Lulah

Music: Prayer of Salt and Sand ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── "Curse the blood of my Father." A rattled phrase, against the wailing salt-burdened shores of the north. A lone woman lingered. She was a distinct silhouette; tall and lean, long hair lashing the wind in ribbons. Even as that unrelenting breeze attacked, she remained still. Taught. Once more, she spoke, a rasping snap of venom. Malice. "Curse, curse, curse his blood." Her spittle flung words mixed with the ocean's spray, and melded into the coarse crunch of sand beneath her feet. Yet one thing still echoed, sharp amongst the coast's symphony; Drip. . . Drip. . . Drip. . . The Viscera that barely still clung to her fingers clotted and clumped as the minutes passed, cooled quickly by the touch of air before piercing the surface of the passing waves. She turned, and if any had witnessed, they'd have gazed 'pon the bludgeoned sclera and split pupils that now marred the Mali's visage. pitiful and pathetic. A disgusting self-flagellation at the promise of false gods, a mockery of the world's truths. The Woman dropped to her knees. The Cursed choir, the pervasive persuasions, had stopped. The sweet hymns, that had told her with such gentle courage to prove her devotion, gone. The Goblet of wrath's claws had now receded. And, in its place, Aisilla was left with naught but dreaded quiet. Her fresh wounds throbbed where once she had known sight, sight that had known the brief moments of joy that painted the world in all its delight. snuffed quicker than a candle. She had thought there would be darkness, welcoming and deep. She could see no more 'anything' than she might with arm or leg. There was only an all consuming nothing. And as she knelt, she prayed. No hand upon her shoulder, no urging 'other' to place holy words within her mouth, the woman prayed with all her being. In shuddering silence, she prayed, fingers burying themselves in sand and salt. Through every spasm, the hold of the Lamb's Blood receded, and so clearer did its folly reveal within her mind. Begging, pleading, she called out to the sea; "Please... Please... Return my light." For indeed, the dark 'nothing' was wrought with terrors. Aisilla could still feel the dragging of her very own nails across her ruined retina, could hear the final echoes of that blissful choir rattle the cliffsides. As clear as if they had been real. And she sobbed, wishing if only their lovely comfort had remained. Succumbing on the shore to her exhaustions, the sand mixed her raven lock to ashen gray as she reaching the shuddering's of a restless sleep. ────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The cursed woman woke in a sweat, the Ilzakarn churning through her head even as she made for a glass of water. A tongue rolling over her own bat touched teeth, an eye running over the markings on her hand. "That time of the season again..." She soon returned to her bed, making sure to sleep soundly once more.

A small figure let out a chipper laugh upon reading such a missive, closer to a giggle, her eyes alight. "Oh me oh my, they're using their big boy words for this one!" Another laugh thereafter, gaining naught but humor from its reading.

Actually looks incredibly based, good work 60th absolute +1

I can't comment on use of arabic on the server, as its not a language I speak and I can't speak of the very broad culture it encompasses, but I still think using irl languages on lotc is simply distastefull in most circumstances, especially japanese as it is the language most commonly used wrong. I studied it for 8 years and still am nowhere near fluent. If you look at any other european based cultures on the server, german and russian in haense and other broadly slavic places about norland, they don't actually use the real language they use conlangs. In fact one of the only cultures on the servers that actually use the language would be Oyashiman and the small french playerbase. Even the polish community that play a polish based culture use a conlang. I'd be happy to help with the translation, but I think including honorable suicide along with anime trope abilities in a piece is just kind of distasteful. I think the magic could be really really dope if it just pulls away from the japanese aesthetic, but it doesn't need to come from a malicious place for it to be on the edge. Usually im all for basing off of cultures, but idk if this is the way to go about it.

