craneia

A deep frown settles itself upon the scarred visage of the Magnolia Druid, who tosses the missive atop a flame burning within the Watcher's Grove.  "You do not speak for me."  She has not quite forgotten the wrongs done to her people and a forest she once called home on behalf of the treacherous Titan. 

wood elf wood elf wood elf wood elf

A smile is drawn across the Magnolia Druid's face. The missive is folded and stowed elsewhere as she sets out.

Almost there. The surface is within reach.

And just as it is breached - there is… dirt? The ‘ame coughs and splutters, having felt the water in her lungs, suffocating her - flooding her every sense…  just moments prior. But nothing is expelled from her lungs. Her clothes are dry, and the empty breeze brushes past her. The weeping tide pools of that foreign beach are long gone... as are the creatures that studied her curiously within the bluest of waters ever witnessed by the drugged druid. There is no sea to swallow her whole, here.

 It wasn’t real. 

Shaking palms are pressed flat against the dirt, bleary emerald eyes wide open, struggling to focus. Her strength wanes, joints unreliable and bound to buckle. With heavy breaths and the remnants of a now fleeing panic, the vague shape of a tree is made out… close enough to allow her to grab onto and pull herself up out of the dirt. As soon as she is upright - the urge to surrender to the ground that pulls her is strong… tugging at her legs and promising her the sleep she so desperately needs. Fingers, metal and flesh alike - dig into the tree’s bark, leaving splinters beneath her fingernails… but that is the least of the druid’s worry. 

She takes only a few wobbled steps forward… legs giving out, immediately collapsing into the dirt. But it is different, this time… no effort made to combat the exhaustion. Instead, a moment to reflect is presented to her, an option begrudgingly taken as she draws her legs inwards, folding them and binding them to herself with shaking arms. Her heavy, aching head is set atop her knees as dark, blurry eyes look out across the water. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, shining down upon the disoriented woman at the base of that tree. Stars twinkle, reflected in the ocean below. This time of night is quiet. The nocturnal fauna of the mountainous forest terrain go about their business as usual - skirting around her when need be, as if she were not even there. A few moonflowers unfurl a few feet away upon the cliffside bathed in a soft silver glow. It should be peaceful. 

But that head of hers wasn’t the only thing heavy… aching, splintering. 

She is alone now, on that cliff. There is no one else here. The bustle of the Amathine clinic, the serene clarity of the Glade of Hileia, the comfort of her personal grotto... are all far off, as is the chatter and warmth found around Nevaehlen's fires. Just the waves that claw at the cliffside, the breeze, and her. There is nowhere to hide anymore. Even if she ran, right that second, with everything in her - scaling that mountain frantically - there is no escape. No longer can she run from herself. 

Running is all she knows to do. And now that has been taken from her… she stares - for a long while, unmoving - out towards the vast expanse of sea just below the cliffs where she sits. This is the eye of the hurricane. This grief is not yet done with her - more is to come just beyond this pocket of solitude. They echo in her mind, words that she had so frequently spoken to her brother. A piece of her that now rests within the Eternal Forest. 

I am Emerald. I endure all things.

 But you cannot endure what you do not allow yourself to feel. 

Feel it.

The grieving druid rises, from the dirt... slow moving, half-drugged. With a fortified mind - one that endures all that comes, and what will come to challenge it - the trek onward, the journey home begins. 

Uneasy, unsteady, but surely, Arle staggers onwards... reaching a sturdy wall of stone that now blocks the way forward. She stares up at the mountains that lie ahead, dread washing over her. The ‘ame turns about, orienting herself. This land is familiar. The song of nature around her is known, well enough, but still does not guarantee a smooth route back to the Glade. There is a long ways to go. There is a rocky platform within reach, though. A sigh is exhaled, and shaking hands reach upwards to hoist herself up onto the plateau… a task that is just barely accomplished, followed by a buckling of knees and a labored wheeze.

