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"Boo-hoo, guess how I feel." An old man rambles, to nobody in particular.

"If she was so strong, she'd fight me." Gashadokuro comments, catching a cold wind of the developments that hailed from the North.

it was another casual day for Panya, continuing with the construction of her new city. She points a few people around and plans the designs for various buildings. Such a thing requires a /long/ break. She ventures out in which she comes across the missive. "I knew we should've killed that [REDACTED]." Panya rolls her eyes, pocketing the missive and taking it back home to show the other Rah'tumans in the temple of Hesthor. She sit's down a handful of her people, especially Atemu and Arvel. She tugs at the edges of the paper to de-crinkle it a bit and put it on display for the others to see. "You'll never guess who has a bounty on his head. Beard-scratching sniffy guy." - "I knew he was gross but I didn't think he'd be a kidnapper. Though, this should be no issue. Mina for construction, and I think we all know the punishment for harmin' kids. Dont we?" And for those that do not know . . ╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗ 31. Committing violence against a child is especially prohibited in Rah’tuma. The punishment includes being burnt alive in the fires of the Ra’tuhmet’s temple, or being fed to a pit of crocodiles, or execution by beheading. ╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝ "Fingers may have been removed the last time that a child was hurt, though I do not believe mercy should be shown this time around." With that, her speech comes to a conclusion. Allowing others to respond . .

AN IN-DEPTH LOOK INTO HYSPIA On the 14th day of Maria’s Peace of 103 D.R. Infanta In-fan-ta A daughter of the second-in-line to the Hyspian throne. Infante In-fan-te A son of the second-in-line to the Hyspian throne. What Are They? The Infanta, or Infante, is a special role within Hyspian society that exists within a gray area. Considered that of lesser royalty, they can only be born from the second-in-line to the Hyspian throne, and only if the second-in-line did not marry out. Should these ambiguous conditions be met, an Infanta or Infante is born. Stylized with the honorific of ‘Your Highness’, they are considered to be above the noble-born Lord and Lady but below that of the royal-born Prince and Princess. Their role in Hyspia is to provide for the crown and citizenry, and should the worst happen to the main-line, to take on the role of Princes and Princesses and to go on to lead Hyspia. An interesting fact: The first of their title and name to be known in history, is that of twins born to the Prince Arman of Hyspia and his consort, the Princess Harmen. Born in the year 1959 was His Highness, Infante Rafael Arsenico and born shortly after him was Her Highness, Infanta Renata Alba, as evidenced in this missive, ‘The Break of Daylight | The Birth of Twin Foals’. They would go on to set the precedent of what an Infanta and Infante may do and become. What Can They Do? While the lesser royals have fewer perks than their higher-ranked cousins, they still have quite a few advantages that differentiate them from those noble-born. Much like their cousins, upon their fifteenth, they are granted a titular title to hold for their station that will go back to the crown upon death. This, more often than not, shall be a Barony. They are not granted a royal guard, and nor may they wear a tiara or crown - this honor reserved for their royal-born cousins. Instead, they may wear circlets or diadems. In case of debuts into society, or Hyspia’s El Puente, they may wear the heirlooms of their ancestors - a time in life which they may don the tiaras or crowns withheld otherwise when they debut alongside their royal-born cousins. Upon marriage, an Infanta or Infanta cannot make more of the title, but instead go on to make Lords and Ladies under their name - much like their royal-born cousins. An interesting fact: Should the work be put in by the Infanta or Infante, they can be promoted to that of a Prince or Princess, just the same as they may be demoted from their roles for a lack of work. This was showcased in the promotion of Her Highness, Infanta Renata Alba to Her Royal Highness, Princess-Royal Renata Alba circa 103 D.R, as evidenced in this missive, ‘An Amendment to Titles’. Promotion does not change their position in succession, but it does allow for the other benefits their royal-born cousins are granted, such as a royal guard and the honor of wearing tiaras and crowns. Signed, Her Royal Highness, Renata Alba, Princess-Royal of Hyspia, Duchess of La Dorada, Baroness of Clemente

A tiny mossborn read over the runes slowly before a small grin appeared at the end.

I wish I had more rp reasoning to visit. I miss the old dwarves and the goofy old wars.

