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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    The second fight was one of the bug people and a dwarf, which was over fairly quickly when the bug caught the hammer and wrenched it from the dwarf's grip with a swift twisting motion. And the third battle had a naga, much like herself but enormous, wielding an axe that Tressel doubted she'd even be able to pick up. The man in leather armor that she'd nearly run into managed to beat him into submission though.

    But watching these fights, Tress realized that, again, her main course of action would be to stay out of reach and end the fight quickly. Melee, all melee, which she supposed made sense in a tournament like this.

    So she watched as more than a dozen fights went through, quick and brutal. They hardly lasted longer than a couple seconds, which was expected. A real fight wasn't about showmanship at all, it was simply getting through to the enemy and taking them down. Swift and decisive.

    All of a sudden, she heard her own name called. "Tressel Hifwood!" It was time to see if she could do it.

    She slithered out onto the stone floor of the arena, glad that she wasn't standing on it with two feet. The gentle sand and grit beneath her tail was slippery, and on small, nimble feet, it would be downright treacherous. One of the more bulky men from one of the battles had already fallen because of it.

    Her opponent was a short man wielding a long, thin sword. The man stood confidently, almost bored, sword at his side, with a simple breastplate across his chest. Remembering Morgen's words, Tressel smiled at him and nodded, the chin-up, pleasant kind of nod rather than the chin down, serious kind of nod. "Good luck!"

    The man looked at her, then cracked his own grin, though he didn't say anything back. Together, they readied themselves, the man spreading his feet and holding up the sword, Tressel gently dropping her chain and wrapping it around the end of her tail.

    From all around, the voice of the King came again. "Begin!"

    In a flurry of movement, they both attacked. Tressel twisted on the spot, snapping her tail around and forward with the chain following. Every link on it made it's own quiet slithering sound as they rubbed against each other, the chain flinging out like a whip.

    But the man twisted to the side, dodging the snapping links. He ran forward, sword raised, and Tressel was forced to slither backwards as best as she could. When the man was only a few feet away, she yanked back on the chain again, and it flipped into the man's back, wrapping around his chest.

    But he was still close enough to swing his sword, and he sliced at her side. Tressel barely managed to avoid the quick blow, feeling it tear into her blouse somewhat. She slammed toward him with her tail, hitting him full in the stomach and sending him staggering backwards, until he was jerked to a halt by the chain wrapped around his chest. Reversing her movement, Tressel dragged him back once more, snatching at his sword hand with her own. Surprised and breathless as he was, she managed to grab his wrist.

    In the next moment though, he wrenched it free again. He was too close to use the blade, so instead he smashed at her shoulder with the pommel, and Tressel grimaced at the pain. She shoved him away again, keeping the chain tight, and jerked her tail around to the side. His momentum was pulled along into a circle, and he was only able to stay on his feet for a few seconds. But then her weight threw him off, and he found himself dragging along the sandy, stony ground. The chain finally came loose, and he tumbled to a stop, dropping his sword in the process. While he was still winded, Tressel slithered over and scooped it up, holding it high.

    He peered at it through his pain and the early morning sunlight, then sighed. Slowly standing, he raised both hands in defeat. "You win."

    "And Hifwood wins!" The King's voice burst out among them again, the healers appearing and running their hands over their bruises and scrapes. Flipping the sword around, Tressel handed it back, who nodded, the chin down, serious nod.

    I actually won. Who would have thought?

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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    When Tressel was shaken into consciousness, she woke with less of a jerk and more with a groan. The cold felt like it had seeped into her bones and her brain, slowing her every movement. Slowly, she sat up, doing her best to stay upright. The face of the man in front of her was fuzzy, and his voice was as if it were coming through a meter of water. "Lady, you gotta get up. The tournament is soon."

    The tournament. That's right. She turned toward the door, and could see sunlight streaming in. Only a few more people were in the sleeping room still, and most of them were the cold-blooded naga, having to be shaken awake after sleeping in these cold stone ruins. If she didn't get up and moving soon, Tressel thought she might fall into an artificial hibernation.

    So she flopped off the cot and onto the floor, the chill seeping from below shocking to the touch. Remembering to grab her stuff, she slithered around the maze of cots and toward the door, trying to make it to the sunlight outside. She managed to find herself far to the right of the door instead, and put a hand out to let it lead her out.

    When she finally emerged into the morning sun, it's warmth was invigorating. She could feel it burning away at the fog around her brain, her thoughts coming quicker again. The arena--or at least she assumed it was the arena, as of it was filled with people--was a loud murmur not too long away, so she headed toward it as fast as she could.

    She was just in time to see the first battle start, or at least she assumed it was the first battle. A human and a Ztaari. They flashed back and forth, fast and furious in battle. Tressel was enthralled by their speed, but then she realized she still wasn't sure where the contestants were supposed to meet. Glancing around, she spotted the smaller crowd of people under one of the buildings around the stadium, wearing armors and weapons that set them apart from the rest. Slithering around the edges of the arena, she made her way there.

    Maybe while she waited, she'd find Nisha in the crowd. She scanned through the people, looking for the distinctive armor she wore. A glint caught her eye, and she spotted someone in what looked like the right armor, right before they vanished again. Hoping not to lose her, Tressel slithered heedlessly forward--and nearly ran headfirst into a man decked out in leather armor. She jerked backwards moments from collision, and stopped. "Oh! Sorry, sorry!" Slower now, she slithered around him, then rose up to search for Nisha again. But the armored woman was nowhere to be found. She sighed.

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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    Tressel had been hoping she would find Nisha somewhere in the crowd, but there were enough people in armor that she had hardly a hope of finding the Slayer. The cold stone floor and the huge meal were starting to get to her, and she felt sluggish and tired. It had been a fairly long day as well, so when the escorts came out, directing them toward a sleeping area, Tressel abandoned her search and slithered in to find a bed.

    A few of the numerous cots were already filled, and more people were filtering in behind her as well, so she picked an large, unoccupied cot and did her best to fit in it. Despite the equality talks people had, it seemed they'd forgotten that Naga were quite a bit larger than any of the other races, as there didn't seem to be any place for her tail. Deciding she could simply borrow two cots for the moment, Tressel slid another one over to rest her tail in and get it off of the cold stone floor. Then she turned toward the door, deciding she would wait a bit before trying to fall asleep, see if Nisha walked in at some point.

    But the longer she watched, the harder it became to stay awake. She felt herself slowly starting to drift off, struggling as much as she was to watch the door and those who came through. At this rate, she wasn't even sure she'd notice if Nisha clomped in with a battle cry on her lips and her sword drawn. Not that that was something Nisha would probably do. But maybe the armor was heavy and noisy. Would she even notice the noise after a while? Maybe the sword made more of a racket when she used it. How did all that armor stay on? It seemed awfully heavy and noisy. Maybe...

