Durion Caranthir

Fanya Niasa
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83 Setting the Bar High

About Durion Caranthir

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    Francois Telombre
  • RACE
    Mixed Elf - Southern/High
  • JOB
    Lord of Megildur / President of Narwa
    Amapa, Brazil - Tumucumaque National Park
    Corporate Oligarchs
    5'5" - unusually tall for a Southern Elf but he is mixed blood
    Ebony hair flutters down to his hips, often intricately woven in patterns down his spine.

    While he has the slender form of the elves, he is a bit more muscular than the average Southern Elf. His mixed heritage on his world blended Southern Elf, High Elf and what is believed to be simple human as close as his Great Great Great Grandfather. But his larger size and more muscular form which made him an outcast on his world, has also made him stronger and more durable, better suited to the less hospitable Earth. He has adapted his elven flair to the clothing of this world, his range going from simple jeans and elaborate t-shirts to flamboyant velvet coats with tails.
    While incredibly charismatic and people are drawn to him in droves, the elf is also a bit of a megalomaniac. He has a need to seek power. He also suffers from a fierce sense of entitlement for all the "wrongs" he was done in his previous life.

    Durion is as comfortable seducing his latest conquest as he is doling out punishments for those that he feels have crossed him.

    He loves a good party and throws big ones.

    He is one of the few elves that while flamboyant does not exude "dandy" but rather some haunting sensual prowess that tends to attract others like moths to the flame.
    Megildur (formerly Amapa - Tumucumaque National Park) This is a former preserve in Brazil that extended approximately 15,000 sq miles; one of the smallest national parks in South America. As one of the first stranded elves in the territory he did not gravitate towards the cities as the displaced humans had, Durion instead headed for the elven nirvana, claiming the difficult to traverse wilderness. Now Megildur boasts his large manor and a number of smaller homes, owned by his "people".

    Narwa - the export company is based in Megildur and the core of his financial stability.

    His elven harp - a masterpiece of elven carving that somehow had come with him in the great break between worlds

    An elven bow and quiver also from home.


    Durion had a mild ability to encourage things to grow on his world but nothing that rivaled most elven. In 2010 when he was dropped on this world he found the plants responded more readily to his encouragement. Still not a big power but it was more than he had once had. But then 2013 corrupted South America. When he woke from his unconscious stupor he found he was cocooned in an exquisite hammock of wood that had molded into a shelter against the world. His power had magnified to something so much more than simply encouraging plants to grow.

    Inherent Weakness: These limitations apply across the board to all of his abilities.
    1) Durion must be able to move. The fluid motion of the elf is like a reed on the wind. If he is bound tight enough, or incapacitated, he cannot use his ability. Movement functions as a connecting meditation to the earth and plants around him.
    2) All material moved/shaped must be natural. Processed steels, concrete, and other man-made materials, despite their original earthly derivation CANNOT be moved or worked with. This also means that if he attempts to pull Earth or Stone through concrete, it can take time for him to access it as well as extra energy expended.
    3) Extensive and focused use of his abilities has a debilitating effect on his body. His fluid motions begin to stiffen and slow. His reaction times degrade, until he is eventually unable to move. If he takes it this far he will fall into a stupor like sleep for a full day as occurred when he terra-architected his glorious manor.

    If a vertical surface has enough natural earth, stone or plant in it, he can cling to those surfaces with his feet or hands like a bug climbing a wall. His feet, for this to work, would have to be bare. Limit: it must be natural materials (dirt, stone etc), he cannot, for example, climb up a skyscraper in this manner.

    By causing the earth around him to vibrate back and forth, he can create dust clouds of various sizes to provide cover. Will not work if he is on manipulated earth (streets, tar, concrete)

    Taking Terracloud to the next level he can force the ground to crack and open up into a fissure. The size will vary based on the stability of the ground to begin with but typically it can be a gaping hole 5-6 ft wide, 12-20 ft deep and 20-50 ft long. In an unstable Cliffside he could potentially cleave a section of stone right off the side to fall below. Something much larger than his typical will drain him.

    Durion can forcibly sink an opponent into the ground, imprisoning or even suffocating them in the earth. As the distance his ability has to travel in the earth weakens the effect, the person needs to be within 75 feet for this ability to sink them more than to their ankles. At 100 feet away there is no effect. But within 30 ft can be very dangerous as the elf can sink a person up to their neck in the earth around them.

    Terrawall: Is able to cause a wall of earth up to five feet thick, fifteen feet high and thirty feet long to rise out of the ground in a single formation. This wall will offer as much protection as the earth that created it, if the earth is sandy it will be weak but if the earth is riddled with stone this wall can be like a concrete structure. The wall can be erected no further than 50 feet away from himself and doing it more than once will deplete his reserves.

