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Thread: A Fae, A Faun and a Human

  1. #11
    Cinnamon Smol

    EXP: 26,116, Level: 6
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    FennWenn's Avatar

    GP
    1,680
    AP
    36
    Name
    Fennik Glenwey
    Age
    Looks eight. He's definitely older.
    Race
    Frost Fae
    Gender
    More or less male.
    Location
    Corone

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    Eventually, the fae was gently (yet insistently) dragged away from his infinite snacking in order to tour the ship itself. Exploration, food, bath… it was all very nice, but something slow not-adding-up here. Why all this, if someone didn’t want something from him? For the most part, Veridian led the way, limping and proud. Mav trailed behind. She was a strongly striding reminder that sticky-fingered stealing from this sensuous ship was a stupidly shitty idea.

    And boy, there was a lot to ste- er, see.

    There was an officer’s mess, and also rooms for the officers to sleep in — Mav included. Fenn was not invited directly into these rooms. There was an infirmary too; Daugi, nails click-clacking on the floor alongside her little fae-pup, wuffed in approval at the faintest scent of blood. Many rooms were just store rooms with items in crates, and sailor-people-sleeping rooms with bunk beds as their most prominent feature.

    The map room was probably his favorite part of the tour. Technically, it was called the “Officer’s Meet”, but fuck if he was going to call a room with a table covered in tan papery sea charts anything other than “map room”.

    Later, they passed very hurriedly by a gilded hallway of ten polished doors. Briefly, Fenn got a peek in one of the rooms before Veridian nudged him onward. Silky beds, ornate furniture. Very comfy. Curious noises came a room that the fae was urged past particularly quickly.

    Funny thing was, Fenn had been faintly aware of human copulation as a thing that happened since he was fifteenish years old and accidentally walked in on two of his older thieves’ gang friends having at it in Forstford. His interest in the practice was… minimal. Odd things normally aroused his curiosity, but uh, it just seemed a little too squishy-weird for him. Still, he shot Veridian a pointed look as they passed that gilded room, as if to say that he wasn’t a total idiot.

    Finally, they were out on the big deck again. It was pretty late out; the sun was melting into the great sea, tinging the sky orange and the sea red. Daugi happily lolled her tongue out into the salty breeze. As Fenn took a curious peek over the edge of the boat — and nearly threw up into the churning waters below — Veridian hobbled towards the ramp-thing that led to the pier beside them. There he sat with his tail tucked over his feet, as if waiting for someone.

    Probably purple-hair-busty-faun-lady Phi, Fenn figured as he lost his lunch for real. Stupid boats.
    Last edited by FennWenn; 11-10-2017 at 12:44 PM.

  2. #12
    Super Moderator

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    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    8,318
    AP
    105
    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

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    Quite stunned was she with the kiss that she simply stared for a few moments, lips parted and brows raised. With nothing to say she simply ... Looked at him. Entirely lost. Indeed, she had not been expecting it at all. Perhaps one might have expected to - what with their past night and her past history - but rarely ever did a client kiss her on the way out. As gentle and as lingering as that.

    When her senses came back to her Philomel straightened, and nodded.

    "Very ... Flattering," she said with a light astonishment note in her voice, and then turned to duck out of the room head downstairs.

    The Sword and Staff had reasonably ended it's charades for the night. A few characters - an elf, a cat person ('nekojin' was the term they apparently liked) and a singularly drunk human, to name some - were still there. Her eyes brushed over the scene, lighting for a moment on the table where a few choice people had decided to play cards. It had been the first time in too many months that she had seen Lichensith Ulroke.

    Shaking herself, once more, out of the stupor, Philomel made sure Storm was following her. With a brief check in with Veridian, who was currently showing Fenn around the ship along with a grumpy Maverik, she started to the back, where she knew the stables were. There she found a woman of her Gilded Lily, finishing off a man in the hay. She gave her raised eyebrows but continued in, the prostitute making a small nervous smile.

    Various horses were here - beautiful geldings and elegant mares. There was a gorgeous pale-coated shire horse, and a dark, brooding grumpy stallion. Also in there were a couple of riding goats, that Philomel turned her nose up at it.

    "They shouldn't ride such gracious creatures," she complained.

    Then she turned to Storm. "Well then. Which one is Attila?"

