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altiar1011

Story
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About altiar1011

Contact Methods

  • Discord
    Salty Alty#7030
  • Minecraft Username
    altiar1011

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    The Faithful Hound | Tarathiel Asul'onn | Greyhound
  • Character Race
    Poltergeist | Mali'Ame | Highlander

Recent Profile Visitors

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  1. A Loathsome mutt would shake its fist angrily that itself, and its kith and kin, were not profiled upon the missive. How phantasmaphobic.
  2. A Particular Hound would rapidly blink its eyes upon receiving the missive, conjuring a pair of spectral spectacles to ensure it wasn't misreading the publication! "What in the name of the Lords..."
  3. Somehow, somewhere, a particular Hound's mouth waters at the sketch of just how much meat had been donated. It then remembered that it could no longer eat, and skulked back off into its crypt to sulk.
  4. One 'Aleksey' would merely regard the missive in hand as it lingered within that dimly lit tavern, crumpling it 'twixt taloned digits still awash in flaky crimson. It sighed lowly, tossing the parchment to the floor. Murmured henceforth in lowest cant, the sickly leper did thus rasp, that elven utterance croaked in harshest manner of rapturous intent; "maehr'sae hiylun'ehya."
  5. ♬♬♬ "Hear my voice, sing with the tide..." The Light which guides. That was her name, translated in literal fashion. Elesul’annilir. Perhaps beautiful by Elven standards - radiant, even… It felt hollow now. All of it did. She could still remember her mothers sitting across from her, teary-eyed and speaking words that she didn’t even hear. "We still love you." All these words evoked sorrow of a primal sort, as she tore from the house crying tears of her own, her boots digging deep into the moist earth beneath her feet.
  6. Cradled e'ermore by tide and shore, a particular child of both Jackdaw and Forget-Me-Not would stare blankly upon the rolling waves, her legs clutched tightly to her chest as seafoam licked at tear-stained cheeks. She did her best not to think, not now, not in this moment. Nae, for now, she let the ocean drown her thoughts in gentle tides, the cawing of seagulls and the brewing storm that lay in the distance... And 'neath her breath, was sung a most sorrowful tune. "Cruel and cold, like winds on the sea~ Will you ever return to me?"
  7. I'm sure I will find things to nitpick when this comes to review, but overall I am in full support of this. An accessible vampire CA to allow for easier villainy, more dynamic roleplay for monster hunters and the like, a proving grounds for getting involved with the greater vampire community, AND this **** has aesthetic abilities? Mordu/Zarsies, you're men after my own heart. I wholeheartedly throw my support on this.
  8. A particular mutt of Ebrietael persuasion would scoff upon regarding the missive, filing it away for its master's collection. "Mortal squabbling..."
  9. A brilliant confluence of skill and purpose!

  10. A particular Hound would poke its head out of its crypt, craning its neck downwards to properly regard the missive that had been affixed to such by phantasmal crow. It blinked a few times, murmuring lowly thereafter in most impressed manner. "... Perhaps I was wrong about my dearest Voice."
  11. A particular Hound would cackle condescendingly at the missive, rolling in its grave - quite literally. "Wow betide the foolish Heretic, the liar and the coward! The cobbles shall be slick with blood, but I doubt it will be of the Aspect's lapdogs..." That damnable mutt, clad in onyx furs, would then flee into the nearby tunnels as it heard the tramp of its stone-wrought brother.
  12. I'd have to actually read through the lore thoroughly, but please, fix your formatting. The bold white without partitioning or line break to separate relevant information lowkey burns my eyeholes.
  13. On the old road, we have found our redemption...

  14. That morning would find a mother blankly staring at a crackling fire, a prosthetic hand dripping some manner of liquor from the glass it had crushed mere minutes ago. Tears stained pallid, pale cheeks, and the bags that clung under her eyes were deep and forlorn. She wasn't sure if the crack she had heard was real or not; then again, she wasn't sure what was real anymore. Only this, and nothing more.
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