Difference between revisions of "Cordir - Descriptions"
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=== | ===January 18, 2012: Mindblank Spell RP=== | ||
The falling curtain of her silvery cobweb hair blocks the face of the Immortal | The falling curtain of her silvery cobweb hair blocks the face of the Immortal | ||
before you. She is still and silent, Her focus entirely inward. Even your gaze | before you. She is still and silent, Her focus entirely inward. Even your gaze | ||
Revision as of 12:21, 11 December 2012
Mortal Titles:
Hum [ Ma:16 ] Cordir walks an ebon road alone. Wyrm. 3rd Circle. (August 1996) Hum [ Ma:20 ] Cordir, Witch of the Black Conclave (October 31, 1996) Hum [ Ma:24 ] Cordir, Witch of the Black Conclave [Apprenticed] (December 4, 1996) Hum [ Ma:25 ] Cordir: Fellowship Witch. Triat Nashite. ...padl (Date Unknown) Hum [ Ma:28 ] Cordir dances through Silver shadows. Fellowship. (February 2, 1997) Hum [ Ma:30 ] Cordir smiles brightly through the tears. Fellowship (February 23, 1997) Hum [ Ma:30 ] (KILLER) Cordir: Fellowship Witch, Triat Master, NewbieHelper (2x's dying moments) Hum [ Ma:30 ] Cordir: Fellowship Witch, Triat Master, NewbieHelper (Oct 26, 1997 - 3x install) Hum [ Ma:30 ] Cordir: Fellowship. Triat. NewbieHelper. (November 1, 1997) Hum [ Questor ] Cordir Fellowship Witch, Ebon Bard, Triat Master (December 14, 1997) Hum [ Ma:27 ] Cordir, caraid du An-Shalach, Ebon Bard, Weaver. (April 25, 1998) Hum [ Ma:27 ] Cordir: Ebon Bard, Triat Master, Weaver, Nashite (October 03, 1998) Hum [ Ma:28 ] Cordir: Ebon Bard, Triat Weaver, Fellowship Witch (December 28, 1998) Hum [ Ma:29 ] Cordir: sitting in the geek spot (December 31, 1998) Hum [ Ma:29 ] Cordir: shunning the whiskered. Nashite. (Date Unknown) Hum [ Ma:29 ] Cordir, Hanger-On, Handmaiden, and Breeding Idiot. (Date Unknown) Hum [ Ma:29 ] Cordir and Mireya An-Shalach, Fellowship. (January 1999) Hum [ Ma:30 ] Cordir: Crosses her fingers and prays. (January 1999)
Mortal Descriptions:
August 11, 1996: Wedding to Keller
Huge, liquid cobalt blue eyes gaze back at you, clouded with thoughts both terrible and beautiful. There is depth in those eyes now, and a lack of the madness that - until recently - was all too easily seen there. Her once glorious long blonde hair is short now, hacked off haphazardly at the shoulders, and has changed to an unusual smoky grey color streaked with glints of silver.
Old scars delicately crisscross most of the pale skin that is visible on her slim and lithe body. A slight wound on her neck remains unhealed, the place where she received a vampire god's kiss, and her right arm is permanently marked with the stigmata where a Lich once touched her.
Her garb is still simple, similar to what a peasant would wear, but with one exception. Basic woolen trews, linnea, and tunic woven in shades of brown and green are covered by a rich cloak of superlative weave, the clasp finely worked gold with a heraldic insignia. Pinned on the cloak is a sigil, which writhes and moves of it's own accord, the details of it escaping your eyes.
Bizarrely, a black iron shackle with the same insignia as the cloak clasp is locked around one thin wrist. Her head lifts as she notices your gaze, and one eyebrow lifts in silent inquiry as to why anyone would want to be looking at one such as she.
Level 16: During a Storytelling contest by Nalya
Cobalt blue eyes seem to swallow you up, as you gaze into them. Zephyrs move about her, flaring her robes and making snakes of her hair. Her visage blurs before your eyes, as you hear the voices in her head...
December 4, 1996: Giving Scar a Bath
.... impressions... ..hair like the silver-grey ghost-light of the moon from behind the clouds... ..Garb; a strange mixture of peasant, noble and whore, covering a lithe body the size of a child's... ..The sharp scent of ozone as lightning dances on her fingertips... ..Poet's eyes: joyful, tragic, insane, yearning, empty... now sharp chips of sapphire, hard and cold..now like the southern seas, warm and gentle ..An angry red burn cauterizing a delicate wound on alabaster skin... ..A blackened stigmata branding her now and forever the Lich's property.. ..old shackle scars braceleting tiny wrists, quietly revealing her as one who has known - and in some ways still knows - slavery... ..A heart like shattered ice, splinters piercing her very being... and that of others... ..A soul dimly lit by a faltering ember of goodness trapped in blackfold terror, like a seed awaiting germination.. with the terrible knowledge the mask is becoming the maid; the blank slate being rewritten.. the old story lost... .. The barest echo of a weaver's web still enwrapped around her, a wyrm's coils loosened but not released, a wyld wind subdued but not stilled – but she sees them not... Now comes an arcane gesture and a murmur of Thoras in a softly accented voice as her startled gaze meets yours. Invisibly she slips away, shamed to have been seen... Who is she? A cypher to be sure. Better to ask who she has been: Bard. Oathbreaker. Criminal. Baroness. Nashite.... witch. Cordir is in perfect health. Cordir is using: <used as light> (Magical) (Glowing) a war banner <worn on finger> (Magical) (Glowing) the ancient obsidian ring <worn around neck> (Magical) the Amulet of Blocking <worn around neck> (Magical) the Amulet of True Seeing <worn on body> a French Maid's Outfit <worn on head> (Red Aura) a witch's hat <worn about body> an apron <wielded> (Glowing) the Ebony Blade <held> a duster <worn with pride> (Red Aura) the Mark of the Black Conclave <worn with pride> (Red Aura) (Magical) (Glowing) a black pearl brooch
Date Unknown
... Strength.
