“Do you want to know a secret?”

Never one to pass up a good tale, Elizaveta sits upright in a cushioned bed, not her own, at full attention. Her mother says the Duke of Alban has a secret to hide. Allegedly, all the times he’d been away, was time spent battling countless beasts, bad men – monsters. Amazing, she thinks, awe twinkling in her eyes. Something must be off, though. There was one battle he missed.

There’s the pale horse that scares her in her dreams. There’s the shadow man that she hates to think about. But, it all makes sense. They haven’t been seen in some time. That’s who papej is battling now. It all makes sense.

“And I’ll even let you share the bed when we get there.” Her mother promises, packing only a few things for her return to Karosgrad. And, for a moment, she feels excitement. Excitement only came in fleeting moments like that. Because every now and then, the shadow man’s words ring within her head, ominous and dark.

“That woman is not your mother. And that man will soon no longer be your father.”

That’s what makes their reunion less than sweet. That’s what wipes the brief smiles off her face. Because he’s gone- but she can still hear him. And when she thinks her father asleep, she only hears silence.

And then she hears screaming.

Screaming makes her tense, and only establishes her fears. If the man’s words could ring true now, who was to say he couldn’t return?

Someone new will have to defend her from those monsters. “The realm is out of. . . balance.” She says, to the squire at her side. ( @Kujo ) She has lost some of that balance, herself.

Skin: White Lace

Bid: 105

Disc: monAAAAH#1878

“Hold.”

She heard - one of the very last things the young Barbanov would hear, looking up from the mere chicken that so easily distracted her. Her vision was not ideal, neither was her only view on perspective. Making it harder to see what was coming so fast.

From her eye, the pale blurriness heading toward her so fast fashioned into a giant steed - but by the time her eyes had adjusted, she was already in the air. Already in someone’s arms.

“Cyclops. Keep quiet.”

A command she refused to heed, kicking and screaming all the while – screams she hoped someone would hear. Just like that, the snow was gone. And she forgot something very dear.

After all the pain, now, when the girl woke up, all she heard was someone’s ramblings and mutterings. All she could do was hear.

She no longer had to worry about her failing eyesight.

Once the ‘missive’ found the mother of the child, the author, that girl would find her ears twisted by a pinch of the woman’s fingers, and with force she was dragged back home to face an impending scolding.

IGN: imMona
BOTA or COTC: BOTA

Category: Visual Arts
Artwork: Nightmare Before Tuvmas [Imgur Link] (Credit to... well, Nightmare Before Christmas ig)

BOUNTY: AN ELF AND A GIRL

NOTICE OF BOUNTY AND BANISHMENT

To the two miscreants that have recently terrorized VERITAS:

The little brigand-to-be and the make-believe elven hero; you are hereby BANISHED from the village-state.

BANISHED and WANTED for instigating trouble in the village-state- trouble that resulted in a man stabbed through his gut for no reasonable cause. 

Though we do not know your names, we will remember your faces, and you are not welcome on our land. 

THE BRIGAND-TO-BE & THE MAKE-BELIEVE HERO

HEARTLANDER CHILD, the brigand-to-be. 

A young child no older than seven years, black hair, blue eyes and pallid skin. 

Donned in red garbs, beige bottoms, and high white socks.

The youth is temperamental and deceptive, carrying a worn and dull dagger. 

WANTED FOR ATTEMPTED BANDITRY 

AND DECEPTIVE SLANDER WHICH LED TO A SOUTHERON MAN’S UNJUST STABBING.

Though she is known to be armed, she is not a threat to an adept combatant.

20 MINA FOR INFORMATION   ||| 100 MINA FOR CAPTURE

HIGH ELVEN MAN, the make-believe hero.

A high elven man with white-gray hair and gray-blue eyes, standing at about 6’6 or give or take. 

Donned with red attire and a beige cloth over his shoulder, the man was also seen to have plate over his other arm. 

The man is very sardonic and presumptuous, noted to wield a halberd with a pike at its tip. 

He is armed, and only dangerous because he is quick to make ill-informed assumptions. 

He believes himself to be some sort of hero, and he will be unafraid to cut down if he believes you morally oppose him.

