Welcome to Swords of Speirling. We are an original fantasy site, set in a fictional world divided into seven kingdoms. We are set in the Medieval-ish/Renaissance period of this world. We have 20+ playable races available, we have no word count, and we are rated mature. Our application process is simple and to-the-point and we are LGBTQ+ friendly, straight-/cisgendered-ally friendly, and ALL racial identities-friendly. We do believe in some order, but we don't take ourselves all that seriously. Jerks need not apply. It is currently SPRING.

We are currently searching for royal family members and military characters, particularly knights.





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Born: 31 October 1997
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SPECIES: Banshee
AGE: 18
HEIGHT: 5'10"
APPLICATION: http://swordsofsperiling.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=4
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STATUS: I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!
Joined: 8-August 13
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Last Seen: May 28 2018, 04:28 PM
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Cassander Tuireann


My Content
Apr 28 2018, 05:35 PM

It was cold on Mount Tonitrua. It was cold most of the year, but in the deep of winter, it had become almost unbearably cold. Every morning he woke to find that his nose had frozen stiff and not even several minutes of palming it between his frozen fingers could bring it back to life.

It had gotten so unbearable that Cassander had invented a spell that was meant to insulate his cave and create an invisible net around his door to keep the cold from seeping under the cracks. If it worked, he had yet to experience its effects. He had actually tried to insulate his home with sheepskins from the market in the town below, but that had little effect and he couldn't affix them to the wall without the aid of magic. Even with magic, the stickiness that kept them up was weak and they would peal and fall off periodically. At night, he slept in his bed covered in a bearskin blanket with both of his cats snuggled in close to him. At that point, he had abandoned the use of magic to try and keep himself warm – the bearskin and the shared body heat from the cats would have to be enough.

It was one such freezing morning when he woke, his face feeling as though it belonged to another man. He lay in his bed for awhile, trying in vain to gain more warmth before he braved the non-bed world. It did no good and he only drifted off a couple of times. Afraid that he would fall back asleep only to wake back up at noon, the magician forced himself from his warm cocoon with a groan and immediately shrugged on his thick, bearskin robe and pushed his feet into bearskin house shoes. There were a lot of bears in these mountains. He glared at his cats with jealousy as they burrowed deeper into the blankets.

He staggered to the kitchen, his teeth chattering. There was little that could be done about the temperature, but he could make himself some hot coffee and warm himself from within. He had accomplished enough at household spells, by now, that he merely had to glare at the stove and it sprang to life under his kettle. He poured out the dregs from the coffee pot and reached for the contained where he kept the grounds, but he found it empty. He groaned and tipped the container upside down as if that would make it better. Realizing that it did no good, he set the container down on the counter, silenced the stove with a wave of his hand, and began to get dressed. He pulled on a fur-lined tunic and boots with thick, woolen leggings, and a thick cloak of navy blue, embroidered with silver streaks. Pulling his wings tightly around him, he grabbed his staff and started down the mountain, not wanting to fly just yet.
Oct 15 2017, 09:14 AM
It hadn't been long since morning had broken and still, Cassander was awake. He was like that; when the Sun thought about stirring, his luminous blue eyes opened and he stretched his wings. Once he was awake, he couldn't go back to sleep and because he saw no point in tossing and turning in bed all morning, he rose before first light, ate whatever he had in his storeroom and took to the skies. A quick flight before noon was often just the thing to clear his senses. Usually, it was in the skies for less than an hour, but today, he felt the need to go farther. He drifted through the skies, letting himself catch the currents. He felt his heart rate increase as he flew and he flapped his wings harder – feeling himself lose himself in his exercise. He became lost in the rhythm of his wings against the wind and the pounding of the blood in his head. It wasn't until he caught sight of the ocean that he realized how far he had gone. It shimmered golden and orange in the light of the sun, beautiful and blinding. He turned into a dive, blinking as his eyes adjusted as he sailed toward the ground.

He landed in a run, spraying his immediate vicinity with sand as he ran through the momentum he carried through his flight. As he slowed to a walk, he drew his wings in, shaking and fluffing them out before he folded them neatly. He had no pressing business here, but as long as he had traveled this far, he might as well collect the various flora that grew here, which he would later use for his potions and other magical endeavors. He kept his leather bag strapped to his back between his wings when he went out in the mornings and he wanted it to be bulging with materials on his flight back.

He picked up a strand of seaweed and stuff it into his pack. He produced a vial, uncorked it with a pop and bent at the water's edge as he filled it with sea water. He held his sample up to the light to examine it and was pleased with what he saw. The seawater sparkled under the sunlight and a pitch of sand spun around at the bottom. Seawater wasn't a common ingredient, but when a recipe called for it, it was vital. It was not difficult to obtain, but when he was working under a deadline, it was nothing but stressful to fly all the way to the ocean when he didn't have any seawater on hand. Satisfied, he stowed the vial in his bag and bent down when something shiny caught his eye. He grasped a handful of sand and dipped his fist in the water to rinse it away. Having done so, he held the tiny, hard object up to the light. It was a shell – a bright green shell, impossibly smooth and it seemed to glow when he held it up. No natural shell did that and the only explanation was that it was enchanted.

@Tarquin Ellis
Aug 27 2016, 01:29 PM
Ah, summer.

