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Tul

CLOWN GANG!!!
Approved Character
Messages
29
Race
Human
Profession
Clown Ninja Spy Funny Boi
Location
At the Market!
Character Sheet
Tul Top.png

Spring 124 13th day, evening

Have you ever worked for your bead?
Or stolen it?​
Perhaps you baked it yourself?
better yet? had it baked for you?​
When does it taste best?


The clown, the thief, the bread eater, Tul sat on a rooftop overlooking the market of Thokkmyrr a piece of bread in either hand, one bought, one stolen, both warm and fresh. Taking a bite from one and then the other he could not for the life of himself ascertain a difference in flavor between the two loaves.
Tul continued to observe the bustling market below, taking in the sights and sounds of the various vendors and their wares. The evening sun beat down on the thatched roofs, casting long shadows across the bustling market. He could smell the sweet scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of spices from exotic fruits and vegetables, and the earthy aroma of roasted meats, that and the less subtle smell of many casks and bottles of wine and mead having their corks popped, something Tul wasn't entirely disinterested in either.

From his hidden vantage point in the eaves of a tavern he'd watched the market many times, there were several characters that worked within it and frequented it that he liked to watch, from the lovely widowed food stall lady, to the surly and shrewd old tinkerer, and the couple of pickpockets who thought themselves completely unknown… then there were the guards and witches both he avoided with as much fervor as the aforementioned pickpockets.

Catching his eye, a tent with a color of fabric he'd not seen in the market before, Purple with what looked like silver woven into the way it shimmered when the wind too it. With in sat an elderly woman who was selling various herbs and potions. He watched as she interacted with her customers, dispensing advice as readily as her wares. Her eyes sparkled as she talked, and to look as aged as she was, as an elf he wondered how old she truly was. He would have to peruse her wares at some point, he didn't like not knowing what was going on in the market.

With the sun finally setting the Clown slinked from his hiding place weaving into the crowds of day workers leaving and night workers coming. The best time of the evening to pick pockets, catch eyes, and get away with it too. One good shove could send any number of people into the swamp, and well in that chaos, it's hard to catch anyone. It helped that most guards didn't like getting their armor filthy, classy lot that they were. The traffic of course did not bother Tul in the slightest. Who was a regular within the market, most people simple knew him as "that clown, that odd boy, that funny lad, etc the guards of course had less flattering names for him. most people didn't know his name, but knew they'd known it at some point or another, but it had been this way for long enough most people did not question it.



Out of the corner of his eye Tul watched one of the pickpockets get brazen. A guard was talking to a pretty lady at a food stall, a prettier than usual lady even, who, was flirting back, it was in all honesty a perfect moment to strike at the mans coin purse, still sitting on the bar, completely forgotten and replaced by the eyeful of cleavage the law man was enjoying. Thus the purse was snatched, but, just because one can do something. Does not mean they should, Tul didn't mind the pickpockets, but he did mind guards spending too much time in the market, or having good reasons to step up the security within the market. With a silent agility Tul leaped from light post to fence pole to light post before landing with a silent thud right in front of the pick pocket, and expectant hand held out, and his head tilted to the slightest angle, he fixed a hollow pained expression upon his face, his crest making his visage more muted and gaunt.

The thief froze, staring into Tu's unblinking eyes for what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than three seconds, and without words, understanding was achieved. The thief handed the coin purse over. Tul took the purse with one hand, while gripping the man's other hand vigorously and excessively more color returning to his visage with each shake as a bright smile immediately returned to his countenance. Then spinning on his heel the clown vaulted back up a light post turned once more to the thief waggling his pointer finger at him before turning away.



Quickly returning to the guard who was still absorbed in the woman before him. Flipping onto scene Tul Bowed to the crowd of people trying to eat and drink at the stall. The guard right before him finally having his attention torn from the vixen, locking eyes with Tul, the clown smiled at the gimmer of both recognition and annoyance he saw in the guards eyes. He knew he was about to be the subject of the jesters antics, and he was right!