Puzzled, you look again, seeking to understand where that first impression came from. But yes, there it is again... the delicate strength of spider's silk or the grip of a serpent's coils or the grasp of madness... or fate. It couldn't have been from her physical attributes, as she is hardly an imposing woman, slight of stature and built as she is... (Really, the word 'waif' springs to mind, not warrior). Perhaps it was the echos in her sapphire eyes, that whisper of hidden mysteries and knowledges shared with few. Perhaps it was the color of her hair - a strange cobweb-like gray which hangs down to her hips, almost like a shroud. Or perhaps it was the strange scar on her breast that somehow, horribly, _moves_ on her flesh, not in time to heartbeat or breath, but of its own accord; a Sigil, a Ward, a potent and eternal declaration of past, present and future allegiance.
Perhaps it was none of those things. Perhaps it was just your imagination.
Perhaps not.
Level 24
A tempestuous woman of inherent contradictions stands before you - the White Witch of the Silver Fellowship. Her aura at last matches the color of her piercing, steady gaze; the hue of the sun-dappled waters of the southern seas. A haunting smile, half joy, half sorrow plays over her lips as she wrenches her gaze from yours. As she turns away and her cloak falls, the shadow of a scar on the line of her throat is revealed and a blackened hand-print is laid bare on her left shoulder. She flips her moon-grey hair over the marks and her pale features somehow grow more ashen.
'Everyone has their scars... some within... some without... old marks of allegiances, they are... but... no matter. In Lord Nash's name, blessings and greetings. How may I serve you?' she murmurs, her voice slightly accented with a colonial dialect of Thoras. She lays aside a slim ebon leather bound book and quill pen, and offers you a hand in welcome. Peeping over her shoulder, you can just make out the words written:
'I told myself it mattered not, the color of a soul
But instead, the Path that's tread, and the final goal.
I told myself so many things to keep myself content
But friends three, they aided me; the veil of lies was rent.
In Service Silver I rejoice, Gryphon the Lord I serve
Still Weaver's Chyld, not the Wyld's, as any could observe.
And though behind, burned bridges lie, to my eternal sorrow
I face the future with some hope and no fear of tomorrow.'
Level 28: During pregnancy with Mireya
Cordir raises shining sapphire eyes to meet yours, and you are stunned by the changes in this usually reserved, dignified woman. Her laughter is exultant, and she smiles radiantly, simply because it feels good to do so. She twirls in a circle, the circle of her dress flaring out to bare shapely ankles, her hair floating out behind her like a silver-gray cloak... and for a moment, you could have sworn you heard... no... it couldn't be... not Cordir giggling??
Her precious ebon-leather bound book has fallen negligently to the ground, and upon the open page thus revealed, lies the answer to this mystery. You read:
"I love him.
So simple a phrase, so utterly inadequate.
I am a woman... nay, a goddess... reborn,
rebirthed like the phoenix
from the flames of his heart
There is color, now, in a world
no longer simply shades of gray,
as if the Realm itself rejoiced with me.
I long to sing out like the robin for all to hear,
unable to contain in this finite mortal form
the joy that sweeps through me like the summer tides.
Laughing for the sound of it,
Loving for the thrill of it,
Weeping for the beauty of it,
I, finally, am whole."
Looking again, you notice a glow about her that you have never seen before, and she seems a bit more... plump... than usual...
1998: Level 29 - During quest for permission to marry Deamhan
Slim and pale as a shaft of silver moonlight, the woman before you acknowledges your gaze with a nod, then lifts sapphire bright eyes to yours. In them, you see something ageless, ancient, the echo of an Incarna that has not been praised in this Realm by any lips other than her own since the Ascension of Thaygar.
She has changed much, this woman, this witch, altered forever by a Quest for Immortality and a newly found love that has taught her more of love and Life than her previous four hundred years of experience in this Realm. The joys sorrows of motherhood, the deep sorrow of the loss of her lifelong dream, and the continuance of a belief in the Three that have guided her steps ever since her Ebon rebirth. All of these have carved away the chaff from her soul, leaving her the essence of her self - mother, bard, lover, witch, weaver.
A slight smile flashes across her features, and almost. as if sensing your realizations, she nods once more. 'Clear Pattern to you, and may Darkness ever guide your Path.' A swift gesture, an arcane murmur in Thoras, and the last servant of the Triat slowly fades from view.
January 10, 1999: Level 30 Mage - Interviewing with Tynian for Immortality
You are using: <used as light> (Red Aura) (Magical) a red dragon's eye <worn on finger> (Magical) (Glowing) a circle of moonlight <worn on finger> (Magical) the flaring sapphire ring <worn around neck> (Red Aura) (Magical) a black mantle with jeweled breast clasp <worn around neck> (Magical) the rainbow glass amulet <worn on body> (Magical) (Glowing) a sheer gown of fine white silk <worn on head> (Magical) a samanite silk headscarf <worn on legs> (Magical) golden dragonscale leggings <worn on feet> (Magical) some dragon wing slippers <worn on hands> (Magical) a pair of soft grey leather gloves <worn on arms> (Magical) golden dragonscale sleeves <worn about body> (Magical) the Ward of the Triat <worn about waist> (Magical) a jeweled belt with filigreed buckle <worn around wrist> (Magical) (Humming) the scintillating agate bracelet <worn around wrist> (Glowing) (Tattoed) the name-rune of Alak-Nacha <wielded> (Magical) a long sword <held> Red Aura)(Magical) (Glowing) a crystal ball <worn with pride> the mark of the vampire <worn with pride> the Golden Quill of Word-Craft
(Equipment gathered on her behalf by Daelin.)