There is so much green, so much life, blooming and swaying - some slumbering, in the middle-0f-night time that it is, in this moment. It feels endless, this range of mountains. But the path is perilous, wrought with devious ledges, steep drops, and deceitful protrusions - seemingly a perfect hand-hold, until it breaks apart the very second any weight is placed upon it… leaving Arle scrambling and slipping. An already sluggish woman now battered, scratches and scrapes littering her sun kissed skin.

Arle’s feet ache, arms sore and head pounding. A brief reprieve provided by a small, grassy plateau - giraffe reaching upwards to feed upon the leaves and apples of trees swaying in the wind, and abundant blossoms blooming in shades of pink, yellow, violet, and white. It does not remedy the physical impairment the ‘ame currently faces… but it offers the tiniest bit of peace to the druid as she passes through.

Not long after, she is greeted by more to scale, with tricky footing… an easy task, surely, if she were not as worn down as she is - her collapse inevitable and impending. Against her better judgment, a rather jagged rock is reached for as the 'ame seeks higher ground... the only way home. Fumbling, she slips, a sharp gasp drawn from heavy lungs as an unexpected gash is torn through the skin of her inked palm. It bleeds profusely, forcing Arle to take a small break as she retreats back to a small patch of grass nearby. In this state, in this place, all she can do is tear a strip of fabric from the bottom of her robe-like skirt, wrapping it tightly around the injury and dragging herself up to stand. Onwards.

Her breathing is labored, every step reinforcing and feeding the exhaustion that threatens to take over.  Over a few hills, though, something in the distance is spotted. A spire belonging to Amathine’s capital city - within it, her home; The Glade of Hileia. A small laugh slips from the delirious druid, met nearly instantly with a wave of pain and a bout of dizziness. 

Without care, ignoring everything in her body that advises against it… the woman breaks into a sprint, stumbling - and taking a few tumbles. (The last of which nearly took her out right then, with just a little farther to go.) Nonetheless, the Sirame picks herself up - making her way slowly, clumsily, through the forest to the city’s entrance and through the square, into the glade. Dawn is not far off, the sun beginning to push up through the horizon to chase away the moon and stars… but it was no matter to that Magnolia. She was home.

No effort is made to get to her own room as she reaches the Vulnrith hall, as there truly is no energy left to expend for such an endeavor - and so, Arle drops down onto one of the sofas. Eyes closing and sore body relaxing, her very soul soothed by the familiarity. The soft, sweet lullaby that is the song of nature around her is heard as sleep takes her for the first time in days… with no drug induced visions. Just rest.

At last.

yea i helped the crazy lady kill my brother and make him a tree

An emerald gaze falls to the lifeless body of Taliyun, the look of utter defeat displayed

across the scarred face of an 'ame now grappling with the loss of her elder brother - one of the 

strongest mali she has ever known.

"Rest, now, mal'onn... you have earned it."

The grieving sister whispers to her brother, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

Tears are shed, a promise is made, and nature sinks into solemn silence as the druid

takes her leave - penning numerous letters to estranged kin with a heavy heart and a shaking hand.

YEAHH!!!!!

A very worried looking druid grimaces, unease coursing through her body as nature abruptly shrieks - cutting through the serene air around her jaggedly  

MC Name:

         craneia

Character's Name:

         Arle

Character's Age:

         200+

What feat(s) will you be learning?

         Herblore

Teacher's MC Name:

         marsvelous

Teacher's RP Name:

         Sumana

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

         Yes

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

         No

Are you aware that if this feat is shelved, it will be unavailable to use?

         Yes

Clan Val'taelu's current Tyuth'szyr'mo holds her title with pride, sea-green gaze cast out over a vast expanse of sea. Ashen hands set something into dampened sand, watching as her offering to their Ancestors is taken by the tide. 

A druid bloodied and battered returns to her home, a candle lit for the fallen - no matter how short a time spent alongside the Knight. It only felt right to thank the departed for such a sacrifice. A prayer in ancient elven is muttered, alongside a few words in common;

'It was an honor to fight alongside you.'

A reclusive 'ker packs her things... which are few in number. Most importantly, her fishing rod. Off to sandier shores, she hopes.

