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 Post subject: House of Salt
PostPosted: April 11th, 2011, 11:21 pm 
Rider of Rohan
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Location: Look to your left. Now back at this text. Did you see me?
Country: United States (us)
Gender: Female

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The gist is simple. There is an old family full of powerful and great people. They are renowned for their many and varied abilities; they boast the most valiant warriors, the most mighty mages, and the most impressive professors and engineers. The history of the family is long, as long as recorded time, and the elders have passed down the wisdom of the ancients. They have long been steady, but discord has brewed unchecked for the past fifty years. The people with the white hair, with their history so great, have now fallen into disarray and ultimately decay.

It began with brothers, the sons of a man named Hadad. Twin boys, dual heirs, born to be the future leaders of the family. But there was a problem. No one knew which child should take his father's place with absolute certainty. The issue was decided when the twins turned nineteen and the slightly elder boy, then a young man, slumped dead during the festivities of their birthday celebration. Whispers grew that the other twin had murdered his brother, but the snow haired boy quelled the rumors with a fist of iron and the swift removal of his adversaries. This man grew to power in the family and took Hadad's place when the time was right.

But he was not a good leader. He destroyed the solid foundations on which the family had been built along with the rest of his lost, misguided generation, their power hungry souls driving to them to a new profession. Under his guidance, the family became a band of ruthless mercenaries and cutthroats. They have formed a crime syndicate and are now quite literally on the run from almost every government their world knows, except those shady enough to hire their services. There is danger around every corner for these people now, this family who was once so great. They've fallen so far in a handful of decades, but there are those who push for a restoration.

But for all the celebrity of the white haired family, more than half of its members have hair the color of blackest night. These are the persons who have suffered the most in the family's decline, their position as lower classed members of the family dropping to a slave-like oppression. They are expendable mercenaries in the armies, sent on missions of suicide. They are workers in the undercroft, made to toil for their kinsmen. They are angry and they are ready to retaliate.

A small scale civil war is coming to a head; brother pitted against brother.

- - - - - - -

Rules/Regulations/Other Things You're Free to Ignore :P


        - The RP is set in a feudal pseudo-Japan style world. Please make some attempt to adhere to that theme.

        - No romance within the family. Ew. (though I sort of broke this rule with Nyx and Tiye... just shows you're free to ignore basically everything I say)

        - Para, para, para!! That's the style of RP I'd like to advocate at this point. Try to make each post you make at least a drabble length, that is, 250 words. That's a pretty easy threshold to meet, I believe. (this is really the only thing I don't want you to ignore, pretty please)

Stand By for the Starting Post
↓↓↓


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"old soldiers never die, they just fade away."
- general macarthur

graphics by goldstrike
the barracks


Last edited by foot soldier on April 11th, 2011, 11:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: House of Salt
PostPosted: April 11th, 2011, 11:22 pm 
Rider of Rohan
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Location: Look to your left. Now back at this text. Did you see me?
Country: United States (us)
Gender: Female

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And we're off!

They were on the move again. Nebi wasn't surprised. They all but lived on the roads these days.

She was tired of moving, tired of running away. Her Uncle Zimran insisted they weren't running, but Nebi knew running when she saw it. They had enemies, enemies who wanted them dead. She could tell that much. She wasn't so stupid she couldn't tell something so simple. She knew they couldn't stay in one place too long, or else they might be found and then their enemies could make them dead. Nebi didn't want to die, so she moved without complaint. She sat astride her horse for hours at a time, her heavy armor vest constricting her chest and her long white braid bouncing with each step the beast took.

They were going to see a client, a rich man who lived out in desert country who had enemies of his own. They would kill for him. That was what they did. Nebi killed quietly, subtly with her medicine. She had learned her skill to heal; that was her real calling. She wanted to make people well, not to hurt them. But in vast quantities, that which heals causes harm, a fact Nebi knew well. She worked backwards. First she had learned a thousand and one antidotes, then a thousand and one poisons with which to combat them. She hoped her services wouldn't be needed by the client. She was very much hoping to spend the next few months that they would spend living in the client's manor while they hid, no, while they worked, in peace. Perhaps she would train, perhaps she would study her medical texts more. She gave a thought to the pack on her shoulders and the many new medicinal scrolls her uncle had bought her that were tucked away within it.