    Tressel shook herself out of the drifting, confusing, meandering haze of sleep once more, sitting up straight..

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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    Tressel slithered through the chaos of the hall, thinking back over her conversations. Morgen had hardly believed it when she said she had met an actual Slayer (albeit a new one). But it had only occurred to her a couple hours later that she could have asked Nisha about the Monster that destroyed her home. Maybe she could have found out what it actually was. But no point in worrying about it now. Perhaps she would see the newly-made Slayer here sometime. First she would have to make her way through the crowds, though. She dodged around a couple more groups, careful not to let her tail get trampled, and made her way to the Naga table.

    The Naga table! There were actually a number of other Naga standing by it, tails curled up under and around in piles of scales. There they were, others like her, who she’d been searching for! Eager to introduce herself, Tressel slithered forward. “Hi!”

    About half the table turned to look, some with smiles on their faces, a couple without. Almost all of their eyes were drawn to the stump by her side, but it seemed to be mostly curiosity. She gulped, then repeated herself. “Hey! I’m Tressel, and you have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen another one of our kind.”

    One of the girls grinned. “Hey, Tressel! Nice to meet you. Join us, come on!” The others took this as their que to turn back to the table and continue eating, while Tressel moved forward to find a spot. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t sure what to do with her tail. The others seemed to be keeping themselves separate, but Tressel longed to simply lie out with a tangle of family and friends again. She compromised, curling into a coil by herself, but leaving the tip of her tail free to brush against the others.

    The table was stocked with massive piles of food, that Tressel was grateful for. As a Naga, she could actually go a couple of days without feeling hungry, but then when she did eat, she would eat a lot. Normally, she kept to the same eating schedule as Morgen, three smaller meals a day, but she’d forgone that for the trip, to keep things simple.

    As she grabbed some breads and chicken, Tressel let her gaze travel around the table. Many of the other Naga had swords or axes at their sides, generally on the heavier side of the spectrum. Only the woman who had greeted her seemed to use a lighter variety, a long-bladed rapier strapped to her side. A fair number of the other Naga were wearing armor as well, ranging from tough, studded leather to full plate. Down at the end of the table was a single Naga man, who had himself raised a little taller on his tail than anyone else, wearing plate armor and with a massive axe at his side. On his breastplate, Tressel could just make out the now-familiar insignia of a Slayer.

    Tressel didn’t normally have a hard time striking up a conversation, but now that she was here among her same species, her words seemed to be getting stuck in her throat. Everyone else was either talking amongst themselves or eating copious amounts of food, and they were fully occupied in doing so.

    So for a while, as she ate, she ate in silence, simply listening to the conversations around her. The entire hall was echoing with the clamor of people enjoying themselves, and she was sure the rousing speech by the king had something to do with it. But while everyone seemed to have a feeling of comradery, Tressel couldn’t help but feel a little bit alone, curled up with herself among the coils of the other Naga.

    Perhaps it hadn’t really been that important to look for people of her own kind as it was to simply find a couple friends, no matter what they might be.

    With a small sigh, Tressel finished off her last bun and shoved off to go look for a familiar face, slithering among the bustling crowds.

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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    The rough accent was a surprise to Tressel as well, as she had rather expected a nobler sounding tone. But it was close to how Morgen spoke, and that put her much more at ease, the smile on her face becoming a bit more genuine. Tressel herself would never give up the clear speech she had learned from her parents before they died, but she would always recognize the voices of other commoners with kindness.

    "New, is it?" That actually made sense, and was a bit relieving. Maybe she didn't have as much experienced as she looked, so Tressel wasn't quite alone. Still, she hardly doubted that someone would spend so much on armor unless they knew how to use it. "Yes, you do strike quite the strong figure, I was a bit discouraged at first glance, in fact." Respect your opponent, no need to hold back that information.

    Nisha lay her hand flat in the air and dipped it either way, the universal gesture of 'ehh, sort of', or something to that effect. Then moved to lightly tap the insignia displayed on her shoulderplate, turning her head slightly to look at it herself.

    "Had suits like this'un for years, learning to use it properly, ya' know. This here is the new part," She replied, a proud smile on her face as she looked over the marking. It was only when the Naga mentioned being discouraged that she focused on the serpentine woman again, remembering what she had said before to start their friendly conversation. She was in the tournament? Her eyes were drawn to the stump where one of the Naga's arms should have been, a distinct familiarity passing through her mind as she took in the sight, reminding her of some of the senior Slayers she had met back at the guild. The constant fighting against Monsters rarely failed to leave scars. A sharp solemness struck Nisha at the thought, passing almost as quickly as it appeared and, just like that, she was smiling and focused on the Naga again. "You're fightin' too ya' said? Only ever seen a Naga fight the once, bloody crazy that lad was, near put poor Icarus in the dirt during practice!"

    The woman pointed to the small insignia on her breastplate, and Tressel peered at it for a moment. It seemed almost familiar, but not like she'd seen it before, more like she simply should know what it was. But she didn't quite remember why.

    She looked back at the woman, still thinking about the mark. "Oh, yes, I'm willing to try my, hem, hand at an official match with others." Nothing to be ashamed of. Still strong without it. "I've put in some practice, and while I don't expect to win, I do expect to do my best." She was tempted to ask more about the Naga, but that sounded like a rather long story, and the insigna was a more immediate matter. "Sorry, I really feel like I should know what that marking means, but I don't quite remember. It was quite a long trip here, so I'm not well brushed up on factions or ranks in this part of the country... or much of anywhere, really."

    Nisha couldn't help herself, letting out a snort of laughter at the Naga's casual mention of her missing arm. Perhaps it wasn't especially funny but the redhead had a weakness for such things, ever since Huntsman Kerrig's classes (whom had a taste for making jokes and puns about his missing hand) she couldn't help but think of what he might say in such a situation. Even the bad ones, 'I'd offer a hand but I'm a little short', 'you seem like a handy person', the list could go on. Best not go crazy with that right now though, she didn't even know the Naga's name.

    Thus, it was a good thing she then brought up Nisha's insignia, for the woman was visibly surprised by what the Naga had to say about it. Rather, surprised by her lack of recognition. It wiped away any poor jokes she'd been considering and, while her first instinct was to blurt something out, she successfully held off for just long enough to think about it. The Slayers may have been famous, but she guessed there were still some who didn't know who they were... Or maybe they just didn't recognize them at first glance? They were hardly as numerous as soldiers.

