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9 [Year 496 Summer]








marwari x


16 hh







Last Visit:

04-09-2020, 09:33 PM


Signos: 10 (Donate)
Total Posts: 57 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 9 (Find All Threads)

A pale, pale gold dominates his visage, an homage to the finery and extravagance he seeks in life. The who varies—darker, richer some years, paler and clearer others, palomino to champagne to perlino—but its essence always, always remains the same. He is gilded in gold, and he would have it no other way. Any who dare read between the lines of his skin would see it there, clear as day: the foreshadowing of his ambitious and often deceptive nature. It’s not as if he makes any effort to hide it—he chooses to flaunt it, in fact dangling it there for all the world to see and admire but then distracting you with a single word, the truth known only in his own mind. It’s a dangerous game, but one he plays so very, very well.

The gold is marked only by white, splashed across his face and his limbs. There is no visible rhyme or reason to the paint marks, but he would be more than willing to paint a pretty tale for you if ever asked. ”This one here is the definition of determination—see how it crosses the chest, the very center of our soul? How it stretches across both forelegs, swallowing them whole? Tempus made no mistakes in his craft.” He doesn’t have to believe such things to be able to say them.

A mixture of ivory and caramel spill over his crest and from his dock, the hair long, thick, and most often curled. Even the slightest hint of humidity is enough to cause it to crimp and frizz; therefore, he constantly is in need of scented oil to work into his mane and tail to tame the monster. His favorite to date is rose.

His eyes are a vivid, saltwater green, laughing and flashing, able to switch in an instant from mirth to fury. Two pairs of darkened, sooty horns twist outwards from his skull, the first curving behind his ears to rest against either cheek, the second bending overtop his poll. Designed for ramming rather than spearing, they harden and protect his skull—a quality he needs, as he tends to lead with his head.

Toulouse had always been impetuous.

Life to him was a daring adventure—and anything less would never be worth living. Never spending too long in any one project or place, he constantly flit between groups and ideas, following the whims of his own heart, dancing to the beat of his own rhythm. He often gets caught up into the moment, taking his actions and his words too far. He’s tangled up in his own lies, but like a spider he can maneuver through even the trickiest of webs—so long as he maintains the focus.

Despite his lack of commitment and his indecisions, he has a talent with people. He learned to read others from a young age, harboring a unique skill in noticing small quirks and changes in expression and body language. He practiced on himself and on his shadow, rehearsing and perfecting his mimicry for the day when he might need to live a believable lie.

“I came, I saw, I conquered.” — Julius Caesar
His favorite game is to play pretend, although more often than not he’s the only one who knows when the game starts and when it ends—if it ever does. Over he years he has crafted for himself a multitude of personalities and facades, often bolstered by real people he’s met. (After all, the closer a lie is to the truth, the more convincing it becomes.) He’s spent a lifetime analyzing others, getting to know them, their joys, their guilty pleasures, their character faults. And then he steals their lives so convincingly, that they appear to be the imposters, not him.

Not that he considers himself a liar—merely a talented actor. One who need practice daily to hone his skills (clearly it has nothing to do with the pleasure he gets from lying, from adopting a new persona and seeing it successfully trick an old man into handing over his wallet.)

He conceals his past by any means necessary and it will be up to your characters to identify what is fact and what is truth.

This much we do know:

archaic // orphic // capricious // perceptive // dogged // insensitive

Who knows: perhaps you’ll be his next inspiration?

He had heard of this place through word of mouth: a whisper on the tongue of a sailor, heavy and slurred with drink. “Delumine.” Even the sound of it sent a shiver up his spine, anticipation blossoming in his chest. ”They say their library is bigger than the capitol, more complete than any equine has ever known.” Aisles upon aisles, shelves upon shelves, a thousand books waiting for his eyes to read. The fantasy of it unfolded within his mind. ”Where can I find it?” The sailor huffed, peering into the empty bottom of his tankard. With a frown, Toulouse slid a second silver coin across the table. It was picked up in an instant, held up to the light for inspection before being tucked away neatly into the silver pouch at the man's neck.

”Across the sea.”

Toulouse smiled and thanked the man, standing up to leave. Outside the thunder continued to roar, rain sloshing underhoof as he stepped out in the torrent, letting the water run in rivulets down his back. He breathed in deeply the briny sea air, seafoam eyes cast out over the docks. A crew was working there, heads bowed to the storm, heavy ropes slung across their backs, breath showing as puffs of white. They would be departing soon, he knew; there was little time left to barter his way aboard.

