Velho
Approved Character
- Messages
- 225
- Race
- Æld'Norai
- Profession
- Ferrier
- Location
- AElheim
- Arcana
- Character Sheet
༺༉❁ Spring 07 year 125 of the third age ❁༉༻
<Sequel thread to this. Though they are still currently in Hespæria, the majority of this should take place in Veiðrbrand, hence the location shift.>
Rune would note that Velho was no longer traveling on foot, for beneath his robes flowed a cloud of whorling Ashes; it would be easy to assume from the way the fabric hung that he’d Apparated both of his legs below the thigh and was intending to travel that way. This was as much because it was faster as because it was easier on his weary bones. He would also note that Velho was not carrying his belongings with his hands– rather, a strange, fleshy Tendril anchored to his back had emerged from a slit in the fabric of his robes to carry it close to his body. Life sure was easier with Apparation, wasn’t it?
“The inner city is not far, especially now that I’m no longer reliant on my legs,” Velho would comment with a short laugh.
“Yes– I’m surprised you didn’t hear of the portal connection being established, but I suppose that isn’t so unrealistic for one living in isolation,” Lucia added.
Unless Rune had any reason to protest, the group would be able to set out through the mystical swamp for Thokkmyrr’s Ældrísal.
As the group crossed the threshold of Själasalr and entered into the evening air, they were greeted first by a cool humidity and then the soft night song of the bog beyond. The chirping frogs and croaking toads added their occasional voices to the chorus, filling the shadowy forests with the sounds of life. Velho always found the gentle ambience of swamp sounds relaxing, oftentimes leaving windows open in whatever room he was working in at the time. He worried little about insects, as he had numerous species of carnivorous flora throughout the sequoia attracting whatever bugs dared enter any room.
The group would cross the rickety-looking yet surprisingly sturdy bridge which connected the funeral home to the mucky mainland; the journey across it was short, yet beautiful in a somber way as one slowly approached Själasalr’s glow. The journey the other way was still pretty– that which they were taking– though not as lovingly curated as the flora growing ‘round the establishment itself.
Over the years of Hespæride's reign, she'd introduced many of her favorite flora into the ecosystems, resulting in a landscape of wood painted eerie shades of purples, deep browns and even some greys. There were some vibrant flora, flowering things and the like, but many unfamiliar with the place might call it necromantic– living dead. Or, perhaps, they'd call it menacing, as Hespæride was also a fan of the carnivorous plants, some of which could be quite massive in Ælheim. That was in large part why Velho had so many small samples of different species thereof. Many were tokens of his childhood or gifts from his mother; this was a passion passed from mother to son.
As they walked, the wildness of the bog would slowly recede as Själasalr did into the shadows and the city buildings would come into view. Not that they were in stark contrast to the surrounding woods, no; they were grown out of marshlog trees for the most part with their strong, massive root systems lifting them up from the water like hardy tentacles. Most of the paths connecting the buildings were wood or stone for traction, and many of them were bridges given the relatively uneven terrain. Rather, what really gave away that they'd entered the city proper were the glow of the windows, the loving artwork carved or painted onto the walls, the beautiful displays of horticulture upon and around the architecture– and then, of course, the foot traffic of both Ælf and Fælnir.
They'd pass through the busy, arcane marketplace, then wander by the beautifully hewn library whose structure was a work of art in and of itself, and finally the large tree that served as the Ældrísal. Every Ældrísal was grown from a seed dropped by Ældrassil Himself, and thus they all grew to resemble Him in some form or fashion. Still, each possessed numerous quirks of their respective regions; many people would sometimes simply travel from city to city just to lay eyes on the unique beauty of each one as a form of vacation.
Thokkmyrr's Ældrísal was really quite similar to Ældrassil in coloration, maintaining deep, cosmic purples in both the brown of the wood and the leaves hanging in the boughs above. Contrastingly, though, it was decorated with oranges, yellows and reds– flora that glowed like motes of fire adorned it all over, giving it a haunting, bewitching sort of beauty.
“Have you ever spent much time in Thokkmyrr…? What do you think…?” Velho inquired as they approached.