    "Can't fault ya' for that, forgot not a lotta folk see this thing as much as me," She laughed, rubbing the back of her head a little awkwardly. "This here is the insignia of the Slayers. That tickle a bell or two? Ya' know, stabbing big beasties and... Nah, that's 'bout it really."

    Tressel's eyes widened. "Oh goodness, a Slayer? Morgen's told me all about you! I remember the insigna now, he's described it to me before. Never was very good with a pen though, so words were all I saw it with." She couldn't help asking a few more questions, because while Morgen might have been in awe of the Slayers, most of his stories portrayed them as anonymous heroes, strong and fierce, almost myths. Yet, here was one standing right here in front of her!
    "Have you ever taken on a monster? How much training have you gone through to be prepared?"

    Gods above, that was a turn. Now that the Naga knew the order behind the insignia she was quick to fire off questions, catching Nisha by surprise. She hadn't had the mark long, so this was the first time she'd been questioned like this. It was a bit surreal. Luckily her questions were simple ones, albeit both touched upon slightly sour patches for the young warrior who, recovering from her surprise, cleared her throat.

    "Ouch, right for the jugular huh?" She laughed off her soured feelings easily enough. "Nah, it's good. Thing is, see," She spared a quick look around, satisfied nobody was listening in, and leaned in enough to lower her voice a few notches. "I'm freshfaced, haven't gotten any assignments. Worst thing I've fought? My teachers, but lemme tell ya', they're scarier than a lotta Monsters you'll find out there." She leaned back and cleared her throat again. "Don't go spreadin' that 'round town, got appearances to keep up, ya' know?"

    Nodding to herself Nisha took a second to think, almost forgetting the second question. "Training though, that's bloody fierce. Took me eight years to get this!" She tapped the insignia again. Obviously it meant a lot to her. "I got the theory down straight though. Walkin' enk- ency- encylop- seven hells! Walkin' BOOK of Monster knowledge, right here." She added on, almost as an afterthought. "Sparred aplenty though, don'tcha think I won't give ya' a run for ya' gold!"

    Tressel hadn't thought she'd be edging so close to a line, but the lady didn't seem all too enthused to answer. "Oh, sorry, I didn't meant to be so... direct. Eight years of training? Honestly," She hesitated, then decided that she might as well make up a bit for being blunt, "Honestly, I don't think I'd be strong enough to do what you're planning on doing. I'd probably turn right around and run. So I'm very, very grateful that you're helping the world be rid of those creatures." A snakelike, scaly face loomed in her mind, wreathed in flames, and she frowned deeply. "Heaven knows they deserve it."

    She cleared her throat, shaking the image out of her head. "Anyway, I'm very glad to meet you." She reached out for a handshake, proffering her palm up. "My name is Tressel."

    Nisha waved off the apology, simply sparing the snake-woman a carefree grin. "Nah, nah, don't mind me, just gettin' a bit testy waitin' for my chance. Direct works fine, too many folk who don't say what they mean in the world," She said, tossing aside the slightly troubled conversation like it hadn't happened. The Naga, though, once more surprised her with reassurance, claiming that in her place she would probably run the other way. Despite herself Nisha couldn't help but feel red in the face from the undeserved praise, rubbing the back of her head and looking away. "C'mon now, those words ain't for someone who ain't done anythin' yet. Save it for when I live up to the name, yeah?"

    She looked back to find an outstretched hand, a beat passing before she reached out and grasped it. "Nisha. Good to make a friend before we start pokin' each other, ay?" She laughed, then leaned in to whisper to the newly named Tressel. "And jus' between friends, if ya' get up against another Slayer in the tourny, they're fresher than I am." She winked.

    Tressel shook Nisha's gauntleted hand, trying to shake firmly. Still, fingers enveloped in steel were rather hard to squeeze. But she grinned at the woman's good nature. "I'm positive you'll get a chance soon. I look forward to seeing you at the tourney, Nisha, and at the ruins beforehand." A new friend already. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go find Morgen and help him keep shop. He's doubtless flooded with people who want a quality pelt."

    "Aye, and you Tressel. Trassel? Trasy? Tress. That'll do." Nisha nodded to herself, the nickname already solidifying in her head as their hands fell. Somewhere behind the Naga, just in the redhead's line of sight, a pair of old humans confusedly fished a hunk of half-eaten beef from their pot. Snickering none too subtly at the looks on their faces, the young Slayer agreed this was a good time for their conversation to be done. "Think I'ma get gone too, trouble to make, Monsters to beat, business as usual ay?" And thus they took their leave of one another.

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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    Tressel had tucked the token away and was thinking about heading back to the market, when the next person to walk up to the stall caught her eye--and for good reason. He was decked out in full plate, the massive metal slabs layered over his back and shoulders, offering perfect protection from almost every side. And the sword... the sword was enormous, strapped to his side, yet Tressel could hardly see how he toted it around without having to constantly apologize for hitting knees and shins with the tip.

    Half despairing, half awed, Tress realized she may very well have signed up simply to lose. Sure, she might not be a useless one armed girl who could barely hold her own, but she was nowhere near the level of competence that this knightly figure exuded. And this was hardly likely to be the only person dressed up like this, either. She glanced down at her own meager cloth blouse. Between that and the straw hat, she had hardly any protection at all. Though perhaps her scales would deflect a blow or two, they weren't exactly made for armed combat.

    Of course, when the man turned around and revealed he was actually a woman, that came as a bit of a surprise as well. Not that it should have, but she was rather tall.

    Judging by the easy way she walked, Tressel doubted the armor would slow her all too much. If they got paired up in the tournament--which Tressel hoped they didn't--she would need to rely on some other weakness to beat the intimidating lady. Which got her to thinking, somewhat. Maybe she could beat her, if she relied on her chain. That armor looked like it had plenty of places for a hook to latch on, for one.

    As the woman walked away from the stall, Tressel put those thoughts aside for later. She would have to get used to thinking through some strategies on the fly, but now was not that time. Instead, she placed a warm look on her face, repeating the words Morgen had told her 'Enter every battle with a smile,' and slithered forward. "Hi! Are you entering the tournament too, then? I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed."

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    posted a message on combat in 1.9 good or bad?
    Quote from ChosenMental»

    If you think 1.8 combat are only click click click then you are wrong.

    Guess what? I know 1.8 isn't just click click click, but I still like 1.9 better.

    In fact, I would say I got pretty good at 1.8 fighting, playing Gladiators in Mineplex. I figured out how to hit upwards, how to strafe sideways, how to keep them in a corner and not let them get a good bead on me. And I got quite the rush from destroying opponents like that.

    But I don't think it's right to make PvP all about practice. Sure, it takes skill to work your way to the top, but that really just feels like grinding, and I hate games where you have to do the same thing over and over to finally get a result. Grinding isn't interesting.