The air was sweet, the days were long, and life was teeming around him. Cassander loved the three warmer months in his mountain home. Winter was beautiful for the first day it snowed and then it was miserable. He found that he was taking fewer hours to sleep, but it was no great loss, as he awoke every moment to behold the beauty of his home.

It was one such morning when he arose early, woken by the burning Sun. He did not bother donning his usual magician robes, but pulled on loose-fitting trousers that were cut at the knee and a sleeveless tunic, as he could not abide clothing that covered more of him than was necessary -- not when it was this hot. He took care to see that both of his demanding cats were fed to their liking, slung his pack over his shoulder, and then took off, leaping into the air from the mouth of his cave. He beat his wings, sending a wind around him, until he caught a current and he was able to coast down.

He brought himself down for landing and alighted upon a rock and folded his wings behind him as he stepped out onto the path, which was well-kept, but still featured fallen twigs, bracken, and other natural debries. It was shaded by trees, but not so that he couldn't see the sky; he could even take flight on short notice, if he needed to. He walked at a businesslike pace, but he couldn't help but smile as he took in everything around him. The air felt so good on his skin.

It wasn't long until he saw it, nestled amongst the pines and craggy rocks. The ordinary passerby wouldn't notice the cottage unless they knew where it was and Cassander quickened his steps as he walked right up to the door and rapped his knuckles on the splintered wood three times.

@Belladonna the Cat
May 11 2016, 07:58 AM
It was mid-morning as Cassander strolled through Mór-Aonach. He was here to restock his potion ingredients and he felt very grown up to be going about his business in the marketplace with money in his pocket with every intention of buying things so he could continue to grow his business. He had been doing well for himself, lately, considering that he had grown up an orphan and lived in poverty for over year. He wasn't making money hand-over-fist or squeezing clients into his busy schedule, but he had a steady stream of people; he was making enough money that he felt that he could purchase things when he needed them and that made him feel grown up. The other thing that made him feel grown up were the long, swishy magicians' robes. These ones were a dark shade of purple, with designs of cats on them. As Cassander had no knowledge of who his parents were, he had adopted them as his house sigil.

He had arrived at the apothecary's stand and he inclined his head to the ancient woman who was guarding her wares and she eyed his suspiciously, her gaze lingering on his wings, as if he was a thief with fast getaway methods simply by virtue of his being a banshee. He smiled at her and started to look through what she had to offer him, referring a small notebook that he had tucked away in the folds of his robes.

Suddenly, he heard the cry of, “Thief! Thief!” and he whirled around, expecting that someone was shouting that at him, but on the contrary, no one was looking at him at all. All eyes were fixed on a woman who was sprinting through the marketplace. Several men ran after her, but the woman was young and slightly built and even as she disappeared into the distance, Cassander knew that she would be leaving her older, heavier pursuers in the dust. He shrugged and turned back to his shopping, but not before a blonde figure caught his eye.

He blinked and shook his head. It couldn't be. No, of course it couldn't be him – many people had blonde hair and looked the same from behind and still... he looked an awful lot like him. Cassander bent to the side, trying to catch a better glimpse of the man's face, but he couldn't make it out and he was beginning to look foolish. “I'll be right back.” He told the vendor, who scowled at him. Tentatively at first, he approached the man and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Professor MacIver?”
Dec 14 2015, 09:13 PM
Cassander was becoming bolder by the day. Claiming his own home and making his way in the world had been the first step, but after participating in the tourney, he found that his confidence had increased even more, indeed, he was becoming so confident that he was able to take long journeys to track down rare ingredients for his spells and potions without suffering from anxiety attacks. It meant he had to leave his cats alone for long stretches of time, but then, no one liked leaving their cats alone. Cats are often too clever for their own good, and that was very much the case with Cassander's kitties.

The last time he had made the journey to Muireach, it had been in the height of summer and he had just made it to the capitol city when a violent thunderstorm was happening and he had been caught up in the middle of it. Now that winter was upon them, he was considerably colder, but he was dry. He had dressed himself in a thick deerskin jacket that he had stitched together himself, long trousers lined with fur, and boots he had traded magical favors for at a cobbler's shop in the village at the foot of Mount Tonitrua.

He had added in extra time in his journey in case something happened along the way. He was to gather mistletoe when the clock struck midnight and the full moon was to light his way, but he had arrived early indeed. It was late afternoon, and the gentle winter Sun shone over the land still. It didn't take him long to find the forest where he was to gather said mistletoe. He alighted in a tree, climbed down and took to searching for the plant. He found a clearing full of the stuff, just as his spellbook had said he would, and with a snap of his fingers, he set a ball of light to burn in the sky above the clearing until it was midnight. This done, he took to exploring his surroundings. He walked down the path with the most light and it wasn't long until the trees opened onto a beach. He supposed that this was nothing unusual, given that he was in Muireach.

He stood at the water's edge, one hand at his brow, shading his eyes from the Sun. There was nothing but clear ocean for as far as he could see. A feeling of peace washed over him and he felt himself experience a state of being that was rare: relaxation. He walked a few paces from the water's edge, pulled a small book titled Magical Herbs of Speirling from his pocket, sat down, and began to read.

It wasn't long until the exertion from his long journey got to him and he felt himself slipping into something warm and before he realized what was happening, he was drifting off to sleep and his book slowly leaned forward, covering his face.
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