Rising from his Bow Tul snatched the helmet from the guards head. Ducked the first swipe the man made for him before rolling to the side and popping up a few feet away, the guards helmet now on his head. People were laughing and the guard was growing red in the face as he saw his would be date suppress a giggle behind her hand.



Tul Bottom.png
.​
 
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Hesperia. It was probably the dreariest of places that Sjal could ever hope to be sent to. The girl knew that it was an area famously founded on the backs of human slave labor. What struck her wasn't that, however – aelves had been using humans as slaves for millennia. What irked her was that all that effort had gone into developing dreary wetlands. She hated the entire biome, wishing she had been sent quite literally anywhere else. Alas, she was stuck there for the time being. Her father had gone off to tend to something or another, leaving her to try doing something productive with her time.

Sjal was dressed in black, somewhat tattered armor, a mix of metal and leather. It was worn, unimpressive, and had many patches where it'd been haphazardly repaired. At her side was a sheathed katana in similar condition. She was supposed to be getting a new set of equipment from her "mother" any day now, but for now she had to keep looking like this.

She lazily walked through the crowds, not having much money to spend. She had a drumstick in one hand, enough to keep her full for several hours. She was chewing a tough piece of meat when she noticed a commotion nearby. When she turned her head she saw an odd scene. A clown, a guard, and a pretty lady seemed to be the center of attention.

The clown put a smile on the half-dragon's face as he skillfully made a fool of the guard. She'd never seen an entertainer quite so brave. The man's movements impressed her enough to make her envy what could be accomplished by those who didn't wear armor.

"You better do something before he steals your woman too," Sjal joked as the man's face reddened further. He glared at her for a moment before fixing his eyes back on Tul. As if on cue, he reached for something, perhaps a weapon or maybe some shackles, Sjal couldn't tell.

She was interested to see how things played out. She figured that any self-respecting guard would try to punish the clown, but it was hard to see anyone catching the slippery fellow.

365

 
Tul Top.png
It was not as if this was the first time he'd antagonized the guards, but he did try to keep the results of their interactions somewhat neutral, Already he'd slipped the man's coin purse into the helmet, But that would not be enough to resolve the situation in a way where the poor guard could save some face, and at least this time, the man hadn't earned having his day ruined, yet anyways. Hearing someone from the crowd threaten the guard with the idea of the jester stealing his would be woman Tul snickered.

Swiping a hand over his face he used his crest to change the design of his make-up, from that of a smiling clown to a mustachioed caricature of a soldier. As the guard approached him Tul turned on his heel and stiffly marched away, staying just out of reach of the guard. Right as the man was about the catch him he'd step right off the wooden walkway of the market into the swamp, dropping out of site.

Of course, there was no splash, no sound really at all. For a moment, to all but the most observant viewer Tul had vanished, as he'd swung himself under the walkway by hooking a foot around a beam as he'd fallen.

Still a good act, couldn't risk losing momentum. Walking upside down under the pier by hooking his feet to the struts he made his way across the underbelly of the market quickly snatching up every blooming swamp flower he saw. One by one until a small bouquet had formed. With that, he righted himself and climbed topside again, now opposite the side he'd dropped off. Somersaulting back into everyone line of sight as if he'd never been gone at all. Dropping to a knee before the guard he presented him his shiny helmet, now filled with flowers and his wallet, a lovely combination Tul thought.

With resignation the offering was lifted from his hands, between the pressure to save face and with a bouquet in hand the situation seemed to be remedied. Perhaps even so remedied he wouldn't notice his purse was a single gold coin lighter…



Leaving the guard to present his honey with the flowers Tul looked around form something interesting to do, or barring that, someone to bother~



A new face in the crowd, in a armor that wasn't local… most of the leather armor from Hesparia was made of alligator leather, which bore a familiar visage, her armor was scuffed, and patched, but most certainly not gator.