MC Name:

         craneia

Character's Name:

         Arle

Character's Age:

         190~

Character's Race:

         Wood Elf

Link to your accepted MA:

         https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/224778-druidism-ma-sevnevn/?tab=comments#comment-1974203

What magic(s) will you be teaching?

         Druidic Communion

Describe this magic or a creature as a whole:

Druidic Communion is the foundation for Druidism at all. It is a gift given to an individual through attunement, the druidic connection ritual. Communion allows for a young druid to tune into the song of nature around them and with proper guidance, they may ask things of nature - for things to grow, or move, or they may influence the natural world around them - quelling or swelling the sounds of nature. Communion allows for a deeper understanding to be made between a descendant and the natural balance of things. Without Druidic Communion, no other druidic based magics or feats may be acquired. 

It should be noted that a druid’s magic can only be used to commune with only things that occur naturally. Anything without “life”, or machines/creatures made by alchemical or voidal means cannot be communed with through druidic communion. 

Are there different sections or subsections of magic? Can those be elaborated upon?

There are three categories of abilities that fall under the umbrella that is Druidic Communion. Communion, Control, Infusion. All must be taught, and are not inherently known by a druid who has undergone dedicancy and attunement.

Communion:

Communion is as it sounds - the abilities that allow for one to commune; exchange ideas, emotions, thoughts, etc, with the nature around them. For younger druids, they are limited in how many singular voices (a singular flower, plant, or animal) that they may commune with. But as they practice and progress in tier, they may be able to “speak” with more than one entity at a time, and even express emotions or ideas in an area around them as well as calm, quiet, or heighten the natural life surrounding them. 

Control:

Control is the ability to ask things of nature, and in most cases - have nature oblige and grow or move with the guidance of a druid and their magic. They may even grow a sapling out of an already existing tree, or guide nature, if it obliges, into a specific shape - like weapons and tools. In combative scenarios, a druid may ask for nature's aid and guide a branch, root, or vine to trip, crush, etc. 

Infusion:

Nature Infusion is a set of abilities entailing the gathering of a druid’s energy within themselves, then funneling it outwards to channel towards a desired cause. It may be the sharing of energy between druids to strengthen diminished abilities and reinvigorate, or the ability to channel minor forms of druidic gift/abilities into an object, “enchanting” it.  

This specific category contains “attunement” which is the ritual to connect an individual to druidic communion.

Can you give an example of a casting emote, of a spell of your choice?

[Tuning at T5]

With a small frown, the druid’s hand cups a drooping leaf belonging to a beloved medicinal plant growing within her garden. The passive, dim viridian glow of her eyes brightens, signaling a strengthened concentration on the nature around her.

With a deep breath inward, she sifts through the orchestra of voices that make up the life around her, seeking to focus upon just one, that sad looking herb. She locks in, blocking out all else.

Softly, through the connection made with the plant, Arle calls out to it; “What do you need?” When the plant’s answer comes, the druid nods and heads inside to gather what it had requested of her; just a bit of water.

Can you give an example of a teaching-emote (interacting with another) of a spell of your choice?

[Growth]

The sound of approaching footsteps pull Arle from her craft, eyes lifting to meet her student’s gaze. The already present smile upon her face widens, and she sets her paint brush aside. “You look well rested. Ready for your next lesson?” 

The student nods his head, wide eyed and eager to learn. 

“Ayla.” The druid rises, trotting past the elf and out of the hall - an inked hand beckoning the younger along. She treks deeper into the Glade, coming to a stop beneath a tree, flowers sprouting ‘round its roots. “Today you will learn Growth. You’ve done well with connecting to nature. Now, you will learn to make requests - use your gift and the energy within you to guide it. It will ne always oblige, but we will start small.” The elder of the two druids takes a seat among the flowers. A hand splays outwards, motioning to a budding flower - petals not quite unfurled just yet. “You will guide it open through your connection. And… by asking nicely.” She instructs with just a hint of a jest, hands folding in her lap then as she watches her student intently. 

He, too, takes a seat on the ground. A deep breath inward is taken and the brown of his eyes shifts into a lovely, glowing lavender. He focuses upon the bud, forming a concentrated connection with the singled out plant. 

