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KronugiN

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Everything posted by KronugiN

  1. THE BALLOT ((MC name: nornukig )) Name: Khaeryr Leverys Vote for Okarir'hiylun: ( XX ) Seth Calith ( ) Valyris Wynasul
  2. THE BALLOT ((MC name: nornukig )) Name: Khaeryr Leverys Vote for Sohaer: ( XX ) Arelyn Iyathir ( ) Nuala Telperion
  3. Upon having his fill of the previous issue, mister K. Leverys fishes out yet another sheet from a tightly bound stack of scandalous tabloids. "My my" he muses with insurmountable levels of lethargy seeping through the gaps between his breaths, "One should be overjoyed for their mistakes to be treated with such leniency. Now... Will the poor wretch choose to seize this opportunity?"
  4. Upon witnessing the odd scene play out somewhere on the streets of Karinah'siol, the moony librarian decided to stay out of sight and beyond earshot of the group. He could barely stifle a hiccup when the fourth person jumped the previous three from behind. Before retreating deep into the bowels of San'evarir, Mr. Leverys muttered something barely coherent under his rimy breath. The mumbling sounded somewhat like "What a perfect day to lock oneself up somewhere far from here." Then again, maybe it could've been deciphered as "Imagine if they had knives and no regard for the law." It's hard to tell for sure.
  5. THE BALLOT ((MC name: nornukig )) Name: Khaeryr Leverys Vote for Okarir'tir: ( XX ) Valorin Celia'thilln ( ) Ellisar Aevaris ( ) Olrin Hildinyr
  6. An unsuitably dressed for the harsh weather mali'aheral climbed up the 56 steps he learned to dread and respect over the last few months. There, laying atop a thick layer of dust, a single folded note greeted him from the reception desk. Having been left deprived of his precious books, Khaeryr Leverys rushed to the letter, giggling and gasping in anticipation of something to READ. The abundant text was somewhat blurred from what appeared like... teardrop stains? Several important parts could only be interpreted from the context, which the disquieted bookkeeper happily did. The bittersweet valediction took him on a journey of nostalgia, sadness and wistful melancholy. Then, upon a third time reading the damn thing, he finally managed to notice who the author was. The revelation left him only perplexed as he frowned and un-frowned upon the parchment. "Well I'll be damned, the mali in question actually resigned himself. Huh..." mumbled Khaeryr under his breath as he studied the wet note some more "Change is not bad, different is good." he lowered the scrap down, revealing the somber sight of empty, spider-infested bookshelves before him. "Or, at the very least, it certainly means not the same."
  7. THE BALLOT ((MC name: nornukig )) Name: Khaeryr Leverys Vote for Okarir'hiylun (can't believe you schmucks made me change this you got the point): ( ) Maeve Elibar'acal (XX) Aestenia Aevaris
  8. He shifted, groaned and wrestled with his blanket. Gripped by another fit of meaningful nightmares, mister Leverys crashed down to the floor while traversing an incorporeal dungeon in his sleep. Upon a rough waking, the elf clambered onto his office chair and, muttering a couple of curses, commenced the long and tedious ritual of reviewing his shoddy penmanship. His eyes run down an array of incomprehensible scribbles before they stopped at two particular entries: THE HUNT : ORB OF NIGHTMARES It brandished impenetrable illusions. It bordered between reality and nightmare. It had… tentacles. We, an ill-prepared lot, hunted it down. The general consensus remains that the thing did not perish, oh no. It merely retreated. THE HUNT : ORB OF NIGHTMARES, BELOW Seek it once – an honest mistake. Seek it twice and… Well… Just don’t. Deep underground it hid away - a tormented soul, malformed, abhorrent, weeping viscous tears of pitch black. It invited us, and we followed, despite our incompetence. But to where? There was an empty space after them, implying a third instance. Khaeryr hesitated, scratching his chin with the tip of a quill "Ne... It's done, there won't be a third time. And if there will be - I won't come, to hell with it." he oh so blatanrly lied, more to himself than to anyone else.
  9. IGN: nornukigCategory: ArtworkArtwork: An origami masu box, made out of A4 sheets bearing printed-out pattern of sightless eyes, which I have manually drawn with a 0.3 thick fineliner beforehand. Snippet of the scanned pattern is below:
  10. KronugiN