The inside of the temple was just as breathtaking; the ceiling was so high up it made one feel small, decorated with glowing motes crossing the dark wood thereof resembling a whole galaxy of coruscant stars. The portals were large things, carved of wood from the tree and sat upon exquisite stone pedestals, limned with glowing, Aetheric Glyphics. Peering through them was hypnotic; though they were all labeled, if one recognized the inside of the other corresponding Ældrísal, one could find their way by simply looking at the shimmering image in-frame.
“The inner city is not far, especially now that I’m no longer reliant on my legs,” Velho would comment with a short laugh.
“Yes– I’m surprised you didn’t hear of the portal connection being established, but I suppose that isn’t so unrealistic for one living in isolation,” Lucia added.
Unless Rune had any reason to protest, the group would be able to set out through the mystical swamp for Thokkmyrr’s Ældrísal.
As the group crossed the threshold of Själasalr and entered into the evening air, they were greeted first by a cool humidity and then the soft night song of the bog beyond. The chirping frogs and croaking toads added their occasional voices to the chorus, filling the shadowy forests with the sounds of life. Velho always found the gentle ambience of swamp sounds relaxing, oftentimes leaving windows open in whatever room he was working in at the time. He worried little about insects, as he had numerous species of carnivorous flora throughout the sequoia attracting whatever bugs dared enter any room.
The group would cross the rickety-looking yet surprisingly sturdy bridge which connected the funeral home to the mucky mainland; the journey across it was short, yet beautiful in a somber way as one slowly approached Själasalr’s glow. The journey the other way was still pretty– that which they were taking– though not as lovingly curated as the flora growing ‘round the establishment itself.
Over the years of Hespæride's reign, she'd introduced many of her favorite flora into the ecosystems, resulting in a landscape of wood painted eerie shades of purples, deep browns and even some greys. There were some vibrant flora, flowering things and the like, but many unfamiliar with the place might call it necromantic– living dead. Or, perhaps, they'd call it menacing, as Hespæride was also a fan of the carnivorous plants, some of which could be quite massive in Ælheim. That was in large part why Velho had so many small samples of different species thereof. Many were tokens of his childhood or gifts from his mother; this was a passion passed from mother to son.
As they walked, the wildness of the bog would slowly recede as Själasalr did into the shadows and the city buildings would come into view. Not that they were in stark contrast to the surrounding woods, no; they were grown out of marshlog trees for the most part with their strong, massive root systems lifting them up from the water like hardy tentacles. Most of the paths connecting the buildings were wood or stone for traction, and many of them were bridges given the relatively uneven terrain. Rather, what really gave away that they'd entered the city proper were the glow of the windows, the loving artwork carved or painted onto the walls, the beautiful displays of horticulture upon and around the architecture– and then, of course, the foot traffic of both Ælf and Fælnir.
They'd pass through the busy, arcane marketplace, then wander by the beautifully hewn library whose structure was a work of art in and of itself, and finally the large tree that served as the Ældrísal. Every Ældrísal was grown from a seed dropped by Ældrassil Himself, and thus they all grew to resemble Him in some form or fashion. Still, each possessed numerous quirks of their respective regions; many people would sometimes simply travel from city to city just to lay eyes on the unique beauty of each one as a form of vacation.
Thokkmyrr's Ældrísal was really quite similar to Ældrassil in coloration, maintaining deep, cosmic purples in both the brown of the wood and the leaves hanging in the boughs above. Contrastingly, though, it was decorated with oranges, yellows and reds– flora that glowed like motes of fire adorned it all over, giving it a haunting, bewitching sort of beauty.
“Have you ever spent much time in Thokkmyrr…? What do you think…?” Velho inquired as they approached.
The inside of the temple was just as breathtaking; the ceiling was so high up it made one feel small, decorated with glowing motes crossing the dark wood thereof resembling a whole galaxy of coruscant stars. The portals were large things, carved of wood from the tree and sat upon exquisite stone pedestals, limned with glowing, Aetheric Glyphics. Peering through them was hypnotic; though they were all labeled, if one recognized the inside of the other corresponding Ældrísal, one could find their way by simply looking at the shimmering image in-frame.
Expert Apparation - Frequency
Arcane Reserves: 2.99
-0.33
Remaining: 2.66
Arcane Reserves: 2.99
-0.33
Remaining: 2.66
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