Mortal Score:
Score, Circa Early 1996:
You are Cordir..... Oathbreaker, Outcast, 121 years old (208 hours).
You are a level 16 Mage
You have 82/169 hit, 143/160 mana, 191/191 movement, 2 practices.
You have 0 training sessions remaining.
You are carrying 19/33 items with weight 120/220 kg.
Str: TRN Int: TRN Wis: TRN Dex: TRN Con: TRN Chr: TRN
TRN = trainable, MAX = untrainable.
You are fairly lucky.
You have scored 117770 exp, and have 5 gold coins.
You need 13861 exp for level 17.
Autoexit: yes. Autogold: yes, Autoloot: no. Autosac: no.
Wimpy set to 84 hit points.
You are standing.
You are wearing clothes.
You are Neutral.
Score, February 16, 1997:
Pre-3x, just prior to hitting level 30 for the first time
You are Cordir of the Fellowship., 366 years old (698 hours).
You are a level 29 Mage
You worship Gryphon, who appears to be OFFLINE
You have 338/338 hit, 243/243 mana, 280/280 movement, 0 practices.
You have 1 training sessions remaining.
You are carrying 35/36 items with weight 156/250 kg.
Str: TRN Int: TRN Wis: TRN Dex: TRN Con: TRN Chr: TRN
TRN = trainable, MAX = untrainable.
You are fairly lucky.
You have scored 365254 exp, and have 13440 gold coins.
You need 146 exp for level 30.
Autoexit: yes. Autogold: yes, Autoloot: no. Autosac: no.
Wimpy set to 165 hit points.
You are standing.
You are heavily armored.
You are Good.
You are affected by:
Spell: 'bless'.
Spell: 'bless'.
Spell: 'armor'.
Spell: 'wizard mark'.
Spell: 'shield'.
Score, Circa 1998:
After 3x Conversion, Approaching level 30 for the second time.
You are Cordir: shunning the whiskered. Nashite.,
642 years old (1261 hours), created Sun Oct 26 97 17:15:41.
You live in Kuroth and your race is Human.
You are a level 29 Mage.
You have 305/305 hit, 238/245 mana, 272/272 movement, 5 practices.
You have 0 training sessions remaining.
You are carrying 34/37 items with weight 316/275 kg.
Str: TRN Int: TRN Wis: TRN Dex: TRN Con: TRN Chr: TRN
TRN = trainable, MAX = untrainable.
You are fairly lucky.
You have scored 396658 exp (452114 total), and have 15891 gold coins.
You need 31670 exp for level 30.
Autoexit: yes. Autogold: yes. Autoloot: no. Autosac: no.
Wimpy set to 130 hit points.
You are standing.
You are slightly armored.
You are unaligned.
You are affected by:
Spell: 'improved invis'.
Spell: 'detect invis'.
Immortal Titles:
Hum [ Ambassador ] Cordir: how can I help you? January 10, 1999 Hum [ Ambassador ] Cordir, Lady An-Shalach, Ebon Weaver March 20, 1999 Hum [ Ambassador ] Cordir An-Shalach, Oathed to a Kindred. Ebon. April 2, 1999 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir An-Shalach, serving Balance. April 14, 1999 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir An-Shalach, Ebon Weaver serving Balance. Jun 21, 1999 Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir really, really wasn't expecting that Jun 21, 1999 Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir An-Shalach, Weaver Incarna, Mistress of Fate June 28, 1999 Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir An-Shalach, Lady of Fate, Webmistress August 24, 1999 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir An-Shalach, Lady of Fate, Webmistress. December 31, 1999 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir: tiny telnet window - repeat, please? December 31, 1999 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir: thebricksofmydefencesscatteredallaround June 29, 2000 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir: Karma, like Fate, never forgets. *D* August 19, 2000 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir An-Shalach, Lady of Fate. *D* September 9, 2000 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir An-Shalach, Lady of Cookies. Er...Fate. January 23, 2001 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir, bereft Lady of Fate. March 3, 2001 (1) Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir: Judge Me by My enemies. *Fate* August 10, 2001 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir wears mourning black. Weaver of Fate. September 11, 2001 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir: Penitent Ebon Weaver of Fate. October 10, 2001 Hum [ Ambassador ] Cordir, penitent weaver, teacher of the young October 28, 2001 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir seeks her Dark, Shadow y Night November 10, 2001 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir busca su Dark, Shadow y Night November 11, 2001 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir: Evil? Third time's the charm...Dark Fate? November 13, 2001 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir: Descriptions-R-Us (just ask) DarkWeaver November 18, 2001 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir: Booga-in-training. Dark Shadowed Night. November 22, 2001 Hum [ Attendant ] Cordir goes bump in the dark December 3, 2001 Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir: Fate reborn, arisen from ashes. December 3, 2001 Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir, Lady of Fate, UberGeek. *Stormreaver* February 25, 2002 Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir, bereft. Fate. March 19, 2002 (2) Hum [ Demigoddess ] Cordir: Fate & chocolate chip cookies. *Stormreaver* May 22, 2002 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir bounces and grins. Fate. Stormreaver. May 22, 2002 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir: Fate. Stormreaver. Beware of snakes. July 15, 2002 (3) Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir has bad CTS, not typing much. Fate. :-( August 17, 2002 Hum [ Lesser Goddess ] Cordir, Fate's Weaver, Ebon Bard *Stormreaver* December 21, 2002 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir Lady of Fate, Weaver Incarna *Stormreaver* March 9, 2003 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Fate|Oook Groupie|Oathed to the Stormreaver May 11, 2003 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir ponders the Dawn of Arcanely Wyld Mayhem. July 14, 2003 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate, oathed to the Stormreaver September 15, 2003 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is in the shower. October 10, 2003 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: seeking Khore. Fate. Stormreaver. Ty-TMQFC December 11, 2003 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady Fate. *Stormreaver* Ty-TMQ-FC January 3, 2004 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Girls of TFC Calendar! Volunteer Today! January 24, 2004 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of the Chosen of Fate, Ebon Bard *Abe* April 11, 2004 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir wears black in mourning. *Fate* *Abe* April 22, 2004 (4) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Mrs Musk Ox, loves her Hubby & her Fate. May 16, 2004 (5) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate. (or something) *Abe* November 13, 2004 