WANTED FOR AIDING AND ABETTING THE CHILD IN QUESTION, 

INSTIGATING A HARMLESS SITUATION WITH UNNECESSARY FORCE, 

AND STABBING A MAN IN COLD BLOOD UNDER THE GUISE OF MORALITY.

50 MINA FOR INFORMATION ||| 400 MINA FOR CAPTURE

UPON CAPTURE, BRING THEM TO VERITAS TO FACE JUSTICE.

The child will not meet harm, but she cannot continue to grow without facing repercussions for her undisciplined actions.

The elf, however, will be tried as an adult. His fate has not yet been sealed, but redemption is always an option for the troubled. 

Act accordingly, mischief-makers.

Signed,

The Great (not quite Grand) Justiciar and Revolutionist of VERITAS

Amara Verrana

Right over that one-eyed Southeron’s shoulder was his merry company, a much younger Southeron teen. With hazel hues trailing over her kin’s invitation, she had a mind of her own to invite herself, her head bobbing idly. 

“Oh, you don’t know what that is?” Chimes she, to the man’s confusion. “Joja Hunting, yeah. Part of the movement, mhm.” — “For the young people, mostly. You probably wouldn't get it. . ." ( @Goon )

“The Revolution will not be transcribed. . .” Utters a Southeron teen within Veritas, donning a black beret upon her head.

[!] The following invitation was passed to only close family, the very few family friends, and friends in general.

L’UNIONE DI BASRID E FALCONE

- THE UNION OF BASRID & FALCONE -

[Christian Berentz (1658–1722) - L'orologio]

THE WEDDING OF

ISA NASIF BASRID  &  GRACIA VALENTINA FALCONE

With great joy, Isa Basrid and his lady Gracia Falcone announce their approaching union, inviting but a small gathering of loved ones as they make the matrimony official in the eyes of GOD. 

Those invited will gather among the pews of St. Thomas’s Basilica in Redenford, awaiting the bride as she is accompanied by her father down the aisle. Once the holy union has been sanctified, guests will migrate to Susa, taking part in a reception to congratulate the newly wedded couple.

With their own discretion, and under good judgement, invitees are allowed to bring with them whoever they please.

18th of Harren's Folly, 1845

[!] Once the couple drew the very last strokes on the stack of invitations, those missives were sent out to the following,

Special Invitations to the Bride and Groom’s Immediate, and Extended Family

La Famiglia Falcone, on Behalf of the Bride

Father to the Bride, COSIMO ANTONY FALCONE ( @Goon)

Mother to the Bride, NATALIA MARIE FALCONE ( @Criala)

Loving Brother, Mister DANTE ALDO FALCONE ( @BenjiBot_)

Just as Loving Brother, Mister CARMINE VITTORIO FALCONE ( @Pompilidae)

Alluring and Bewitching Aunt, Madame Antony, Miss LUDOVICA FRANCESCA VIMMARK-ROUSSARD ( @Melpomenne)

His Royal Highness, the Prince of Visconti, D’ARTANGNAN PALMER ( @CherryBoy)

The Entire House of Basrid, on Behalf of the Groom

Lady EIRENE MARIA ELISHEVA BASRID of Susa, Dobrov, and Ba’as ( @Melpomenne)

Lady ALINA ISIDORA BASRID ( @VeganWalmart)

Lady SAFIYA OMA BASRID ( @Cubicita)

Additional Invitations from the Bride and Groom

His Imperial Highness, the Duke of Adria, PRINCE PHILLIP AURELIAN & his pedigree ( @ErikAzog)

His Funnyship, the Boogeyman, VLADISLAV ALEXANDER VIMMARK-ROUSSARD CARRION ( @Hephaestus)

Lady VICTORIA KAPHRO ( @venclair)

His Royal Highness, the Prince of Montelliano, SERGIO LENOID ( @RaindropsKeepFalling)

Her Imperial Highness, the Holy Dame, HELENA AUGUSTA & her pedigree ( @Axelu)

Tell LOTC how much you enjoyed Yakuza 0

my next question is if you saw the previous question and are going to answer it?

What am I to you?

Are you prepared for the day of reckoning?

Are you, like, super buff? Asking for the Ladies of the Craft.

Favorite Persona?

Are you gonna buy me Cookout after this?

