elf/half orc
Name: Bal'kafaz (translates loosely to "cage of fire")
Age: About 23-28
Pronouns: She/her
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Who even could know? (Lezbehonest)
Alignment: Probably good.
Personality/Backstory:
Born to an orcish slave woman in...
As time wore on, Hawthorn used the weave with Vells as something to focus on while her hands worked at freeing her foot. Careful not to put pressure on her leg, she untied the leather lacings down the side of her boot. Lifting her pant leg was agony; the leg had begun to swell, and every...
As the young alchemist tapped into the weave, Hawthorn closed her eyes in mild relief; in Serena's echo she felt the comfort of a grand library full of dusty parchment. Remnants of the file she had re-read on the ship came to her in soft, fervent whispers. It was a welcome change from the two...
The Dean of Weather took advantage of her open weave with the necromancers, using the waves to pull Vells higher up the beach. She flinched as Serena came skidding to a halt next to her, a fierce lick of pain shooting up her leg at the movement. Her focus on the weave ended abruptly, leaving...
The berating came sooner than anticipated. Almalexia cringed at the use of her full name; the only people who used it were her parents. A surge of anger and the need to protect herself washed over her unexpectedly, and she was about to snap back at Vells when Thys appeared by her side, offering...
Hawthorn collapsed onto the black sand with relief. Her lungs barely had time to settle before a giant bird of prey enclosed them in its wings- Oh, just Avanok.
Weave. She could weave.
The Dean of Weather rolled herself to a sit, her bum leg out in front of her. As she opened herself up to the...