christman

Within a dark chamber, hidden deep below the earth, an armour clad figure hummed a quaint tune. "Radiant is the Black Sun."

I, ImStuckInHell, supports this petition

i present to you. . . IGN: ImStuckInHell Category: Video Editing Submission:

lets giggity goooooo

where am i

"Hey! It's the guy who threw me out a window." Mary would proclaim to the missive, as if the man would be able to hear her.

Mary looked upon the missive, a smile curling upon her lips. It felt it had been just months since the pair had visited a Urguani tavern to get incredibly drunk over Amicia's failed love affairs. "I may be a traitorous bastard, but that can't stop me from supporting my friend!" She suddenly proclaimed to a rather empty room. Her brows furrowed upon realising she was talking to herself, again, before waving the thought away to procure new and blue clothes!

Mary-No-Longer-Amaricius wondered if attending would be in bad taste.

literally cryyging

balling

There would be, in the first night after the attack, pure silence from the room of Mary Amaricius. Her right hand cradled close to her chest, as she sent death threatening glares to any object that dared move or sway in the night wind. Her mind remained on high alert, as fingers scraped and scratched the flesh of her forehead. Small layers of flesh pulling up to rest under her nails. "Monsters, pathetic ones at that. Kidnapping me, defenceless. And what does the ISA say in return, how does the MoJ address these travesties?! They don't! They do nothing," Hatred vile would spit from her mouth as she uttered quietly to herself. A seething racing through her bones, letting the emotion overtake the fear that reared prior.

Mei Espinoza, wife of David Espinoza, would soon enter the room, following the conversation of the two men. She'd promptly place down another tray of freshly made enchilada. As well as a round of drinks. "This North is loco," She'd note in tandem to the consumers, before giving a nod and leaving.

Mary Amaricius prepares to sign her niece and nephew, Serene and Erwin, up!

"Happens." Proclaimed Mary Amaricius.

A znaga hungry Goblin child let her eyes turn alight, roaring with as much summoned ferociousness as possible. "YUUUUUUB! MI BUB'HOZH GEHTIN ZNAGAZ! MI DUH BEZTEZTZ." She cried, rattling a shrivelled and decomposing head of her first snaga in the air. As if it was some sick toy. The heads eyes bulged in fearfully distaste, as Tor'Lur released another crying roar.

Mary Amaricius would read the missive, rather quietly. As she furthered read, the more she realised she no longer could muster care for this war. Her fingers grasped the parchment, looking along it once more - a final time. It was stuffed, quickly and effortlessly, into a nook in a shelf. It would not see the light of day for many years. . . "I wonder what'll be for dinner."

Discord: christman#2353 Skins: Floral Fox, 100

Name: Cinnamon Scented Cigars Discord: christman#2353

"Slliiiiiiide to the left. . " Mary Amaricius mumbled, the traditional dance still stuck in her head.

reserved

There was a silence that wrung out against the once busy ground. A silence heavy and laden with confusion and distress. Her movements ceased, turning immobile as the news was delivered upon the girl. The only sound that wrung out now, was her body turning to sit against the half-built rocky stairs of the keep she was working so feverishly on. The green-coloured eyes that sat in the pale face of the redhead welled with burning hot tears. Though, if you were to ask her why she began to sob; she would have no answers. They cut down her somewhat grimy face, in fat droplets. Leaving a trail of cleaned flesh behind. In the field, a field of quiet dismay - inhabited only by the cascading sobs that swelled up - her mind begun to race. Racing not only with one thing, but a multitude of things. It came first as a wave of panic, then that of sorrow, and then of confusion. All three crashing down in waves that now welled inside her. "What?" A mumble came from betwixt lips, turning her gaze downwards. "No. . no. . This. . ." Words turned into an amalgamation of half-formed sentences. Her small body physically unable to extrude the overwhelming force of emotions. So, her words turned to sobs, and the sobs turned to silence. Mary Amaricius rose from her spot, against the half-formed stairs that would soon be her home. Gaze affixed against a meaningless rock. Her lips curled downwards into a spiteful frown, as she went to wipe her face with a fist of dusty nature. The war had been only in its infancy, and already this had begun. Her eyes finally squeezed shut, and she produced a question. Echoing out to nobody in range to hear. "Liliuth. . Eugeo. What the **** did they do to you?"

A small goblin, a few years off her maturity, cackled a cackle upon over-hearing her mothers discussion of war! Bloodlust swelling in eyes far too large for her developing body, as hands came clacking together in a repeated clap! "WAGGGGGH!" Tor'Lur proclaimed, feet bounding up and down against the ground beneath. She would likely, not fight in the upcoming battle, but. . it was the thought that counted. Right? Somewhere off, elsewhere in a field, the cascading noise of feverish stone placing wrung out. Through grunts and groans of hard labour, a girl lamented the news recently told. "War. . . There goes my social life, I suppose." Mary Amaricius mimbled to nobody in particular, quickly resuming the mind numbing work of keep-building.

i would be UP for unethical and villainous scholars. sounds slick as hell

From within his office space, Superus Vilica Tuklha sat. His fingers curled around the small slipping of parchment that had requested invite of the nations citizens to his home. His lips curled, scarred and chapped, under his beard. "I do hope that barkeep is there; it's been a while since I've met with her." His head bobbed downwards, as the invite was returned to the wood of his desk. Normally, it would have quickly been replaced by a piece of holy scripture, or some undefined paperwork. Though that was not the case today. He rose upwards, the faint scraping of chair legs against stone ringing out. Turning in off-wards movement to the door, and exiting into the halls. A brisk walk resulted in another set of grandiose doors, as he entered into the monetary. The kilns alight with vibrant fire drew his eyes. . His gaze turned upwards, however, towards the cold, frozen sun that peaked through the glazed windows. Thus, he spoke; "You have done well, Brother Mursten. For the people of Fictilis, and all who have yet to know his name!" Hail Fictilis!