Arle watches, silently, as to not break the relatively inexperienced druid’s focus as a new ability is tested out. She remains perfectly relaxed, eyes of emerald flitting between the bud and her student.

Through the strengthened connection, the actively casting druid makes an attempt to guide the flowers’ petals open, making a small gesture with his hands as if to demonstrate to the plant how it is to unfurl. 

As the flower’s petals begin to slowly open, the ‘ame’s smile widens - happy to see her student succeed. “Ayla, ayla. Do ne strain yourself.” 

The glow of the student’s eyes fades, irises returning to a mellow shade of brown. He offers a smile, a bit tired, to his teacher. “Ahernan.”

Say your student powergames during or after teaching, how do you reprimand that?

If my student were to powergame while actively on my TA, I would first seek to speak with them and figure out if I had not been clear enough with my teaching. If so, I'd reteach in a way that would better explain the spell/ability to avoid powergaming in the future. I would also direct them to the redlines of the ability, and reinforce those. If it happens again, I would warn them and threaten to remove them from my TA. If they are directly ignoring my warnings and not correcting their behavior, I'd report them to a member of ST and also have them removed from my TA. If powergaming happens after they have reached T5 and no longer need to be on my TA, I would follow a similar course of action, barring having them removed from my TA since they would've no longer been on it at that point. 

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

         No

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

         Yes

Have you applied to teach this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app.

         No

go live your life my friend <3 

A pallid shepherd wakes, rubbing blear from her eyes. Along the deck of a ship, she paces, repeating the words obsessively. As the last of them slip into the night, a sifted thought finds its way onto her tongue; Al’Kfurl’sek shai, urk’lakzut... davu badurz-thismi? What to do now?

Yeah!!!
 

so real creamynoteblock

MC Name:

         sevnevn

Character's Name:

         Nadia Ysidora

Character's Age:

         52

What feat(s) will you be learning?

         Animii

Teacher's MC Name:

         exanimated

Teacher's RP Name:

         Kone

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

         Yes

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

         No

Are you aware that if this feat is shelved, it will be unavailable to use?

         Yes

yh 

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/225233-mysticism-ma-sevnevn/

MC Name:

         sevnevn

Character's Name:

         Nadia Samardzic

Character's Age:

         52

Character's Race:

         Human

Link to your accepted MA:

         https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/225233-mysticism-ma-sevnevn/

What magic(s) will you be teaching?

         Mysticism

Describe this magic or a creature as a whole:

Mysticism is a dark magic, referred to by some as an art of the occult. The magic’s roots are tied to the spectral undead - and the substance that such creatures are composed of; ectoplasm. To gain access to this magic, one must undergo something called “conjoinment”, which serves as Mysticism’s connection ritual. This must be performed by a TA holding mystic who has been taught the spell. In this process, the TA holding mystic will remove the individual’s soul from their body, and combine it with a spirit. The soul is then placed back into the newly conjoined mystic’s body. This process is excruciatingly painful. Upon first conjoinment, the occultist will progress through the first and second tiers of the magic. To access the third and fourth tiers, they must undergo a second conjoinment. To access the fifth tier, one must ascend to wightdom, in which they wrangle and consume an apparition. Liturgies are a mystic’s pool of ectoplasm, from which they pull to cast their magic. To cast any spell, one must first Gleam, which summons forth a liturgy of ectoplasm. When casting, a mystic’s skin will pale, almost translucent, bones visible beneath their sickly outer layer. Depending on tier, should the mystic exhaust their alotted liturgies, they will experience flu like symptoms - a condition referred to as “Ectoplasm Sickness”, which resolves on its own over time (12-24 hours, as liturgies replenish). Occultists connected to Mysticism can also choose to undergo Amputation, in which they cut off a limb (most often, an arm), to allow them physical contact with ghosts, and a spell known as “Walling”, in which the mystic can create a dome or wall of sorts to protect themselves from outside interference. 

Are there different sections or subsections of magic? Can those be elaborated upon?