OOC:

MC Name - imMonaaaah
Discord - monAAAAH#1878

ROLEPLAY:

Name - Gracia Valentina Meadow Falcone
Age - 22
Title(s), if applicable - N/A
Past Experience - Nové Jubilee

None the wiser to his passing, in a room sat one of the youngest Falcones — weaving away.
 

Reserved

“Now this,” Chirps the now ecstatic, aging Li-Ren from the bliss of his study. “This is exactly how these columns should be done!” He happily taps the latest entry with his hand, the paper and inks that bled through it from his own home. 

“我的天哪...” He breathily exclaims, looking over the column with a hearty chuckle. He’d probably reread it about five times now - maybe even fifteen. With a proud nod, he prepares some plaster to place this missive right where it belongs - above his desk. What a beautiful sight to see every time he would sit down to work!

Gracia Valentina Falcone signs up!

“啦！我无听过!?” Croaks an aging Li-Ren from the bliss of his study. In through his window did the rays of the setting sun shine upon him - as well as the silks of his newly tailored dahu - as he grumbled phrases of confusion in his native tongue. Shuffling this latest entry of the column under that of the previous, he would be surrounded by the pitter-pattering sounds of his young children - whom he’d subsequently motion over.

“You read this?” He clicked his tongue, holding up the brief columns to show, “‘Gossip column’, lah - it would be if it was not information everyone already knew!” With a sarcastic scoff, he passes off the papers to his second oldest daughter, shrugging his shoulders. A finger points in the air as he muttered under his breath, “But I’m the one who spends too much time in the 老外 city - oh!” He perked up, turning to the children with his conspiracies, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of them under this Li-Ren alias! Tuh…” Shaking his head, he picks up his brush once more, returning to the scrolls on his desk.

____________________________

“I’a haven’t seen him in a long time…”

❈

No, he was not a good man — whatever a good man objectively was. Nevertheless, Gracia Valentina Meadow Falcone still wanted to be him, rather than herself. At least, at that time.

❈

Grateful was the child they named Gracia, for she was blessed indeed with a mother and father who loved her greatly, so they would say. After all, those were her father’s words, Cosimo’s words - “Love is why God gave us you, Graci- did you know that?” Yes, she could watch and work alongside her devoted mother as she fulfilled her duties around the house, and she could spend time with her vibrant aunts, who looked over her when her mother was busy. But, for whatever reason, fate - if one could even believe in such a thing - brought her closer to her father. 

“'Ere's the Diet buildin'...” Muttered Anton to her, as they - along with a younger Ludovica Falcone, her aunt - gazed over the grand room of the Commons building. She’d inquired where he and Cosimo would leave to so often as they did. “They meet 'ere as the government, make big decisions, and big change.” He remarked, stooping down to one knee to meet Gracia's eyelevel, an unparalleled, rare twinkle in his eye as he spoke. “I work with y'father 'ere.”

At that, he stood, leaving the young Gracia to her thoughts as she stood awestruck in the center of that building. My father, my uncle, my family, she thought. Making big decisions, making big change. With her high-pitched voice, she’d ask where he sat.

“'E sits on that side there.” He remarked, pointing to the righthand side's cushioned seats. And so would the young Falcone - just a toddler then - flock to the very seat. And sitting there, she’d say —

“Sì, this is what I want to be.”

She got to see him at work in that same building, debating other men she didn’t even know - with the exception of her uncles, of course. Without the slightest idea of what he even spoke of, she looked on, starry-eyed as any child would - clutching onto the simple doll in her hand. And even from then on, she’d watch and listen, heeding every word he’d give her. After all, how could her father be wrong?

“The yelling, my dear -” Cosimo would tell her, after shouting for him on the streets of Providence. A dour tone in his voice. “It is unruly. Unbecoming of a lady.” Many things about her were far from ladylike - even though she was far from even becoming a lady herself at that age. From the unkempt, frizzy mess of curls on her head to her generally unruly behavior. She sought to fix it all, even if it meant sacrificing some of her own confidence. Because her father truly knew what was best - especially for a lady.

So she learned at the dinner table, where her dearest family had gathered - where the women of the house had come together to prepare a meal for the rest, so her father announced. And to that, he’d feel a lingering stare from her eldest brother, who held but a simple disparity to the man’s statement. “They aren't maids, padre.” Carmine would remark, anticipating Cosimo’s next response.

