Eikarr is cold, wet, and uncomfortably naked. He wouldn't usually make such a fuss about the issue, but as far as he can tell this isn't anywhere he's been before and none of these people kindle even the vaguest spark of recollection in his mind. Did he mention being cold and wet? Because right now he's incredibly cranky, 'Honoured Guest' or no. "What in the Bloody Fae Hells is going on," he growls, snatching the tunic from the apprentice that hands it to him. He bites out a thanks, but even that might be lost as he attempts to clothe himself post-haste. He's far too irritable to ask more than that, even as he sees the tarot card bearing a sign of what could be Star, could be Wheel, could be fucking anything for all his tired mind can make of it at this distance. Either way, he manages to keep his acidic tongue in check, the only thing keeping his mood from dropping further being the fact that he can't feel the looming presence of his patron in this strange realm. Eikarr almost wants to snap, to say that he doesn't give a rat's fucking arse about Thorne, but he knows all too well that survival often depends on what you know, not how well you can hit something. He dutifully files all the information the apprentices yammer at him away, but as soon as he gets even a modicum of freedom, he splits.
II. In a Room Not My Own - Rooms
The Tiefling takes the news that he's been given shared chambers with a sigh and an irritated flick of his tail, though he still makes sure to thank Jolene for leading him there. The Apprentice points to the one that's been assigned to him, and Eikarr wastes no time in flopping face-first into it. There's so much to think about, and, as he idly worries at the thorn-like scar on his chest, he wonders if the others are okay. It takes a little while, but perhaps a movement of sheets or a cleared throat brings him out of his dour reverie. The Bard sits up, trying to keep his tunic from falling loose over his form and only somewhat succeeding as he looks at whoever made the sound. "Ah- Yes. Shared Quarters," he recounts aloud, tail twitching thoughtfully. "Sorry, I should have said my greetings earlier," he laughs, but the humour doesn't reach his bright blue eyes. "My name is Eikarr," he offers, taking this moment to get as much of a look into the other person as possible.
III. And In A Land I Know Nothing Of - Library
Well. Suffice to say that the explanation given to him by the Mage's apprentices hadn't really answered any questions at all. Eikarr supposed he'd better take matters into his own hands, and when he learned there was a library available to him there didn't seem like there'd be a better place to start. The Tiefling sits in a corner, huddled between bookshelves atop cushions he's stolen from unoccupied chairs and various tomes, slowly thumbing through the pages of a historical tome that he'd spied. Of course, that's only the entrée; the rest of the books he’s got piled up around him vary in size and decoration, one being almost entirely gilded that he seems to be saving for last. But, for now, Eikarr is taking his own hasty notes, the most prominent of which is a sketch of the singularity- "The... Feywilds?" He mutters, mostly to himself, but loud enough for someone else to have heard him in the stillness of the Library.
IV. What Will Become Of Me? - Wanderer
Eikarr will often be round roaming the castle, learning what he can of the peoples and generally trying to grasp as much of the situation as possible. It was inevitable, though, that a man such as him would get into trouble at some point. He gives no fucks about the apparent hierarchy here, not when Mages and Kings die the same damned death any other mortal does. And especially when none of these Mages or apprentices aren't able to tell him anything more about the Feywilds. "What do you mean 'No one's been there in living memory'? The wilds aren't beholden to the mortal sense of time, and it would refuse to be forgotten!" He may or may not be harassing a poor Apprentice or Scholar about the evident lack of current documented history. But He has to know. He has to know if they're the same place he's connected to. Are you going to help Eikarr, or his victim?
V. Wildcard!
[OOC: Eikarr is a 5e D&D OC! He's just recently bargained with an Archfey to become her Warlock in exchange for safe passage for the rest of his adventuring party, and the last thing he remembers is falling into a lake in the Feywilds (fun!). He's not a particularly happy bunny right now, but he'll soften up eventually! I'm down to plot anything really, contact me at levelthreehooligan to chat! Eikarr's history is mostly written up on his journal, but if you want to know anything please feel free to ask me!]
