Our old universe has
fallen into impossible chaos and destruction, but the Legendaries will save us; are saving us; have saved us. Soon many lives and memories will fill this new world, and give it purpose.


As Terrene leaves behind
the long, dark nights, their minds turn to friendship and romance at the second annual speed dating! And don't miss out on the clover hunt or the poetry season. Our plot event, alpha & omega, is drawing closer to its end, but is still going strong for now.


Spring will be here until
June. The rainy season begins in the tropical areas; the rest of Terrene begins to thaw and warm, shaking the chill of winter and creeping toward the heat of summer. Fairy and grass types relish in the season of rebirth and renewal!







Keep it PG! | rules


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 Dust Stormraven
Saint Judas
 Posted: May 6 2018, 04:12 PM

Idle Staff

Dust Stormraven
At first glance, Dust would seem the quintessential native, and that is one of his most key strengths. A moderate five foot ten, he is tall but not toweringly so, with a wiry and willowy build, lending itself to lean flexibility and toning gained from much travel, hunting, and survival. Oche skin is tanned dusky and warm to the touch, radiating a gentle heat, slightly rough to the touch and well worn but glowing with health. Black hair is long and silken to the touch though rugged to the eye, it's wild short ends falling all around his face, trimmed short and tied back with headbands, while a pair of bangs on either side frame his face, falling to his chest just past his collarbone. In the back, his rough mane is tied back in a thin ponytail that reaches to the small of his back.

Of his features themselves, Dust has a passingly handsome if sharp visage roughened somewhat by Terrene and it's harsh environment, with arching and expressive brows low and thin over hazel eyes greyed and dark to the point of often seeming more a brown or black in the shadows of the day, only glimmering their green hues in cool lighting or when picking up reflections, dark and glittering. A sharp nose shadows sharp lips, slender yet mobile and evocative, easily defaulting to a slashing smile, almost always just a bit crooked, sly and alluring in its difficulty to read yet enticing and hinting at more, secretive and inviting. Sharp jawline rounds off the acorn shape of his head, angled and elegant, with his right ear pierced once along the top in a brass ring and lined with a metallic cuff just below, glinting in the sun when he turns his head and showing just through raven strands of hair.

A closer look reveals something more of an enigma to Dust. Maybe its something in the way he carries himself, light on his feet and seemingly always ready to spring into motion, rippling with a kinetic energy and natural grace. He walks with a rolling smoothness like a slinking predator, a swing to his motions and sure feeling of complete self-awareness, keen to every part of himself and comfortable with his surroundings no matter what they might be. Yet he almost always seems relaxed, a casual slouch to his smirking figure, teeth glinting often in enticing crooked grins. He always seems to reveal less than he says, showing some, hiding more, his visage expressive but seemingly almost always turning to every so slightly mocking smiles or quirking brows, rarely losing cool or good humor. A rolling voice, on the low side of baritone with a musical touch and gravelly warmth to it speaks in a slightly rhymic manner, a slight husky tint of accent softening the hard consonants.

Dust's clothing also leaves little to hide, shamelessly exposing elongated arms with a simple sleeveless shirt, generally reddish brown and matching with his headband, cut low out of simple cloth to expose a sharp collarbone and the long neck with defined cords along it. Sleeveless gloves and short cloth armbands just above his wrists cover each limb's end, and at his waist, his shirt is belted under long black pants, tucked into sturdy brown boots. A sheath rests slanted on his hip, empty, but were it filled long enough to be just too long for a short-sword is strapped on the back of his belt, though often his hands rest in his pockets or loose at his side, seemingly unconcerned and at ease, often folding over his chest while talking but even then held loosely, shoulders almost always relaxed. Were it not for the intensity of his gaze, piercing and seemingly always sparkling with a cunning, it might be hard to assume anything ever could make him seem serious, his entire outward demeanor one of complete unconcern and easy grace.

Dust is this outlander's given name, though friends have called him Dusty or Storm before, and he responds as quickly to any of these. Easy-going and charismatic, he is quick to offer a smile or a kind word. He's got a sarcastic edge and can be a little biting in his judgments sometimes, but he's got an observant eye and an accurate one. His intentions are good, even if he prefers the passive route, and he's always there to offer some good advice or run as a backup help, lending a hand where one is needed and being there for support. Good-humored always, he thrives in maintaining an unbreakable calm air and cool-headedness, and even in the most grave of situations can manage to keep his wits about him.