Walking into their line of site the Jester would weave between pedestrians as the approached the newcomer, or at least unfamiliar face. Every time someone intersected between them breaking line of Site Tul changed something about his appearance. The girl before him had brown eyes like his, though a bit darker, until he changed eyes to match, then when the next passerby intersected them his hair grew darker, like hers, then his make-up highlighting his face to falsely more shaped like hers. Before coming to stand about ten paces away from her. Then to complete the bit, he mirrored her posture, staring at her with whatever intensity she chose to look at him with.



He would then mirror any move she made other than an attempt to attack him, which he would attempt to jump or flip away from.





Tul Bottom.png
 


Sjal giggled as Tul made his exit and thought that it was all over. The laughter died down and people went about their business once more. Something told the girl that the clown's antics were a common enough occurrence around here for people to simply accept them at face value and get on with their lives. Some of his tricks had been odd though – he'd changed the appearance of his face in an instant and he'd seemed to disappear. It seemed magical though Sjal had no idea what it was, exactly.

She was content with going about her day but the clown had other plans for her. She saw him appear a ways in front of her and something about him seemed to change every time she blinked. In a short period of time he started to look like a girl, no, he was copying her appearance.

Sjal frowned slightly and furrowed her brow when Tul stopped in front of her. She stopped as well, wondering what his deal was. It was then that she noticed that he was copying her perfectly. He didn't have the armor or sword… but it still looked convincing.

"How does this work? Do you just copy me?" she asked as she tried to release some tension in her shoulders. She waved her hand then hopped twice, and after that she did a backflip to see if he'd be able to copy all that. She didn't particularly mind being copied, at least not yet.

Assuming he could and would, she'd say, "wow, that's impressive! Where did you learn to do all that?"

632

 
༺༉❁ March 13 year 124 of the third age ❁༉༻
<notes>
Æhti had been out running a few errands for his ælven master when he came across a peculiar scene. A guard robbed, and then given his wallet back by a jester after being rather thoroughly humiliated. To be fair, though, if he were to take the stranger's jests as a good sport, then everyone would benefit, he supposed.

And while Æhti was told to be punctual, he couldn't help his own curiosity. He moved through the crowd to get a better view as those events unfolded, and was not that far away once the young man had chosen his next target. A victim to his games, a willing participant? He couldn't really tell, but the young woman seemed to be responding to the jester in good humour. The perfect mimicry was a neat trick, at least.

And so Æhti would approach, an unassuming young Fælnir man with a stocky, muscular sort of build and a bit shorter than average. He was dressed fairly simply, unarmed and unarmored. And given the fact that his tunic had no sleeves, two magemarks– Terra and Aqua would be visible. A keen observer might be able to spot his Aboteur's mark on the back of his neck, half covered by the hem of his shirt, too.

"How are you copying her like that?" He'd ask, genuinely curious about what Arcana it was. And if it wasn't, he'd be even more curious, bizarre phenomenon that would be.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Æhti } ༉༻•══════════꧂​


꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​
 

The clown Smiles.gif

His mimicry was, decent, maybe even good, reading body language when it came to seeing how someone was going to telegraph their next physical movement made it easy enough to copy actions, but he could not copy a voice tell he'd heard it, and he wasn't quite so talented as to be able to say someone's words back at them as they said them. But he could answer her questions in her own voice,



"Until I get bored I do~, As for where I learned it~ Well, just now, from you!" he said coquettishly dancing around the question she asked. Him. It was after all a very good question, but he wasn't sure he could answer it in a sincere way that would or could be made sense of by any sane individual. Crest… whatever it was.. wasn't like regular magic as far as he understood. He could cast no spells nor create things from thin air, but, he could do, most things he wanted to, if he wanted to change his voice, he did, his face the same, but that wasn't a fun or interesting explanation.

Before he could pontificate further however another voice entered the fray, another question.
Always How, how do you do it, How did that happen, how are you In my room, etc, Nobody ever asks the interesting questions.