    Terralaunch: He can cause blocks of solid earth and stone to rise from the ground up to four feet in diameter and then by either kicking or hitting them can launch them with inhuman strength at a target. These can be launched up to 50 yards and with the force of a Mack truck.

    Terra-Manipulation: He can make things grow as well as invoke movement in the plants. Vines for example can be used to snap like a whip or to ensnare. The plant must be within line of site for him to do so and causing anything to extend or grow beyond a natural 20 yr growth pattern is draining.

    Terra-Architect: Durion is able to create monolithic works of art from earth and plants. Encouraging trees to grow and the rock to reform until structures such as his own manor are created. Able to manipulate the rocks and earth around his home, he even realigned waterfalls to come down in the roof of his bathroom and run under the wood and stone floors to exit from under his porch. This is a much more intense focus ability and he is often forced to rest during larger creations or else suffer from his stupor sleep to recover.
    Charismatic leadership - Durion still managed to have an interesting following on his world despite his outcast status. He has a knack for making people follow him and even go so far as protect him, putting themselves in danger.

    Archery - One thing he truly had excelled at on his home world was his skill with a bow and arrow. The contests he had been permitted to enter were always won by the dark haired beauty. Now it has become what it was truly meant for, a survival skill that helps put meat on the table and keeps invaders at bay.

    Harp - His long fingers are best suited for two things, playing a woman, and playing his massive harp. The elf learned from his mother, a skill he didn't share on his own world but on earth it has become something he enjoys to do, particularly as it often leaves the people around him in awe.

    Seduction - in earthen terms, Durion is a playboy, and a good one. He likes his fancy things and his fancy women. It seems almost an unnatural skill the way they often will fall to his feet, but in truth it is simply his personal magnetism mixed with a real flare for seducing.
    The dark haired child was born under a bad star. His mother was high born, his father.... was not. She had tried to lose the pregnancy on more than one occasion, unsure if the child she carried belonged to her high born husband, or the fling she had dared to have. The answer came when the child of the angel blond couple came out dark as the devil. The birth had been particularly hard on his mother as well, she had been petite even for an elf, his mixed blood had made even his bone structure large for a baby. The father he would never know clearly had human somewhere in his heritage.

    He was outcast immediately. His "father" instantly recognizing the child as not his. Without his mothers knowledge, in the middle of the night the child was whisked away and left on the doorstep of an old woodland elf woman.

    That might have been the end of his story, but the old woman had spent her life childless and marked "evil" by her own village which was how she had come to live alone in the woods. And then there was his mother. By the time she had recovered, the child was gone two months. It was from one of their servants she learned of his fate. When her husband was away, the delicate woman instead of seeking the bed of other men, now sought the side of her outcast son.

    The two women raised him with all the strength he would one day "rule" his domain on earth with.

    Falathiel, the old woman, taught the boy the woodland skill with the bow. He was barely more than a child when he began to best her with his own skill. Meanwhile his mother taught him the manners of the high born, and with them, the beauty of the harp.

    As a young adult the elf had learned to "blend" in regular society. His mother had given him a taste for the finer things and he sought to garner a place in the society that shunned him that would grant him those things. He was forever learning he was not as "good" as others, yet forever proving he could perform better than those "above" him.

    His personality warped in the world that didn't agree with his lofty goals. Those of even lower status were drawn to him and he was content to entice them to wait on him hand and foot. He also was a favorite in the beds of high born girls that would in public never admit to even looking at him but were all too eager to thrill at his dark caress.

    Durion early had a taste for the finer things that his mother had but never shared with him, a fact that as he grew older made him bitter towards her. She was trying to hold him down like everyone else. He grew into a devious nature that bordered on megalomaniac.

    After the 2010 Nevus Event:
    Durion had come into his full adulthood as Captain. It was about the highest rank he was going to be permitted considering his lack of lineage. He had an entourage of nearly 20 that looked up to him and cater to his whims much like servants did the high born.

    It was about then that the world ripped asunder.

    It was 2010 on earth, the world that he and a portion of his home was torn and dropped upon when the worlds overlapped. All the work to gain what he had... decades of scrapping... and he was now on a world, alone, with nothing once again.

    But this world he quickly learned was "new". the hierarchy of his old world didn't exist here. He was no less than any other soul scrapping for survival. And that was something he could exploit.

    While people were scurrying to get to cities and find supplies. The elf that could live in the woods with just his bow and arrow, hauled his harp into the wilds of Brazil, finding nirvana in the Amapa national park. Once he had established a home, Durion began to venture out to find new "followers", quickly learning that his charm drew people to him. The ease with which he settled into a life in the new world was a draw to elves and fae that found themselves struggling to come to grips with their new life. He was the example to live by and many came with him into his wilderness retreat, slowly building a village unto itself.

    But people were only part of power on this world. The other part was riches. He needed to send something into the big world to be able to truly gain the status he was after.