Eikarr - D&D TTRPG Character - 5e - OTA!
Welcome to Thorne
I. Where I Am Now,
Eikarr is cold, wet, and uncomfortably naked. He wouldn't usually make such a fuss about the issue, but as far as he can tell this isn't anywhere he's been before and none of these people kindle even the vaguest spark of recollection in his mind.
Did he mention being cold and wet? Because right now he's incredibly cranky, 'Honoured Guest' or no.
"What in the Bloody Fae Hells is going on," he growls, snatching the tunic from the apprentice that hands it to him. He bites out a thanks, but even that might be lost as he attempts to clothe himself post-haste. He's far too irritable to ask more than that, even as he sees the tarot card bearing a sign of what could be Star, could be Wheel, could be fucking anything for all his tired mind can make of it at this distance.
Either way, he manages to keep his acidic tongue in check, the only thing keeping his mood from dropping further being the fact that he can't feel the looming presence of his patron in this strange realm.
Eikarr almost wants to snap, to say that he doesn't give a rat's fucking arse about Thorne, but he knows all too well that survival often depends on what you know, not how well you can hit something. He dutifully files all the information the apprentices yammer at him away, but as soon as he gets even a modicum of freedom, he splits.
II. In a Room Not My Own - Rooms
The Tiefling takes the news that he's been given shared chambers with a sigh and an irritated flick of his tail, though he still makes sure to thank Jolene for leading him there.
The Apprentice points to the one that's been assigned to him, and Eikarr wastes no time in flopping face-first into it.
There's so much to think about, and, as he idly worries at the thorn-like scar on his chest, he wonders if the others are okay.
It takes a little while, but perhaps a movement of sheets or a cleared throat brings him out of his dour reverie. The Bard sits up, trying to keep his tunic from falling loose over his form and only somewhat succeeding as he looks at whoever made the sound.
"Ah- Yes. Shared Quarters," he recounts aloud, tail twitching thoughtfully. "Sorry, I should have said my greetings earlier," he laughs, but the humour doesn't reach his bright blue eyes.
"My name is Eikarr," he offers, taking this moment to get as much of a look into the other person as possible.
III. And In A Land I Know Nothing Of - Library
Well. Suffice to say that the explanation given to him by the Mage's apprentices hadn't really answered any questions at all.
Eikarr supposed he'd better take matters into his own hands, and when he learned there was a library available to him there didn't seem like there'd be a better place to start.
The Tiefling sits in a corner, huddled between bookshelves atop cushions he's stolen from unoccupied chairs and various tomes, slowly thumbing through the pages of a historical tome that he'd spied. Of course, that's only the entrée; the rest of the books he’s got piled up around him vary in size and decoration, one being almost entirely gilded that he seems to be saving for last.
But, for now, Eikarr is taking his own hasty notes, the most prominent of which is a sketch of the singularity-
"The... Feywilds?" He mutters, mostly to himself, but loud enough for someone else to have heard him in the stillness of the Library.
IV. What Will Become Of Me? - Wanderer
Eikarr will often be round roaming the castle, learning what he can of the peoples and generally trying to grasp as much of the situation as possible.
It was inevitable, though, that a man such as him would get into trouble at some point. He gives no fucks about the apparent hierarchy here, not when Mages and Kings die the same damned death any other mortal does.
And especially when none of these Mages or apprentices aren't able to tell him anything more about the Feywilds.
"What do you mean 'No one's been there in living memory'? The wilds aren't beholden to the mortal sense of time, and it would refuse to be forgotten!" He may or may not be harassing a poor Apprentice or Scholar about the evident lack of current documented history.
But He has to know. He has to know if they're the same place he's connected to.
Are you going to help Eikarr, or his victim?
V. Wildcard!
[OOC:
Eikarr is a 5e D&D OC! He's just recently bargained with an Archfey to become her Warlock in exchange for safe passage for the rest of his adventuring party, and the last thing he remembers is falling into a lake in the Feywilds (fun!). He's not a particularly happy bunny right now, but he'll soften up eventually!
I'm down to plot anything really, contact me at