    --

    Back on the ship Veridian was following Maverik and Fenn, looking around the Officers' Meet with them. His keen eyes kept watching the young elf, curious as well as wary. What he had smelt on Fenn's wrist was cruelty and malice, an intent to destroy what was good. Immense dislike settled within him for the person who had done such things to a being more vulnerable than themselves - no matter how stupid they might be. I.e. steal Madison the Plantface's cards.

    He swished his tail and snapped suddenly when he saw the man-boy reach for a particularly fine quill sitting on the edge of a map. Already knowing of what trouble Fenn could get himself into, Veridian was careful not to let him get into trouble with someone worse - Philomel herself.

  3. #13
    Ride The Lightning

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    Storm Veritas's Avatar

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    12,497
    AP
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    Name
    Storm Veritas
    Age
    39
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    The stables weren’t unoccupied, and Storm, still fully satisfied, still could not help but steal a glance at the attractive woman fellating an old, swarthy man with his suit sprawled across hay. It was a spectacular sight, and the wizard wondered if that rich fool would have to invent a story of falling into straw to someone at home. Considering the late hour, it was unlikely the rotund receiver was going anywhere soon.

    Can’t say I haven’t been there, but –GODS- man, clean it up. You’re not a kid.

    Philomel had continued along to the horses, and found Attila to be unreceptive. This was to be expected; there weren’t more than two or three in the world that the surly steed welcomed at first blush. As if playing, the great black beast bucked his head low and butted it with some force at the Storm as he arrived, knocking him up in the air and back, no doubt smelling the woman upon him.

    “Easy, boy, settle!”

    With a firm word, the experienced scoundrel raised a hand, his electromagnetic abilities hooking the steel rings that hung from the horse’s bridle. The rings dutifully rose, with the stallion’s head gently rising with them. Attila calmed immediately, assured of his master. The painless demonstration left no doubt with the powerful mount who the alpha was in his relationship.

    Turning, the moonlit stable lit a cool yellow-green glow upon the magician’s face as he spoke to the magnificent beauty.

    “This, my dear, is Attila. He warms up slowly to most, but will learn to like you quickly. He has a lot of stubborn asshole in him, but he’s not so bad underneath it.”

    Spinning on his left foot, Storm leapt with an ease and grace that completely defied his advancing age. If Attila’s back stood five feet from the ground, the wizard could easily have landed there on his feet, this with only a modest effort. Skillfully, he slid slow into the saddle, no doubt having landed hard and rendering himself temporarily sexually useless in the past. Adjusting the saddlebags to the front of the saddle, the wizard popped a few iron snaps and slid a small leather sheet backwards, the form of a human backside lightly worn.

    Been a while since that seat was filled.

    His mind wandered a bit, considering the only one who had ridden the horse on her first pass. Karuka was an odd lot, with bizarre abilities and a charm that enamored some and infuriated others. Regardless, she had loved him, and he loved her. When Karuka and her lovely green eyed progeny Taische O’Sheean disappeared, it had left a hole in the electromancer that none had filled since.

    And she’d kick your ass for moping and dragging and feeling bad for yourself. There’s work to do and money to make. Focus on the here and now.

    Smiling again, he extended a hand, one the faun certainly did not need. She was polite enough, but hopped up with an athleticism that clearly rivaled his own.

  4. #14
    Cinnamon Smol

    EXP: 26,116, Level: 6
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    FennWenn's Avatar

    GP
    1,680
    AP
    36
    Name
    Fennik Glenwey
    Age
    Looks eight. He's definitely older.
    Race
    Frost Fae
    Gender
    More or less male.
    Location
    Corone

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    Fenn was feeling slightly tired, and slightly bored. He stared into the water below. All the contents of his stomach had been forcibly claimed by the waves. The salty breeze billowing in his face did not make him feel any better about his lamentable newly-lightened load of lunch. His seasickness would pass. Eventually. Soft fur brushed up against the blackened skin of his ankles. The puck rubbed his eyes and glanced down at Veridian, who had joined him by his side -- mostly to take a look at the rough skin.

    Fenn squeaked in annoyance. At this point, he was slightly to seasick to shoo the fox off of that sensitive scarring. He needed a few minutes to recover before caring. YOU KNOW WHEN PHILOMEL FAUN ARRIVE? he asked in frost, after sinking queasily to the deck.