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate. *Abe* 10k Club. January 3, 2005 (6) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Not cute. Just Scary. *Fate* *Abe* September 4, 2005 (7) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Is ready to run a team quest! Any takers? January 7, 2006 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate. *Abe* 11k Club. February 9, 2006 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is hoping to speak to a god+ Tells pls. February 2, 2007 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir wants spell scores for Cadee. Fork em over! August 1, 2007 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate. *Abe* 12k Club. January 8, 2008 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate, Ebon Bard, Triat Master March 2, 2008 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir burns... April 28, 2008 (8) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is content. April 30, 2008 (8) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Lady of Fate, Ebon Bard, Triat Master June 22, 2008 (9) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Bard, Triat Master. Weaver|WYRM|Wyld February 6, 2009 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Bard, Triat Master. Weaver|Wyrm|WYLD February 12, 2009 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Bard, Triat Master. WEAVER|Wyrm|Wyld March 15, 2009 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Just Visiting. (Abe/Fate/Ebon) July 18, 2010 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is looking for Tynian. (Abe/Fate/Ebon) July 24, 2010 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir, Lady of Fate, Ebon Bard, Triat Master 01-23-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir, TFC Amateur Historian. Ebon|Fate|Abe. 01-24-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir: Mud history geek. (Needs CMUD help!) Fate/Ebon 01-24-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir is running a quest. Read notes. 02-02-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir: Wikifying Silonch. Tells, please 02-10-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir: Wikifying Keller. Tells, please. 02-10-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir is randoming. 02-21-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir is auctioning Mostly Metals at 8:30 02-22-2011 Hum [ Goddess ] Cordir: emptiness and ice. 02-24-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Epic Quest. Tomorrow. Prepare. 03-12-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Epic Quest. Today. Prepare. 03-13-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is secretly..... THE STIG! 03-15-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is working on Rufus' temple. 03-18-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is researching geasa. 03-18-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: HATES KUROTH!! BUG HUNT ABOUT TO START!! 03-24-2011 Hum [ TH:1 ] Cordir is one with the thiefyness 04-01-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Patroness of Bards. [Aflame] 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: let the Heavens weep. 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir prepares an ancient spell. 04-02-2011 (10) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir murmurs the ritual words. 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir completes the incanation. 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir forgets. 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir sleeps. 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Goddess of Ebon Night. 04-02-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Goddess [fiftythousandtearsivecried] 04-09-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Can help with bunny keys. In Office. 04-22-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: SPIDER SWARM IN MG! BEWARE!! 04-22-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Workin on the Wiki. Tells, please. 04-25-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Seeking Darius and Hedschott and Corri. 05-30-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir is looking for Soloban. 07-19-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Goddess, Patroness of Bards. [Abe] 07-20-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: PIRATES HAVE ATTACKED SEASIDE!! BEWARE!! 08-13-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: is meteor swarming the temple zone. Warned. 08-16-2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir feels better: Wish is on the case! 09-30-2011 (11) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: tells please, for costume contest / zombies 10/30/2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir, Ebon. [..but only brought more...] 11/26/2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Weaver [livingalietheresnothinginside] 12/07/2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir crafts Triat Mastery. 12/16/2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir gazes about with spider's eyes - Ebon Weaver 12/17/2011 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: distracted 01/04/2012 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: helpful.. yet scary! 01/11/2012 (12) Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Ebon Goddess, Patroness of Bards. [Abe] 04/01/2012 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir - a spider for every century 06/14/2012 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir the Ancient. 06/20/2012 Hum [ Triat Weaver ] Cordir: Angriff is helping me with quest prep. 07/16/2012
(1) March 3, 2001: Deamhan An-Shalach fades from this world. (2) March 19, 2002: Cordir releases Nyx as her Ordained. (3) July 15, 2002: Cordir names Myronides an Enemy. (4) April 22, 2004: Cordir wears black, mourning the loss of several who retire all at once, including Kerriariadne and Bliss. (5) May 16, 2004: The day before, Cordir and Abe marry in RL. (6) January 3, 2005: Cordir hits 10,000 hours of play. (7) September 4, 2005: In response to Mystaya's title (Mystaya, Insanely cute and extra scary!). (8) April 28 - May 5: Nunya bidness. (9) June 22, 2008: Retirement. (10) Mind Blank spell. (11) Myst sues Cordir. (12) Results of the latest BlissPoll.
Immortal Scores:
03/21/1999
You are Cordir An-Shalach, Oathed to a Kindred. Ebon.,
821 years old (1618 hours), created Sun Oct 26 97 17:15:41.
You live in Kuroth and your race is Human.
You are an Ambassador!.
You have 100/100 hit, 100/100 mana, 100/100 movement, 0 practices.
You have 0 training sessions remaining.
You are carrying 3/60 items with weight 21/1000000 kg.
Str: 17(17) Int: 17(17) Wis: 10(10) Dex: 17(17) Con: 12(12)
Chr: 12(12) Luck: 15(15).
You have scored 0 exp (487425 total), and have 0 gold coins.
You are at the top of the food chain in this class.
Autoexit: yes. Autogold: no. Autoloot: no. Autosac: no.
Wimpy set to 130 hit points.
You are standing.
You are unprotected.
