(on a weekly pilgrimage to the tree of life, he witnesses a rebirthing cycle. there isn't commonly one; they take place inconsistently, and it seems as though each time its purpose is to bolster each faction's forces. voryn, newly skeptical of the tree's ability to carry shard-bearers to term due to the tragedies that have recently befallen it, experiences relief condensed into the moment the first-hand startles him in its push from the cool womb of its soil.
his presence here is fortuitous and could act in a way a welcoming party would, yet voryn does not assist anyone being heaved from the ground caked in sap and loam. he simply watches, and he waits, and he steps up when he's satisfied.)
You there, (he addresses the pretty one. his standards have become relaxed but he is a lord and appreciative of propriety. where some newborn shard-bearers hack and cry and cough, d does not. after being pulled from the ground by her royal highness, princess rudbeckia, d assists others until it seems there is no one left to assist. behaviour befitting meridian.) If you're through with your task, I would speak with you.
(voryn's elven ancestry is obvious, and his bearing is that of a nobleman—a lord of some relevance—though his skin is cursed grey and his eyes are cursed red. a third, his shard, is centred between and above his brow. improvident robes lay in layers wrapped tightly around his body; however, despite the finery, his practicality is obvious. they are at war and so he has appropriately dressed himself in a chitinous breastplate and curving pauldrons to fight in one. a simple sword hangs from his left hip.
d is given a thorough examination. pale but not sickly. hale, fit to be of service. useful, perhaps, in troubled times. and hopefully not another damn peacemonger.)
You are welcome here, outlander, in the Tree's root caverns. I cannot say for certain if you are welcome anywhere else. Were you having a pleasant dream?
1-wildcardish... HELLO!! so he's 400% different from jonas, bUT,
his presence here is fortuitous and could act in a way a welcoming party would, yet voryn does not assist anyone being heaved from the ground caked in sap and loam. he simply watches, and he waits, and he steps up when he's satisfied.)
You there, (he addresses the pretty one. his standards have become relaxed but he is a lord and appreciative of propriety. where some newborn shard-bearers hack and cry and cough, d does not. after being pulled from the ground by her royal highness, princess rudbeckia, d assists others until it seems there is no one left to assist. behaviour befitting meridian.) If you're through with your task, I would speak with you.
(voryn's elven ancestry is obvious, and his bearing is that of a nobleman—a lord of some relevance—though his skin is cursed grey and his eyes are cursed red. a third, his shard, is centred between and above his brow. improvident robes lay in layers wrapped tightly around his body; however, despite the finery, his practicality is obvious. they are at war and so he has appropriately dressed himself in a chitinous breastplate and curving pauldrons to fight in one. a simple sword hangs from his left hip.
d is given a thorough examination. pale but not sickly. hale, fit to be of service. useful, perhaps, in troubled times. and hopefully not another damn peacemonger.)
You are welcome here, outlander, in the Tree's root caverns. I cannot say for certain if you are welcome anywhere else. Were you having a pleasant dream?