Maybe she would use this time to reconnect with her brother, Dant. Their relationship hadn't been the same since he returned to the family. He had run away to be a scribe and left her behind, breaking her fragile heart in the process. She couldn't wrap her head around why he had left in the first place. Their Uncle Zimran was good to them, like a father should have been. She and Dant didn't have a father, or a mother, either. They were both dead. But Uncle Zimran took care of them and their Aunt Eleni, she tolerated them. She didn't understand why Dant would want to leave. But she was glad he had came back.

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"old soldiers never die, they just fade away."
- general macarthur

graphics by goldstrike
the barracks


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 Post subject: Re: House of Salt
PostPosted: April 12th, 2011, 12:17 am 
Mageling
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Dant was cutting his hair. He watched each strand fall, shimmering in the firelight, and settle among the weeds. They were ripples of white--not the silver of stars, nor the white of snow, but dry white. Bone-white. He'd grown his hair long because his father hadn't.

"Move, you ass, the horses need unsaddling."

It was a groom, whose name Dant hadn't bothered to learn, who stood at the edge of the campfire, expectant. Dant said, as coldly as he could: "Watch your tongue. Remember to whom you speak."

The groom tossed him a brush. "The horses need unsaddling."

Dant dropped the brush and bent to pick it up; his back gave a painful crack. He hated horses.

His hair was half-cut, hanging down his back on one side and straggling limply about his ears on the other. He had half a mind to continue cutting it, but he couldn't now. People were watching. It pained him, this reminder of the monastery, the old monks with their hair to their knees, though none as white as his, but he couldn't think of that. Those days were over. He was Zimran's man.

Dant tossed the brush from hand to hand, dropped it again, and nearly broke his aching spine retrieving it.

He had to face her. She was his sister.

Very well. He pulled a scarf over his head and started toward the horses, where he'd last seen Nebi.

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 Post subject: Re: House of Salt
PostPosted: April 13th, 2011, 10:41 pm 
Rider of Rohan
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Joined: 17 March 2011
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Location: Look to your left. Now back at this text. Did you see me?
Country: United States (us)
Gender: Female

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So sorry, guys. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are my busiest days of the week and I just sat down at the computer, so here's a frazzled reply for my efforts.

Nebi was pleased when they finally stopped. It didn't matter why. They were making camp, the darkness of night having crept up upon them. Campfires had sprung up, but Nebi wouldn't join them yet. She dismounted in a fluid motion, her feet making no noise as she gracefully dropped her body off the back of her horse and touched her toes to the soft ground. She lead her beast away from the innards of camp to where the rest of the horses were being kept. It was a gentle old gelding with a deep brown coat and Nebi held no attachment to it. It didn't belong to her and chances were she would have a different companion for traveling in the morning.

She walked at a swift pace, her gait smooth as glass. She led the horse with one hand, the other already in her hair working the knot of her braid loose and free. Soon, the silvery tresses of white she possessed were once more flowing down her back, the curls softly bouncing. She liked her hair best down. She thought her hair was her best attribute and made her otherwise plain exterior something of note. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a member of the Lower Family, one whose hair was black as night. She was thankful her hair wasn't such a dingy color. Her uncle told her that black hair was very bad.

She arrived at her destination, quickly finding someone else to do her work for her. She couldn't easily reach the saddle of her horse to ease it off the animal's back.

“Could you help me, please?” she asked sweetly of a young white haired man she had met a time or two before. She thought he was her third cousin.

“Sure,” he said gruffly, taking over the task.

It wasn't abundantly clear if he was helping her because he wanted to or if he was coming to her aide simply because Zimran was her uncle and she was his favorite niece. Either way, Nebi didn't care and she beamed as she believed herself to have made lifelong friends with the man. Pleased, she looked around the area in search of a brush. She couldn't unsaddle her horse herself, but she would at least help brush him down. She wasn't useless. She could prove her worth.

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"old soldiers never die, they just fade away."
- general macarthur

graphics by goldstrike
the barracks


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 Post subject: Re: House of Salt
PostPosted: April 14th, 2011, 4:34 pm 
Mageling
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"Nebi!" said Dant. He stretched a smile across his face and wondered if it looked awkward. In the monastery, he'd gone entire days without smiling at anyone--except at trees.

He looked down at her. She was so small.

"How was your day?" he asked, and thought it was a dumb question. Her day had been exactly the same as his. Perhaps less painful; she still moved with characteristic ease. He didn't think he'd ever stretch the kinks out of his back.

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