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ivery

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    ivery
  • Minecraft Username
    iv3ry

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  • Character Name
    Deia

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  1. From what I understand, acquiring plate armor is as simple as having a skin that has plate armor on it, and full sets are the most common/accessible types of those skins. Because of that accessibility, they've become the default for individual players and nations. Having more weaknesses suited to a "default" would definitely help.
  2. ivery

    Map Art - iv3ry

    MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Adelajda of Metterden Dimensions: 2x2
  3. ivery

    Map Art - iv3ry

    MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: A portrait of Reza of Turov Dimensions: 2x2
  4. MC Name: iv3ry Discord: ivery Image: Description of Image: Portrait painting Dimensions: 1 wide, 2 high
  5. There is shouting in the dungeon. Deia stands by the door, amidst the blood and muck, and watches as it stains her shoes, stains her. The breeze brushes past to the cells and back out against her spine and she’s so very cold. Everything is cold without the Queen. In the shadow of her death, they call her the White Flame. They call her venerated and a Queen of the people (what is left of the people) and they speak of her kindness, her generosity, her love, as a mistake to learn from. Red pools at her feet like water and she feels the brush of fingertips against her ankle, the first of a trail of corpses that will lead her to her sister. She doesn’t have to look to know their wounds, nor that they will ever flow, an endless fountain from a slit throat, a pierced heart, a skewered eye. She doesn’t have to look to know there are dozens. For her. For them. For love. The gruesome sound of a glaive against flesh makes her open her eyes. When she turns towards the wail that follows, the dungeon door is stainless, there is no weight in her hands, and Amaya is still dead. Look, a voice demands, at what she has wrought.
  6. Though good sense keeps her from reading it at length where it hangs, Deia need only read one line to feel compelled to free the missive and fold it carefully into halves. Wherever she carries on from there, it burns in her pocket like smoldering coal.
  7. It happened so fast. Within moments of the shadows crawling across the peaceful flower field, a heavy blow to the head sent Deia sprawling. Only when the fighting ended, white petals torn and sprayed by blood, did her eyes open to scan the blurry landscape. She saw Leonid, shredded by claws, and Villorik, piercing the back of some demonic creature with vicious intent- but where, where... She saw Amaya, peacefully laying in a pool of her own blood. Her world shattered to pieces. Villorik was saying something ("Don't deny her death, she died in glory-") over Leonid's bellowing ("- slay you one day, I swear it!-") She was saying something. (A constant chant, "No no no no no-") Without thought, a gap of memory, she has Amaya in her arms. She presses her hands to the wound fruitlessly ("Perhaps we can- we can still save her-" "Stop, just stop-") and then, when it finally dawns on her, as she feels the warmth of a hand on her shoulder for the last time, she holds her Queen's body to her chest and wails. The miraculous may follow, and a crowd along with it, but she holds her all the same. An army could not part them.
  8. Within the darkened chambers of the Queen, Deia remains steadily at her bedside, fetching whatever she might need and welcoming in visitors at the door with a stern warning to be quiet and gentle. In the moments between visits, where it is only Queen and loyal handmaiden, she whispers with her back and forth of kinder times - of painting together and her favorite cocoa recipe, of her precious gemstones that she's bid to bring to promote a clear mind and healthy body. In the bravest of moments, they speak of a future to look forward to- one of travel, of fresh air, as soon as she recovers. It is only when she has coaxed Amaya to a fitful sleep that she buries her head in her hands and prays for her words to be truth.
  9. It had all happened so fast. An innocent chance meeting on the street that turned an especially merry day into a nightmare. In her heart, Deia knew it had begun long before that- from the moment her precious sister was taken from the field of flowers- but she'd so firmly believed there was a chance at happiness. A chance for everything to return to what it was, and simply be, forever-lasting. Now, sitting in the clinic bed alone, long after everyone else had gone to sleep, there's a hollow feeling in her chest where she'd poured it out. A slow trickle in the garden, years ago, a steady stream in the low light of the Basilica, and finally the waterfall that soaked Ruthern's keep in blood. What could she have changed, for a different outcome? Should she have trusted less, or said more? As she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, she has no answers- only those last words echoing in her ears. She glances to the side at last, through the lattice at the man sleeping in the next cot. ("My darling sister. I will not let the wolves take you for his sins," Laelia whispered, and sealed the promise in blood.) With a dour frown, she rolls over to face the wall instead.
  10. The moment the missive reaches Haense, one young handmaiden audibly gasps and takes off from her post to search for two specific dear friends. Her second-hand excitement is mostly incoherent, but when she reaches her fellow palace staff she can be heard blubbering, "Look look look!" @RingAroundRosey @Koodini
  11. Within the palace, Deia looked over the Queen's shoulder at her invitation, concern evident in the devastated look it wrought. "Your majesty.." she offers at first, seeking to soothe her distress, only for the words on the page to register. "I'm in a what?" she asks the open air. It takes her some time to startle out of it with a shake of her head. "Your majesty, perhaps you might attach the Lord Marshal's report.."
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