    Narwa - The time he had on earth before South America was glutted with elves from a dozen other realms was used wisely. His charisma drew the destitute quickly to his flock. It was not too long before he began to understand the way the world had been before the 2010 event and what it was now. There was a dire need for supplies that he readily had at his fingertips in Amapa. Narwa was born. The company is the single largest exporter of Iron Ore, Soybeans, Sugar and perhaps most profitable at the moment, Coffee.

    His power had grown but nothing like it did after 2013. The blend of worlds that occurred in 2013 across South America was unprecedented. When Durion woke in a tree cocoon protection of his own making, he knew that he had finally come into real power. Now to see what he could do with it.

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  1. He was being assessed. The cerulean gaze retaining their icy indifference as he studied the boatman in return. “I don’t smuggle, labor or goods, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m truly sorry if any passengers I’ve ferried led you to believe that. I’m not sure what could have given them that impression.” It is neither labor nor goods I seek you to handle. Nor is it smuggling. Eyes watched the ease with which the knife was utilized. A fighter. The elf was also trained but not in such mundane weapons, nor for such vulgar combat as hand to hand. He could strike an arrow through a victim's eye from further than most of these humans could see. “If you need workers, why don’t you just advertise for them and a fair wage. I’m sure people need work and would be willing to travel to assist you. I’d be happy to transport if they need it. From Ireland, New York… anywhere.” There was the faintest crinkle at the corner of ageless eyes, betraying a frown. Oh yes…. of course… why had I not thought of such a thing…. and that way they can be more easily slaughtered as they answer the ad? A stray ribbon of ebony silk was pushed back to wind behind the elongated ear as the pupils flushed in the watery abyss of vibrant irises .. As I said… I am not looking for a smuggler…. I need a rescuer. He froze, head turning slightly, the ears rotating back as he turned back to the man, words overlapping as the other seemed to already have taken notice. “You might" …you have… "want to stay here," ..company… "Outworlder,” Brow quirked as the man made his way out. So he noticed such things so easily. He was the right man. The head of Narwa needed such an outworlder to take on the burden of ferrying the others to safety. Someone that could protect them as it was the elf's experience that so many of them had not figured out how to be "powerful" in this world, living in fear and hiding. He found they were miserable at protecting their own lives. "I’ll get rid of him.” Head inclined in thanks, the elegant gesture betraying a royal lineage that he had built for himself. “Mr. Stevens,” Ears dipped, the eyes narrowing as he slid the phone from his pocket. He loathed the thing but found it a necessary evil at times. Flicking it open he pressed the speed dial for Enaleri. I' lunt adan na-or i adan o vedui aur. Ho lothron baur dambeth, ben gweri- ho na- ú- na n- telyg. Cheb-tir. ((The boatman is above with the man from yesterday. He may need rescue, or betray he is not to be trusted. Keep watch.)) Phone snapped shut as sensitive ears listened beyond the walls of the vessel. The encounter would be telling. It was very possible the elf himself could be in danger if the outworlder had sold out to the Vanguard. It was a risk he was willing to take. The need was far too great.
  2. “Are you following up for Mr. Stevens from yesterday?” Ebony brow quirked elegantly upward. Mr Stevens? Most assuredly not. And I would recommend caution if this was the individual that came in the late noon hour yesterday. My contact advised there was a good chance he was a Vanguard representative. It was becoming apparent the elf was no disconnected "outworlder". He waited patiently until the hazel eyes glanced back to him before offering to talk inside. Cerulean eyes did not watch the plank come down but rather the water between the boat and the dock. Something had caught attentive eyes and ears, brow quirking upward once more before letting the gaze drift back up to the boatman. Interesting. Beckoned over, the leather shoes covered the distance in just a couple strides. Hands gently clasped behind his back as he waited for the man to raise the plank, then followed him below deck. Nostrils flared at a familiar scent. His higher end line of coffee beans were percolating on the air. The harvests off his lands had distinctly rich smells and were not found elsewhere in the world that he had found. Cerulean slid over the dark woods, appreciating their exotic grain before pausing on the blades. They didn’t all have the look of weaponry made on this world. All things said the boatman was outworlder. “I don’t have free time, Mr. Caranthir. I ship things, that is my time. I picked this coffee up on a trip to South America. Wanted to see if I could actually make the trip, had a few friends that wanted to go, had some things to trade, it looked interesting. Ended up keeping it for myself… that happens sometimes. Want anything to drink, eat? I have an amazing coconut water I picked up south, Kilbeggan I picked up in Galway. Not a fan of the Kilbeggan. Anything from the Isles smells like turpentine to me.” The elf listened in silence as he took the offered seat, the eyes lightly trailing over details others missed. One's surroundings said much about the owner. “I would say then… I’m a trader of sorts. People want things, I go get them. People want to go somewhere, I take them there while delivering other things. I have a few regular routes, but