about Rune
The time to run is when I'm smiling.
[+] Calculative, patient, unbias, tough, daring at times, ...
[–] Emotionally compartmentalized, stale, detached, ...
Rune's trademark is her colorful and bright pastel pink hair. Her eyes are a light brown. Rune wears (sterotypical) black robes and a hood. Baggy pants, combat boots and like-- a thousand pockets all serve functions for her. When working, her most obvious feature by far is a metal mask which was crafted for her by an old blacksmith friend. It is a black skull. When not working, this mask is usually hung at her hip, displayed, since anyone who would've seen it is usually dead.
There are three weapons among her arsenal that are worth note. Of course she carries all the basics such as throwing knives, daggers and some fun little, magically infused poisons to fell her victims. However, she also carries two hatchets that have been altered to better serve her function, a "sword" of linked smaller blades that she may use as a kind of lash. Finally, claws, worn on her fingers, that curl into the palm of her hand--perfect for ripping out throats.
Relative Stats: [compared to average human: 5]
Intellect: 9
Memory: 8
Strength (physical): 6
Strength (mental): 7
Speed: 8
Stamina: 5
Charm: 4
Magic: 7
Fucks Given: 0
Don't worry, it's only murder.
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Post by Rune on Feb 11, 2017 21:39:12 GMT
 [attr="class","les"]―Moriturism―
(n). the insomnia that you will die, that years are chapters in a story steadily gathering tide to an unfathomable abyss This city was a haven for lovers of heights. This one in particular made an effort to never leave anyplace unclimbed as long as it proved a worthy view and serve as a heavenly barrier between her and the world below. One might be able to think themselves god when they stood atop the world in such a way, but not this one. This acrophiliac was a creator, but she was no savior; she was silence and shadow and blood and night. A heavy breath entered her lungs, pushing on the inside of her ribs in a way that made her feel she could easily fly if she tried. And then the inhale was over, and focus returned.
"Damn." Her light brown eyes scanned the world below her, picking out individuals that looked like fun, and watching to see what trouble they got mixed up in. Occasionally she would move from rooftop to rooftop to continue to watch as events unfolded. She saw a few fistfights, a man get a rather impressive slap from a woman he had hassled, a storeowner chasing a man with a broom, a woman who...yeah, no, she's definitely crazy.People watching was an interesting enough sport. One might think that because Rune was an assassin, this pastime was laced with killer intent, but it was not. She was a human now, and seeing others gave her insight into her own soul. It was only under the cover of the mask that she ever was not human. She was human now. She was human and she was not afraid to be. Humanity was what kept her alive. If she did not see people as people, she would never have known how they would react. She would never have known that when she feigns for their face that they cover and leave the rest of themselves exposed. Human nature was a necessary course in her profession.You can't hunt a rabbit without knowing where to find them. [newclass=.les::-webkit-scrollbar]width:2px;background-color: #000;[/newclass][newclass=.les::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]width: 2px; background-color: #a0bad8;[/newclass] |
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My only sin, and it's an enormous one, is that my conscience does not accuse me of anything.
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Post by draumr on Feb 11, 2017 23:47:14 GMT
It was a beautiful morning by all means, the sun had risen long ago, but the exhausting heat of a summer day was not yet a fact. The birds were chirping merrily from the treetops, children playing catch in the street, the shops along the street slowly opening up, the smell of freshly baked bread drifting through the air in the gently breeze.
It must be a fool who could not see the beauty in such a blessed day.
Draumr pushed the wooden wheelbarrow in front of her, cursing under her breath as a child ran straight in front of her and she had to stop abruptly, making a few of her trinkets fall out. She bared her teeth at the child as she went to pick up what she had dropped, the child's eyes flew open and he picked up his pace, quickly disappearing into the back alleys.
It didn't take long for her to arrive to her potion stand and start setting up. She felt the need to rush as a couple, a human male and a female elf, stopped in front of her stand.
She did her best to unpack the fragile vials as quickly as possible, all while offering the couple a polite smile.