More then that, Dust can be surprisingly considerate. First glances may pin his casual observations as seeming impassive, his light and easy manner as aloof, but when it comes down to it Dust will be there, will be the one to offer the drink, the helping hand, the shirt, a slice of bread, or even his blade. He tends to seem on the outside at first but makes connections quickly, reading people with a practiced eye and finding the best in them, as well as accepting the worst. He looks to make the best of others, he's no ambitious soul himself but he seeks to improve what he sees. He's charming too, no doubt, and has a soft voice with a simple but direct sort of honesty that defines him.

Well, that's the persona Dust has given himself to and perfected. While it is true he is no leader, he is quite ambitious, and he cares little for others when it comes down to it. A native through and through, he has been raised to a world of kill or be killed, a society in which one either learns how to fight or is cunning enough to manage to avoid it. He likes to believe himself the latter, but that is not to underestimate what he can do with a blade. Still, Dust likes to avoid getting personal. A man of secrets and mystery, he keeps to himself mostly but is willing to share when it can further a gain... and definitely willing to take. He has a silver tongue and an intense mastery over his own emotions, with a keen eye that has helped him through many a trial in life, be it in hunting, travels, on the streets, or just in a conversation.

People are his forte, and Dust enjoys watching body language, studying it and reacting to it almost reflexively, and often he habitually will try to play a scene towards his favor even when he doesn't particularly need anything out of it, collecting allies for possible later uses. Contacts, resources, bargaining tools, people may mean little personally but they mean a lot in terms of power, and Dust collects power, storing it and only carefully, slowly, tapping into it. Patience is his virtue, and while in action he may move with quickly and dexterously, in planning he plays caution over boldness, taking small sure steps over risky big ones. He may bless Lady Luck, but he likes to call on her favors few and far between.

Such careful planning and ways may be part of why Dust is not much a leader and prefers to avoid direct confrontation and fights. He almost never enters into any engagement without a backup plan, and he never leads unless it's behind another. Even if it's just a knife in his boot, Dust always makes sure he has something up his sleeve, and he is not above much of anything, fighting dirty and playing nasty. Sabotage, lies, rumors, numbers or a groin shot, he has little time or bravado for honor, and while he'll keep up a front of respect, his advice and his actions always are geared towards survival. When it comes down to it, his especially.

Perhaps it's this selfish drive for personal gain and survival that leads Dust to have a strongly self-dependent streak to him. He rarely asks from another, playing it as humble, but he's distrustful and a bit cynical at heart, believing selfishness to be the most base state of man. Afterall, what does a baby know but its own wants? It does not care for any other, and that is the most basic form people have. No, Dust will connive to get what he needs, he will bargain with others, he will even serve under others, gladly in fact, but never will he be exposed at the head, and often he will only ask for help when all else fails, and even he will rarely reveal how bad a situation truly is. The less others know of him, the better. His strength is in himself and his team, and his ability to direct through others who take the spearhead or have freedom of movement with another name to default to and blame. There are many reasons indeed to be a follower: resources, numbers, group affiliations, and an easy escape. And the more invaluable one is the better. Anything to secure his survival and his thriving.

In hardship the weak turn to the strong, the uncertain to the bold, the scattered masses to the leaders. And what was Beta but a leader, a champion to the people of the wild new land known as Terrene, a strong figure to boldly carve a path through the jungle to a better land, to strike it out and make it their own for himself and his people? He promised many things, and many he delivered on. He brought the early immigrants of Terrene together, through religion and through strength, he was the chosen one, gifted with a companion to show the way and knowledge of the world and the god watching over them to guide their developments.

And when Beta left Ashfield to make a new land for himself without the control of the other prominent leaders in Ashfield to interfere, many were all too happy to follow him and proclaim him their leader. He brought them to order, and safety. You see, humans are by nature pack animals. They flock to the strongest, they desire to be lead by another. They always turn and look to the alpha, and in turn, the alpha takes on all their troubles, taking upon themselves the mantle of power and glory as well as the responsibility and blame of all the troubles. But Beta did not falter. Under his lead they left behind the jungle, they wandered the plains, and they created Crater City under the leadership of Beta and his Council.