mostly go where the business is. Not sure how that could be helpful to you since I'm not large enough for mass freight, but I do go where most won't, which has it's interesting applications.” Ears had dipped a little as he listened to every word. Long breath pulled at the end of the speech before the elf finally spoke. Not looking for mass freight. That I already have. Far too "visible" for the task at hand. Crystalline gaze watched the hands work the old coffee brew press. It was a much better way to create the drink than those infernal machines the earthborn were married to. The coffee you are brewing comes from my lands. I recognize its scent easily… and your "friends" now all work for me. It was why they "wanted to go" to the southern continent in the first place. It was one of them that let me know of your…. work. Head tilted as the eyes finally settled on the boatman with an unnervingly direct gaze. I am looking for someone to regularly bring more "friends" to the southern continent… specifically from the Ireland region at the moment. It hung in the air ominously. Such an expedition, particularly on a regular basis, would definitely put the one ferrying in danger. The elf was asking a lot of this "business proposition".
  3. The vaguely confused expression didn’t vanish, only punctuated with a faint frown as the amused smirk was not missed. Clearly there was something the elf didn’t understand as the boatman clothed himself. The nod towards the dark bumpers didn’t really clear anything up for the head of NARWA as he quirked a brow at the man. “What can I do for you.. Mr..?” …Caranthir. While the soft accent could be mistaken for many things when he normally spoke, when his own name crossed his lips the lyrical heritage that belonged only to those not of this world was betrayed…. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say was proudly on display. Cerulean watched the exchange between boatmen. Was this really the one he was looking for? Seemed so…. amiable… with these earthians. If not for the clearly unearthly writing that had been on the skin of the man, he would have serious doubts the man was outworlder at all. As it was…… Muireadach is it? The name was in the file, the lyrical pronunciation however was all his own. It had a cadence and syllable percussion like elven names, rolling easily. I have a long term business proposition for you. Head tilted slightly studying the man. One I believe you will be interested in because I have reason to believe you are already doing what I would be asking for in your free time. It was a subtle hint but yet not so subtle. The elf clearly had not gotten his information from a business deal. The original source had actually been an outworlder that this boatman had supposedly rescued. There was either truth to the story, or this man had no clue and would be a useless sell out like so many outworlders the elf had come across… groveling at the feet of the more populous of the planet. Perhaps we can talk inside? He was not risking the outside world knowing what he was doing even before it had begun.
  4. Nostrils huffed as the ears tuned into the surroundings. Eyes were caressing over the concrete structures that dotted the harbor and across the bay. He loathed the cold indifference of these things the earthborn seemed to treasure. There was no life in the homes they built themselves. Their cities were "dead" things. Eyes returned to the ship, ears continuing to hone in on the soft lap of water and the first breach of its surface. For all his pomp and circumstance the elf was a patient creature. He had spent a lifetime waiting for his turn to rule, to step out of the squalor he had been born into. It had taught him infinite patience…… most of the time. The drip of water off skin tilted the ears faintly down under the dark curtain. Crystalline gaze drug over skin as the man emerged over the edge of the dock. The pale ink caught the attentive eyes, tracing over the muscles as the patterns were instantly recognized as exotic writing, a fact likely lost on the ignorant earthborn. This was his boatman….. he was sure of it. “Kicking tires?” Lips parted only to close with a genuine puzzled expression. Head tilted as eyes glanced around the area looking for something before cerulean orbs came back to the man, ebony brow lifting. There are no tires….. and why would I kick it if there was one here? The simple question exposed the elf as an outworlder. He did business with the world abroad but he secluded himself in South America with other stranded races. The nuances of earth expression were lost on him unless shared by the Iron elf that ran his ore division. He came in contact with the earthborn far more than the head of NARWA. As if on cue the billow of morning breeze caught the ebony silk that hung down his shoulders, exposing the elongated ears that curled back along his skull.
  5. Normally he would have travelled via Eris. Woman had an air vehicle that was better suited to his status in this world. But she was an outsider and this entire endeavor was strictly for his own kind. He trusted her with his business, not his people. No earthborn could be trusted with his own. As it was he frowned at the small prop planes ragged interior as it bounced in for a less than smooth landing at the deserted Republic airport out in Long Island. It was a strip the veil crosser pilot used to stay undetected. The kid was not talkative which was something the elf appreciated, but he wasn’t the best pilot, which the elf found annoying. npc: Thanks for…. The elf half lifted his hand in dismissal of the thanks as he trotted down the two steps that fell open on the side of the plane. Lights ahead turned on to show where the car was sitting. Finally, some luxury…. thank goodness. Sliding into the leather backseat he