A novice might have turned around and waited out the storm, waited for the morning to find a new ship to board. 

But Toulouse wasn't interested in waiting.

It can be hard to separate fact from fiction in a man who makes a living off of his dealings in secrets and lies—it’s possible Toulouse himself no longer knows his true name or background. But there are a few indisputable facts, hidden deep within the recesses of his mind, sealed behind closed lips…

He remembers the sun. Feeling its warmth upon his back as he napped during the day, the way it lit up the greens of the fields and the flowers dotting them. The way its light filtered through the leaves of the trees and dappled the ground below, the way the green reflected in strange, bemusing patterns on his legs as he walked the forest paths.

He remembers his shadow, the second him. Stuck to him like glue, yet seemingly unseen by the rest of the world. Toulouse was their face, the exterior, the entrepreneur: Tuomas was the dancer, the quiet muse, the defender.

They were one and the same, mirror images of each other. Inseparable. All their life they had had each other; and truly, that was all they ever wanted.

It was a game to them, then, to see how far they could push others. When all they cared for was each other, there was no need to worry about the possible consequences. And so they played with emotions, they taught each other to lie, practiced first on each other and then on their unsuspecting victims.

But the skies ever called to Toulouse, the promise of something more yearning inside. To be a god, to sink his teeth into life and suck the very marrow from it. Too much was never enough; he became ambitious and obsessive, his twin the only temper to his mettle. Eventually he grew bored of the quiet life they had been living in the forested foothills; and when he decided to leave, to adventure, his shadow followed him wholeheartedly.

Together, they traveled through many worlds and across many lands. Everywhere they went they told lies and stole identities, leaving behind confusion and empty wallets. All the while, Toulouse stored away in his mind a multitude of personas, crafted delicately from the lives of the many people he met and impersonated. They hide away in his mind, waiting for the next time he has need of them.

The longest of any place they stayed in was Helovia, and it was here that the twins pulled off their greatest feat yet: becoming one in the eyes of society. Everyone knew them only as Toulouse, a single man with many facets to him. They made a name for themselves, acquiring between them a collection of accessories, titles, and magic that they split and adopted equally—and no one suspected a thing. It was here that Toulouse and his shadow would have been content to stay for a good bit longer.

 The death and destruction of the world forced them out with the rest of the residents. They came up with a plan: to hold onto each other’s scarves so that when they stepped through the portal, they would travel through it and come out on the other end together, as one.

But the fabric tore, and the twins were sent tumbling in opposite directions, alone for the first time in their existence.

Determined to keep moving, Toulouse set out to learn as much as possible about his new world. Eventually he bribed a sailor and boarded a ship that brought him here to Novus.

Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Armor, Outfit, and Accessories

He prefers the color red; but his shadow likes green more.

Toulouse adorns himself in a multitude of trinkets, exchanging them often to spice things up. He proudly wears a magnificent silk scarf of his own design, of the deepest burgundy he could dye. it is adorned with a multitude of tassels and golden bands, attached to his body at his horns, his withers, and the crupper at his tail. He often lets the material droop low at his sides so that they might conceal the skin of his flanks, hiding the scars that lie just south. A hidden pocket within the folds of his scarves contain a variety of small items, including a handful of gems and small bones and a strip of translucent, turquoise fabric. Most notably, he carries with him a small vial filled with scented oil.

Lastly, a set of diamond-studded horseshoes adorn each of his four hooves.

OUTFIT #2 - locked
His greatest assets are his eyes; so why should he not show them off a bit? He dresses himself in translucent scarves of seafoam green, attached by golden circlets at his poll and dock. They droop low at his sides, several smaller strands drifting down his neck. Three golden tassels hang from the front, nestled against his chest alongside a green crystal pendant. A small collection of golden rings are braided into his hair.

- pale, translucent green scarves
- green pendant containing essential oils
- various golden rings worn in his hair
- his iconic set of diamond horseshoes

A delicate golden snake can often be seen wrapped around his forearm or woven into his hair, hidden among the locks. It's relatively small - roughly a foot in length and less than an inch in diameter - with intricately carved scales and other features.

But what's perhaps most remarkable about this object is how to comes to life at the behest of its own.

All Toulouse has to do is whisper the word avekne, and the snake will gain animation. Its body will coil and slither, its tongue will flicker from between its lips, and its fangs will glisten with venom. He has no control over its movement and direction; it goes where it pleases, but rarely will it leave his body.

He has only to say frá svefn to end the enchantment and return the creature to its inanimate state.

free joining accessory + purchased enchantment

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Played by:

sid (PM Player)


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