    In 1.9, as you said, you do have to learn how to use the shield and time the sword and learn to deal with axes. But once you get past those basics, I think there's a lot more room for strategy, which is what I like about this game. You can use your off hand, or the times between sword swings, to switch to a potion, or a bow, or an enderpearl. The average player has more options when fighting, and there is more than one way to go about it!

    Whereas beforehand, if you couldn't fight with a fishingrod and a sword in 1.8, you wouldn't win. Is that true? I'm going to ask you, just to be sure. In 1.8, was there any other way to win in direct PvP other than by using the same jitterclick and strafe that the opponent used?
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]
    Tressel made her way back towards the southeast part of the city, the marketplace, emotions she hadn't had before bubbling just a bit below the surface. Trouble keeping balance? She never fell over. It was almost impossible to trip or stagger when you didn't technically walk to get anywhere.

    The market was bustling, but it wasn't all too hard for Tress to find Morgen. She rose up a couple feet on her tail to see over the crowd, and spotted the familiar backpack of furs that he was carrying. She called out, "Morgen!" and he turned back to see her, smiling then beckoning.

    She dropped back down, slithering through the crowd to meet up with him. He'd found a stall, a place to set up and sell, so she took the backpack and started spreading out the furs and pelts. They worked in silence for a bit, until Morgen spoke up.

    "What's bothering you, Tress?" He took the fur out of her hand and hung it up on a nail.

    She sighed. "I know you've told me to not be ashamed of my arm. It wasn't my fault, and all."

    "Aye," he agreed.

    "But someone just told me I shouldn't bother entering the tournament, because I wouldn't be able to fight properly, I'd be off balance. I hadn't even asked about joining the tournament, and he simply assumed it, from looking at me."

    He harrumphed.

    "I know you've never seen me as useless, Morgen. But what about other people? Do they really think I'll never be as good as someone who has two arms?" She pulled a small rabbit pelt out, setting it on the counter.

    Morgen didn't answer right away, and they continued setting up. Finally, he spoke what was on his mind. "You want to join the tourney, don't you?"

    Tressel wasn't surprised at how quickly he'd pinpointed her own emotions. She simply nodded.

    With a sigh, he leaned down on the counter. "Well, I don't see much of a reason for you not to. Perhaps you'll gain an extra scar or two for your troubles. But I want you to remember a few things." He looked her in the eye. "For those who truly see you as disabled, winning or losing won't make a difference. It takes more than that to change their minds."

    She nodded along with him, but in her head she couldn't see how that could be true. If she won out over warriors, even missing a limb, who could doubt her strength?

    "Second, I have a rule for you. You must join every battle with a smile, and respect your opponent always. I think you hardly need reminding why. Third... The only reason I'm letting you do this is because there is a very strict no killing rule." He gave her a little grin. "And I don't want you to hurt anyone too bad."

    She laughed, reaching over to hug him tight. "Thank you, Morgen! I'll remember, don't worry!"

    "Now go." He ushered her away. "We're almost done here, and I can take care of the shop on my own."

    - - - - - - - - - -

    "I would like to join the tournament!" Tressel proclaimed to the woman in the stall.

    She gave Tress an apathetic look. "Okay. So, this is a bit boring, but I'm required to read you the rules first before you sign up."

    Tressel nodded her way through the rules. "No killing, one weapon, and don't take too long, got it." She hestitated. "Is there a limit on what weapon it is? I was planning on using my chain--" She patted the shining links that hung off her belt. "--as it's the only thing I have real experience with."

    The lady glanced at it. "Should be fine. Long as you only bring in one link."

    Tressel blinked, before realizing it was a joke and laughing, a bit late. "Right, right. Thank you!" She took the little parchment and signed her name (Tressel Hifwood), race (Naga), and weapon (Hooked chain), then accepting the little token she needed as a ticket in. "Ruins, the night before, got it."

    She slithered away for the next person in line, looking over the coin. The design was flowery, and she liked that. Despite enjoying the city, the forest was much more familiar.

    Now all that was left was to wait for the night before the tournament, and make sure to arrive on time.
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    The few brief moments through the portal felt like ages, ages of light and speed and a feeling of... of change. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, Tressel actually almost enjoyed it. It felt like shedding an old skin, of waking up after a long winter to find the world changed and different.

    But she was still glad when it was over, and she found herself slithering out into a different city. She would have tumbled to the ground if she'd had feet instead of a tail, but instead the disorientation simply made her hold her head and lurch to the side, eyes dilated and face scrunched up in a small grimace. The feeling passed, and she was able to really inspect this new place.

    The first thing she actually noticed was that the cobblestone beneath was now smooth and clean, more refined than the rough streets of the city below. She could feel the difference under her scales, and it told a lot.

    The city matched the streets. Huge. Smooth. Cleaner. She was in the middle of a central area, with a fountain in the middle, but it was hard to see anything with the crowds. Because the people where everywhere, dwarf and elf and human and bug alike. The conversations that reached her ears were lilting and rough and snippets all the same, filled with a multitude of different laughing and yelling and chuckling voices. It was rather overwhelming, especially given how instant the transition had been.

    But Tress found that she liked it. It was chaos, but she was a part of it.

    Morgen appeared beside her shoulder, having followed through the portal. "Lot of other folks here for the tournament, aren't there?"

    She grinned at him, sharp teeth showing. "All the better to sell your wares with, Morgen! I can see many people here who would be more than pleased to wear your furs when winter comes again!"

    He chuckled at that. "First, we need to find a place to set up shop. Perhaps I'll take the furs, while you go see about getting into the tournament? You'll find me on the market side of the city once you're done, which is southeast. Think you can do that?"

    "Of course. Southeast, I'll remember that." She shook her satchel slightly. "Perhaps I'll find something of worth on the way as well. Thank you, Morgen!" She slipped the heavy backpack off her shoulders and handed it to him, turning to slither off and start searching, before hesitating. Spinning back, she gave him a quick hug and a smile.

    And then it was time to go. All she'd known was the comfort of town and friends and family for the past years of her life, raised first by her mother and her own kind, and then raised by Morgen and the townspeople. Now she was going to be alone again, but instead of solitary and living in the woods, she would be surrounded, surrounded by thousands of people.

    She was excited.

    Now, there had to be a place to learn about the tournament somewhere. Perhaps a stand or a stall, or a bulletin for news somewhere. Morgen had taught her to read the common language, so that would be no barrier.

    No other Naga--yet, she reminded herself--but there were plenty of other people around to ask. Finding the first person who didn't seem to be talking with anyone else at the moment (a dwarf with a short white beard) she asked him where she might find information about the tournament. He simply gave her a half smile, half sigh and pointed down the street.