"Looking for something special?"
"No, we're just browsing", answered the elf. She was cute, curly hair framing her feminine face, but her cuteness did little to soothe Draumrs annoyance with her.
The smile quickly faded from Draumrs face, and she shot the couple an annoyed glance as she continued her unpacking in silence. They did not seem to take the hint, and stayed for a good ten minutes, making little remarks about how strange or adorable the trinkets that were being sold were, and when they finally left they had invested nothing in Draumrs little shop.
She sat down on the stool behind her stand, sighing deeply. She could already tell that this was going to be a dreadful day.
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about Rune
The time to run is when I'm smiling.
[+] Calculative, patient, unbias, tough, daring at times, ...
[–] Emotionally compartmentalized, stale, detached, ...
Rune's trademark is her colorful and bright pastel pink hair. Her eyes are a light brown. Rune wears (sterotypical) black robes and a hood. Baggy pants, combat boots and like-- a thousand pockets all serve functions for her. When working, her most obvious feature by far is a metal mask which was crafted for her by an old blacksmith friend. It is a black skull. When not working, this mask is usually hung at her hip, displayed, since anyone who would've seen it is usually dead.
There are three weapons among her arsenal that are worth note. Of course she carries all the basics such as throwing knives, daggers and some fun little, magically infused poisons to fell her victims. However, she also carries two hatchets that have been altered to better serve her function, a "sword" of linked smaller blades that she may use as a kind of lash. Finally, claws, worn on her fingers, that curl into the palm of her hand--perfect for ripping out throats.
Relative Stats: [compared to average human: 5]
Intellect: 9
Memory: 8
Strength (physical): 6
Strength (mental): 7
Speed: 8
Stamina: 5
Charm: 4
Magic: 7
Fucks Given: 0
Don't worry, it's only murder.
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Post by Rune on Feb 12, 2017 20:03:51 GMT
[attr="class","les"]―Moriturism―
(n). the insomnia that you will die, that years are chapters in a story steadily gathering tide to an unfathomable abyss Rune perked up at the sight of a familiar merchant stand. Her fingers went instinctively to the poisons in her pocket. Hmn. More could be useful, that is, if this stall even sold such things. She tended to find that merchants in this town always had a "back room" or sorts.
With a graceful hop down onto a balcony, then a swing over its edge followed by another small drop. As she landed, she slowed her fall with a bend of legs, then rose with a slight huff of air.
Her gait was like a glide as she delved into the crowd. It wasn't too hard for her to blend in. She snaked over to a fruit stand, taking a handful of a red berries she had grown to enjoy.
Her walking stopped abruptly, then she turned to face the stall she had come to visit. The expression on her face as she scanned the vials was critical.
The heat was painful. She shed her black hood, then reached up behind her and brought her hair around the front of one shoulder, freeing her neck to a non existent breeze.
"Hmmn..." she considered again as she read the vials. One hand was on her face, rubbing across her lip in thought, the other was at her side, fingering the metal mask which sat at her hip.
She didn't see what she wanted....She glanced up at the merchant. This seemed like the type of person that would carry what she sought. So, she continued to look, perhaps waiting for a comment, perhaps not.
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My only sin, and it's an enormous one, is that my conscience does not accuse me of anything.
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Post by draumr on Feb 16, 2017 16:59:30 GMT
Draumr was startled when a woman suddenly stopped in front of her stall. She quickly closed the old book of cleansing rituals she had borrowed from her guardian, a light cloud of dust escaped from the old yellowed pages.
She looked up at the woman who now stood in front of her, quickly scanned her clothing for any obvious bulges where she could have hidden potions when Draumr wasn't looking, but she found nothing of the sort and her eyes shifted to following the woman's hands instead, making sure that she wouldn't steal anything.
Her gaze followed her hands as they reached up to her face, ridding her off the black hood she had worn, revealing that she had long pink hair. Draumrs eyes followed, and she let out a small gasp as she saw her face.
