TheBigBubbles

fart pack W

A young 'princling', or maybe not so young any longer, gasped upon hearing the news. Alf hadn't known the princess for long, but nevertheless, he'd fostered what he believed to be quite a connection with her on first meet. Alf rushed to his fiance's chambers, the Princess Morrigan Arthalion. Alf rapped on the door, "She's gone... Morri. Vesta's friend..." the fellow reached into his sleeve for a red handkerchief which he'd dab under his eyes with "I should have done more, should have made more of an effort to know her, I should have done something"

A greying old dwarf reads the missive with a squint of peach hues, "T'e vocabulareh on t'is one could use some work. Regardless o' validity, 'e shoul' take up some debatin' lessons or some shoite."

On GOD

king moment

A gruesome ritual was conducted to bring back her kin, unholy sanguine rites that by any means would have brought him back from any fate but the one he suffered. The gravest of sins cannibalism. To drink another of your ilk dry until their very soul is consumed, it was an act no immortal could stomach, at least not the civilized kind. Hesperia recoiled with the realization. This was an act of war.

"Goodbye old man" Spoke a pallid old crone untouched by age herself, "Hana ga kareru tabi ni,-betsu no hana ga sono basho o shimerukaradesu." she'd light a stick of incense for the kind tea maker. An ashen woman adorned in only pink and blue had somehow heard the news of the man who married her to her wife's passing, "Ehhhhh?! I thought he was an elf those ain't supposed to die!" she'd send a mass of green sparkles into the face of he who told her, quite literally shooting the messenger "Don't play with me! Silly!"

The beloved aunt, The protector, the liar. Hesperia felt it in her chest, her dear sweet niece was gone. It was about that time now where human beings begin their twilight years, where they start to look back on their lives instead of forward. Really, she should have seen it coming, but she hadn't. Another connection was ripped from her, and doubtless this wouldn't be the last time feeling this pain. Hesperia had guided many to adulthood and beyond, but this one was different, they'd promised each other forever. Then again, that wasn't the first time forever was an empty promise.

An ancient thing recalls her brief time with Aech with fondness. Hesperia had likely heard the news of yet another friend, family member or acquaintance of hers dying this dragon's week. It seemed only right that with the waning of a continent, that many stories would find their end. Hesperia lit a candle and said her prayers for the small thing's soul, may it find the peace hers was damned to never have.

A devil awoke seized by a cold sweat. Mircalla reached a clawed hand out to a glass of water by the bedside. These visions seemed to be more frequent as the continent spiraled into madness. The infernally tainted thing's mind turned over the final phrase, "Corpse crafters... Bat?" she'd mutter to herself, slipping into a set of armor.

A sable-haired dame nursed a familiar old drinking flask, within it ran bismuth-blood. "One victory among many to come, my love" she'd lift her flask to the heavens, but it seems she was alone. Her eccentric companion had disappeared. The old archivist drew to a slow stand to toil away at her papers and records. The vampire wrote a name upon the list above her bed, and proceeded to cross it off, perhaps out of habit "dormi adânc"

A rather roughed up brigand wandered through her usual lurking place. The devil plucked the peculiar wanted poster from one of the various mangled trees, "Dead?" she'd speak aloud scratching behind her horn with a frown, "Surely they do not expect a dead demon." The roughian pulled up her boots. The devil known as Akdmae pulled the poster from the tree, along with the other few that lay nearby "I wonder if they'll pay for ashes." The devil recited a familiar old phrase, "Ra’drakurz raht roknoth kuul ra’vaznan amol tul. - Just who are you Heffer Demon?"

Sia strokes their beard, rocking the baby boy that they held "We could stand up the straights" They'd muse, dusting off their old dress "I like dancing, but not crowds"

+1

A certain noble wraps an arm around Ledicort's waist from a rather minescule stature. They'd then peer up at him with wide peach hues "Oh Ledi, don't get so agitated, not everyone can be as sane as you. You wouldn't fault the man without eyes for being unable to see the sword pointed at him" they'd then pull him away from the letter he was reading with a wide grin, "leave the idiots from your mind for at least an hour, I made dinner" a brief pause came thereafter "wait... Emir? I swear that boy is trying to be related to everyone."