    There, at the end, was a large sign above a stand that read "Ketto Sign-ups" There were a handful of people lined up in front of it, and as she watched, a bug-man, Ztaari, if she remembered correctly, stepped away, holding something in his(or her?) hand.

    She didn't exactly want to sign up, but maybe she could ask him about it. After all, who better to know the details of a tournament than someone who was in it? So she slithered toward him and raised her hand. "Excuse me! Might I ask you some questions?"

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [IC]

    Tressel slithered ahead on the path, grinning at the way the breeze played over her face. She twisted to look over her shoulder, holding her hat on her head to make sure it didn't blow away. "Hurry up, Morgen!"

    He ambled along the trail, new cane helping him get along. He wasn't able to hunt much anymore, or go out in the woods even, but his age didn't stop him from rushing through life with exuberance. Recently, Tress had been seeing him more as a grandfather than as the father figure he'd used to be.

    News had come in recently about the grand Tournament, being held by the King in the Capital. Of course, the young men and many of the young women were excited by this, taking some of their savings for the travel tax and gathering together. It couldn't have come at a better time, as the storing of crops and meats was over for the winter, and there wasn't much work left to do.

    They'd gone ahead, traveling together. Tress had gotten an invitation to join them, but she'd decided to stay with Morgen along the way. He'd decided he might as well bring some of his business, furs from home, and Tress hadn't wanted to leave him to hobble the whole way alone, carrying his pack of pelts. They were almost to the town with the portal to the capital, and she could tell he was enjoying the journey.

    And there it was. A small city, but still so much bigger than the town she was used to. It had walls, for goodness sake. Big tall walls, and spires that peeked up from behind. The closer they got, the bigger it seemed.

    Small satchel hanging on her side, with her ever-present chain coiled on the other, and large backpack of furs over her shoulders, she really should have felt tired. But her tail was strong, her mind was alert, and she was excited. Anticipation, seeing new people, new places, new things. She'd saved up somewhat over the past couple years, but Morgen insisted on paying her way as well. So she had what little money she'd earned in her special blouse pockets (she didn't wear pants, after all), ready to be spent on some particularly nice or helpful item.

    She wasn't actually sure what to think about the tournament, but she was rather excited. It was hard not to be, from the attitudes of the others. A contest, a battle to see who was the most skilled. What wasn't there to be eager for? Perhaps she'd even find another Naga or two.

    And then they were there, at the gates of the city. There were people inside, milling around, setting up shops and engaging in conversations. Children squealed and chased each other over the cobblestones, and horses pulled wagons of wares. There were dwarves, short and stocky, laughing deep, and tall elven women standing at the stalls. She even saw what looked like a person with wings instead of arms, gesturing wildly about something or other.

    But she didn't see a single other Naga. No tails, no scales. Tress was a little disappointed.

    Morgen came up behind and put his arm on her shoulder. "This is a small city. Don't worry if they aren't here. Come, little miss, let's go find the Portal."

    They wandered through the city, Tressel following behind. She drew a couple odd looks, but nobody seemed hostile, only surprised. Some were more interested with her missing arm than her other half. A few children made a game of jumping over her tail until their parents reprimanded them. Morgen asked a few of the vendors where they might find the portal, and they were pointed toward the middle of the town.

    And then there it was. A framed arch, white marble on the cobblestone, centered in the middle of a square. An armored guard sat in front of it with a bored look on his face and a small box on a table set beside him. Even as she watched, an elf walked up to the portal and dropped a pair of golden coins in the box, receiving a wave from the guard to continue on. One step, and he vanished into the large glowing doorway.

    "You go first, Tress." Morgen pulled out two coins from his small leather purse, curling her fingers around them. "It's quite the experience, and I'll be right behind you."

    She nodded, holding the coins determinedly. Slithering up to the guard, she gently tossed the coins in the box. The man gave her a tired smile and a wave, his gaze curious over her arm and her scales.

    Taking a deep breath, Tress glided forward into the glowing, watery light.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [Low Fantasy RP] [Created Using Microscope] [OOC] [Accepting]

    Woohoo! Thanks, I'm glad that sounded better. :) This is gonna be awesome!

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on The gravity well (The Nether Rift)

    Sheesh wow, this is pretty old now, ain't it? I replied to that when I was still 16. :D Thanks a lot for the answers!

    And yeah, I can see where the farming and the griefing come into it.

    Posted in: Suggestions
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [Low Fantasy RP] [Created Using Microscope] [OOC] [Accepting]

    Hmm, so a better reason to have magic. I was thinking of telling a bit more of her story, maybe. I sort of made up a forest deity on the spot, but I left it vague so he could be pretty much anyone. Perhaps he is simply another magic-worker, (a moderately powerful one, of course) who she meets up again and teaches her a bit? I feel like that would need a bit more of your approval, mostly because I'm not sure what other beings inhabit this world.

    Another option could be that once she gets really down into the world and the forest, rather than just picking up on magic she really digs down and does her best to figure out what makes the plants grow and the breeze flow, working all through her years in the forest to understand it better and work with it as well. I could even take out the control over breezes thing if I need to, as it is a rather strange thing to learn, though I rather liked it, for effect, perhaps for guiding the chain in flight, and maybe leading up to more wind powers in the future.

    Eventually, I want to have her tell the story of why she no longer lives in the forest (if the story calls for them to be somewhere else) and where she got the chain that she uses, and I'm not sure if it would be better in her History or in the RP itself, as that mini-story up there is already getting rather long.

    Then again, there are spoilers. Doesn't make it any faster to read, but doesn't take up as much room, I suppose.

    EDIT: So I've added a bunch more, and now I'm wondering if there should be a hard limit on how long I make this history or not? I've got one more section in mind where she gets her chain, and the feather she keeps in her hat, and while spoilers are helpful it still is fairly long. Then again, this is a whole forum based on reading and writing, right?

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [Low Fantasy RP] [Created Using Microscope] [OOC] [Accepting]

    History: (getting kinda long)

    The night was dark, the straw sleeping mat soft, and the comfort of family warm and reassuring. Everything was well for Tressel the Naga, tangled up in the the smallish hollow with her parents and siblings. Everything was calm.

    Until it wasn't.

    Tress was shaken awake by her mother, tumbling out of the shadows of sleep into a world of pain and flame.

    The Nest was ablaze.

    All around, other nagas slithered and screamed, fighting with something that was indistinct in the flames and shrieking, an unearthly wail. Another gout of flame flooded over the Nest, and Tress's nostrils were filled with the stench of melting scales. Many of the screams fell silent.