Mysticism has two “classes”, referred to as “Blade”, and “Conjurer”. Mystic blades share a more physical connection to their ghosts, and are considered the “melee” mystics, engaging in more hand to hand combat oriented spells. Mystic blades maintain peak strength for their race, but suffer an aurum weakness that is not shared by their counterparts. Mystic conjurers draw the majority of their power from a trinket called a “Conjurer’s Relic”, in which a few spirits are stored, and the mystic may draw from those spirits’ ectoplasm. Conjurer’s sacrifice their strength, setting them equal to voidal mages, for a more ephemeral connection to their ghosts, and more efficiency with rituals.

Can you give an example of a casting emote, of a spell of your choice?

Shrouding 

[Emote 1] Nadia draws a deep breath inward, pallid skin beginning to pale - fading to a sickly translucent. An odd box engraved with indecipherable runic speech is held in the palms of that conjurer’s frail hands, ectoplasm seeping from her palms, into the box - silently commanding the relic’s inhabitants. 

[Emote 2] The building glow within that esoteric trinket begins to intensify, the old silver thing beginning to shake - the spirits residing within demanding release. They bend to the vasoyev’s will, essence exuding from the trembling box… a blackened smog spreading ‘round the occultist and her trinket. It forms an eight meter radius… sending a chill up the spine of anyone unfamiliar with the elysian wastes, finding themselves in the unfortunate presence of wandering souls - the area within that smog warped, veil between their plane and Ebrieteas thinning, blurring. Anyone bearing witness but not within this cloud of darkness cannot see inside of it, and any noise reaching outside ears muffled and indecipherable. 

Can you give an example of a teaching-emote (interacting with another) of a spell of your choice?

The woman clasps her hands together. “Now… hm… Ah! I will teach you the first thing that I learned.” She muses, pale gaze set on that student of hers. “Aside from gleaming - which is necessary every time that you cast.” Nadia offers the newly conjoined mystic a smile of encouragement, holding a palm outwards. “Now do as I.” Her skin pales, sinking into a state of ill looking translucency. 

The student bobs his head eagerly, inhaling deeply as he begins to summon the ectoplasm within, mirroring his teacher to the best of his ability.

“Good!” If not actively casting, Nadia would have offered the boy a few claps - but alas, there is still work to be done. “Now… Conjurers may also utilize their relics for this, but this is the way I was taught… breathe deeply… imagine your ectoplasm building, swelling…” She instructs, following along with her own instructions as she demonstrates - her breaths inwards exaggerated in an attempt to aid the student in his understanding. 

With another hesitant nod, the man focused upon the task, he allows for that new kind of energy within him to build - swelling more with each breath, awaiting further instructions. 

“Now…” The dame opens her mouth - allowing for a thick mist to spill from her lips, pooling at her feet and slowly spreading outwards. For anyone lacking true sight, nothing further than a meter would be visible. No physical irritation is caused, just the inconvenience of obscured sight. “Release… push outwards.” Nadia instructs, pulling her hands in close and then slowly extends them outwards, mimicking the motion of the ectoplasm. 

[Student]’s maw opens, a cerulean mist expelled from within - similar to that of the teacher he reveres so dearly. He too, mirrors the motion of her arms, not quite sure if that part was necessary…

“Oh, that is non necessary. It was just to… demonstrate.” Nadia clarifies with a chuckle, clasping her hands together once more. “Good work. We will continue tomorrow.” With a definitive nod of her head, she moves on to other matters. 

Say your student powergames during or after teaching, how do you reprimand that?

I would first approach them, explain to them why it was powergaming and how to avoid doing that, and offer to re-teach the spell if something regarding the way that I taught it led to the powergaming. If the issue cannot get resolved that way, I would contact the ST, and depending on the student's reaction to my trying to fix the issue, I would ask to have them dropped from my TA. 

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

         no

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

         yea

Have you applied to teach this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app.

         no

yeah i helped make this guy

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/225233-mysticism-ma-sevnevn/

yeah i made this guy ! https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/225233-mysticism-ma-sevnevn/

A forlorn daughter weeps - news of her mother's passing just hardly reaching her hideout, sickly white peaks engulfed in eternal darkness.

ame ito narne ♥︎