She covered her mouth with one of her hands, eyes opened wide, following every shape and curve of the woman's face. Her strong eyebrows, soft golden eyes, the plump lips that her fingers where her elegant fingers rested on, it was all too much for Draumr and she had to bury her teeth into the palm that were covering half of her face to compose herself.
She took a deep breath, sat up straight and put on her game-face.
"See anything you'd like, or are you here to make an order?" her voice was steadier than she'd have hoped, and she did her best to smile at the woman who stood in front of her.
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about Rune
The time to run is when I'm smiling.
[+] Calculative, patient, unbias, tough, daring at times, ...
[–] Emotionally compartmentalized, stale, detached, ...
Rune's trademark is her colorful and bright pastel pink hair. Her eyes are a light brown. Rune wears (sterotypical) black robes and a hood. Baggy pants, combat boots and like-- a thousand pockets all serve functions for her. When working, her most obvious feature by far is a metal mask which was crafted for her by an old blacksmith friend. It is a black skull. When not working, this mask is usually hung at her hip, displayed, since anyone who would've seen it is usually dead.
There are three weapons among her arsenal that are worth note. Of course she carries all the basics such as throwing knives, daggers and some fun little, magically infused poisons to fell her victims. However, she also carries two hatchets that have been altered to better serve her function, a "sword" of linked smaller blades that she may use as a kind of lash. Finally, claws, worn on her fingers, that curl into the palm of her hand--perfect for ripping out throats.
Relative Stats: [compared to average human: 5]
Intellect: 9
Memory: 8
Strength (physical): 6
Strength (mental): 7
Speed: 8
Stamina: 5
Charm: 4
Magic: 7
Fucks Given: 0
Don't worry, it's only murder.
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Post by Rune on Feb 17, 2017 19:41:49 GMT
[attr="class","les"]―Moriturism―
(n). the insomnia that you will die, that years are chapters in a story steadily gathering tide to an unfathomable abyss As the potion seller suddenly became aware of her presence, Rune drew her attention from the potions to the other woman. Rune had observed her from above and was already aware of her unique coloration, but it was strange to see it up close, especially her eyes.
Rune gave herself only a moment more to scan the woman's features. of which there were many of interest, before returning to the business at hand. It was still difficult to judge, but Rune figured this woman would have, or at least be willing to make what she needed.
"I'm in need of something specific. Perhaps you have it here, or perhaps you'd be willing to make it for me." Rune shifted her weight to one side, and scanned the woman's face one more time. "I am in the market for a poison or three."
Her voice was nonchalant, as if she was simply ordering dinner. Of course, not to say poisons weren't used by plenty of other's. Jealous wives, greedy businessmen, and fledgling criminals alike all had reason for it.
A quick expression of intent flashed on Rune's features as we waited to learn if her desires would be fulfilled. Her fingers tapped softly on the mask at her hip, a simple fiddling gesture.
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My only sin, and it's an enormous one, is that my conscience does not accuse me of anything.
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Post by draumr on Feb 20, 2017 22:01:55 GMT
Draumr waited patiently as the woman on the other side of the stall watched her, she tilted her head slightly to the side as she ran a hand through her matte hair.
When the woman spoke, Draumr suddenly froze for a moment. The request of poison was one she often got, but never before had the request been laid out like this. Often people left a small piece of parchment behind after shopping for some simple ointment or a trinket, the parchment would give their address and what they needed delivered. The other way it was requested was by shaky civilians with crackling voices, which had already attracted all the attention of the marketplace before they had even reached her stall, in these cases she would politely deny dealing in such sorts of alchemy and send them on their way.
But this, this was new. The way she said it made it seem so commonplace that no one would have noticed just what words she had been using. Even though Draumr could only be half sure that no prying eyes or ears were present, she decided to trust her gut feeling and try to make a deal.
"I have some things at home, but I am willing to brew whatever it is you are seeking, if it is in within my capabilities, of course", she said with a slight smirk on her face as she reached under the tabletop of the stall to access a shelf just underneath that was stocked full of potions and vials. Carefully she placed a few bottles in a perfect lines in front of the pink haired woman.
