DistantCryprid

Aaaaay my man, good work, I like the whole two-faced coin that you pulled here, good lore, dense but not tiring.

Ooooo boy that's a bold move my guy, tbh metagamers gonna metagame and punishing those that don't do it ain't gonna solve the issue, it's just gonna make people irritated and jump the gun everytime someone stumbles into rp.

The boreal druid heard the screaming.. "Run" they were told, they grasped their shield and rose it above their head and Sonna's their right ear drum pierced by the sound of a broken kingdom would spill crimson upon their helm onto the plate, hurried footsteps and wails of pure grief were heard by them. Boreal had lost their sense of touch as adrenaline filled their frame, stupored, numb and frazzled, they reach the vale with the sullen fox, they wept alongside their sister as they knew Zolvan even before he was one with the druidic kin, they watched that man grow from a bronze-plated tyrant to a loving husband and caring father. But now he was gone, the realization hit them once they held the inconsolable widow in a bear hug, misery leaking into their mind as their nose and ears bled, tears wiping grime off of their face as they cried alongside Sonna. A part of their past was gone, now they had to once more be the rock for those to hold onto within the turbulent tides of grief.

"Ait." Was all the Boreal druid had to speak for themselves, they did not give a flying f**k about any of this, but the writing was good for an afternoon in the frigid north, their isolation was a goddamned blessing, it seems, anyways, they rip the missive in half and use it to start a fire, being warm was their priority for the moment as the blizzard had began laying its wrath against the cave they decided to make their own.

Boreal was the second one to arrive, alongside James Madron. They were the one to cut the man down from where he hung, to feel his dead body weigh against their own as the last groan left the cold carcass's airways due to the movement. John Warrick was a Coworker, a friend and someone they had fought alongside. Yet their grief was silent, they had past the point of nerves, of panic or hysteria, they seemed calm, collected as they handed the body to the comrade by their side, they would not share the same sun, not anymore.

it's here.

A particularly pale snaga, upon hearing the attempt on one of their kin's life felt the blood coursing through their veins come to a boil, they released huff after huff as their caramel eyes took on a deep crimson hue, nature surrounding the druid growing terse with the pulse-pounding wrath burning inside their soul, birds fly away from trees, the hounds around them howl and snap their maws along with their fury, the undead crossed a territory that the elf would fight for, so they reach for their spear and their staff, shield and armor. For nature is not kind when one invokes it's wrath, and neither is Boreal.

Y e s

Boreal had made their choice, taking their tools made by themselves, their suit of armor and their bag, they were ready. Out of the cave they called home, with the scorpion branded to their arm healing, they bid goodbye to their companions and walked into the lazy morning set out to scout the land, clattering of plate and shuffling of tools marking their uneven pace across the roads, the task given to them by lioness was nothing otherworldly, an act of survival, warriorship or reclamation. The albino had finally come across something they could do, ridding themselves of the burden of plate and placing their lighter apron, they reach the outer gates of the forgotten and abandoned city of Freeport, with swift motions, they brought their sledge hammer above their shoulders and struck the weathered pavement… With a violent “crack” the arid soil was exposed, once suffocated by the stony prison it lied within for so long, Boreal huffed, wiping at their forehead as sweat began running its familiar race across their visage that was the first one of many blows they would deliver, their axe sharp and sturdy was used to lob off beams of wood and collect the local saplings, acacia, juniper and cacti were the main ones present upon the unyielding desert. Along with algae from the ocean below, they swam upon the crystalline waters and tore the piers limb by limb, leaving the salted waters exhausted yet determined to push on the next day. Their hands calloused and their muscles ached as they returned to the bounds of krugmar, they pushed through, cooking, cleaning and serving so they may one day be considered one of their own, they yearned to continue their tasks as they ate, repairing their tools upon the scalding forge they were kindly allowed to use by the kin of krug. Boreal followed up the next days, weeks and months, destroying descendant’s creations and quickening the spread of those from the aspects, fauna seemed to return to the place it once called home, hawks, lizards and dry octopus lazily resting and living in a place where descendant-kind had rushed it away… They were not close to being done, not yet, they decided to tackle the bigger buildings next, wooden chips flying out of doors and pebbles out of forts would be repurposed by the druid. The wood turned into mulch for the land, and the rocks knapped into spears and scattered across the arid sands to give home to critters, they set a fire to the bigger structures, forcing them to the ground with little more than a hammer, rope and determination. Once they finished such things off, they ripped the glass from windows, metal from bars, doors and hinges, all turned into something new. The tattooed elf had exhausted themselves in the heat, using their gifts to encourage flora to develop they collapsed to the ground, dirt in their mouth that they spat out soon afterwards, their skin was burnt by the sun, however, as soon as they looked up from their stupor, they saw something beautiful… They saw their work had paid off, the shrieking of hawks, the chitter of meerkats and many other critters filled their ears, they grin, painstakingly getting up from where they lied and lighting a cigarette, sitting down under a juniper tree as they merely murmured. “Ash to ash and dust to dust… Nature has reclaimed it all.”