    The fox twitched his tail, eyes lit with with knowing. He tossed his head in the direction of the dock.

    There was the thunder of hooves on the horizon.

  5. #15
    Super Moderator

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    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    8,318
    AP
    105
    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

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    The huge black, gorgeous stallion began to slow, and Philomel threw herself off the back of it. Racing up the gangplank, now fully clothed and loaded with weaponry she marched straight forth. Those members of the crew who were eager for the early light scattered as they came into her path. Concerned looks, lips parting, they murmured as they recognised her determination and vivacity.

    The need to get done what it was that drove her.

    Up here.

    She was sent a very clear image of the figurehead of the ship. Gently it swayed up and down and a small fair-haired man-child stood unsure behind it. Behind was the proud stature of Maverik, a being not to be underestimated. She had stayed guard with the young man for the past good few hours, shadowing him along with Veridian. Where the earth-spirit was the gentle, amusing kind, she was more a bodyguard - ever presence and willing to be imposing.

    Running up the stairs Philomel for a moment forgot about Storm until she turned back. She could see him just getting off Attila, eyebrows rising.

    "Up here," she repeated Veridian's words.

    She gestured to where the fox, the fae and the warrior were already, bared against the life of the sea.

    Then she raced, hooves thumping on the wood. Up onto the upper deck she went over to where Fenn was looking pale and stormed over. She reached out and took the boy's shoulder and turned him around. It was a forced movement, but one that needed to be done, in her mind. All she was, all of her instincts and desires of motherhood pounded through her body, calling her protect this small man. Though she knew him to be older, her maternal sound still rang wild bells because he looked so young.

    Bending down on one knee she looked seriously into his eyes.

    "Who did this to you?"
    Last edited by Philomel; 11-13-2017 at 03:56 PM.
    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    --
    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.

  6. #16
    Cinnamon Smol

    EXP: 26,116, Level: 6
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    Level completed: 88%,
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    FennWenn's Avatar

    GP
    1,680
    AP
    36
    Name
    Fennik Glenwey
    Age
    Looks eight. He's definitely older.
    Race
    Frost Fae
    Gender
    More or less male.
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    (Thought to squeeze in a poast — hope this is okay, Storm!)

    He had half closed as he stared into the nausea-making waves. Dark, frothy, foamy. They’d probably look better if they were frozen. Philomel and the Storm man were boarding the ship, and they’d be over in a moment to talk about… whatever. He didn't know.

    Suddenly, a strong hand yanked him by the shoulder to face a different direction, eliciting a shocked squeak out of him. He wobbled a little in place, still queasy from being on the boat. The matronly faun Phi, busty and purple haired as ever, was kneeling at his height. Her face was too close to his. Her face was also very lined with worry. Why was she worried? Should that worry him?

    “Who did this to you?”

    She demanded it in a voice of restrained righteous fury. Not directed at him — thankfully — but it was there. For a moment, Fenn stared at her with blank bug eyes and a half-open mouth, not quite understanding the question. Did… what? Who did what?

    If he had a working tongue, it’d have been in knots. Then he thought about Veridian’s sniffing inquisition, and it clicked.

    Ahh. Nope. Nopenopenope. A nervous frost trickled up the young puck’s cloak, a few flecks creeping up the faun’s hands. It was a fighting instinct, and one he suppressed with a clenching in his hands. He liked Phi enough to not want to give her frostbite. But he didn’t like anyone enough to bring that shit back up again. Fear flashed across his features and was quickly replaced by something more stoic, harder and colder.

    A vague shrug was given. That was technically an answer, wasn’t it?
    "I'm funny, so they let me live." - Skippy's List

    The Wiki Matriarch, the Vignette Enthusiast, your friendly neighborhood Cinnamon Smol, and very excited to roleplay!

    I play all these Wenns, so take a look at them if you'd like!

    Fennapping Tally: 13 instances thus far

  7. #17
    Ride The Lightning

    EXP: 139,017, Level: 16
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    Storm Veritas's Avatar

    GP
    12,497
    AP
    78
    Name
    Storm Veritas
    Age
    39
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    Ugh, this boat is pretty small. Small boats and big horses are never a good time.