The bottles were made of dark ceramic, a simple cork cover and black wax sealing it shut. On each bottle there was a label, and a beautiful cursive handwriting was upon them. They read Flower Stillness, Beautiful Arrow, Breathe, and Swift.
"These are rare potions, and I will expect a fair payment. If you need me to brew something new it will up the costs, but I assure you that I am the best", she said with a proud look on her face.
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about Rune
The time to run is when I'm smiling.
[+] Calculative, patient, unbias, tough, daring at times, ...
[–] Emotionally compartmentalized, stale, detached, ...
Rune's trademark is her colorful and bright pastel pink hair. Her eyes are a light brown. Rune wears (sterotypical) black robes and a hood. Baggy pants, combat boots and like-- a thousand pockets all serve functions for her. When working, her most obvious feature by far is a metal mask which was crafted for her by an old blacksmith friend. It is a black skull. When not working, this mask is usually hung at her hip, displayed, since anyone who would've seen it is usually dead.
There are three weapons among her arsenal that are worth note. Of course she carries all the basics such as throwing knives, daggers and some fun little, magically infused poisons to fell her victims. However, she also carries two hatchets that have been altered to better serve her function, a "sword" of linked smaller blades that she may use as a kind of lash. Finally, claws, worn on her fingers, that curl into the palm of her hand--perfect for ripping out throats.
Relative Stats: [compared to average human: 5]
Intellect: 9
Memory: 8
Strength (physical): 6
Strength (mental): 7
Speed: 8
Stamina: 5
Charm: 4
Magic: 7
Fucks Given: 0
Don't worry, it's only murder.
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Post by Rune on Feb 21, 2017 2:29:28 GMT
 [attr="class","les"]―Moriturism―
(n). the insomnia that you will die, that years are chapters in a story steadily gathering tide to an unfathomable abyss
When the woman froze, Rune was seized by a momentary flash of regret. Certainly her counting and not lead her astray? This woman definitely sold what she sought–the realization occurred then. Rune was being direct. A smirk played at the corners of her mouth. She tilted her head to the side, reaching a hand back up to her hair and pushing it back from her face over the crown of her head. The gesture required no words, but if someone were to read into it, it said, I am not one for being subtle.
Rune feigned a yawn, glancing back over her shoulder and stretching out her arms in front of her. It was a gesture to check if anyone was listening on their conversation. Not that Rune cared. If it were a civilian, they would be wise not to call out someone who would just as quickly kill them, and if it were the law, they were welcome to try and take her; who knows, it might liven up the atmosphere.
When the merchant replied, Rune's face lit up slightly. "Oh good." It was an oddly casual, almost comfortable exclamation. When the woman smirked, Rune knew she would get what she needed, something potent and well made, none of that diluted shit the other merchant tried to give her. Needless to say, she didn't think he would be scamming any future customers...
Rune followed the woman's movements as she reached under the counter. Her yes did not heave her hands even as the merchant laid the vials into perfect lines. A perfectionist–a good quality in a potion maker. Rune snatched up one vial at the center of the line, holding it up to read. "I am familiar with brews of the...natural...variety, but you don't make just herbal brews. So, tell me, if I were to use one of these..." Rune set the vial back into tis line, as perfect as the way she had found it, "and needed it to work quickly, but, perhaps not..too...quickly, and needed to immobilize whoever I so chose to use it on, what might I pick?" Rune's amused smile returned to her face as she asked. She was well aware this sort of business was not usually done in public, but because it never bothered her, she continued anyways.
As the woman spoke, I am the best, Rune rolled her shoulders back a bit, standing taller, "I only take the best." Deciding she might as well give the girl the option, Rune opened her voice again, settling back down into her usual casual stance, "So?"
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My only sin, and it's an enormous one, is that my conscience does not accuse me of anything.