This is and incorrect translation. Please don't use google translate to try and put yokai binding into Japanese, since here it's come with the Katakana (English loan word) for binding. In Japanese a lot of words are just English adjusted to fit with the Japanese alphabet, so this is literally just the English word with an adjusted accent. I will forever advocate that Japanese shouldn't be used on lotc bc it will always be used incorrectly. As neither should other already existing languages unless used by someone who actually knows the language. Using irl culture always sits on an edge of appropriation unless you have a proper and meaningful understanding of it, as was tastefully shown with the initial Li-ren who even though made by a majorly south east asian player base made up an altered and simplified language. Similarly, the name of this CA is also a funny non-sensical translation. You've taken the literal word for numerical half and slapped it in front of half of the word yokai, which quite literally are ghosts and spirits, which I think speaks enough on how this lore seems to encroach on the mechanics of Mystic. (Though if you'd named it just Yo I would have had a little laugh.) I think this lore has good intentions, and a cool theme, but I don't think its quite ready for the server. Perhaps maybe an expansion on the Oyashiman culture and a leaning away from using complex irl languages on a mineman server, and perhaps instead lean towards using a conlang and less anime magic tropes.

The little woman had stirred to wake with something near a yelp, though she bit down quickly on it to not wake the child so soundly asleep besides her. Her heart raced, and she could only wonder what she had seen. knowing what she did. She wiped at the tears beneath her tired eyes, before laying down once more to try and find her rest. She knew she would need it.

"Hue hue hue." Nana laughed sweetly as she sat in her office, a sip of tea the only break to the old woman's soundong of merriment. She cozied up in her large floral arm chair, and waited patiently for those in need of future counselling, working idly at some crochet not particularly good if but to give her withered hands something to work at.

very good, small improvements to bring life to this part of the magic.

The Arch Vigilant turned her gaze over a letter with a light hum, as though not surprised to see that the wheels of fate were finally churning. "Perhaps it is time to consider that to achieve peace, it is progress that brings us to a greater age." Her lips upturned, before Morael left the letter opened upon her desk, going off to pray before the peace shrine of the Fennic Remnants.

Name: Morael Drakon Race: Mali'fenn Age: 182 Gender: female [[OOC]] Username: Little_Lulah Discord: Lulah#6528 Timezone: Australian Eastern Standard Time

Reserved.

A willowy figure sat in the warm and cozied writing nook of her family Mannor, naught but the scratching of her quill and the absent words of song filling the lonesome space around her, a flickering candle illuminating the dark oak and warm reds of the room. A letter, carried by birds and horse, perhaps even bottle, would be soon be spread over the continent to any who cared to fall upon it. A thick parchment, scented of lavender, carried the following words in an elegant sprawl. "It is with a heavy heart I speak, and an even heavier hand I write, to announce that the funeral for the honorable Thalion Drakon is to be held this elven day. In the crypts of our city, before Wyvrun’s witness, I call on any and all who may wish to come and say their regards for the fallen soldier, father, husband, and once leader of the mighty Drakon bloodline. As he comes to grace the lands of fen’ciwn, Wyvrun’s domain, with his soul to be cradled in his safe embrace, still we grieve for the man lost of this realm. Most sincerly- Morael, standing Archon of house Drakon and Priestess of Wyvrun" ((ooc)) Funeral in Fenn, Today 7pm est in the square and then crypts!

The bejewled woman, her silouhette almost limping, had carried the body into the square with her own hands. A willowy thing of six foot, such a feet was not impossible. Though brief words were swapped between priestess and prince, the moments had spead most thin as she pleaced the body before the peace altar for all to see. As all Ivae'fenn were, his death was to be publicly honoured. "Thalion, you have always been a Drakon of honour..." Eyes drooped with grief, and fingertips blushed with cold brought the elven man's own to a close. "Rest now, find fen'ciwn and be held in Wyvrun's embrace." The priestess then went to wash out and hide the mans wounds, for as he was in fen'ciwn now where his wounds were gone, those who came would see him as such. There is no pain in Wyvrun's realm...

IGN: Big_Lulah Character: Wyetta Amador Bow/ arrows needed? Nope :)