pulled the door shut as Enaleri put the sleek Lincoln Towncar into drive, the folder passed over her shoulder to him. npc: Looks like the one we are looking for is currently docked in the harbor making repairs to his boat. Mmmm He flipped through the sparse number of pictures of the man. Didn’t look like an Outworlder but looks could be deceiving. The friendly fae at the wheel was used to his curt behavior as she continued. npc: ….looks like we are not the only ones trying to find him either. Our Crea contact thinks the ones inquiring about him may be hostile. Earthborn parasites likely…. Npc: Perhaps….. The sun was just beginning to dust the sky with dawns light as the towncar pulled in along the main dock of the harbor. npc: He might not want to be a part of it you know Durion. Her words held a humor in them as she put the car in park. The idea that anyone said no to the head of NARWA was an absurdity. Even she as a fae was drawn to the flame. More important than his charisma however, he actually protected their own, something she had seen the council didn’t seem to actually care about doing. Smirk lit his lips as he tossed the file onto the seat next to him and slid out of the car door, slamming it shut without another word. Hands slid into the pocket of the elegant Armani slacks as he strode down the dock that held the bobbing boat he had seen in the pictures at the end. The gray tone of the fashionwear beautifully framing the lavender button down underneath the blazer. It was actually a bit tamer than his usual fair, his ebony hair hung loose to flutter down at his hips as the morning breeze picked up. Cerulean orbs traced the lines of the vessel before the Ferragamo leather toe reaching out to lightly tap on the hull, "knocking" to see if the boatman was home.
  6. Unclothed foot slapped down on the bare ass with enough force to leave a red blush on the nearly white flesh. You are still in my bed. Yawn expanded his lips as the elf's bare feet padded towards the open double doors that led to his bathroom. The cream silk on the bed moved, a cerulean cascade of curls emerging from the sheets to peek gray eyes up after the man as he pulled the ebony locks through his hands to one side, exposing the sinewy muscled back and dimpled cheeks. The fae might have been horribly insulted but instead the smile lit the corners of her lips before she stretched and wormed her way out of the sheets. Truth was, as insolent and dismissive a playboy as he was in the morning, the Lord of Megildur was one hell of an attentive lover in the evening. It was not the first time she had been kicked out of his bed in the morning, it wouldn’t be the last, and she was far from the only woman that shared the dismissal fate. Passing through the carved doors his dark hair shimmered with the morning sunshine as it glittered down through the glass ceiling that defied gravity, the limbs he had architected folding in beautiful sinews across the expanse to nestle the glass between the branches. Expertly cradled against the mountainside, his shower was a natural waterfall that fell through a breach in the glass ceiling. It was frigid in the winters, cold in the summers, and nirvana for the elf that was a part of nature more than the concrete jungles of man. As he stood hip deep in the stream, water cascading over his head, the sensitive ears listened to the fae vacate his bed, her lyrical hum wandering all the way out of the masterpiece that was his home. Eyes that reflected the depth of ocean waters closed as he ran his hands over the cascade of ebony on his head. She had been a distraction at best. The council had gone mad. They had their heads in the sand regarding this outworlder registration. They had decided they would stay put and offer no help to those outside their borders, nor would they bow to the registration. They were asking for war to come to their shores. Truth was a war didn’t concern the elf, it was the complete abandon of the outworlders that had yet to find their way to South America that boiled his blood. Just because they had been fortunate enough to get stranded on this world on the southern continent, didn’t give them the right to see the others as less than them. Well…..all were not as grand as him in his own eyes, but he also protected his own… something the council was SUPPOSED to be in place to do. Well the council might sit idle, but he wouldn’t. Wet strides pulled him out of the stream, robe snapped off the wall and wrapped loosely around himself as he padded through the stone hallways. If he was going to start intervening he was going to need a transporter and while Eris had proved good for hauling his cargo, he wouldn’t trust outworlders to an earthborn no matter how much he trusted already. No…. he needed an outworlder and he had heard rumors of one already doing exactly what he sought, ferrying outworlders out of harms way. They just needed a place to go. That was where the head of NARWA came in. Megildur had room for hundreds more outworlders, and the thankful tended to be loyal so it was a win-win for the elf. He needed to find that boatman. A quick call had transportation on its way. He was heading to New York. That was where the rumor came from, that was where he would poke around. It was time he took action.