It was here, in the genesis of Crater City, only freshly established, that Dust was born. Of course, that wasn't actually his name, originally he was known first as Secundus, for he was the second child. Alas, Primus would die young of illness, living him the sole child by the time he was in his third year. Not that it ever bothered him, more for himself. Even as the only child of the household, his family was often busy, his mother working tirelessly for Beta as an Officer of the city while his father hunted the plains for prey to bring home. Even as a tender child he spent much time on the streets, having no time or place anywhere else, and as time went by he bonded with the few other children and the newer immigrants, often branded workers but still good enough company if confused and aggravating in their lack of common knowledge.

That is not to say the streets were an easy living, or that every person was too happy to arrive only to be bonded, or even that the other citizens of the city were the best of people. Sure they were the only city to have any form of military and enforcement, but where there is a will there is a way, and no intentions are pure enough to stop those of malevolence from sneaking by. He got in fights, and several times only narrowly avoided worse things. Such was the way of a city still pioneering civilization. One learned to be clever and quick fast, to be able to make friends with others quickly and find a group while still being independent enough to pursue their own goals and have a backup plan.

When Dust was old enough and strong enough to draw a bow and to brace a spear, his father began to take him hunting, showing him the basics of tracking and killing. He would also teach him the basics of self-defense and, in time, give him his first blade, indeed the only blade he has managed to afford. It wasn't real big, though in the hand's of a ten-year-old it felt much larger then it's measly five inches. It wasn't the size that mattered really he would learn, anyone with a piece of metal was quite deadly, and he would treasure his weapon with the respect it deserved, never showing it and rarely using it but staying practiced and having it always close enough to whip out when it was least expected.

Dust would be passingly fair at hunting, his eye was sharp and his arms strong, but his aim was not always stellar and in truth, he had little passion for it. He was more interested in what his mother did, though she was less eager to bring him along with her work. Still she was never hesitant to give praise to Beta, and while his father was not quite so enthusiasticly in idol worship, their house was one dedicated to Beta, and it didn't exactly take any great leaps of observance or intelligence to tell who was the most powerful and influenctial person in this city, if not the entire land. Early on Dust knew he wanted, no, he had to put himself under Beta's camp. There was safety... and power there. There was oppurtunity, he could smell it. His parents tried to inspire him to respect Beta, and his mother to live in awe of him as a chosen being and chosen by the diety, but as far as he cared Beta was a leader, and a leader needs followers, and in following there was safety, though in many ways Dust was scornful of his mother's sheeplike worship of him.

However Dust was young and inexperienced. Even he knew that. He needed more experience before he would be useful enough for Beta.

Then there was Omega. At first everyone called him crazy. Dust didn't know much about him and had never dealt with him. But as incidents continued, he attracted Dust's attention, especially as it became increasingly prominant that Beta strongly opposed and perhaps even loathed or hated Omega. Such an interesting character, if only Dust could find out more about him. Perhaps to join him, perhaps to use him as a tool with Beta, or perhaps to dip into both sides at once... either way the play between the two was rife with opportunity. He was twenty and struck by urge to travel, hiring himself out to the next merchant he found as a helper. He wandered to Ashfield and visited Oasis in this manner, spending several years honing his people skills, picking up the odd trick or talent, and learning more of the world of Terrene, collecting and storing knowledge, building contacts or at the very least familiarizing himself with certain places.

When finally Dust managed to return to Crater, Omega had begun a project in the mountains. It was a bit mysterious, but so was the man himself, and either way Dust knew he wanted to investigate and try to get closer to the man himself. But before that it was time he allied himself with Beta, and with that in mind, he set himself to becoming a Peace Officer, having long adopted a new name and lost all but the most tentative connections with his old life and parents, his father aged and his mother deceased some time ago apparently. His old name had been childish and he took up Dust as something of a enigmatic but anonymous name, for like the saying goes, he was just dust in the wind, blown hither and tither. Unknown, unseen, yet there one moment, gone the next. And of his parents... he was independant now anyways, and neither had been particularly influential or ambitious, and he wasn't the type to push them for more then they had already given. There were others a plenty for him to use for that.

SAINT JUDAS - MTN/PAC - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

 Posted: May 14 2018, 07:27 AM


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