You are Neutral.
You are affected by:
Immortal Descriptions:
1999: Attendant to Tokugawa / Wedding to Deamhan
Enduring.
Odd, how that was the first word to enter your mind as you gazed upon this, the Realm's newest Immortal. There is something about her that speaks clearly of perseverance; the strength of the oak against the storm, the stone against the sea.
Inexorably called, you look deeper into eyes tinted like moonlight dancing over still water, darkness striated by light. There is compassion there, and wisdom also. Loss. Love. Pain. Joy. Failure. Success... All of the infinite possibilities of a life lived to its fullness. And yet, beyond all of that, something deep within. Something more. You spy a hint of something intangible - perhaps a shadow of something greater, like the whisper of the butterfly to come, seen in the chrysalis.
"Greetings to you," she murmurs, her voice so soft you must strain to hear it. "I am Cordir An-Shalach, an Ambassador. I am here to guide and aid those new to the Realm. If you are in need of such, you have but to ask, and I will aid you as I can."
1999: DemiGoddess Equipment
Cordir is using: <worn on finger> (Magical) a silver band bearing the Ebon Sigil Odegra <worn on finger> (Magical) a silver band bearing the Sapphire Glyph Argedo <worn around neck> (Magical) a silver chain of hematites in web-shaped links <worn around neck> the marks of a vampire's Kiss <worn on body> (Magical) a simple gown of indigo Yochlol-silk <worn on head> (Magical) a nimbus of indigo light <worn on legs> (Magical) soft leggings of indigo Yochlol-silk <worn on feet> (Magical) gray leather sandals laced to the knee <worn on hands> (Magical) a nimbus of indigo light <worn as shield> (Magical) an immense Elder Sign <worn about waist> (Magical) (Glowing) The Circles of The Order <worn around wrist> (Magical) (Tattooed) the name-rune of Alak-Nascha <worn around wrist> (Magical) (Tattooed) the name-rune of An-Shalach <wielded> (Magical) (Glowing) Threads from the Pattern <held> (Purple Aura) (Glowing) a silver weaving shuttle <worn with pride> (Tattooed) (Writhing) The Covenant of the Chosen <worn with pride> (Magical) (Glowing) (Humming) the Medallion of Goddesshood
1999 & 2000: Halloween
Surely this must be an illusion! For there is no way the quiet, reserved Lady Cordir would appear in public in such a state of dress... surely not? Oh. Wait. Its Halloween. Even Goddesses get to wear costumes on Halloween.
You examine her garb carefully, and realize with widened eyes that the French Maid's Outfit that covers her form so scantily must be the self-same one that was made for her by the Great Implementor Madman, in ancient days. The tiny black velvet skirt is fluffed out by several crisp white crinoline underskirts, and a tiny white lace apron and cap add to the ensemble.
She waggles her feather duster at you reprovingly, scattering dust everywhere.
<worn around neck> (Magical) the marks of a vampire's Kiss <worn on body> a French Maid's Outfit <worn on legs> (Magical) a pair of black lace stockings <worn on feet> (Magical) a pair of 3-inch stiletto heels <held> a duster
1999: DemiGoddess
Falling....
Looking into Her eyes, you lose your sense of self, and plummet into those orbs of deepest blue which darken to star-lit midnight as She registers your presence. Somehow, you feel safe here, in the place of Her regard. Her gaze is gentle, and holds the fullest measure of your existence up to this moment, and what your future may-yet-be. You can almost read it, almost see it... unconsciously, you yearn forward, to know what is written there.
With a slight, graceful gesture She tilts her face to the side so that the silver curtain of Her hair cascades forward, severing contact with those eyes.
'Such knowledge, friend, is not one lightly gained.' Her voice is soft, huskily accented in Old-Thoras. 'The future comes soon enough. Seek you no knowledge of it here.'
October 23, 2000: Demigoddess. Used again March 2008. Written by Khore
The light seems to intensify slightly as She glides into your view: a dim, barely perceptible radiance bathing Her delicate features. She is formed like a statue whose sculptor's hands this Realm will never again know - petite, lithe, but with the curves of a woman who has borne a child. The room is stilled and yet the translucent gown She wears with an autocratic grace moves about Her with a mysterious will of its own, in concert with a web-shaped tattoo at the pool of Her throat.
She says nothing, but Her gaze speaks volumes to you. You would call them a color you had never seen, had you the strength to return their unwavering judgment. They rest upon you and your head bows of its own volition, and just as quickly, the tangible lifting of weight is felt as that Immortal gaze leaves you.
There is no smile on Her lips. Only the softly upturned edge that dares a smile to be. She has much to teach, and you have much to be taught. Perhaps the answer is not as important as knowing the question that should be asked.
January 24, 2001: Demigoddess. Co-Written with Tirayel
A small woman's light-boned figure moves lithely before you, with the grace of the turning stars. She stands out sharply from the background, somehow more real than the world around Her. As you dare to look directly into Her face, you find yourself tumbling headlong into the abyss of Her eyes. Time shatters, moments and eons swirling in the wind. Your spirit collides with blazing motes of possibility as your vision is filled with a whirling kaleidoscope of lives, beings, instants of joy, anguish and wonder.
* A devout mage-bard crawls upon black glass and fire, her own blood the water to wash them clean * A hollow woman, stripped of self-knowledge and choice, is bound to those she hates * Hair a cloud of spun mithril, her angry, narrowed eyes blazing with indigo light, a witch stands fast before the Inquisition stripping her of her faith's name.*
You are once more in the body you had nearly forgotten, and She smiles softly at you. "Few can look upon their own Fate without trembling, and in time all come to my Loom. You have dared much. Now you must grow beyond what you have known."