Jaromir Kos Frostiron Jaromir Kos Frostiron comes from a now decayed noble family. His father Jivic Kos was also a member of the Kos clan, very proud of being a Kos, he had betrayed everything, family, relatives, clan, nation for his beloved. Luri'ski Frostiron, was a young high elf, strong in combat, skilled in all types of weapons, from lethal to non-lethal. She had also left her entire family for Jivic. The two had four children, Jaromir the eldest, and two girls, together with his younger brother. One bad day, bandits probably sent by Luri'ski's family killed the daughters, the father was mutilated and brutally killed. That day only Luri'ski was saved, forcibly brought back by his family, Jaromir and his younger brother who welcomed him as a father figure. That day, Jaromir killed several bandits solely with a knife...he was ten years old. From that day he hid his long ears, only he and his sister... the eldest of the family were born, as hybrids. The youngest were born as Adunians. Crimson red eyes and white hair had always been an unrecognizable feature of the Frostiron family. From that day Jaromir reunited with Tadeusz Kos, head of the Kos clan of which his father, a Reinmar, belonged. She helped him for several years, until Norland when she met and adopted Lilibeth, a small and frail girl, abused by her father and with her crimson red hair. Jaromir decided to break away from the Kos, living in Chambery, coming into contact with various people and joining the military corps of Celianor, for now. Owner of the Crimson Mercenary Group and owner, skilled in making liquor. VINCENT AUCLAIR After the collapse of the Auclair family, Vincent left his house to found a new home. Becoming a good merchant for the Crimson Guild and helping Jaromir in some fight and mercenary battle. He has the same characteristic of the Auclair family, blonde hair and blue eyes. He found a new home with Jaromir, helping him in his business. But after years living in the cold Norland, he decided to search for Amelie, his little sister not knowing that she became a famous woman. He hopes that she will remember him, and not be mad for his decision. Hoping to help his sister in restauring the household. Skilled as Jaromir in merchant and with money, he travels around the continent losing his way of speaking, good also at fighting. He always helps and does all what he needs for his faith. HIS LORDSHIP, VINCENT AUCLAIR , CRIMSON GUILD OWNER

So does Valindra…

goat

Adding this to muh Swiv playlist

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Adya takes a pause in setting up her shop to read the brochure, smiling under her veil. She folds it up, tucks it away, and goes back to expanding her shop.

With a sudden jolt of movement, the magi was back to his office within Vikela... As he looked around he took but a moment to process the vision he had seen, wiping cold sweat off his forehead. Aserath scuffed, before fixing up his attire only to sit back down and begin writting some letters "FInally, something to do.." he said to himself with a look of excitement.

“What is sight, without vision…?” -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The aheral woke up once again, finding themselves in a dark and desolate forest, their tired, ill eyes blinked once, twice and upon the third, the girl finally realised that she could see again, did she get her sight back? Has she finally escaped that horrendous, inhumane void that had chased her for as long as she could remember. . . ? Those thoughts soon left her mind, the silence was deafening, and as far as she knew, she sat alone in the middle of a road within a forest she only knew too well. As what little leaves were in these dead woods danced around the teenage she soon came to a sickening realisation: it was just like last time. “ Crunch. . . CRUNCH. . . CRUNCH. . . ” Celestina was not alone. As the Fiyem quickly stood they could hear the sounds of dead branches breaking draw closer and closer to her position. Her breath got heavier, her chest rose and fell in a seemingly never ending dance of fear. She felt as if she was a child again, her body, unresponsive to her orders, she remembered that cursed day, that creature. . . That monster. . . Those claws. . . “ Caw. . . CAW. . . CAAAW. . . ” She turned around and began to run, the survival instincts of her body had kicked in. The monstrosity followed suit, from the corner of those precious eyes of hers, she could see the terrifying presence dashing through the woods around her, leaving crow feathers behind, they were but a shadowy, dark blur as it seemed to be everywhere at once, above her? Next to her? The Adiler wouldn't know, the only thing they knew is that they had to continue running. Suddenly she began seeing things hanging from the trees in front of her that stood to the side of the road, the smell of rotting flesh filled the air as she soon found out what they truly were: bodies. The Princess could recognise every single one of them, some of them were her friends, some, family. But one thing stood out from their carcasses, none had eyes, all seemed to have bloody, empty eye sockets. The child's eyes widened, unable to let out single scream of help, unable to form a single thought. . . “WoooOSH. . . THUD. . .” The demon stood now before her, it's gaze looking into her very soul, her very being, death would be a much suitable fate than whatever cruelty this Abomination was capable of. She was powerless, once again, unable to defend herself, the monster cackled, cawed as it raised one of its talons. . . “ SQWELP . . .” Celestina let out an inhumane scream of agony as the creature took away her sight, she stumbled, fell on her back, rolled in pain, blood pouring from her now empty sockets as she desperately covered them with her gauntlets. The void, it was here, once again but was this really her fate, to remain in the darkness for the rest of her life, not that it mattered, the crow demon was ready to finish it's pray off as the aheral began praying. It was as if one was looking out a window, as the pain continues coursing through her veins, she couldn't help but notice that within the void, there was something, a vision. A burning star, no, a comet of pure light seemed to rush towards her. The demon who was about to finish her had noticed it aswell, as soon as it turned it's head, the loud noise of it's skull being crushed echoed through out the dead woods, the comet turned into a silvery figure, a towering, veiled, armoured woman, large pearly white wings on her back and a large, crown-like, golden halo above her head, her face though, faceless. The being uttered no words as she sent the abomination flying towards the woods, the sound of more bones being crushed and flesh being burnt could be heard now, Celestina could only see her savior, nothing else. However when she turned towards the source of the sounds, she saw another figure, a dark silhouette standing above the corpse of the raven demon, seemingly hacking at it with what looked like a halberd, flames roaring all around it when it suddenly turned towards the blind girl. The girl felt a warm hand around her cheek that quickly turned her head to face her savior. It took it's veil off brought it on Celestina's lap before taking hold of her hands. Darkness took over once more. . .