Man, i really like how descriptive you went, good job. +1

Boreal, once laying their gilded gaze upon this missive, took their staff into their right four-fingered hand, their left broken arm a hindrance from battle for now, yet this physical injury was temporary, their wrath would be not. The sounds of nature surrounding them grew terse for a moment, prey animals would flee the proximity of their home as shrills and the rush of battle echoed throughout the druid's communion, a visceral thrum that was so familiar yet so alien... Time to hunt.

Really cute!

Boreal was notified of the death of their nephew by his mother, Uzra, they were not really open about their emotions, but there was still grief in their eyes, they remember small altercations between them and Llokir that they would come to treasure further onto the future, they lay down by a familiar grave, the grass well kept and overgrown, and they pray, voice low as a lullaby, for the grasp of death to be kind to him, for the spider to cradle the child now that they couldn't.

Boreal, hearing from yet another death from a coworker, they stopped cradling the eggs they carried so gleefully, covering their face and rubbing their eyes, stress overtaking them as they shook in place, there was no sadness left in them to mourn, they were too tired, tired of death, tragedy, yet they were not hopeless, they knew that the grasp of the spider that is death would be kind to him, they knew of the seven skies that awaited, and that brought some energy back for them to go forth.

i like the lore, beautiful writing and overall nice concept! The dragon's a teenager with a superiority complex, of course she's gonna do that because she can. +1 from me chief.

gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib gib +1

Boreal, upon noticing the obvious eldritch show from one of their travels they stop mid way through, the butterflies that usually swarmed them fluttered to take shelter inside the many pockets of their cloak, some even flying way as the druid merely seethed in place, they didn't want to have to fight once more, memories of the voidal tear crisis flooded their mind as they took in a shaky breath, brushing some hair out of their pale face and closing their eyes "F**k" was all they uttered.

That is not allowed my guy, whomever did so shouldn't have their whitelist accepted in the first place. Okay buddy.

It's not about how believable something would be, it's about if it's allowed or not, and at the time, firearms are not allowed due to the techlock. Also, if you wanna counter a mage, just punch their nose in, it's even easier than loading a crossbow, you can also grab a rock and throw it.

"that was fast" The boreal Druid mumbled under their breath as they came across yet another missive, pocketing it much like the previous one, they were then hit with an idea, shaking their head some they then proceed onward through the woods, humming an old tune.

A particular Druid read over the declaration, some consideration passing through their usually aloof gaze before they sigh, taking their staff into their hands and folding the missive over their leg a few times, pocketing it for later use, then Boreal moved on with their day, there was no fear left in them to quiver, exhausted and jaded, the Mali watched over the fields surrounding providence, before departing deeper into the wilderness. "I am coming home"

Ehh..

A choice was made. Boreal pulled just enough together to fit in their old leathery satchel, a few pieces of shortbread, a waterskin, their knife and their sling. They left dressed themselves for the cold, having an extra pair of clothing if anything was to go south. The elf then paused as they rested their gilded gaze upon their staff that leaned against the wall of the house they once shared with a friend, that now was mostly them and their new housemate. With a subtle nod, they opened the duo of doors to their home, letting the warm air of the afternoon hit their face, they sighed, putting on their large-brimmed hat and exiting the small house with the creaky floors. They passed by their hounds, giving each a treat and some attention, smiling brightly as they rubbed the belly of a particularly needy one, before they glanced back up at the house, their smile dulling around it’s edges yet not fading as they read over the sign denominating those living inside, the memories of the previously mentioned goblin stinging as they usually did, but now there was something different, who knew. They then rose to their full height, letting out a low exhale and turning around, slinging the crooked staff over their wide shoulders and brushing a few strands of white hair off of their face, they continued, jaw tightened with the guilt that rattled their mind for years now. Coming down the pathway, they found no-one around, this was to be expected, yet it still pained them, but why? Why did it hurt them so much to be alone? Why did they always feel like an outsider looking in? These questions plagued their often frantic mind, repeating in a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard, it was a god-awful cacophony of shrilling voices. They had made the effort to fit in for so long that they forgot who they really were. They had tried so hard to stall change that they became miserable. And they tried taming chaos so many times that the spark that once led them faded. Yet then, it hit them, as soon as they arrived at the tundra lands surrounding Haense, the epiphany long overdue landed on their head like a stone, the crushing force of change. “Change” muttered the elf aloud, breath making a cloud of fog as it left their maw, as they decided to take a seat on one of the larger-rooted trees that surrounded them, that was the good call, given the racing pace of their thoughts nearly swept them off their feet. “The war.. Chaos, control” muttered the pale one once more, sighing as they wiped at their eyes, they finally understood, even if only starting to do so, they were so sorry, sorry that they let themselves be mistreated by the one they trusted the most, sorry for isolating themselves instead of getting help, they were sorry. And then… They heard the voice, the voice of their father, loud and clear as if he was present, sitting beside them. “Don’t be sorry, be mindful” They understood now, they knew what to do.

Man b****es be sh*****g bricks when they walk into sutica while using the "detect witch " spell.

Boreal, upon reading the short note, released a sigh, their smile didn't falter, although their body language took a shift, shoulders drooping slightly from their usually tense state. "Blessed be. You will be remembered, sister forget-me-not" The pale elf hummed, grabbing a hold of their staff and departing soon afterwards.