    Attila stood firm on the thick, sturdy oak of the dock, locking his huge legs at the bulbous knees that were not to be trifled with. This horse was not much for negotiation, and in spite of the charms the wizard had over the great beast, he knew better than to force the hand. Hopping off, Storm athletically popped up to the front of the steed, gently rubbing the massive face by the nostrils to the crown, rubbing the incredible muscled mandible as well.

    “Easy big fella. Little boat, short trip. I’m coming with you, and bringing plenty of sugar. LOTS of them.” A gentle smile, he opened his palm, a half dozen sugar cubes greedily devoured by the huge horse. Bobbing his head, Attila marched forward, grudgingly acquiescing to board.

    Storm walked Attila under the covered deck of the boat to the bowels of the ship, which smelled an odd blend of ginger, cinnamon, and urine. It was quite clean here, however the sins of the past aboard the ship lingered long after they had been mopped with seawater and vinegar.

    “Over here, big fella. Two days, max, and you get four days of lettuce, carrots, and sugar for your troubles. I’ll walk your fat ass back into shape when we hit land, I promise.” Gesturing to a cordoned stable filled with fresh hay and lots of food, Storm noticed a small “reserved” tag hung off the front door of the fencing. As Attila chuffed himself comfortable, spraying a bit of pee to mark his new quarters, Veritas took it upon himself to mark off this particular docking for his mount. Extending his finger, a small blue flame flickered to life, striking out the label on the aforementioned “reserved” tag. The name that once read “Her Majesty’s Pride” was incinerated; beneath it, a new and simple title:

    ATTILA

    I doubt we’ll get any complaints a few crowns can’t fix.

    A minute or two later, the wizard was back up to the top deck, assured his horse was quartered fairly and seeing none in the area to question him. His eyes found a few errant shiphands; beautiful women that averted their gaze immediately as the terrible magician surveyed the ship. It didn’t take long to find a small crowd, with the little Fenn-fellow chattering up towards the staggeringly pillow-titted Philomel and all her glory.

    Jackpot, we’re golden.

    Before moving over, Storm approached one shiphand, a slightly haggard, waifish blond of forty or so that clearly longed to not be involved. Unfazed, Storm was the diplomat; his toothy smile and open, empty hands appearing as nonthreatening as imaginable.

    “Lucky day for you, my friend! Fifty crowns bonus to keep my big fella down there happy. His name is Attila, and I recognize he’s a bit of a pain in the ass.”

    As though from thin air, a handful of shining golden coins emerged in the wizards hand, widening the eyes of the sailor immediately. Without hesitation, Storm pressed all of them into the palm of the over-tanned, confused woman. They shared smiles as the wizard leaned in to speak more clearly.

    ”Fifty more when we land; one hundred if he’s still in good spirits. If you see someone screwing with him, stop them immediately and come to me. I can handle any hard-asses that may get upset that he’s loud on choppy water or takes a runny dump.

    “If anything bad happens to him… well, shit…”


    Turning his head across the boat, Storm focused on two rivets holding a dock handle to the wood. Nearby, a fishing gaffe rested against the deck, the metal handle of which caught the wizard’s attention. Storm raised a hand, twisting his fingers to manipulate the steel from thirty feet away. The handle snapped off effortlessly, the two-foot segment twisting in the air into a hemisphere. The arc was then spun forcefully into the wood beneath the rivets, forming a bizarre image of a frowning face about the wood.

    ”Nothing bad is going to happen…”

    Standing, Storm smiled again, his sinister tone leaving altogether as he clapped the back of the ship-hand as though greeting an old friend. He left to join his friends, certain now that his steed was to be well-cared for.
    Last edited by Storm Veritas; 11-21-2017 at 12:53 AM.

  8. #18
    Super Moderator

    EXP: 85,570, Level: 12
    Level completed: 66%, EXP required for next Level: 4,430
    Level completed: 66%,
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    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    8,318
    AP
    105
    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    Philomel was still in a tetchy mood. At the man-child's shrug she raised an eyebrow and did not seem at all impressed.

    "Fenn. That is not what I am looking for. You have been ... tortured by someone. I want to know who."

    Although, despite that question, Philomel had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly who it might be. Whatever changing, maddening people had been in that pub last night. Everyone who was anyone had really happened to be in Raieara, running away from the dark storm. But there had been one individual who stood out for the faun of fauns, one certain, red-haired crazy woman who had exchanged various odd looks with Fenn. The same woman who was Shinsou's lover.