Her words bring both trepidation and comfort, for she is the final incarna and servant of the Three. She is Wyrm, placing your beginnings within the Tapestry itself. She is Weaver, knowing you and your place in each cast of the shuttle, entwining your life with that of others. And she is Wyld, cutting all Threads at the end.
November 21, 2001: Attendant to Kerriariadne
You say, 'I need a new description.'.
Lanfear says (in common), 'A mean one!'.
Tranquility laughs.
Ebonie shakes his head.
You blink.
Lanfear says (in common), 'a seductive one!'.
Tranquility says (in common), 'She does not need a mean one'.
Ebonie says (in common), 'Something short and simple'.
Tranquility says (in common), 'A softer one'.
Lanfear says (in common), 'its time for one!'.
Cordir is bathed in the essence of charisma.
Cordir is in perfect health.
Cordir is using:
<worn about body> a long robe of pure white linen
<worn with pride> (Artifact magic) (Glowing) (Humming) the Medallion of Goddesshood
<worn with pride> (Tattooed) (Writhing) The Covenant of the Chosen
November 11, 2001: Written by Tranquility
The silver-haired Lady who stands before you has the bearing of warrior-maiden, yet the womanly curves and gentle features of any heroine of the oldest tales. As her gaze meet yours, the calm they reflect mimics that of a sun-warmed, indigo lake in a hidden and unknown forest, bearing not a ripple upon its surface, but with depths enough to drown in.
As her intense, observant gaze looks deeper into yours, lifetimes pass before your eyes, all one soul but many incarnations. How many lives have you led? Even if you do not know, the Weaver Incarna does. As she stands before you now, the glimmering hint of your strand is stretched between her slender hands. It is She who minds the threads, who chooses life, death, happiness, love, sorrow, whatever is needed that the pattern be set as it should.
Equally at home in the pure energies of the Pattern as she is taking small steps teaching the young of the Realm, the Lady moves with grace and modesty, yet the sensuality of a woman awakened to her fullest potential. The slight hints of icy reserve about her melt away, and a delighted smile curves her sweet crimson lips. Tilting her head to one side, her eyes fall upon a soul in the Weave beyond your sight, perhaps one she calls her Chosen, her friend or her beloved. Laughing gently, teasingly, she murmurs an answer you cannot hear, and whispers a spell of protection and warding.
Perhaps there is a side to this Goddess that few know.
June 2, 2002: Mortal, during Pfile Corruption
The blue eyes of the lass before you seem ancient, ageless, utterly at odds in such a young woman. Her smile is secret, knowing, and she toys with a lock of her long, spun silver hair. Pale skinned, small boned and waifishly slender, she seems almost ethereal, as if this mortal shell was somehow utterly unfamiliar to her. A shiny black spider crawls out from the protective web of her hair, as comfortable within those locks as it would be in its own spun home.
October 31, 2002: (Winning) Holloween Costume Contest Entry
The woman who slouches before you has a sardonic, feral smirk curving her lips. Her pale, scratched hands move restlessly at her sides, as if unable to keep from typing 'whozone' at a meteoric rate, and trying to keep the cat off the keyboard. Glancing at a notebook covered in a astonishing array of facts and bits of data including home towns, reports, and stolen glances at inventories and equipment lists, her hazy blue eyes scan the horizon, searching for prey. A large, forgotten mug holds a no-longer very cold quart of some unknown, caffeine and sugar laced substance to help her maintain the long hours needed to track down the smallest possible character in her level range and pounce. A row of blinking lights reflect up on her face, from the row of IMs calling for her attention. She chews reflectively on her lower lip and her eyes narrow once more as she glances around her surroundings. A quick movement of one hand checks her macros and aliases once more, and a soft, muttered curse escapes as she sees someone depart the Realm. 'Next time, bloo, you gonna be my biatch!' Cordir the evil PKer is in perfect health. worn on finger (Potent magic) raggedly bitten fingernails worn on body (Potent magic) a blue t-shirt badly in need of laundering worn on head (Potent magic) a ballcap worn backwards worn on legs (Potent magic) droopy, torn sweatpants, stained with catsup worn on feet (Potent magic) a pair of mis-laced sneakers worn on arms (Potent magic) hand and wrist support braces worn about body (Potent magic) a flannel bathrobe wielded (Potent magic) a slice of day old pizza worn with pride (Potent magic) logs from her last four PKs worn with pride (Red Aura) a PK'er's grim determination Cordir is bathed in the essence of charisma. Cordir is in perfect health.
October 22, 2003: Lesser Goddess - Conflict with Wyld Hunt
Haunted eyes of a indigo so deep you could drown in them meet yours. There is a fire in them - that of one whose faith and foundation has been shaken to its core, shattered beyond healing - a wild, recklessness terrifying to see. Her calf-length hair is disheveled, snarled, spattered with what may be blood, and tangled with leaves and small twigs as if she passed through wilderness with no care for her own well being. Dirt smudges with the same breadth as her knuckles drag across one cheek where tears were dashed from her face. The full curve of her lower lip is bleeding and swollen from the spot it was bitten to keep angry, bitter words from escaping.
'I knew this world, once.' Her voice is soft yet intense, her eyes like a hammer, crashing into yours. 'I knew and loved its people. I knew my place and I knew my path. Now? They that inspired me are gone Ages ago. The low have Ascended high, blades of betrayal pierce my very soul, and one by one, friends depart. I have resisted change, time and again, fought against the inevitable flow of the Pattern as it wrenched this world from one I loved, to a prison that keeps only ghosts within.'
She takes one hesitant step forward, chin lifting, expression growing icy, resolute.
'But this was my home before it fell to the dogs. I will not abandon hope, nor those who give me their trust. But perhaps it is time for Change to be embraced.'
