yandeer

Imperial Elegance - 80 yandeer - girl u know my discord

filling this out for a friend MC Name: excitedly Current Tier: C Desired Tier: A Reason to be moved: psychological warfare is half of every battle, and there is no greater master of this than eli

very cute. perhaps even very cool

ngl i like it more than i thought i would

In a land far from the nation of the proud Sons of Krug, a pale and willowed woman took extensive notes on the Rex's creative ideas for jewelry and accessories made from elven males, a malicious grin crossing her face.

Upon a certain rooftop garden, a twice-born woman of draconic origin would narrow her eyes as she read carefully over the missive. From her came a short intake of air, mildly surprised gasp as she saw first the face of the accused woman 'Ezyl', then exhausted groan as she saw the call for the kha to present himself for questioning. There was quiet there for a moment, the dragonkin raising her glass of whiskey to take a fat sip, before she grunted as she rose to her feet, going to fetch sword and shield. It seemed that two former friends had some explaining to do.

skin: martyr bid: 450minas discord: olivia marguerite#2578

skin: martyr bid: 400minas discord: olivia marguerite#2578

skin: martyr bid: 350minas discord: olivia marguerite#2578

skin: martyr bid: 250minas discord: olivia marguerite#2578

skin: martyr bid: 200minas discord: olivia marguerite#2578

With the Wartime Raid rules, it states that in case of a defender victory the raid size cap for nations/settlements/lairs will be reduced by six players. Above that, in section 3, it says that a raid upon a lair will be capped at six players. Does this mean that if a lair wins a raid upon them the attackers are now no longer allowed to raid the lair, given their max raid cap is now at a sum of zero players total? PS: there are two sections 3s under the Wartime Raids category.

i love mana i love obelisks i love squak

ok what am i

Skin: Princess of Roses Bid: 100 Skin: Ice Gown Bid: 125 Discord: olivia marguerite#2578 Skin: Blue winter 100 olivia marguerite#2578

Skin: Princess of Roses Bid: 100 Skin: Night Sky Bid: 100 Discord: olivia marguerite#2578

Skin: Princess of Roses Bid: 100 Skin: Blue Winter Bid: 50 Skin: Night Sky Bid: 50 Discord: olivia marguerite#2578

you have to choose between lor'themar and denathrius, one will be pleased with your decision and the other will pretend they aren't hurt but will go home and listen to teardrops on my guitar (2007) on a loop who do you pick whats your favorite memory from when you were new to the server would you rather fight 1 squak sized hawk or 10 hawk sized squaks