  7. He had felt Kashmir step away. Guards had likely finally caught up to their "attack" on the council. He didn’t care. [durion]…you shut the humans out of these southern lands completely and you are asking for a war![/durion] While the head of Meglidur had absolutely no love for the humans, would be happy to watch them perish in their own ignorant blood, he was not willing to have his empire and his "people" destroyed in the process. Apparently he had touched a nerve as Huor slammed his hands on the table and stood. [npc]Perhaps it is time a war came to put these creatures back in their place![/npc] Alatariel lifted a brow now. While she was content to play politics on the Council, she herself had no desire to be a part of bloodshed. Command others to do it yes…. but she would likely find a reason to be out of the city if Huor had his war. [npc]…they wish to pass their law… we will pass our own. Our lands….our laws. Harboring a human within our territory will become a crime and….[/npc] [durion]You cannot be serious! They will come in torrential waves to obliterate us…[/durion] [npc]Let them come…[/npc] There was a dark and ominous tone in Huor's words. He was insane… but he was dead serious. [npc]You forget your place as always Durion. These lands are the only remnants of our lost worlds and I will not have the filth of humans determine we are not entitled to them.[/npc] This had taken an ill fated turn. [npc]… they hunted us because they feared us, the magic we have brought with us. They only stopped when we dominated this domain, only then did they stop pressing down into our lands.[/npc] [durion]…yes but humans still are scattered throughout all this continent Huor, this was their home before we ever arrived. You cannot just drive them out….[/durion] [npc]…watch me…[/npc] The snarl from the head of the council didn’t bode well. Rio was already predominantly elven and fae, but there were a straggling array of humans still within its walls. If Huor started down this path, Rio would be the first to have its streets run with blood. [durion]... you cannot declare war on the humans without the other council's agreement....[/durion] The smirk on the light elves lips clearly disagreed with the dark haired mogul. [npc]... you are mistaken. TIRITH![/npc] As Huor called for the guard the cerulean orbs fell to Alatariel, surely she would.... the glint of a grin on her lips and shrug told him she would not stand in Huor's way. This would not end well.....
  8. ((ACK - so sorry! Missed that I still owed this post!)) [ishsa]You do not like me? Are you certain this is true?[/ishsa] [durion]… silly human fae-thing. I neither like nor dislike you. You are at best… [/durion] Cerulean orbs flicked over his shoulder back towards the break in the trees where the vile structures of the humans towered in angular disharmony, disgusted expression ghosting over his features. [durion]…….a distraction at the moment.[/durion] Cerulean orbs flicked to the flighty thing as she danced around once more. [ishsa] Then we must meet in the middle. You from your Light, I from Dark - in the Shadow lands of neither and both there lay enchantment. [/ishsa] Chuckle was dark as the orbs slid half closed her way, the look almost menacing. [durion]…. to meet in the middle would assume we are somehow on equal footing you silly fae-thing. And the truth is far from it.[/durion] He watched her push the stick through the snow and dirt, brow quirking as she made a circle. [ishsa] Step in. Step in… if you dare to leave your precious Light.[/ishsa] Dark chuckle bubbled up in his chest once more as head shook, the ebony silk behind his shoulders swaying on the cold wind. [durion]… you show your ignorance child of Eve. No elf worth their ears would willingly walk into a fae-drawn circle….even a human-fae drawn one.[/durion] Trees barren of leaves groaned in the shiver of night air as limbs bended unnaturally, crowding down around them in his own "circle" prison. [durion]…do the simpleton humans so blindly play with your flights of fancy?[/durion]
  9. This damn council had been nothing more than an attempt by a few to establish an elitist elven upper class on this new world. But they had found out early there was not enough willing to bow down to an upper class anymore. On the contrary. That had been when they shifted their "story" to be the council over the out-worlders to "help keep them cohesive and safe". What was it the humans said…..?......Bullshit? Yes…. It was all Bullshit. A fact very apparent as they clearly saw this news as no threat to them or those that had sought sanctuary in South America. He was vaguely aware of the Iron elf at his side trying to slow down the fire that had built in the head of Narwa. There were times the head of the Iron division could diffuse the volcano…this was not one of those times as he barged in and for all intensive purposes called the council idiots. [kashmir]If I may.[/kashmir] Cerulean snapped to him, dark brows dipped deep as if daring him to challenge his words. [kashmir] Even if you do not care about the demonization of we who are not of this world, at least respect the effect this will have on our cash flow. Not just for NARWA, but for every single business owned and operated by an off worlder. Any enterprise that does business with the humans will immediately be branded with the term "off-worlder," as though we who have given years to the betterment of this world are not entitled to be part of it. [/kashmir] The diplomat. Durion could be a dangerous diplomat. He just rarely seemed to use those great skills here with this council. There was a deep seeded loathing that had festered over decades of living under the thumb of the elven "elite". He would never bow down again. Kashmir on the other hand. It was probably for the best that the Iron elf tended to come with him when he stormed out to confront the council. It happened often and thus far, he still had not been squashed by the "elitists". He had Kashmir to thank in part for that. It also didn’t hurt that nearly 100% of Narwa's employees were outworlders and nearly all felt some loyalty to the head of the company that had given them a purpose in this world. The two elves of the council did not have nearly that sort of following…. at least….. the elf didn’t think they did. [npc]Even more reason why we should seal our borders to the north and…. [/npc] [durion]…and do what?! Hide here until our resources run out! Are you really so ignorant as to believe that medicine and particularly the anti-virals are made down here? It all comes from the north.[/durion] His snap back at Huor held venom. All out-worlders agreed that none of their worlds held anything like the three big viruses found on this world and none of them had any knowledge to create anti-virals for it. [durion]… you think when we succumb to these diseases that they will then come to our rescue? Or perhaps you are so arrogant as to think you are immune Huor?[/durion] There was a dangerous flash in the silver eyes of the head of the council. Durion was pushing his luck….. and he didn’t care.