May 17, 2006: Lesser Goddess
A corona of deepest indigo hue is the last you see as you fall into Her eyes. Lost within those Immortal orbs, you are surrounded by the Great Pattern itself, whirling motes of light representing all that was, all that is, all that may yet be, each guided and shaped by She who Weaves. In a fraction of a second, the tale of Her life screams through your mind, shredding your heart bloody, leaving you wracked and sobbing for air. Joy, sorrow, pain, She has known each intimately as the forge of spirit that they can be. Birth, death, rebirth, She spins each in time, an awareness of every life within the Pattern indelibly a part of Her.
With a slight, graceful gesture She tilts her face to the side so that the silver curtain of Her hair cascades forward, severing contact with those haunting, haunted eyes. 'Such knowledge, friend, is not one lightly gained.' Her voice is soft, huskily accented in Old-Thoras. 'The future comes soon enough. Seek you no knowledge of it here.'
2007: Lesser Goddess: 2007 (Re-write)
A corona of deepest indigo hue is the last you see as you fall into Her eyes. Lost within those Immortal orbs, you are surrounded by the Great Pattern itself, whirling motes of light representing all that was, all that is, all that may yet be, each guided and shaped by She who Weaves. In a fraction of a second, the tale of Her life screams through your mind, shredding your heart bloody, leaving you wracked and sobbing for air. Joy, sorrow, pain, She has known each intimately as the forge of spirit that they can be. Birth, death, rebirth, She spins each in time, an awareness of every life within the Pattern indelibly a part of Her.
Like an insect released from a clinging web of thought, sensation, and memory, you are granted escape from that gaze. Returning to your senses you see Her standing before you, watching in silence. Slender, yet with the womanliness of a lover and mother, She is cloaked in a cascade of silvery hair that reaches her calves and garbed in a flowing feminine gown impossibly spun of silvery spider's webs, the lingering scent of wild roses, and the rumbling, cloudy aftermath of storms. A tiny hint of what might be a smile dances at the very edges of Her soft lips; whether it shares in kind humor or cruel mockery, you cannot discern. A chiming tone catches your notice, drawing the eye to its source: the three implements at her belt. There hangs a spindle, a shuttle and a pair of bloody shears, each a tool wielded by the Lady of Fate as She spins, weaves, and cuts the Threads of the Tapestry of existence.
January 10, 2009: Retired Immortal - Nightmare and Shadow
Shadows swirl around the form of the woman before you, concealing her from anything but the most intent gaze. The strands of darkness flow like smoke from an ebon flame, weaving around her like ghosts flocking to the subject of their wrath, or sable spiders swarming over a larger prey. Glimpses of pale skin can be seen here and there, a silken bit of fabric, the gleam of silver, the crimson of a thin line of sanguine fluid dripping from a gaunt wrist. She almost seems to flicker in and out of existence, as if here but not, like a candle dancing in a strong breeze, nearly extinguished. Unseen by you, something catches her attention, and she stills for a brief moment, the concealing smoke and shadows thinning. Only one brief glimpse of those hellish azure eyes and your soul shudders within mortal flesh: they scream with agony and pain held tightly and silently inside - trembling like iron made brittle and nearly about to shatter. Blood streaks her arms and clots her long silver hair, staining the scissors sheathed at her waist, and old scars in the shape of the Sigil Odegra have been freshly renewed in bright scarlet burns upon her flesh. Feeling the weight of your horrified gaze, a single gesture is all it takes to wreath her in flame and shadow, granting the mercy of veiling her from sight once more.
2010: Retired Immortal - The Realization of Loss
Shadows seem to flow and shift around her, like a sentient fog, partially obscuring the Lady Weaver from view. Only quick glimpses, here and there, can be seen: the flowing length of her silvery hair, the storm-blue color of her silken gown, the bloody silver weapon sheathed at her waist... and those eyes: a dark azure, illuminated from within by strands of light - a web, a Pattern -- painful remembrance of things that have been, awareness of things yet to come and most regretted and hurtful: knowledge of things that will never be.
February 25, 2011: Goddess - Cordir vs Incarna
Cordir stands before you.
She is not impressive, physically: a slight build - almost waifish, really - and short of stature. Long silver hair cloaks her form, as if she was wrapped in a spider's web, and her hands are bare of any weapons. Her eyes are an odd shade of blue, like still, deep pools of indigo. Scars crisscross her flesh: her hands, in particular, bear the mark of many a blade on the palm. Crimson blisters dot her fingertips. Visible through the delicate fabric of her gown, the blackened mark of a Lich's grasp. Upon her breast, Covenant and Sigil are ever-moving, shifting, living within her flesh. One hand steals upward to cup a small locket hanging about her throat and she tilts her head to one side, a calculated gesture that lets her hair fall such that it hides her expression, and those thoughts that might be mirrored in her eyes.
The Weaver stands before you.
Her Manifestation is overpowering, the weight of Her gaze staggering - almost more than mortal senses can bear. Her eyes are shifting pools of Ebon black, a shifting Pattern of Threads visible within. The Triat Weaver is. Was. And ever shall be: Weighing. Measuring. Persevering.
April 3, 2011: Goddess: "Mind Blank" Spell RP
The Lady Weaver stands Incarnate before you, Her ebon eyes as clear and empty as obsidian. An unfelt wind stirs Her hair, making it ebb and flow, a shroud to veil Her person. There is something shuttered and hollow, some sense that all is not right about Her. She turns Her attention to you, your intent stare having drawn Her notice, and the wind rises. You feel your sense of self slip away beneath the weight of that barren gaze: for what is self, but memories, dreams and hopes?