    Abruptly, they were moving, mother pulling her along by her arms, away from the unknown beast. Her tail, not as long as most of her older siblings yet, was dragged roughly over rocks, and Tress cried out in surprise and shock. Quickly, mother slapped a hand over the little nagas mouth and yanked them both behind a large rock, the Telling Stone that the elder used. Tress felt her tail snatched up and pulled close, out of view. For a moment, they sat in terrified silence.

    Tress could swear she heard her own heartbeat.

    And then, looming out of the smoke, was the head of a massive, scaly monster. One, massive eye, yellow and slitted and malicious, stared in her own. There was a faint hint of amusement floating within the golden pool of iris.

    In a flurry of movement, it snapped forward, and Tressel felt a jerk to the side, and then the wind of it's passing. Her mother, screaming to wake the Severed, was pulling her away again, out toward the forest. A quick glance over her shoulder, and she saw that the creature was snapping at something in it's mouth, small and limp. A sudden dull pain blossomed in her side, and she looked down as they rushed away.

    Her arm was gone. Simply missing, with great gushes of blood burbling out. She suddenly felt woozy.

    The shadows swirled around her as mother pulled her through the trees, flying by at speeds she hadn't thought imaginable. The edges of her vision crept inward, darkness encasing her. Cold, she felt colder than normal. Colder than even a reptile should feel.

    What felt like eons of pain later, they collapsed to the ground, mother sobbing, wailing over Tress as they lay on the ground.

    The world spun, and the last thing Tress saw before everything went black was her mother, rising up and turning back toward the burning, glowing village, with a hard set to her jaw.


    Rough singing. Large, gentle fingers. A person, two legs, vines woven through his hair, and a strange sense of peace.


    Tress woke again, quietly this time. No siblings snoring, no shaking from a panicked parent.

    She was alone.

    She was lying on a bed of leaves, seemingly freshly fallen but piled into a mat. It almost seemed like a dream, but she was surrounded by trees, rather than rocks. And, when she attempted to rise a moment later, she found she was still missing a rather important part of her. Her left arm, cut off at the shoulder, was gone... but it was no longer bleeding. In fact, it was smooth and clean, with the look of new flesh. It was no longer there, but neither was the pain.

    She inspected her side for a minute, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. She remembered her mother leaving, though not why, and a strange man who was watching over her. He seemed very kind, but he was no longer here.

    The forest seemed calm. Birds tweeting, leaves rustling. She stood, ignoring her missing arm, and glanced around. The village was... that way. She remembered. Probably. Deciding there was no other option, she slithered through the trees.

    A few minutes later, she could smell smoke. Faint, but distinct. She hurried onward, afraid of what she would see but hardly able to help herself. As she emerged from the treeline, her eyes filled with tears.

    The Nest was gone. Burned to the ground, charred, unmoving lumps everywhere--bodies or homes, she couldn't tell which.

    Slowly, she turned around, and slithered back into the forest. Her home was gone.


    She leaned down to pick up a branch, putting it into the crude bag that hung down her side. Luckily enough, there seemed to be plenty of food in this vicinity of the forest, enough berries and fruits that she hadn't had to try her hand at hunting. Yet.

    But when winter rolled around, she knew she would need some help. It didn't always snow around here, but it sure got cold, and normally Nagas slept through the coldest part. For that though, she needed a stockpile of food to munch while the winter days passed. She couldn't hunt when she was half frozen, and the bushes and berries would die.

    She grabbed another stick, sticking it in her pack. Lost in her train of thought, she almost missed it when a twig snapped. But the sound made something inside her flip, and she froze in place.

    Barely a dozen yards away was a massive bear. Brown, shaggy fur, tangled with branches and thorns, it lumbered slowly closer. Tress remembered hearing something about them eating berries, but one glance at it's massive claws that tipped heavy paws, and she decided not to risk it. Tossing the stick over her shoulder and slithering away as fast as she could, she searched frantically for a place to hide.

    A moment later, the perfect place presented itself to her. A large tree, with a few branches just above her head. Not bothering to glance back and see how close it was, she lifted herself up by her tail and flopped into the tree, holding on tight with one hand as she slithered and curled upward around the branches, dodging limbs and leaves alike. The bag was dropped, landing on the forest floor beneath the tree.

    After she was at least twenty feet up, she stopped for breath and looked fearfully down. The bear, far from chasing her, was standing in the same place, looking down at a stick. The stick she had thrown. It seemed confused.

    With a sigh, Tressel settled down to wait. Maybe it wasn't dangerous after all, but it hardly mattered now. She would stay up here for a while.

    The bear settled down at a nearby bush to pick the berries off, biting big clumps of them at a time. Tress sat at the top of the tree and watched until she grew bored, turning to look at the birds in the sky and the leaves on the tree she was in. It felt natural to sit still and wait, almost like an instinct. A small sparrow fluttered up on to a branch next to her, mindless of her presence, and whistled a small tune. She watched, fascinated, it's bright feathers shining in the sunlight.

    The leaves were almost glowing as the sunbeams traveled through them, revealing the veins and lines in them. It looked almost like little maps, or designs by an artist. She reached out to touch one, feeling it's soft skin, the flexible green of the leaf. A breeze blew through the tree, setting them all to rustling, and she smiled at the sensation. This was good. It felt right.

    She wanted to learn more.


    She spent the next ten years of her life studying the trees and the world around her (when she wasn't gathering food, that is). The few weeks of hibernation were frustrating to her, as the leaves would die and the breeze would turn icy, and she was forced to sleep rather than be out among the forest.

    Sometimes, she would get stuck on a leaf. Or a petal. Trying to find out what made it grow, why it fluttered and twirled in the breeze, where it came from and how the seed became a tree.

    Eventually, though, she found that certain touches, certain words, certain movements made the leaf tingle with growth. That they felt her pretense, knew her intentions. If she wanted them to grow, they were more than eager to do just that. She would tap and twist and give, and the sapling or sprig or blade of grass would follow.

    The wind was more difficult. She couldn't follow, couldn't watch it, couldn't even smell it. All she could do was feel it, and watch it's touch spread across the trees. So she tried to do the same, twist and spin to follow the wind. It was hard, very hard, and many times she almost gave up. But her practicing, her constant concentration of flowing, gave her something that many Naga did not have: grace. Her clumsy body, made for slithering over uneven ground in the most effective way possible, began to comply.

    Eventually, she figured it out by pretending to be a tree. She took the leaves of the willow, long and fluttery and thing. She tied them in her hair, held them in her hand, wrapped them around her scales, gripped them with the end of her tail. She felt the wind flow through her hair and the leaves she held, as it pushed the leaves into long ribbons of movement. Something built up in her as she stood there, stock still, until she couldn't handle it anymore.

