Tanelorn Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dream_guides) wrote2013-02-12 10:45 pm
dream_guides) wrote2013-02-12 10:45 pm
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NPC Listing and Requests
“I appreciate science the same way you flesh and blood creatures appreciate air, food, and water. It is necessary to your existence, is it not? Well, science is the reason I exist as well. I am a literal man of science!”
An honest to goodness sentient rock golem. Towering, made of rough, medium brown stone that is smoothing over time, he stands well over eight feet tall (thank goodness the guild’s complex has very wide doors!) and covered in a wide assortment of glowing runes, holy symbols, and two patent pending warnings. And metal plating. And some wiring here and there. And that’s an awfully fancy wrist computer, too...
Saelius considers himself the ultimate project, constantly refining and upgrading himself with new technology that the Dreampaths bring to Tanelorn. His approach to science and its various disciplines is quite philosophical, really. A very useful point of view when one is the leader of a pack of possibly mad scientists. Has a secretary named Janice who is literally a secretary...bird. She handles most of the paper work for him. However, his sometimes hyper-focus on himself and his lack of ability to understand the foibles of his flesh-and-blood compatriots can lead Saelius to be rather harsh or unforgiving of passed deadlines or extensive sleep crashes that comes with the kind of obsessive focus of researchers.
Tall, caramel skinned, and with a build of a woman who has been on her feet all her life, the master of the Wayfarer’s guild can be found in the multitude of doorways in Tanelorn, peering at them intently, clipboard in hand and wearing the Wayfarer’s uniform of dark green tunic, the golden pin of a signpost, tight breeches, monocle and Reeboks. Her hair is gray and wiry, always pulled back in a too-tight bun or braid, which makes her thin mouth stand out a bit too much, unfortunately. Constantly moving, half her head is in her clipboard or on the messenger bird that just landed on her shoulder and the rest to whomever is talking to her at the moment. Taciturn and to the point, she doesn’t have a lot of time on her hands, her job is vital to the welfare of the city. Every day she has to check the stability and chart new dreampaths that open up to the city and assure that the trade that comes into the city arrives safely.
Ran is one part Don Juan, one part Don Quixote. Unbearably handsome, cut from a hunk of obsidian by the gods own hands, and a smile so bright its been seen by passing starships, Ran is the idol of most of Tanelorn’s female population and even some of the male, too. And he LOVES the attention. He has no problem with stopping by and chatting up his lovely admirers (both male and female) while out on patrol, or stopping by the park to visit with the citizens of his city. Just don’t let him catch you dawdling on the streets, recruit!
Ran is vain, vain, vain. The word humility doesn’t even register with him, except when he confuses it with other words like humidity. He loves the admiration, the gifts, the attention he gets for his looks. But despite his shallowness, he IS dedicated to his work. He is a very skilled swordsman, specializing in traditional sword-and-shield combat. He is serious about his duty to Tanelorn as well; many a seducer has been surprised when honeyed words and flattery fail to bend Ran into corruption. Ran also has never taken a long term lover to his bed, male or female. Whether its his vanity, his duty, or he’s just not interested, nobody has been able to capture his heart, regardless of what happens in his bed.
Tych is a female centaur, about eight feet tall from hooves to head and an equine lower half that resembles a charcoal black Friesian mare, complete with feathered fetlocks and long, sweeping tail. Her upper half from waist to scalp is paler than what it used to be, but the curtain of her dark hair still trails almost to her waist. The few times she’s spoken of her culture, she has stated that her people were migratory, moving between several far apart settlements during the seasons. Her arms and back are decorated in tattoos made of scar tissue, amazingly complicated, smooth, and finely lined. What they mean is something Tych has never revealed.
When coming to Tanelorn, Tych was one of the unfortunate few whose language was not translated by the rings, leaving her to learn to speak English or starve. After English, she learned Spanish and a few other languages from those in Tanelorn, and afterwards, began to write in those languages. Her stories became popular among the Writer’s Guild, who delighted in the stories of mythological figures and traditional hero tales from a completely different world. She entered, and never really left.
While fully capable of speech, Tych is often quiet unless she feels it is required to speak. In fact, her name came from the sound she made when she first came to Tanelorn, a sound of disdain and disappointment in a culture so vastly different from hers.
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