May 15, 2011: Goddess: "Mind Blank" spell RP
The Ebon Weaver stands Incarnate before you, Her demeanor reserved, head tilted to one side, regarding you silently. Seething shadows flicker about Her petite form, concealing graceful curves from even the most bold of stares. Her eyes, a shuttered, empty sable, reflect your uneasy visage back at you. An unseen wind, icy and sharp, causes the silver cascade of Her hair to ebb and flow, revealing the black widow perched on Her shoulder, its unusual size cause for some alarm. She remains silent, having read the Pattern of your life in a single instant... Already, you have been judged and your Fate foretold. Cordir stands before you, the barest hint of a smile curving her lips, regarding you. The aura of her immortality crackles powerfully around her, making her knee -length long silver hair stir, as if in a hidden breeze. A large spider perches on one shoulder, glaring at you. She returns your curious glance, her deep azure eyes filled with compassion: Already she has read the Pattern of your life, seen your past, and witnessed your future. Tilting her head to one side, she glances upward into the Pattern that is her charge. Taking note of a specific thread, an impish, entirely feminine grin flashes across her face and she murmurs something softly that only they can hear, her entire demeanor changed for that briefest of moments.
July 2011: Abe's Return / "Mind Blank" spell RP
The Ebon Weaver, Cordir, stands before you, Her delicate bare feet not quite touching the earth. A aura of power flows about Her, shifting hues from cyan to inky starlit sable to an earthy, ancient purple. The barest hint of black flames dance about Her, only seen out of the corner of your eye, causing the silvery cascade of Her knee-length hair and Her flowing gown to stir as if a stray breeze flitted by. Her ageless face is turned upward, looking into the Pattern that is Her charge. Reaching up to brush fingertips caressingly over a specific Thread, an utterly feminine smile curves Her lips. She whispers a blessing or endearment in a low, dulcet voice, then turns towards you. In an trice, the deep sapphire blue of Her eyes shifts to raven-dark then returns: An instant is all She needs to read the Thread of your life. Present, future and past, co-mingled, are Hers to see. Compassion and understanding are writ clearly upon Her face as She tilts Her head to one side, pale, slender hands clasped gracefully before Her. Voice barely above a murmur, She asks: "What, praytell, would you wish of me?"
November 2011: "Mind Blank" spell RP
The Ebon Weaver stands Incarnate before you, Her inky eyes as clear and empty as obsidian. An unfelt wind stirs Her hair, making it ebb and flow, a shroud to veil Her person. A aura of power flows about Her, shifting hues from cyan to inky starlit sable to an earthy, ancient purple. The barest hint of black flames dance about Her - only seen out of the corner of your eye - pulsing in time to her heart beat. Her face turns upward, looking into the Pattern that is Her charge, seeing your soul's representation within it. An instant is all She needs to read the Thread of your life. Present, future and past are Hers to see. When Her gaze turns to you, there is no mercy or kindness within it, only an empty, screaming void that hints of unspeakable losses: love, life, a deliberate death of self. She clasps Her hands before her, concealing the one spot of color upon her - a long, slashing scar of bright crimson upon a palm. Her voice is as cold and stark as the icy Wasteland when She speaks, a harsh whisper: "What do you wish of me?" Cordir is bathed in the essence of charisma. Cordir is in perfect health. Cordir is using: <used as light> (Weak magic) (Dancing) ancient ebon flames <worn on finger> (Moderate magic) the Band of the Stormreaver <worn on finger> (Moderate magic) the Band of the Stormreaver <worn on body> (Moderate magic) a long, flowing gown of black spidersilk <worn on feet> (Potent magic) (worn on ankle) a thin silver chain <worn about waist> (Moderate magic) a narrow belt of braided black spidersilk <worn as shield> (Moderate magic) (Bloody) a gentleman's sacrifice <wielded> (Moderate magic) a swept-hilt rapier of ebon platinum <held> (Powerful magic) a Staff of Fear <worn with pride> the Ebon Sigil Odegra <worn with pride> (Tattooed) (Writhing) The Covenant of the Chosen
January 13, 2012: "Mind Blank" spell RP + Blindness
Moonlight and shadow wreathe the thin figure of the Goddess before you, a shroud to veil her from the casual glance. A ragged strip of black spidersilk binds Her eyes, from beneath which seeps twin crimson trails, a match to the bandages upon Her left hand. Her shoulders are taut, pulled back in defiant decision, Her chin raised. Her manner is one of wariness and weariness, determination and defiance. She shivers as a chill wind blows around Her, then visibly gathers Her strength, and nods, as if to acknowledge the truth of its existence. Cordir is bathed in the essence of charisma. Cordir is in perfect health. Cordir is using: <used as light> (Weak magic) (Dancing) ancient ebon flames <worn on finger> (Moderate magic) the Band of the Stormreaver <worn on finger> (Moderate magic) the Band of the Stormreaver <worn on body> (Moderate magic) a black silk gown with a torn, ragged hem <worn on head> (Moderate magic) a ragged strip of silk tied over her eyes <worn on feet> (Potent magic) (worn on ankle) a thin silver chain <worn about waist> (Moderate magic) a narrow belt of braided black spidersilk <worn as shield> (Moderate magic) (Bloody) a gentleman's sacrifice <wielded> (Moderate magic) a bloodstained pair of embroidery scissors <held> (Artifact magic) (Glowing) divine radiance <worn with pride> (Glowing) (Humming) the Medallion of Goddesshood <worn with pride> (Tattooed) (Writhing) The Covenant of the Chosen
January 18, 2012: Mindblank Spell RP
The falling curtain of her silvery cobweb hair blocks the face of the Immortal before you. She is still and silent, Her focus entirely inward. Even your gaze upon Her does not call you to notice. An icy wind blows around her, tugging at Her garments and locks, causing Her to shiver. One pale hand reaches up to her brow, rubbing as if to ease a pain that is almost more than she can bear. Silk bandages are wrapped around her palm, concealing a wound there. Ancient flames of ebon black, first called into being by Lord Thaygar Himself, flicker around and about her bare blood-spattered feet, revealed by the torn hem of her gown. A small sable spider perches upon one shoulder, eight eyes giving warning: all is not as it should be.
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