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Post by draumr on Feb 21, 2017 16:10:56 GMT
Arcan & ▽ȯįḋẅȧḷḳėṙDraumr watched the woman's smug expression and let out a small sigh. Getting caught might not matter to the pink haired woman, but it did to Draumr. This was her livelihood, and if she got caught selling something illegal her stand would be closed down and she would have no way to make money for herself or elderly couple who had helped her get to where she was now.
As she listened to what the woman had to say, she pulled her thin black robes closer to her body, giving a quick thought to the unusually cold weather. It had been warmer when she had gotten out of bed this morning, but just as she was about to start pondering on the cold conditions the woman finished her sentence, and Draumr smiled widely at her, revealing sharp teeth.
"You shouldn't underestimate the powers of nature, my dear", she said, picking up the bottle labeled Flower Stillness. "This would do what you wish, although it is not the quickest. You will also find it hard to wake them again", she said with a knowing look shot towards the other woman.
"I could make something even more potent, but it would cost you quite a lot. If you wish further information I suggest we take this to my workplace, where I can show you options and prices for everything I offer, as I am afraid I cannot keep it all in stock." Draumr gave the other woman a long look, trying her hardest to convey the message that this was not a conversation to be had in the middle of a crowd. |
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about Rune
The time to run is when I'm smiling.
[+] Calculative, patient, unbias, tough, daring at times, ...
[–] Emotionally compartmentalized, stale, detached, ...
Rune's trademark is her colorful and bright pastel pink hair. Her eyes are a light brown. Rune wears (sterotypical) black robes and a hood. Baggy pants, combat boots and like-- a thousand pockets all serve functions for her. When working, her most obvious feature by far is a metal mask which was crafted for her by an old blacksmith friend. It is a black skull. When not working, this mask is usually hung at her hip, displayed, since anyone who would've seen it is usually dead.
There are three weapons among her arsenal that are worth note. Of course she carries all the basics such as throwing knives, daggers and some fun little, magically infused poisons to fell her victims. However, she also carries two hatchets that have been altered to better serve her function, a "sword" of linked smaller blades that she may use as a kind of lash. Finally, claws, worn on her fingers, that curl into the palm of her hand--perfect for ripping out throats.
Relative Stats: [compared to average human: 5]
Intellect: 9
Memory: 8
Strength (physical): 6
Strength (mental): 7
Speed: 8
Stamina: 5
Charm: 4
Magic: 7
Fucks Given: 0
Don't worry, it's only murder.
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Post by Rune on Feb 22, 2017 16:16:46 GMT
[attr="class","les"]―Moriturism―
(n). the insomnia that you will die, that years are chapters in a story steadily gathering tide to an unfathomable abyss
Rune exhaled a bit, glancing up at the sky as if realizing the sun which had caused her discomfort earlier had become covered by grey clouds. She rubbed her arm as a chill took hold of the air. A breeze in the summer was a strange and unusual thing, at least here. A storm must be coming. Rune loved this type of weather, but she was not fond of the rain which came after; it tended to make scaling buildings difficult.
Rune tilted her head back and forth, contemplating. "Hmm, well, speed is a factor..." She tapped her lip with her finer as she thought–then stopped, returning the merchant's knowing gaze. Clever one, not that its hard to guess why someone needs a poison.. "Money isn't a problem."
Rune gave up finally, dropping her shoulders a bit; it was clear the woman was finally done with this public risk. She lasted longer than most; usually people scurried away the moment Rune started babbling at them about her illegal purchases.
"To your workshop then?" Rune glanced around at the marketplace, people busying themselves, "Now?" Rune pulled up her hood again over her head–a gesture that she always made before she went walking around the streets, but at the moment, it was a small guard against the rising breeze. From beneath the hood her bright brown eyes awaited a response or a direction. [newclass=.les::-webkit-scrollbar]width:2px;background-color: #000;[/newclass][newclass=.les::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]width: 2px; background-color: #a0bad8;[/newclass] |
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My only sin, and it's an enormous one, is that my conscience does not accuse me of anything.
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Post by draumr on Feb 23, 2017 20:49:50 GMT
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