Skin: Princess of Roses Bid: 100 Discord: olivia marguerite#2578

(art credited to Raphael Locoste) (screenshots credited to CalZium) When the valiant soldier returned home from the wasteland that was the Korvassa, they thought themselves free of desolation and hardship a while longer. Reprieve was expected, those hard-fighting Descendants expecting time to rebuild what had been destroyed, recover from their wounds both mental and physical. If any reprieve was to be had, it was simply the brief peace in the eye of the storm, and now Arcas was to suffer the remainder of the trials. Peace suited the temperament of the balmy Sutican beaches well- the laughter of people from all walks of life echoing across those sandy stretches as the valorous heroes of the Inferi Invasion rested at long last- dipping their toes into the shallows and swimming with the various marine wildlife that frequented those docks. That bliss was not to last for long, though- as observant eyes would notice the water level swiftly rising, rushing in where it had only merely lapped at the sands. Waves splashed against the dockside houses, licking against windows and disturbing shutters. Then, just as soon as it had come it was gone, water retreating back out with rapidity that caused the more experienced citizens of the city alarm. “Get inland,” someone would cry, one wise soul that likely saved the lives of many. Where the first rise had been cause for concern the great wave of displaced water would come surging in, destroying docks, sending boats careening away from their moors. Not far from where Sutica suffered, an earthquake would seize the city of the Sea Elves, sendings tremors arcing through the ground underfoot- causing all within that austere city of Aegrothond to glance about with concern upon their neighbor, fear still lingering with them after how the otherworldly invasion of the Inferi had come so close to their lands. So concerned were they with the ground below their feet that they did not notice the sudden recession of the tide that heralded further calamity- a grand tidal wave that crashed strong into that elven city. Those unfortunate enough to have been caught out upon the small beaches at shrines were washed away to sea. The force of the swell of water was enough to dislodge outcroppings weakened by the previous tremors, causing terror to grip the hearts of the people of Elvenesse as they fled their once steadfast nation. Upon the solemn cliff face of Haelun’or, every movement of the earth was cause for concern- lest homes or government buildings be lost to the perils of erosion due to wind and time. So when they came in earnest- the tremblings of the mountain shook that city- sending citizens off of their feet just as easily as books from shelves. Though fear would grip the heart of many, the earthquakes would subside with time- allowing those elves a merciful few hours of rest. The Silver City scorched black: that was many a High Elf woke to- those aforementioned tremors having disturbed the molten earth that had rested beneath the city. Plumes of smoke would marr the otherwise pristine architecture of the city, lava running rampant about the lower trade plaza as it consumed all in it’s path. As screams began to echo out across those once immaculate streets the city’s sky would be swallowed by ash and smoke, choking away any sign of the Sun or stars. Upon the shores of Lake Milena sat an old fisherman’s boat, moored and made fast. The fishing had been hard that morning- everything from pike to trout scarcer than it had been in years when the lake itself had frozen over. It was strange, that old fisherman mused. All the animals seemed to be aflutter today, but the hard blizzards of a Haeseni winter were still months away. Even his dog had been acting afright, baying at the wind before taking off- leaving his grandchildren heartbroken in their futile search. A poor omen, he thought, but nothing more than that. For both the fisherman and Haense there would be no warning, as their doom came from on high. Meteors sent from the heavens themselves would come cascading down upon the city of the Sons of Joren- the first of many striking true upon the front gate of the city, delaying and stalling the entrance for many as the phenomena continued to claim lives with impact after impact. The anguish of Haense was echoed strong in the badlands of Krugmar- a hail of burning comets from the sky raining down hard upon the fortress city of the Sons of Krug. They were caught just as unawares as their northern counterparts, a cascade washing over both the countryside and the pale structure itself. Chaos would erupt as the orcs would come spilling out of their fortress, searching to find the source of the sudden onslaught upon their homeland- only to be met with a scarred countryside from more falling bombards, tearing apart dirt and sand and hampering the evacuation of many- leaving warbands and friends torn apart as others fell to the bitter onslaught of the meteor shower. In the fair city of Helena winter should have been at the very cusp of delivering first snow upon the red city. Instead of pale snowfall settling upon paved roads and shingled rooftops, the denizens of the Empire were met instead with the heavy heat- not from that brilliant Sun but from below- burning the feet of the unfortunate beggar and well-frocked courtier alike. Low tremblings would come from that fevered terrain, the pavement cracking against the grain of the stone. The people of that city would murmur and gossip about the strange occurrences- but would largely continue about their day uninterrupted. The day would drag on, and as more of the citizens of Helena took to the streets to observe the source of such commotion the cracks and grooves in the terrain would grow- seemingly the foundation of the city coming apart at the seams. Women would screech, children running for their parents as the bustling main street began to crumble apart in earnest, revealing both hellfire and something somehow even more insidious: the unearthly wail of an inferi warcry. The Weeping Oasis had seemingly fissured- massive crevice opening sending shockwaves through the earth in that southerly region of Arcas. Water poured forth from that ice-bound valley, and the ground shifted with it. The scouts of the Talus Grove saw it first, that widening maw that arced across the land for their sanctuary- right in the path of that which they held most dear and sacred. “The Mother Tree is in danger.” Six words to strike fear into the heart of any honest and decent adherent of the Mother Circle, six words that would be repeated again and again throughout the day as the Druii and their fellows worked relentlessly to prevent the fall of that sacred tree: diverting their energy to that grand arboreal itself, concocting valiant schemes to move it to safer ground. It would be an unequivocal falsehood to say they did not try, did not do all they could: but the collapse was inevitable. Those would-be rescuers were left to merely stand horrified as the Mother Tree tilted and finally snapped under its own weight, crashing to the ground in horrific splinters. It was the plague that made it worse in the end, the uncontrollable spread despite regulations put forth by the Urguani government. Perhaps if they had not been quarantined inside their own homes they might have noticed the sudden surge of the molten lava that coursed through the home of the Dwarves like blood through veins. Maybe then someone could have sounded the alarm, roused those who tended to their ill and elderly within the confines of their stone home. As it was, many of the Dwed stood little chance against the oppressive flow of lava that licked across the lower layers, flooding more than its fair share of the city- either cutting off exit for those fleeing dwarves or washing over them entirely. The destruction of the Sons of Urguan came in the form of either slow death by disease or nigh-instantaneous from the melting force of molten earth, leaving those who managed to escape the city shaken and distraught. The Korvassa had been where the horrors had started, so in a way it was fitting that the corrupted desert was also where they ended. The horrors of the inferi had been quelled by both Aengulic intervention and the efforts of the Descendants. Where catastrophe was once struck, there was only the quiet of a near empty wasteland until the earth cracked along its faults: that terrain falling down into the abyss beneath. Wrought open by the conflict of divine brothers against their own, that humble and war-torn island would collapse in on itself- tumbling down until there was nothing left. This was the greatest final blow against the land of Arcas: from there the suffering had grown too great to bear. The singular option for all who dwelled upon that land was clear: measured retreat from that land that they had known for a millennia. The Descendants made their way to the eastern sands, the stretches where the Brotherhood of Brev had made port, boarding and loading what precious baggage had been carried from their war-torn homes. Sorrow hung heavy over that scene, as sobs for the fallen or lost were far from uncommon. Those wails were only drowned out by the chime of gently ringing bell- the one sign that those good men of Brev beckoned all those former inhabitants of Arcas to follow them out to sea and their Wayfinders, cresting peacefully upon those waves before them. As those Descendents took to the decks of their ships to bid farewell to that land they had called home for a time and turned to gaze onwards to the horizon before them, a faint shimmer seemed to call them onwards just at the very edge of seeing, that one serene glimmer of hope.

give me your wisdom