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Pallodium

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  1. A crow flittered unto a hallway- a tall being ripping away the parchment it held. A pair of serpentine eyes scanned over it, narrowing as it read the purple-hued words scrawled across the bounty. "...Cruel... how cruel indeed..." the whispers that flowed from its maw dissolved unto the cavern halls- replaced by the roaring of lava that constantly permeated its halls.
  2. A taloned grip held upon the missive- the being's lips curving upwards into a twisted, inhuman grin. A whisper leaked from it's maw- ebbing unto the colossal cavern: "...It begins...."
  3. A draconic child's lips curved upwards as they read. Its cavern echoed in cruel laughter.
  4. A nephilim gazed to the ashen skies in silence.
  5. [!] A crisp piece of parchment was tightly sealed by a figure, sent over to the guild. It read as follows: FULL NAME: Candour AGE: 45 EXPERIENCE: No introduction needed. I await an interview.
  6. Name: Eshonai https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQLvOcijWlg Thanks, Satinkira!
  7. “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight yet no vision.” - Excerpt from the Krux Doctrine; ‘On the Witness’. The west-bordered north always was a tempestuous place. Dry gusts swept down from the mountaintops, the colossal volcano spewing magmatic ash at a steady pace, clouding the skies. This land, to many, was the ‘Ashlands’, or to some even the colossal behemoth of ‘Redmont’. To the Raven, this land merely was. A land they once gazed upon decades ago, a land they found as everpresent, a fragment of a world that existed as it was. The ashen cliffs, the smoke-covered peaks- the ragged shores, all of the land simply existing as it was. They sat down before an ashen tree, gaze fixated upon- nothing. Their sight was stripped for them, hollow sockets capable of beholding nothing. Ashen leaves crumble off the branches, stripped by the wintery day. Yet the figure could not see the world about him. What is sight? Is it the ability to witness? It is what permits a living being to comprehend the world through a new lens? Is sight what begs a being to move forth? Flames wither into smoke, rocks crumble to dust. Does the one who witnesses both’s undoing have sight? Yet that cannot be. One can smell smoke, can touch that of dust; both must exist in the end. Fragments of another, lingering decrepit nature of what was before; is such not the world in itself? The world, fragments of what came before- observable. What is sight? Is it the capacity to witness that which came before from what one perceives with the present? Is it the mental nature that allows one to believe what is present? Nature does not permit oneself. Oneself permits nature. Does the one who beholds other’s attempts to fell the world, to watch those collapse and fall beneath the weight of others have sight? Yet that cannot be. Sight is a concept, that which permits the concept of reality to be witnessed. Sight. A plea to The Titan, a plea fell on by deaf ears in the ashen plains. The world seemed to drift, a corvid temporarily stagnant upon the draconic tree. The being looked on- in silence. A single word, esoteric in nature followed from the person- a swathe of flames carving into a small rock- lifted up, and pocketed. The winds bellowed, blowing hard. The west-bordered north always was a tempestuous place. In halls of ash where shadows dance with flame, A herald blind, their visage marked by ink, Yet scornful of their sight, a soul that sinks, Longing to see, to pierce the darkened game. Upon the Ashlands, the Titan's path of might, The blinded one seeks an audience not, Implores Azdromoth, flame-eyed and true, To grant them sight, to end perpetual night. "O Azdromoth, thou King Who Never Was, I yearn for sight, release me from this haze.” The pleas fall under false ears. Not a soul Hears of the words; thus scorns the Raven’s phrase.
  8. Whoa its basically free money :O
  9. Accepted. Please DM me on discord for further steps as we approve this piece.
  10. A lone eyeball, plucked from a herald's face, lay floating in the deep. A sacrifice. A casualty. Bloody remnants of what once was a being lay strewn in the water, slowly dissolving into the blue. A sacrifice. A death. Such it ended.
  11. An elephantine behemoth gazed upon the missive. Most dismissed it as being unable to read. Perhaps that was the case, and it merely was looking at the quite fancy imagery upon it, or the brilliant colors of text. Yet perhaps- perhaps it could read. It stood there for a few minutes, gazing upon the missive. It's gaze flickered upwards oncemore- two beady eyes staring at the endless ashen storm above; after a few minutes, the figure slowly lumbered away, trunk swaying side to side at a slow tempo as it did...
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