    nornukig

    ”The last-born” Khaeryr was born in late 1737 as the third child in the family of hereditary artists. His older brother Faraellor and the oldest sister Llum’leniel were all the company he needed throughout his youth. Early years of his life on Arcas were mostly carefree, even though numerous disturbances around Haelun’or eventually escalated into the conquest of Ruswick, Khaeryr’s father did not join the campaign and focused on raising his newborn son instead. Presented with three major trades to pursue in life: music, painting or poetry, Khaeryr chose the latter. “The son” Khaeryr showed great interest in storytelling while his choice of physical training fell on archery. The turning point in his life occurred at around 1759 when his father did not return from a trip into heartlands. He and his siblings suspended their training and abandoned their jobs to be with their mother in these dark times. 15 years later Vahtennalar appeared before them, fatigued and faded, telling stories of secret human organization, a remnant of Orenian empire, hunting him. Presumably, participating in the “War of Two Emperors” made Vahtennalar their target for many years and only now they have found an opportunity to get him. The story was... outlandish, but, being swept in the moment, noone argued. He then led his family in haste deep into Northern woods, into a presumable hideout he found. “The hidden” The hideout was an underground maze, a scramble of twisted corridors segmented by many locked doors with one exit to the surface. It was protected with wards and illusory magic while being opened by a single enchanted key. Vahtennalar kept this key on him at all times. He promised that it was necessary for them to hide, that it was okay, that they only had to do this for a couple years until the enemy forgot about him. They obeyed, living in isolation for 8 painful years while their sanity dwindled. The head of the family took it upon himself to venture outside to replenish their supplies, the rest were meant to stay put underground. Vahtennalar filled Khaeryr’s head with paranoic fears and theories, he clipped his ears and cut his hair so that he would look more like a human. He taught his son to come up with false identities, to lie, to be always wary because even when they will eventually leave the hideout – the enemy will still be watching. Even though Khaeryr was mature enough to meet these challenges with required resilience, the isolation took it’s heavy toll on him. Paranoia, sleep deprivation, nightmares and hallucinations became an everyday mundanity. “The murderer” With time, cracks and discrepancies in Vahtennalar’s stories became apparent, Khaeryr and his brother began opposing him more openly since it was obvious now that no one hunted them, that there was no enemy outside. It only seemed to worsen his delusions. One day Vahtennalar told his children that their mother was dead, replaced by a spy and planted among them to eventually capture the whole family. It was clear now that this could not be allowed to continue. Siblings realized they had finnaly had no choice but to take action, but they didn’t come up with a decision quickly enough. In winter of 1782 Vahtennalan, in one of his episodes, strangled his wife to death. “It is okay, it wasn’t her. They replaced her. It is okay” – repeated he over and over. Driven mad by this, Khaeryr, Faraellor and Llum’leniel attacked their father and murdered him, taking the enchanted key off his corpse and leaving the underground hideout for good. “The broken” And there he stood. Having spent the last decade of his life trying to mend what was broken beyond repair, having his studies replaced by a mad ravings of a sick man. Khaeryr stood in silence, holding the key to the tomb of his parents. He felt angry, furious even, but at whom? There was no enemy, no malicious force behind their suffering. There was nobody to hate, nobody to battle, nobody to take vengeance upon. There was only the damage dealt, the damage that Khaeryr would have to mend on his own over many years. How could he return to the world, to normal life? Not after all this. “The outcast” And there he stood, with his siblings beside him. He inserted the key into the slot, turning it until something clicked inside the stone door. He turned the key further until it broke in his hand, losing all it’s magic and purpose. Khaeryr slowly looked at his brother, then at his sister, both of them wearing an eerie reflection of what they went through on their mournfull faces. It was painful to see them this way, but then again, he probably looked the same. They were all witnesses to one disaster and accomplices to another. They couldn’t speak to each other without discussing what happened, but doing that was impossible. All three of them exchanged looks for the last time, in silence. Then they turned, facing away from the locked entrance, and parted ways. Forever.
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