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Mylor Clearwater

A half-elven ranger with a long history that has left her twisted and bitter.

140 views · located in Whispering Woods

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Prose

So begins...

Mylor Clearwater's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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#, as written by Prose
Elwendil Throne Room
Tarrik sat upright upon his throne and down his nose at the dwarf. His crystalline nail-tipped fingers dug into the bark of his high seat. Foolish creatures always pushing for more expansion and discovery within the Mother's bosom. It appeared they had dug too far and unearthed something dangerous.

The Elven King must needs take it from those irresponsible creatures and keep it contained. Power could not be trusted with the other races of Gaia.

"I have felt this... otherworldly presence... your people have unearthed..." Feyleth said, raising from her chair seated close to the King's. The woman's silver robes pooled at her naked feet as she stood. Feyleth's jewel-like eyes bored into Jorn's face, searching. Across the earthen floor the faerie-elf glided to the dwarf. Not a single sound did her footfalls make as she approached.

When Feyleth reached Jorn Havelshield, she knelt down upon her knees as no elven creature had done before a dwarf in the history of Siv'en. Those deep pools of amaranth stared unblinking into Jorn's, attempting to capture his gaze with her own. But, it was not his eyes that the faerie-elf searched. It was beyond those organic orbs and into what he had seen, what his people had seen, and further...

"I see..." Feyleth's corporeal form disappeared from the court.




Deep beneath the Exalted Mountains in the Kingdom of Mahark did Feyleth appear. Before her eyes laid a box. The powerful woman circled around the construct and finally approached.

A single, silken, and long finger touched the pointed edge.

Instantly her mind became awash with the unseen fingers of another mind, a mind expansive and powerful- a mind that encompassed an entirety of its own dimension.

Who are you?

"A being that belongs to this world while you do not", Feyleth answered the voice. Her palm graced the smooth sides of the cube structure.

I belong to all things, just as all things belong to me. The grasping tendrils of thought latched onto Feyleth's mind. It was a feeling like cold water filling one's skull, and with it, it seeped into her very thoughts.

A shiver ran down Feyleth's spine. Her other delicate hand latched onto the box, needing to feel the object beneath her flesh. A vast wealth of knowledge was nestled in the elven woman's mind; mysteries that had long been forgotten, arcane arts that no longer were practiced, views into the worlds that were attached to Gaia, places that were and no longer were.

And tucked away in the deepest recesses of Feyleth's mind, a malevolence patiently waiting to be unleashed.


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The Landing Site

The silence around the Aschen man broke as a bow string drew. An arrow pointed at the nape of his neck while stern eyes regarded the man. The woman was dressed in leather armor from heel to foot, a mask was drawn up over her jaw, and thick braid of red hair thrown over her shoulder. Mylor appeared human but for one detail; a slightly pointed ear peeking between wisps of hair.

"Lost?" Mylor asked the man. There was a touch of dark humor in the tone of the female's voice. A crooked smile quirked the edge of her mouth upward.

A Terran, she thought to herself, or one of the other bastard human races that infected the once beautiful planet.

"So far from home..." Mylor loosened the bow string and let her aim fall to the earthy ground. The bow was a curious weapon to have on a planet with such low technology and advancements. It was a compound bow made from carbon fiber. Hardly a weapon that was fashioned on Gaia.

Her eyes slide past the man before her and into the woods.

"They're coming for you. Stay here and become their prisoner or ..." A wicked smile spread across the woman's face.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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Dion made his way quietly through the woods, he didn't want to stray too far from the crash site for fear that he would get lost, but his concentration was broken by the sound of a drawing bow, his hand immediately went to the disruptor pistol at his hip, but then he slowly raised both his hands upon realizing that his weapon likely was overcome by whatever seemed to cause his other devices to malfunction, and whoever had drawn down upon him already held the advantage.

Unlike Mylor's leather, Dion was still in his flight suit, the black vinyl like material encased him from his neck to his boots, which were the standard EVA grade all purpose boots, sealed to the suit, as were his gloves.

Worn over his flight suit was a harness, which held an oxygen tank, power source, and the rucksack which was thrown over his shoulder. His uniform also bore the patches and insignia of the Aschen Empire, specifically it's 45th Custos Pantharae prowler squadron. Which bore an image of a black panther lurking over a planet, with an Aschen prowler circling the panther.

His rank insignia, that of captain was denoted by small collar pips, where the helmet sealed to the flight suit, of course all of this was only likely recognizable by those intimately familiar with the Aschen Empire.

Slowly he turned, his hands still raised as to not appear a threat, until his eyes fell upon the woman before her.

"I made a wrong turn at the Pleiades cluster." He said, still keeping his hands raised, but began to lower them as she loosened the tension on the bow.

"They're coming for me? I don't plan on exactly becoming anyone's prisoner." He called out. "You got something better?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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Malad was deep in considering conduction rates of theoretical construct networks and barely noted the hybrid feyelf's assessment of what they already knew. However when she came close a free hand quietly dismissed his view of the journal spire. Were the elves not going to say anything of note? It suited them he supposed. Then the lady fey-elf vanished. His pose straightened as he thought of where she'd gone.

Malad leaned forward to whisper in his Lord's ear, "If this Feyleth has gone in freely to where I think then it may be prudent to investigate gating such paths outward from the box."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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#, as written by Marcus
Torggrim continued to push forward with the dwarven guard right behind him. When he would dip and duck under low hanging branches the rest of his company would attempt to keep their fearless ranger in sight. The Dwarf had a knack for adventuring in strange lands, even though this place was not all that unfamiliar. Wars fought in a distant past left fresh memories and wounds alike.

"Keep up lads. Jorn tasked me to guide your sorry lot here and back." Torggrim bellowed back to the rest of his small platoon.

Many of the dwarves seemed to groan and a few had their jollies satisfied as another took a branch to the face. It was a miracle that Torggrim was even able to keep them in check as he continued to push through the underbrush.

Meanwhile back at the place of meeting Jorn simply frowned as the amalgamation of elf and fea suddenly vanished before the dwarven lords eyes. He simply offered a moody sigh as Malad made the obvious seem ever more so than it already was. Jorn wanted to do just that but his fellow Councilors refused to agree on all terms with him.

"You and I once again agree." Jorn muttered his words silently towards his companion only to shake his head and glance up at the elf upon the throne. "I wouldn't have needed to come here at all if I'd just had my way. A shame really to have to share things when you know best....."