    By what she knew of this boy, he was a type of fae. Fae, or as they were sometimes known, Faerie, had weaknesses like most other races. For fauns, fire was their enemy, and Philomel was one of the only ones of her kind that she knew of who was not entirely afraid if the burning element. Fae, on the other hand, were partially known to have an ill relationship with iron, and with the metal so easy to access, numerous as it was, it would not be hard for someone to find the right manacles and bind a certain small, innocent being with them.

    After a moment of staring into those large, green eyes, Philomel finally let her hand go from his shoulder. And there she stood, arms folding across her chest, but still looking down at him.

    "I only want to make certain that you are not in danger, Fenn," she spoke to him, using his name for the first time. "Call it an instinct if you will, but you barely look older than my own daughter."

    Veridian slunk up to sit beside the boy. He turned his pointy black nose and pressed it to Fenn's side. You are a good person. You do not deserve this.

    Philomel paused, then translated. "We are only concerned for your well being."

    She glanced over to see Storm now striding up the stairs to the upper deck and gave him a small nod before returning to the Fae. "Let us go below decks," she suggested. "And get this out of the open air."

    With that she nodded over to where Storm was, and twisted sharply to lead the way down to the Officer's Mess. A private room, reserved for her, Veridian, Maverik and a few other choice individuals. She did not look to see if Fenn came, but rather gestured at Storm and looped arms with the warrior when she came to his side, to escort him to their destination. Veridian, on the other hand, stayed right by Fenn, and kept looking at him. It took less than a second for Maverik to join them, grunting her presence.
    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    --
    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.

  9. #19
    Ride The Lightning

    EXP: 139,017, Level: 16
    Level completed: 24%, EXP required for next Level: 12,983
    Level completed: 24%,
    EXP required for next Level: 12,983


    Storm Veritas's Avatar

    GP
    12,497
    AP
    78
    Name
    Storm Veritas
    Age
    39
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    The sea was never terribly comfortable to Storm, however his company brought him a pair of very distinctive distractions that made the pending journey entirely more palatable. The little fairy-looking fellow was a natural entertainer; he was objectively adorable, eccentric and mischievous. In a different time, a more bitter version of the electromancer would have found Fenn to be a terrible annoyance, and likely punted the diminutive fellow overboard. Here with a near permanent smile borne from the sexual prowess of the faun, Storm was nearly smitten by the little man.

    Philomel had taken him by the arm and coerced him right below deck, where the metal heels of his dress boots echoed thuds of his presence on the heavy, treated oak. The high quality vessel felt like a floating hotel, and the little room was suspiciously seductie for a room found a boat; there were fine cotton linens and small candle lights and even an incense smoker, actively kicking off a lovely fragrance of something like lavender. The room appeared a walking contradiction to the basic rules of nautical safety.

    Romance is obviously a priority here, which explains the female-only deckhands. This place must have been a floating f*ck-wagon before this fine lady changed her craft…

    …by the Gods, Phi; do your surprises ever stop?


    His curious gaze about the room had transformed into a sharp, knowing taunt in the form of a steely-eyed stare at the buxom faun. He embraced her softly, feeling her magnificence press gently against him and immediately instigate a desire to adjust his belt line. Kissing her quickly with a near-innocent affection, his whisper was sharp.

    “You know, a lesser man would be pretty intimidated by how good you are at the whole seduction process. You’re damned lucky I’m getting old enough to have abandoned the delusion that I have to match your skills.”

    Drinking in her beauty, Storm had to laugh at this preposterous conquest of his. From her feather fine and silk smooth hair to hornet-stung lips or bright, sharp, mirrored grey eyes, she was a vision. Her body, a fine mesh of soft and as though sculpted by a master craftsman, was the type that could start wars.

    The little man was pattering about outside; the wizard could hear the patter of feet that was just slightly to frequent to be an adult, and alerted him that it was unlikely he’d be able to bed the faun without interruption. The realization flared his nostrils instinctively, and a vision of firing the little bastard into the open seas calmed his annoyance.

    Shit, it’s barely 2 hours past the midday; you didn’t expect to get lucky that easily, did you? Besides, she’s too damned good and you’re too f*cking old; you’d be sleeping through dinnertime.

    His eyes focused in the taut squint of a falcon, the mage turned to find the boy. Best to be interrupted on something closer to one’s own terms, he presumed.

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