I think that having consequences for becoming a blood-sucking mongrel vampire is good. However, when I think about how it's treated now on the server, becoming a corc requires OOC consent, being cured of it requires OOC consent. You can avoid those consequences for having become a corc just by saying "No thx" to the cure. I don't think that way of thinking should be encouraged, I think most characters that are faced with being cured or killed would choose to be cured. I think Lord_Of_Losers is right in keeping the harsh punishment for being cured, by barring someone from the magic that cured them for an extended period of time. That should be consequence enough. I personally struggle to see a character who's had a great deal of time to process something be unable to because of a red line like this. I do think it's much more interesting for a character to properly struggle with a fear before ultimately coming to realize it's not rational, or... having the choice to keep that fear forever. I feel like when we delve into policing how a character can think and feel, especially if those changes in character expression occur naturally, we're stifling character development. Say the consequence that barred you from other magics wasn't mental but magical, that would be different. I personally cannot logically wrap my mind around the idea that if someone has say 100 years to grapple with something that they'd still be afraid of it. 6 months is quite a while, I'd personally up it by a few more, but that's just me.

It had been months since Hesperia had seen Netzhal. It was just the other evening that Hesperia had lamented the wrinkles on her middle-aged daughter's face. The knowledge that Netzhal remained mortal despite all of those promises, despite everything, that she was withering away before Hesperia's eyes. The woman she'd promised forever to. Where was her favorite daughter? The elderly vampire sat by her window, the pallid woman neatly sewing her daughters yet another dress. The days were long now, and the nights longer. How could the halls be so lively and yet no matter the occasion, the weight of loneliness weigh so heavy on Hesperia. Sewing, piano, alchemy... Nothing felt right. Hesperia had had so many hobbies throughout her ninety years but things just didn't feel important anymore, nothing quite had the same weight to it. Where was her wife? Her daughters? Everyday was merely filled with duty and schemes. The days were spent placating allies and mitigating damages, it was tedious, it was a chore. Nevertheless it was a tedium Hesperia was ever willing to endure for loyalty to her family that brought her everything. If only she had known Netzhal had been slain by the very people she'd been trying to broker peace with. Alas, she could only conclude Netzhal to be missing. Except... Did Netzhal not say she had something to bring up with her? Something troubling on her mind? Hesperia took pause in her sewing, peering to the empty bed chambers just a room away, slowly she'd pace into the room, peering into it for her love... her daughter, her pride. Empty. That couldn't be right, where was she?

based as ****

An ancient Oyashiman sorted through missives. The woman was worn out. Though, upon reading this one in particular she'd pause. The woman's pale blue hues scanned it in detail, every detail "These spies... They're good" she'd comment, waggling the missive in the air by candlelight. The being couldn't have asked for a better summary herself. The Hirano peered to the collection of potions she'd amassed, "But what to do. It feels almost inevitable..." A scarred young devil peered through the missive with an intent stare. The woman's purple skin was marred and broken, her talons tapped against the paper a few times "Maybe the tree deserves a visit" she'd think aloud, hopping from her perch in the trees to stride toward it's location. Mircalla would only get so far before she stopped in her tracks, reading and re-reading the missive. Wyetta Wyetta Wyetta Wyetta Wyetta Wyetta, the name resounded in her head like a thousand bells, like a thousand drums, thrumming, hissing bleeding... Mircalla collapsed in the swamps, soaked in the murky waters, she'd scream.

An ancient being presses a hand to her daughter's shoulder, "You make me proud"

Sprites are on the never play list for me. Other than that, I don't see myself not playing anything. Ologs and Halfings don't really appeal to me massively but I'd still give one a shot. Lub orkz, lub pinkiez, lub albai, lub stoutz.