Funny Batdude

A Wilting Flower In a desolate forest, two malevolent witches concocted a sinister plan to capture the next unsuspecting traveler as a display of their capabilities. Under the moonless sky, the Harian heir reanimated a pile of bones with her dark magic, the Southeron rolled her eyes - for her sister was reveling in her near useless predicament. Down the winding road strolled a jovial Elven figure, adorned in a cascade of pastel pink flowers and intricate nature motifs. The wicked witches exchanged knowing glances, sinister smirks playing on their faces. Their skeletal thrall abruptly halted the Druid in his tracks, prompting a startled gasp. As the Druid turned to assess the unexpected interruption, his gaze fell upon the Southeron—a cunning enchantress who timed her actions with meticulous precision. With an artful flick of her wrist, she hurled a crystalline sphere in his direction, its trajectory dancing through the air with an eerie grace. “Darkul'veegati.” A thunderous crash reverberated as shards of glass shattered, releasing an ominous cloud of thick smoke that swiftly enveloped the Druid. Sinister laughter echoed through the air, amplifying the disorienting chaos. Desperately, he swatted at the air, attempting to disperse the suffocating haze. In the midst of the obscured scene, an unexpected projectile hurtled through the air—a massive rock cutting a sinister arc before colliding with the back of the Druid's skull. The ominous laughter persisted as the two malevolent women closed in, the smoke gradually dissipating to unveil his unconscious form sprawled in the dusty aftermath. The skeletal minion grasped his ankles and they were off, leaving behind a single pink flower . Amidst the concealed confines of their secluded hut in a putrid bog, the two witches erupted in gleeful howls. The play of candle flames cast flickering shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the sinister ambiance. Regaining consciousness, the Druid adorned in flowers found himself entwined by ominous chains, fastening him to a vertical wooden board. The blackened shackles restricted his limbs, rendering him captive to the witches' malevolent design. With a disturbing satisfaction, the two women revealed in their egregious accomplishment, their elation evident in the wicked pride that glinted in their eyes. “Patuk… You’re awake!” The protective veil of the Aspects failed to shield him from the witches' unrelenting cruelty. With malevolence in their hearts, they cast twisted spells, extracting pleas for mercy that echoed from the depths of the druid's being. Each tormented incantation chipped away at his strength, yet his resolve remained unbroken. Frustration etched across the Southeron's face, she abruptly ceased her incantations and shifted her gaze to a potted herb resting on the windowsill. A devilish smirk played upon her lips as she carefully placed it on the table near her sister. The druid's eyes widened in anxious anticipation, terrified by the night unfolding before him. The desert-dwelling sister extended her hand towards the plant, its vibrant green now caught between her digits. A dense black smog began to seep from her palm, gradually enveloping the innocent flora. The captive thrashed and jerked, his senses assaulted by the plant's anguished cries, each resonating as if the inflicted pain were his own. Amidst the witches' delighted cackles, a subtle force stirred within the prisoner. Tapping into the desperation of the moment, he violently squirmed in a desperate attempt to break free. Feebly resisting the witches' malevolence, his anguished cries echoed through the air, sending whispers of rebellion that rustled through the leaves, an ode to nature's silent resistance.

The FWs consistently face challenges in engaging with the community overall, encountering negative sentiments. Dealing with adverse role-playing outcomes from events or combat is undesirable, yes, but it happens - a lot of players just refuse to accept this and go to any means necessary to prevent such. This leads to metagaming, refusal to RP, wasted time, etc. I doesn't surprise me that the witches apparently have had phases of activity levels over the years, because it seems like playing one could get very frustrating. I'm fully supportive of any efforts to make them relevant again +1

Zinneia would step forward, leaving the other two Alzgomalda behind her, after placing her crow mask over her visage. She’d release a soft hum before speaking. ”Razi a ubyz blothr, burz, undere serthekhur”.

IGN: Drazhana RP Name: Zinneia Talzin ID: #85299

Rhaegar Carcimor would read over the public letter and scoff before taking a sip of tea from cup, and placing back onto the counter top beside his notebook. The elf did a double take, peering back over the contents of it and shaking his head. His body turns to head in Tahorran-urthir and Lelien's direction, who were both in the living room of their primary residence in Haelun'or. "Lelien, you didn't happen to get a chance to speak with any of your liiran about that delusional mage out in Hohkmat? The who's been trying to challenge all of the Magisters? Why don't you go out there and knock him down a few pegs?"

A rather stylishly put together pirate leaned against the railing of the ship, the Siren, as they moved slowly along the calm sea this night. The almost full moon shown a pale silver light over the deck in which he stood. His eyes remained closed as his lowered head looked down at his crossed boots. He'd then take a sharp breath and look towards the captain's quarter doors. His eyes opening to reveal a sickly greenish iris. He wondered where she was taking them now. They had it made back in Petra. She had the best connections, everywhere they went they were staying in castles or lavish private estates. Now, suddenly, she gets word from some brother he'd never heard about and they have to get 'there' immediately? Get where, he wondered. He'd push off the rail and into a smooth stride, clearing his throat before calling out. "Uhhh, darlin', you still up?"

Rhaegar soon hears of Usamea's proclamation from his grey-eyed counterpart and smirked proudly. His arms uncrossed from his sides before her bring his right hand palm to the nape of his neck and work out the discomfort. All the while thinking to himself about how she was described to him, versus how he actually perceived her during their first formal introduction. He'd turn to face the Golem 'butler', who stood at the other end of the laboratory, and began to cheerily inform. "Personally, I believe she's more than capable of restoring her surname's reputation. She was nothing, if not, friendly and personable when we first met. She was even gracious enough to help educate me in my pursuit of Voidal Magic proficiency, as a favor to Len."

[!] A flier was sent out to every resident in Haelun’or. It read as follows. 5th of The First Seed 148 of SA Karin’ayla, citizens of Haelun’or As a newly appointed Mediir’indor, I hope to breathe life back into the library and return it to the knowledge hub that is so important to our people. Over the next few weeks, we will be attempting to make significant changes. Library Cards As most of you are probably aware, the library offers something known as a library card, which can be used by citizens of the city to access our full catalog of books and from this catalog you are able to pick the ones you like, have copies made, and then they’re delivered to you. In order to receive a library card, you must submit an original book to one of the librarians, or leave it in the mailbox outside of laboratory (insert lab chosen here). Once you’ve done so, please inform us with your information as well, and you will be saved in our files, so then you’ll always have access to this otherwise costly amenity. The requirements for library card-related book donations are as follows: The subject must be non-fiction or philosophy. Personal tales, journals, and documents will not suffice. The donation must be a minimum of 9 pages in length. The donation must be the original copy. The applicant must author the donated book. The donation must be reasonably legible with proper grammar. Signed, Rhaegar Carcimor