And Gracia would see no wrong in the man’s response, as usual, as his arm wrapped around her back, rubbing paternally against as an amused smirk came against his face. He turned then to her brother.

“And I've made no such implication, dear Carmine.” The smirk tightened then, returning his stare unto the youth, “And when you get older - and when you've an occupation, and a wife - you will see. They are not bound to chains- no. It is merely how it is. How it always has been, GOD willing, how it always will be.” And as his spiel progressed, it was quite clear — both the children knew a very different Cosimo. For the boy would return back to his food, no more words to be said, while Gracia thought nothing of it. And thought nothing of her brother’s souring expression.

❈

“I’a haven’t seen him in a long time…” Remarked the young Falcone to her teacher, Victoria, as the Kaphro had finished telling her stories of her times with the man - who she’d regarded as her friend. It was not strange for him to work for so long, but now it was too long. And that fact, combined with her mother’s weeping, was enough to leave her just a bit concerned. But, she was a hopeful one, that child. Surely, something bad couldn’t have happened to him.

“Because I still have so much to ask him about.”

And one can only pity the girl — for she idolized the man she never even really knew.

SLEEP NO MORE

[ Eurypyle (1921), John William Goodard ]

❈

❈

Above all things, if anyone at all was able to say one thing that symbolized the life of Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent — it was youth.

And from that youth, from her days as just a young toddler, it had always been full of energy, never one to keep still. In her older years, she would have more or less forgotten — but life for her few first years was actually stable. Peaceful. Perfect. That was not something she could say now. Like every other child, she enjoyed time with her siblings, her mother and father by her side. That was, of course, until her father was the first one to go.

That was the very first lie. Already without her father, she would be stuck for a decade with the illusion that - granted, she was older - she would see him once more. So, at the time, how could she cry? How could a child then understand death? How instant and sudden it was? She did not receive a letter, no note came for her - only so much as a kiss on the forehead. 

While she waited in vain, there were more things she could occupy her time with. Chess was the first - a hyperfixation until her last days. She’d play so often she’d become - what some would call - a prodigy at her young age. And she loved that game. She would sit at a board for hours, either studying it or beating men twice her own age. And so enveloped in that board and the rest of the world, her books were left untouched, and she would not even be fully literate until her early teens. 

But the most important things to a developing child are the relationships they make as they grow. Rhea was no exception - touching the hearts of everyone she knew. Any daughter should find themselves under the close care and advice of their mother - a luxury her sisters always had. Tragically enough, when it was Rhea’s turn, her mother had become an entirely different person to her - growing distant ever since the passing of her father. A relationship never salvaged, come Anna’s passing.

So, making up for what she didn’t have with her family, she made her own.

There was first her uncle, Beryl, the elder Carrington intellectual — who she clicked with right away, coming to him for most things. It could have been his doting personality, or it could have been that they were the same, as Rhea knew that it was him she could go to when it was anything related to her hobbies. There was then her distant cousin, Viktor — the stoic, phlegmatic Ruthern who, for whatever reason, allowed someone as young as her by his side and under his teaching for so long. 

She always considered herself grateful to have mentors such as Giselle and Victoria. Though they only started off as teachers, it wasn’t long before they both became somewhat of pseudo-mothers to her. She could have been considered slow, pronouncing words wrong, less attentive than her peers. Yet it was them who actually realized her potential. Among those her age, there was Diana, there was Mariya and Heinrika — the very first children she could call her friends. Running around the streets of Providence with them, she’d even confide in Anton, the young d’Amato Orlov in his youth. But among everyone in her life, there was one person different, when it came to Rhea’s relationships.

There was Ludovica. That was her family. More than any other child her age, there was none who affected Rhea as she. Providence, for years, would rarely ever see them without each other. Everything they would do, it was together, and it was the young Falcone she came to with everything. Her dearest friend. And in her time with her, and everyone else she held dear, Rhea felt things were perfect - creating a world of her own in a life full of tragedy. She felt herself untouchable — invincible.

Then, that glass began to falter.