  10. [ishsa]The Elf…is afraid?[/ishsa] Cerulean orbs rolled . Fae were the same. Natural born, human born…. they were all the same. They manipulated and coerced in an effort to get what they wanted. It usually worked…. when it was not on someone that knew their nature as well as the master of Meglidur. [ishsa]Is he fearful that one he deems Lessor might steal his Magicks?[/ishsa] [durion]No… he is not of a mood to play magician for a child of Eve who doesn’t understand how magic exists and behaves.[/durion] Tone dripped of an adult growing weary of an incessantly questioning child. The vibrant orbs rolling again as singsong rhymes slipped her lips. How very fae of her. [ishsa]You do not play well with others. [/ishsa] [durion]I play just fine with those I like.[/durion] His easy retort came as hands continued to remain calmly clasped behind his back, steps falling in silence on the snow. Somehow even toying with the fae his foul mood had returned. He hated this city, this world of the north that wreaked of earthborn. It was a necessary evil that he did business with this world, but if it had been entirely up to him, this half of the planet would have been wiped clean from its face with the blending of worlds. [ishsa]Open yourself. You are not free.[/ishsa] The laughter bubbled up with an almost wicked tone as the cerulean gaze flicked to her. [durion]….claims the bird in a gilded cage. I am not the one so frightened to leave the dead walls within I live. I am not the one with vulgar chains around my heels begging to hear of the promised land but too frightened to step outside and look for myself. One cannot explain the light to a being that lives forever in the dark.[/durion]
  11. Nov. 27, 2019 Ears burned a blistering crimson as he strode into the old Fiocruz Moorish Pavilion. The Fanya Niasa council had taken over the structure and made it their headquarters long ago. The elegant plum pointed leather oxfords fell silently on the stone floors as the steel tips caught the sunlight that streamed through open windows of the overly carved palace. Tightly wound in his hand was the rolled up paper that had come from New York. Livid was not nearly strong enough a word to describe the elf's mood. In order to keep in touch with the world beyond his borders, he had the news delivered into Meglidur from all the major civilization outposts once a week. It was usually delayed about a month but he kept tabs on the factions and looked for the slivers of evidence of shifting powers this way. He often saw the pattern long before the media reported it. For all others might mistake the dressed up elf for frivolous, he was in fact dangerously intelligent and a connoisseur of knowledge. But while most stories had him mildly intrigued or arrogantly disdainful, this one had touched a nerve that had sent the elf into a diatribe of language unlike any the earth born folk had ever heard and headed straight for the former Rio de Janiero. Door to the back council chamber was shoved open, elf walking in as though he owned the pavilion himself. Paper was slammed down onto the elaborately carved wood table behind which two of the four council sat. Alatariel and Huor. As usual, they had not invited their fae counterparts to their little meeting. [durion]Have you seen this?[/durion] Of course they had not. They were elitist imbeciles who only played at protecting the out-worlders. They merely wanted to hold positions of power but never bothered to really learn about the world they now held that power within. His time would come. The out-worlders didn’t come to these buffoons for protection, they came to NARWA… they came to him. He offered them sanctuary and a place to work, not the stuffed up council. The only one that seemed to truly care about the alliance and what it should stand for was Nidhogg and unfortunately the lesser fae was not of a backbone to go against Huor, nor was he invited to most council decisions. Durion had no such reservations. The time would come. Soon enough he would sit at this council, he was sure of it. [npc]You are too loud Durion Caranthir.[/npc] [durion]And you are too ignorant Alatariel.[/durion] He snapped back, his elvish heritage lilting through the words. Despite what the boorish earthborn believed, elves and fae from different worlds did NOT speak the same language. They were forced to harmonize on one of the earth-tongues. He was fortunate in some ways that the council recognized too many of their own sided with this elf or he would have long ago called down their wrath and against them all, his powers would not be enough. Long finger hit the top of the story on the first page with enough force to echo the sound through the chamber. [durion]….one of the governments has passed a law forcing those not natural born of this world to register their existence…[/durion] [npc]…and this should concern us why?[/npc] Cerulean orbs glared at Huor. Arrogant bastard. [durion]…because the lands to the north are reporting their government is in support of this effort. How long do you think before they level an eye on us?[/durion] Elongated ears tipped downwards somehow managing to turn an even deeper shade of crimson.