Covering his face with his hands the clowns slowly drags his hands down now revealing a face similar to Æhti's own masculine structure restored. Then Straightening his back adopted the posture of the newcomer, his countenance changing, Cracking his hands and rolling his shoulders he inflated relaxed muscles and clenched his jaw, his physiology rolling under his clothing physical changes accented by the performative magic of crest, each new role adopted becoming the goal of the dramatic magics that danced in his blood.



"How, the masters asked me to be everything they needed, and so I became nothing, so that I could be everything… Surely fellow slaves like yourselves must understand the desire to server our pointy eared benefactors, those that graciously sponsor our wellbeing~ How? How could I do any less." Saying all this in Æhti's voice The clown Smiled before exhaling what felt like too much air as his body deflated to it's natural neutral state.

"Understanding would only cause suffering, revel in the bliss of ignorance! Kill the you that thinks it's you and set free the truth you swallow" Saying this the clown reached into his mouth a pulled forth the beginnings of a small flag that had the word "truth" written on it, the flag tied to another and another that disappeared into the darkness of the clowns mouth,


Emphatically pointing at the word truth he'd regurgitated the clown said. "SHeeee… ish… Shimple" Before yanking the flag causing it to elastically snap back into his mouth.
 


Seeing the clown's features change in real time to match AEhti's confirmed that some kind of magic was in use. Though, she was more impressed than curious at this point. "Wow, that's really something," she'd say with a laugh.

The half dragon's grin faltered slightly as the clown went on with his 'act'. She got the impression that he was not entirely sincere about serving the aelves. His words were correct but Sjal thought only the most brainwashed of the faelnir or the sarcastic would say such things. The girl assumed the clown was the latter. She had grown up to revere the aelves and be very respectful towards them. It wasn't until very recently did she start to get the impression that perhaps the faelnir weren't treated as well as they deserved to be.

"Are the aelves also entertained by your act?" she'd ask after her eyes widened at the flag trick. "I'm curious because I'm surprised to come across someone as skilled as yourself out and about on their own." She was, of course, referencing how strong faelnir mages had the honor of being sacrificed. But… this ability to change his one's appearance didn't seem all that useful at face value. Perhaps the aelves didn't think it was worth it, or maybe the man was simply too slippery to get caught.

855
 
<notes>
It was, admittedly, disturbing to watch the once-woman transform into a visage modeled after his very own. Even further, it was exquisitely strange to watch this apparent clone of his gesticulate and move, speak in his voice, so on– it was one thing to see a clone of oneself, and another for it to animate. What's more, it made him wonder if the form of a boy he took while he was interacting with the guard was his own, or if it was something he'd copied. He blinked, appearing a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise he was silent as the entity before them spoke.

Æhti wasn't quite sure what to make of what the other said, really, and so he waited for the girl beside him to say anything before he'd reply. And in her case, she seemed enchanted with the stranger's performance– her question was a fair one, too. He also wondered how the Æld'Norai viewed this one. He, however, was more interested in learning about what the other meant by 'I became nothing.'

"When you say you became nothing, what did you mean? Did you slip your binds? How does one serve well at all when one is nothing?" He asked with a curious cant to his head. Because, in his case, he imagined his own master would not appreciate it if he became anything that fit the definition of 'nothing.'

"...and it's less that I desire to serve and more that, well…there's no better option. Serving somebody of import has more pros than cons, at least." he continued, purposefully vague.

Or was that even true? Velho had Æhti frequently risking his life– were there truly more pros, or had he simply resigned himself to the tides of fate, or rather, to Velho's whimsy?

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Æhti } ༉༻•══════════꧂​


꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​
 
꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Reviewed/Canon } ༉༻•══════════꧂​

Rewards

Tul

+19 XP (1,969 wc)

Själ (Cælum)

+9 XP (855 wc)

Æhti

+5 XP (536 wc)

Comments

This thread is being graded because Cælum (and consequently Själ) has been retired.

Tul is a charming character and I quite liked this interaction; I'd love to write with you again when you come back!

꧁══════════•༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​
 

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Antarok is a living forum roleplaying game with experience-based progression where time flows in the game as it does in the real world.
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