For those who could call themselves blessed enough to have their final talks with her, they would, too, sense the impending dread she had been feeling in the days leading up to her death. She worried about everything, coming to her brother and sister - something she’d rarely done - worried about her own future. She’d run to Beryl, worried about her life. “Everything is moving too fast,” She’d quiver, shivering, though the summer heat scorched down upon her. The one flaw in her, she was not one used to change. Not in the slightest. Her mother had gone, her mentors, and now her dearest friend had herself occupied with another - and not someone she herself was particularly fond of. With feelings of abandonment yet resonating within her once again, she took action, albeit rash — as she’d usually do, cornered in one of her games of chess. She could not feel that again - especially not Ludovica. 

But, here she was. Surrounded in pain.

Hearing of a passing as tragic as Rhea’s, one can only hope it was swift and painless. But, it was the complete opposite. She’d suffered through it all, wondering what she had done. She had tried so hard to prove something of herself, she had ambitions, things she knew she would do in the future. She tried to crawl away, with the hope that she could escape her torture - all in vain now. She could never foresee herself dying now — who could ever? Death comes unexpected, sudden, and Rhea’s was no different. There would be no letters to her family, no notes to her friends. Only a head on the doorsteps of Carrington. 

She, of all people, did not expect her death to be so… simple. She was in the way, and that was all there was to it. Feeling abandoned to her last moments, a common theme throughout her young life, she bled without a final thought - only one of total shock. The things she could have done, would have done differently. Just like that, her future, the future she’d worried about so much, was stolen from her. And it could have been beautiful. Up until now, was it for nothing? Would Anna have been more attentive had she been smarter? Would Ludovica be so broken had she not have been born at all? After all these years, what had she accomplished? But, that question would be for the impacted to decide.

For life was death. Though it happens, this — This was not fair.

Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent

1806 — 1827

MC Name:

         imMonaaaah

Character's Name:

         Rhea Alexandria d'Arkent

Character's Age:

         21

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         Human, Heartlander

Transformed form:

         Revenant

Creator's MC Name:

         N/A

Creator's RP Name:

         N/A

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

A phantom is a spirit, a ghost, the remainder of someone who's passed on. They break into many subtypes, depending on the nature of their mental state. Though they eventually come to learn of their death, no phantom can tell anyone of how they died, especially when they're asked. No longer physical, they can only be seen in certain circumstances, and they are able to phase through objects and walls, and they can't experience the same pain humans do, or bleed. What even makes a phantom a phantom is ectoplasm, the substance they're composed of. They can manipulate that substance to perform a number of abilities. But with the manipulation comes a number of things they are also weak to - arum being one of them, causing pain to phantoms. Direct sunlight can also cause them discomfort, as well as mysticism and holy magics. 

Revenants are the very beginning to a phantom's unlife, and what every phantom starts off as before their transition into the next two. They are the weakest of the subtypes, the most susceptible to all the weaknesses. They do not yet know of their death, doing things they would normally do in their daily life. Their mental state the most compromised, they'll find themselves confused and saddened, in a constant loop of despair. They appear in grey tones, not able to haunt yet. They have less powerful abilities, because they struggle to manipulate their ectoplasm.

Appearing in tones of red or black, poltergeists are the most unstable of the phantoms. After their time as a revenant, they are unable to come to terms with their death, adopting a violent appearance due to their bitterness. They won't even be recognizable, compared to revenants and spectres. They are driven by their anger, unhinged by their death. The spectre, however, is their total opposite - the most peaceful of the phantoms. They, unlike the poltergeists, have come to terms with their death, and are more peaceful. They, too, can be somber, but it won't make them as unhinged as their counterpart. They also don't resort to acts of violence, and use the abilities given to them for good.

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

Rhea is a short, Rhenyar youth, wearing the same coat and dress she was murdered in. The nature of her death being so brutal, her face is only just barely recognizable to those who knew her. It had been punched in, numerous times, and there are blunt wounds and small cuts from the sides of her face, as well as a big burn. Her neck as been slit and a deep wound can be seen across it. Due to that, her dress was soaked in blood.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         No, she hasn't had magic.

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes, I agree.

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes, I understand.

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand.

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         N/A

Rhea Alexandria d’Arkent - imMonaaaah - Holy Orenian Empire

IGN: imMona

Screenshots: 

Screenshots here!

dear, audyush 

I always took you for a fellow person of color.

are you, by chance, African American?

(Reserved)

IGN: imMona
Category: Visual Arts
Artwork: WIP

IGN: imMona
Category: Skinning
Artwork: WIP