    She did what no tree would do and moved with the wind. Flowed, slithering, jumping and flying and twisting with the pattern of the leaves that covered her. And finally, her practice, her patience paid off, for when she moved with the wind, the wind moved with her.

    It was during this dance, clothed only in the leaves of the willow tree and twirling in circles in a lonesome grassy clearing, during this dance that she was discovered.

    It was a hunter, or perhaps a woodsman, who'd ventured farther into the Naga Woods than most would dare, as the strange slither people always preferred to remain isolated. But there hadn't been any Naga sighting for years. So imagine his surprise when he stumbled upon a young snake-girl clad in the leaves of a weeping tree and dancing as if the world were hers. For a minute, he simply watched, entranced by the movements, not scared, as she surely didn't seem dangerous. But curious, awed.

    After a few minutes, she tired, and opened her eyes again to find this grizzled old man standing there with an axe over his shoulder and his mouth agape. She squealed, and turned to run, slithering frantically into the trees, only to stop when he called out.

    "Wait!" He took a step forward, crestfallen as she disappears into the forest again. "Ah won't hurt you!"

    For a minute, Tress debated what to do. She could just see him, peering into the woods with a sad frown on his face. He didn't seem cruel at all, but then again... where was his tail? She remembered stories from her mother about men without tails, who walked on two stilt-legged feet, tottering from one place to another instead of gliding. She had never been sure if they were real or not, and even that dream on the night of the fire, of the man with legs instead of a tail, hadn't totally convinced here.

    But here was one now, the first person she'd seen in years and years. She turned around to go back.

    She slithered just into view again, glad for the leaves around her but still hiding most of her just behind a tree. "Who... who are you? How did you find me? Where did you come from?"

    He smiled. "Ahm a hunter from the village on the other side of the mountain, miss, traveling to find new animals, new places. Ah ended up here, of all places, just in time to find you. Please, miss, are you a naga?" He gazed imploringly at her face, dropping the axe and scratching a bit at his beard.

    She watched him for a minute. "...Yes. I am a naga. What about you? What are you?"

    "Human, miss. Just human." He gestured around at the woods. "Why are you out here all alone? Where have the rest of the Naga gone?"

    Tressel pulled back, hiding her face behind the tree. "They're all gone. It's just me, now."

    He frowned at that. "Why is that? Did they leave? Why did you stay behind? Are... are you okay?"

    She took a deep breath. "There was a dragon."

    "Oh." He scratched the side of his head, as if unsure what to say. "Do... do you need somewhere to go? Ah could take you back to my village, Ahm sure the ladies would be happy to help, miss, find a place for you to stay." He added, hurriedly, "If you need it, that is."

    She was struck dumb at the thought. A place to go? People to talk to? Even if they weren't Naga, they seemed nice enough, judging off of this man. Perhaps they really could help her.

    But... what about her life here? She remembered her cave, the woods where she gathered berries and hunted rabbits. She'd gotten used to her world here, created a system. True, she could practice the magic of the forest, the breezes and the plants, anywhere. But she would be leaving behind her old life for a new one, something unexpected.

    Eventually though, she was faced with the fact that the old reason she had stayed here was that she hadn't thought there was another place to go. She'd never left the Nest before, and when it burned it was as if it took the whole world with it. But now... now there was another option.

    And Tress decided to take it. "I would. I really would."

    The man blinked in surprised. "Well... that's settled then!" He smiled abruptly. "Won't they be surprised, back home?"

    She almost slithered out into the meadow, before remembering that she was wearing only the willow leaves. Her old shirt had grown too small, and was torn and covered with her own blood anyway. There was nothing salvageable in the Nest, even if she'd been willing to go back. Panicking, she called out. "Oh, but I don't have anything to wear!"

    The man blushed a little. "Ah, I suppose that grass skirt won't last you long, will it?" Turning around, he slipped a backpack off of his shoulders and dropped it on the ground next to his axe. Rummaging around for a minute, he pulled out a couple things, before finally holding up a brownish length of cloth. He balled it up and tossed it out to her.

    Picking it up, she found that it was a rather large looking tunic, flexible enough to be movable, yet still slightly stiff from the leather on the shoulders and sides. She slipped it on, glad that it was mostly comfortable, and headed out, still clutching one of the long willow leaves in her hand.

    The man looked her over with a nod. "Good, ah was afraid it wouldn't fit. It's my backup -backup tunic, just in case--" He stopped, glancing wide eyed at her left shoulder; the stump where her arm used to be letting the sleeve hang loose. She turned away and lowered her eyes, ashamed at his shock.

    But instead, he broke into a hearty chuckle. "Looks like you've had some hard times too, haven't you, miss?" She glanced up to see him holding out his hand, as if in greeting... but it was missing two fingers, and half the palm with it. She gaped, and he laughed again. "Ain't nothing to be ashamed of, miss. It ain't your fault, I can tell you that, so don't you act like it was."

    "Th-thank you." She smiled up at his cheery face. "Really."

    He slipped his backpack on, still smiling. "It ain't no problem, miss. Now, let's get you back to town, and we can sew up that sleeve to fit later." He slung his axe over his shoulder and turned around, striding forward.

    She slithered to catch up, matching his pace. "What's your name?"

    He glanced over at her. "Morgen Hifwood, hunter and trapper extraordinaire. How's about you, miss?"

    She glanced forward at the trail. Heading to a new home, a new life. "Tressel. My name is Tress."


    "Are we there yet?"

    Morgen chuckled. "Not yet. We're hardly halfway there, miss! First we've gotta make a stop at my cabin, to pick up some extra supplies."

    She sighed.

    "Don't you worry, the cabin is close! It'll be getting dark soon, so we'll spend the night there. I've got food and drink there, and you can take the bed if you want." He glanced up at the clear sky. "It doesn't look like rain, so I'll simply sleep under the stars." He peered ahead. "In fact, there it is now!"

    Tress peered forward, and a smallish shed emerged from between the trees. It had a slanted roof, and a simple shutter for a window. All around it were wild flowers, and some vines crept up it's side. She smiled at the sight.

    Inside seemed bigger than the outside somehow, but it was still a bit cramped for her entire tail. So she left most of it outside, standing by the door as Morgen cluttered around in the cupboards and drawers for some food. She couldn't quite stop herself from looking around curiously.

    There were several mounts and hooks on the walls, holding ropes and survival gear, like a small knife and axe. There was a pot and frying pan as well, some bowls and spoons stacked on the small table.

    A breeze flittered through the room, and a light jangling noise caught her attention.

    Hanging in the corner was a coiled chain, hanging from a hook. It was slightly rusted and dusty, looking unused and uncared for. But it jingled like a windchime, the links gently rubbing against each other. It was interesting to her, what seemed like a combination of natural and unnatural. The sound, the shape, what it was made of, that was entirely artificial. But the way it moved... was like the wind and the leaves.