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Cenwihn looks over the missive with a grin. "Those who forsake our traditions and Wyrvun hold ne legitimacy whatsoever. These deluded 'Atmorices' shall hold ne power nor respect within our people so long as they disgrace their ancestors and Wyrvun."

"1984." Said Siegmund Weiss, as he was just about done nailing a blue sign with violently neon-pink glowink to the basilica wall.

Liridona Amador, who had suggested transcribing Duma sessions when she was nine years old at a beauty pageant, smiles from the Seven Skies.

Hello, I'm periphonics! I lead a small but fairly active Kharajyr community currently tucked into Nevaehlen until we can afford a lair for ourselves. Recently, irply, my persona was brought 3 orphaned kha cubs; a pantera, a cheetrah and a leparda. The Cheetrah has a player, but we still need to have the other two! While I cannot guarantee a 'parent', my character plays the role of a paternal figure to all orphaned kha, as he himself was orphaned long ago. He will teach the kha language, ways, and religion, and if they end up close enough isnt opposed to adoption down the line As well as this, I can offer up a community with rich cultural rp and bi weekly events, the fun of learning about the ancient ways of the kharajyr as well as the new ones forming with this new generation, and the opportunity to help pioneer said new generation. We're always looking for folks dedicated to help growing the culture, to aid in lore writing, hosting events, and even joining us in going to other nations to hold small cultural events! We have a fully functional language doc that's very cohesive, as well as an impending translator to make using such even easier! Please dm me on discord (Periphonics) if this takes your interest! I will note as well, that I am willing to make the skins for any players wanting to play these cubs, if this is of any concern.

Horror and confusion sweep Iolas from bed, with him covering his face with his hands as he wiped the cold sweat away. It felt that the world trembled before yet another devourer of peace. Hours and hours were spent pacing around the room as he tried to wrap his mind around the dream. To dissuade fear, to bring hope, to try oncemore to become a hero. After all this was a warning. There's still time. The following nights were spent staring up at the sky, seeking out more than just the stars. Metis was no longer a mere library, the Arcane Conclave no longer felt like a story of the past.

Viceroy Cesar I de Pelear dances in the Seven Skies, content that his family did not die out after 3 generations!

This night, you do not dream as usual. You watch yourself finish your cup of sake at the teashop. You chase your back around corners, between your intersecting ranks of soldiers. An earring finds you. A Wizard. A Philosopher. A Priest, who looks at you with veritable disgust. You listen, and listen to your listening. Most people are oblivious, but some see you with different eyes; a white-haired elf screams and screams, and a blind dwarven beggar grasps your knee, blubbering: "Please! You must wake! You must live! You must go blind - you must stop seeing all! For the sake of the soil and in the name of the GOD!" You see the coastline of Aevos. You can see a murdered Pontiff, the sorrow of the son of a Lich, a thousand soldiers marching into battle... Sometimes you just watch yourself look out the window. You hear the words, laughed by an elf shrouded in green robes, with skin so pale and gaunt that he looks half-dead: "Entili matoi jesil irhaila mi..." You see a coil, made of silver, reaching up into the heavens, with branches twisting and a circle forming around every living being. You watch those branches wither and fade with time, and you look to yours: Golden. Undying. You murder a wizard by a voidal tear. You see your blood splatter across the floor, and gasp for breath at your slit throat. You slump to the floor, and watch yourself slump to the floor. You do not prepare so much as wait whilst the world grows ripe for ending. You dream yourself dreaming, and you see, in your mind, a red eye, angered and haughty for your disturbing it. Your mind reels - you feel soiled, dirtied. Your body heaves for a disgusted feeling. A robin finds you, and the vision ends.

Marlene of Merryweather, the brides mother, smiled warmly "one done... two to go"