ImStuckInHell

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."

A green eyed gaze ran against the lettering of the news article. She grinned, flipping through the stories with quite the speed! "True or not, this is damned funny." Mary Amaricius chuckled some, prepared to keep an eye out for the next installment!

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.

Silence came upon the girl at the forceful recollection of memories. Quickly followed by that of frowned lips. Her face, turned pale, gazed upwards to the sky that hung over Elysium. A boot came crashing against a stoney floor below, the crashing noise breaking any sense of peaceful semblance that hung around her. Behind the anger, a rather dishevelled Mary Amaricius, let a sigh out from betwixt lips. The only words she could find herself forming was a rather long, and vile slurry of obscene slurs. . . directed at a rather specific ISA-man.

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 t

A furrowed brow of displeasure came upon the Norlandic girl, the news crashing down upon her. A slow, solemn sigh escaped her lips. Followed by a grunt of anger; pain. A foot slammed into a pile of rubble, causing a miniature type of land-slide. She spoke, voice an angered mutterance: "What the ****," The question spoke-statement came from her. "What the ****?!" She repeated, hands crawling upwards to cover her face. Was it. . shame that welled up within her? As the realisation of Imperial fraternisation slammed into her as if it were a brick wall. "This. . isn't

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 t

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 chai

It had been years since the last man, or woman, had seen the face of Elisabeth Raven. Nerry, a family member, or mere acquaintance on the street had noted the woman; less even heard her name. Had her voice been called, in questioning, since her last moment of appearance? The answer was a simple one. No. For, while few cared; or even knew of the woman, she - a law abiding Orenian citizen - had shared the unholy burden her family had inflicted. For a brief time, a few shoulder crushing years, the mention of ‘terrorism’ or ‘rebellion’ caused the name of a particular bird to rise within the m

A sixteen year old Amaricius-Hartcold snickered upon reading the missive, her shoulders shrugging slightly. "Sheeeeeesh. Thats, a, errr. . Yikes."