  12. Have you seen the filth put out by these humans!!! http://resonancerp.com/index.php?/topic/8417-galway-initiates-out-worlder-registration/ I call for a strengthening of Fanya Niasa's alliance! We should be building a defense force! http://resonancerp.com/index.php?/page/index.html/_/factions/kotv/ It is time we found more unity and strength. I for one will not see this outrage reach our borders! OOC: Seeking Elf and Fae Out-Worlders to build up the Veil Alliance ahead of this story that is clearly building! Durion also has a new division opening in NARWA that is based in New York. Looking for Out-Worlders to help run that as well. http://resonancerp.com/index.php?/page/index.html/_/factions/kotv/corporation-narwa-r668 Message here if you are interested in being a part of all this or PM me!
  13. [durion]…elves are not simpletons like the humans of this world silly fae-thing.[/durion] [ishsa]Do it again![/ishsa] Ebony brow quirked upward over the cerulean orbs as he continued his stride, hands still casually clasped behind his back. [durion]…nor am I a pet to be commanded.[/durion] As she finally took notice of the interwoven canopy the elf merely smirked to himself. A parlor trick compared to the monumental architecture of his home in Megildur. [ishsa]What else do you know?[/ishsa] [durion]…child….far more than I would ever show you.[/durion] While the head of NARWA was a bit of a show off, he was also an elf by nature, secretive and coveting of his power and gifts. [ishsa] Show me more of your tricks… show me how to work them. [/ishsa] The narrow of dark lashes was dangerous as he stared at the sprite. [durion]….how very human of you…[/durion] There was an unfriendly tone in the sneer as chin lifted ever so slightly studying her. [durion]To assume power is yours to take and control. Seeking to claim the birthright of others.[/durion] Nostrils snorted softly, suddenly acutely reminded that this fae was a human in disguise. What gave them the right to take what was the heritage of other worlds and creatures? It wasn’t enough that they had torn apart the fabric between worlds and stranded its people here, but they sought to rape their power as well. Of course to condemn them was hypocritical on his part. It was being ripped from his world and dropped into this one that had finally given him a place in the world that suited the hierarchy he believed he deserved. In his mind, the difference was he didn’t steal their heritage.
  14. Trees folded to elven will as his thick soled boots fell with near silence on the snow covered ground. He was a stark contrast in the winter wonderland. The ebony and crimson clothes fluttering beneath the jet black locks that snapdragoned out against the drifting flakes of snow. Winter appeared to shift and give him space, a fairytale sorcerer that enticed the very nature to yield. As barren branches folded overhead into a cathedral arch, the vulgar structures of concrete and steel became less and less visible. A whisper of home in a world that felt sometimes so foreign still. The fae was playing hide and seek. A popular party flavor of the fae-kind. Long ears flicked upward, listening to the soft scrunch of snow in delicate hands. A child's game. Steps did not pause as left hand extended, fingers rolling open from his palm to let the soft glow of nature's elixir release into the tree near her. The branch folded back, waiting until she finally emerged with great glee at the thought of catching the elf unawares. Her missile came in his direction for only the briefest moment, left fingers snapping softly to release the curled branch. Like a bat keen on a ball, her projectile was struck by the wood, shattering and sprayed back at her. Devil's grin slid his lips, cerulean orbs bright in the dappled moonlight that now spotted through the canopy he had created. He was no barbarian of this world. He knew fae… intimately. He was again tempted to kidnap the false-fae, drag it back to Meglidur and set it free with real children of the wood. See just how well she could adapt among the true-born. But fae were fickle creatures. There was a good chance she would be outcast by them. Hells…there was a selkie he was pretty sure might decide to disembowel the false-fae creature. Still, be an interesting experiment. [durion]…elves are not simpletons like the humans of this world silly fae-thing.[/durion]
  15. His words continued to etch and roll around in her thoughts, it was clear the way she mimicked his language with moving lips and no sound. And in how she kept pressing forward to interrupt his attempt to retreat. Once he changed his mind however she lit up like what humans referred to as the Christmas tree. She bounced and giggled like a fae-born sprite. He was again reminded that she should be kidnapped and taken down south, released into the wilds of Megildur. Left free to play with the sprites there, or the selkie. She would be fascinated likely by the selkie that played in the mountain rushing streams. [ishsa] This way! This, this way you will discover what is hidden to your hardened heart…[/ishsa] He chuckled to himself as she flitted into the wintery woods. Hands folded behind his back as he followed, the wind whipping the ebony silk around his shoulders as he hopped off the path. A fae was an easy thing to follow if one understood what they were and how to track their playful path. Breath drew in and exhaled in wisps of curling white smoke as trees began to shift and weave behind him. His gift bled from his pores, sewing a basket weave of wood and root behind his path to discourage the mundane humans from following them into the depths of her wood. He was in no mood to deal with the barbarians tonight.