    "Hmm." She glanced over, and saw Morgen looking at her. "Do you think you could do me a favor, miss?"

    "Sure." It was the least she could do, after all.

    He reached into another drawer and pulled out a small ceramic pot. "I haven't used that chain in a long while, and it could use a good oiling. While I make dinner, could you do your best to get that rust off, make it shine like it used to?"

    She took the pot of oil gingerly, and the small rough cloth he handed her as well, taking them outside and setting them on the ground. Lifting the chain off the hook, she nodded at the firm weight in her hand, then returned to the oil and set to work.

    It was hard, with one hand, to hold it in place. But she was able to prop it up against her tail and the edge of the rough shirt, then take the cloth and dip it just a little in the oil before rubbing at the metal links.

    She was still at it when Morgen came out with a large frying pan and some vegetables, lighting a fire to cook them on. She was still working when the meal was done, and she took a break to eat the meat and vegetable stew he made. But then she resumed, scraping and scrubbing at the rust, leaving behind shining links.

    It wasn't hard work, though it was long. But she didn't really mind. In fact, she almost enjoyed it, the way it moved in her hand and the clean links, the sound it made. She wasn't sure why, but she really, really wanted it to be clean again.

    She finally finished as the sun was going down, while Morgen was cleaning up the dishes and the fire was dying down. Putting the cloth down over the little pot, she held the links up to the fading light. The chain sparkled in the sun, and Morgen let out a grunt of satisfaction. "Well done, miss."

    She smiled. "Thank you. It looks... it looks nice now. Clean."

    "You can keep it, if you want. Like I said, I don't use it often, and I can get another sometime if I find a use." He stirred the coals of the fire.

    "Really?" She turned it over in her hand. Chain and metal could cost a lot, especially a nice one like this. She didn't know exactly how much it was worth, but she knew it would have been hard to make. "Thank you!"

    He grinned, and waved off her thanks with half a hand. "It's no problem. Just make sure to keep it clean." With a small huff, he stood up and stretched. "I think it's about time to go to bed, miss. You can take mine inside, like I said. I'll take the forest floor this time around. I'm sure you'll welcome the change."

    She wasn't sure what to say, exactly, besides repeating "Thank you," once again. She slithered inside, carrying her new chain, and looked around. Homely, but cozy. Hanging up the chain, she patted the bed. Soft, softer than leaves and twigs.

    She glanced out the door again, seeing Morgen spread out on the ground and grass. He really was giving up quite a bit to help her, but he seemed glad to do it. When they got back to the village, she would have to find a way to help make up for that. Work, hunting, anything. Maybe she could have a family again.

    Slowly, she closed the cabin door.

    Tressel Hifwood
    Age: 27
    Gender: Female
    Race: Naga

    Appearance: 14 feet long from head to tail, Tressel has brown, free flowing hair that extends to her waist and blue slitted eyes that always seem to be staring into you, even if it's just a glance. When she isn't paying attention to the world around her, her jaw usually has a hard set to it, but when she is talking or dancing her features smooth out and seem much more cheerful. Her long tail consists of shining scales that tapers to a thin tip.


    Strengths: Her rather long tail is very strong, at least compared to most people. Among the other Naga, she is generally considered weak, but she has enough to work with what she's got. Rather than working out to get stronger, she practices her dancing, which increases her precision and speed instead. She's gotten to the point where she can slither through the trees and launch herself from one to another, and catch a falling leaf with her tail. Her tail is strong and fast in short bursts, whipping out to grab or tap something, but tires quickly from extended lifting.

    She is rather smart as well, and loves to prove it, messing around with strangers and friends alike, creating small and large practical jokes for them to fall into.

    Weaknesses: She's missing her left arm, and her right arm isn't all that strong either. Generally she makes up for that with her tail, but occasionally there are precise or delicate things that even her tail cannot help with, and one arm isn't enough, or stuff such as that. Unfortunately, her weak arm and slightly awkward tail make it hard for her to hold and use almost any weapon effectively, swords being too heavy for her arm and too awkward for her tail. She cannot hold her tail in the air for long periods of time on it's own, which makes swordfighting impossible. Much like holding your arm straight out and holding a rather large book, you tire very quickly. As such, melee weapons do not work.

    Cold will slow her down, and enough cold can actually put her to sleep. Keep her that way for long enough, and she'll die.

    Also, she tends to underestimate opponents, believing herself the better manipulist.

    Weapons: This isn't to say she can't fight, though. Rather than a club or blade, or even a bow and arrow, she uses a large chain that is held tightly by the end of her tail, twenty feet long with a large hook on the end. She can hold either end of the chain, to make it lethal or simply a large metal rope. She treats it as an extension of herself, whipping it out to wrap around people or ledges alike, and can yank on it with quite a bit of power, given her rather lengthy tail of muscle that it's attached to.

    Clothing/Armour: She wears a long blouse-like shirt, that covers her from shoulders to below her waist, and has a large satchel that hangs on her right side (the one with the arm). Perched on her head is a wide-brimmed straw hat with an eagles discarded feather in the top, a relic from her time in the woods. The chain hangs easily on a leather belt wrapped tightly around her waist when not in use.

    Personality: Happy, but serious most of the time. Comes out of her shell when dancing and playing a trick, which often happens at the same time, becoming exuberant or joyful or mischievous. She doesn't like to tell her stories often or much at all, and can get coldly angry if deceived or pushed too far.

    But despite the years she spent in the forest, she is remarkably well spoken, and has an understanding of civilization and people. She wasn't raised there her whole life, after all, just survived for a good number of years.

    Other: Nearly forgot, huzzah and for glory and honor, huzzah huzzah... Yay!

    Minor Spells: She can summon a small blast of wind or a peaceful breeze with a little concentration and movement, and can grow and revitalize plants by curling up or dancing around them for an extended period of time.

    Why should you have magic?: She should have magic because, despite the strength of her tail and the length of her chain, she is not strong enough to compete with most anything, and this gives her a bit more use. Maybe. Plus, the magic is cool. Is this an out of character reason for why she has magic, or an in character one? IC, it's because she's lived many of her early years in the forest, and studied the nature of the woods as hard as she could.

    How did you gain your magical powers?: Changed up a bit from before, she has now not just passively waited for magic to drop itself upon her, but dug herself as deep into it as she could, learning a few of the tricks from scratch, by practicing and watching and practicing and waiting and practicing some more.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on For the Critics (FTC)

    That was impressive, though I was expecting just flowerpots :P Don't flowerpots break instantly though, and drop when the block they are placed on breaks?

    Posted in: Suggestions
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