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In Character Boards / Events Board / Wednesday 14/11, 20:30 GMT - Collecting cocoa pulp
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on: November 14, 2018, 11:14:49 am
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When: 8.30pm GMT (after the patrol)
Where: Meet at Barracks
Bring: A positive attitude (Not baditudes)
I need help with harvesting the cacao pulp for the Axiana's chocolate production and all help is appreciated! We will venture to my abode near the Bogs of Desolation and gather the pulp, then take it back to Cove for processing. Any aid will possibly be awarded with chocolate once it is all completed!
*Signed*
Khaelieth Llelmandred Kellenwyr Sereghyanda
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In Character Boards / Character Profiles / Re: Khaelieth
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on: August 25, 2018, 10:10:35 am
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Finding a temporary home in Cove, he quickly established himself as a military liaison, providing the Covian army with leather and other basic supplies in exchange for a modicum of wealth. While ostensibly a civilian, his skills as a mage and scout ensured he could play a role in the Covian army when required, and fought against the Kaldorians on several occasions, including a raid on Kaldor itself. He was also present for the re-taking of Cove from the orcs. He was later joined in Cove by his cousin, Delcarakdur. An ill-fated attempt to get Delcarakdur out of the Baron's dungeon led to Delcarakdur losing his hand.
He later married Jessica Hawkins, with whom he has one child. Khaelieth's mood grew ever more erratic as he sunk time into studies of blackrock, as time went on and Jessica left him. He eventually left Cove with his son, his cabin collapsing one harsh winter.
A dark and stormy night, Khaelieth returned to Cove. Thin, on the border of emaciation, with sunken eyes and a stretched countenance, he was visibly sick and often suffers from nose bleeds, splitting headaches, and a weak constitution. He is often seen leaning on his black staff to support.
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Element boards / Citizen Board / Civilising the Bogs of Desolation
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on: August 16, 2018, 08:20:53 am
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 A report is left on Raiden's deskWhen: 15/08/18, 20:00 Where: Bogs of Desolation Organiser: Khaelieth, Citizen Soldiery in attendance: - Tingleith - Saerandir - Thomas Aylmer - Elizabeth Martin Civilians in attendance: - Axiana - Geraldine - Sabina Jarrett - Dwral Nalhig - Sarah Keres - Crowley Graves - Jarvis Miller - Dalla The expedition mustered at the barracks, with the people gathered informed of the task at hand. We quickly set out for the Bogs of Desolation, with the Corporal Elizabeth Martin taking point with the soldiers. The guards kept us safe, ploughing through ogres, ettins, and other Guardian spawn until we reached the Bogs. Realising we had some stragglers, guards were sent back to recover them, which was done without no incident. However, it is worth mentioning this could've had fatal results and deserves special consideration. We then headed south-east along the bog to the sea, whereupon we reached the plot prepared for the cabin. While some civilians and soldiers set out to gather lumber, others gathered kindling and food, which the chefs prepared. Geraldine kept the worst hunger pangs away with cookies while keeping morale up. Shortly after, with resources gathered, Sarah and Dwral started building the foundations and hardwood floor with great success. We then sat down at the table and partook in an exquisite meal of game, fish, and strong cider. Our work done, we headed back, with excess resources loaded on the pack horses and brought back to Cove. Khaelieth  [OOC: Any suggestions for better image adding?] |
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In Character Boards / Old Events / 8 PM GMT Wed 15th Aug - Civilising the Bogs of Desolation (Civvies esp. welcome)
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on: August 13, 2018, 10:27:48 am
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Where: Barracks.
Bring: Hatchets, cooking utensils, tools of your trade, foodstuffs.
In an attempt to put the Bogs of Desolation under firm Baronial control and the road to Britain under increased scrutiny to guard for smugglers from Britain, a small log cabin is to be built near the bogs. We will need civilians to make food, do some carpenting, gather additional resources, map the region, and administrate the indentured servants soldiers.
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Element boards / Citizen Board / A chat about tea in the tavern
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on: August 11, 2018, 04:42:22 pm
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When: 10/08/18, 19:00 Where: Beergarden Commanding Officer: Geraldine, Granny Covians in attendance: - Tingleith - Avalynn Vale - Saerandir - Khaelieth - Carolin - Aralin Areocia - Leanne Melior Khaelieth smiled at the man opposite him.
"It was a most uplifting event. No tea in the ocean, like what sometimes happens in the more barbaric and uncivilised parts of the world."
Khaelieth took a sip of his wine, his hand trembling slightly.
"There was some gossip - Tingleith spoke of her slavery and love for orcs, who were her serendipitous saviours. Most disgusting, such behaviour." His opposite nodded.
"Saerandir apparently has father issues. I hear that is much liked among human males as a female trait, but too me it just seems odd. His father changed his son's name to something like "bitter dung beetle," Khaelieth continued.
"That sounds a bit... strange," replied the man, sipping his wine thoughtfully.
Khaelieth nodded.
"Well, Avalynn, a grenadier, was apparently injured in an explosion in Church caused by someone firing a cannon of all things. From what I could gather, her explosion potions did what they were made for, but while they were still on her person. She is... rather burnt."
"Rather unlucky. How did that even happen?" was the reply.
"I... I have no idea. Honest. Seems that lot of them have suffered somewhat, either in youth or recently. Aralin is a runaway noble. Seems to hate her own kind to a degree."
The man nodded.
"Geraldine, the organiser, has just arrived from Britain. She prefers the quaint provincial life, but in my opinion, Cove is no provincial town these days. 'Tis a military power."
His opposite nodded, draining his glass.  [OOC: Please let me know if you were there, but I didn't put your name there. I am working from memory and think I might've missed someone.] |
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In Character Boards / In Character Board / Travels of Wanderer
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on: August 10, 2018, 02:10:58 pm
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Kneeling in front of the grave, the figure let the shovel fall. The seeds he had planted in the soil, though not visible even in the light of the dancing Wisps and lantern, would soon break through the soil. The Bloodfire, the rare flower that would only grow in blood-rich soil, would be first to grow and first to blossom. Sighing, the figure got to his feet, wiping at the blood running in a gentle stream from his nose. His eye twitched as a shadow passed over his eyes. The gentle blue-green light of the wisps reflected on the traveller's sun-tanned, but drawn face, making the blood seem black in the ghostly light.
He didn't feel sad, he thought, dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief. Maybe a degree of melancholy. He was less affected by his baser emotions, as if there was a veil between him and them. It was freeing, in a way, though he imagined should feel guilty about that, especially granted the magnitude of emotion he should feel at this moment. While the world was greyer, it was also clearer. A sense of clarity filled him. Duty. That's what he felt. And a calling. It was sometimes difficult these days, gathering his thoughts.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, concentrating. His thoughts felt scattered somehow, though he managed to keep them together. It was getting better, he thought. It was an apt spot he had chosen. Sacrifice. He could almost hear the sound of water through the forest. He had always liked this place and remembered that he had often come here for meditation.
Had it been worth it? The cost had been steep, in the end. He was, however, sane and alive. That alone was uplifting. And his talents were undiminished, and in some aspects greater. However, he did feel old. Much of what had been second nature now felt like clutching at shadows. Could he have done something different? Probably. But would that have had other outcomes? He had never trusted the tarot-witches of the gypsies, but maybe... No. Therein madness certainly lies, and there was something about sleeping dogs.
Saying a brief blessing, more out of sense of custom and respect, the man kissed his fingers and placed them on the ground. The wanderer turned, the wind catching his dark cloak, whipping it behind him as he disappeared into the darkness.
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