Aftrballini

+1

A mali'kyr stands in the rain of Maehrel-Vaxu. The island home of his people forever barraged, it seems, by typhoon. Directly infront of him is an Orc of which he has come known as a close friend, a teacher. Both of them seek the same things. Though their cultures are vastly different. They are found together in ideal.. But this meeting is far beyond this. Ilzho, the orcish scholar, makes busy conjuring up a sight that Volry, the elf, is woefully unfamiliar. Those clouds above harken to some grander thing then swirl into a confusing miasma. Dark thunderous shapes that brought down lower.. and lower.. Through rites of Shamanistic words which are so foreign at first the young maehr would repeat as he is instructed. He beckoned to something. A spirit. The storm itself it seemed ave answer. NEIZDARK! The roar of his voice reached higher upon each use. Starting weak, confused.. A student not confident enough to command. But his voice hardened. His teacher demanded it. The spirit would not favor any word spoken that wasn't definitive. Again he beckoned, this time with a heavier voice. . . NEIZDARK! A BOOMING strike made way for the manifestation of something woefully powerful. The storms above echoed it's entrance in a cacophony of noise. Infront of the blooded and madly grinning orc, the form of the Storm Spirit was summoned. Impossibly swirling and thundering clouds that seemed to watch the maehr's every move. Chosen, commanded, and chained together the two became. Energy like that of lightning struck into him. A searing pain of which nearly brought him downright to his knees. For no matter his strength- this power was that of an elemental... By the end- of an arduous process. Volry found himself, indeed as his teacher has said, connected forever to this being. Neizdark. A tool of which to use. A great power he felt the need to appease. A Strom Shaman made anew. (Animism Pact: Storm)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ Confusion. Chaos. Unfolding. . . Was he not just enjoying the sunset on a horizon. His heart burnt. Why then did his neck bleed in such a way. . . Is that what he could feel. . . The blood? Betrayal. Lies. Deceit. This must have been a demon. A cruel work of the dark.. Volry was a simple maehr. He enjoyed in his time the simple things. Friends of his people. Rarely friends that were not. He could vaguely recall in that moment everything. The smiling face of his mother seemed distant. His hammer slipped from hand. Mora, a bitter rival. She would probably be resting easily in the warmth out from the cold. Yoradoris, Akorra. Even Raelorn. The three he had found kinship in when his family grew silent. They had grown into maehr he could be proud to fight alongside. Irree. Would her voice ever find itself. He could hope. Gimble, what an odd dwed. But a good one. Of good heart deep down. Ulln.. Vuleranael. .. . . Enaid. . . Mother. . . . . Wedi-i. . . Vid. .. . St-. . . What were. . Their names. . . Altheria.. A final difficult memory to grasp which he dared not to forget. . . No not now. . . Not while he could still- . . . . . . . . But it all seemed to slip from view. From his head and heart. Into the distant graceful shadows where no one else dared to trek. Was it always so cold. . . Always so. . . ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ Cloaked figures made to drag a lifeless maehr deep into the caves of the island. . . Ancient magic called upon. That which had been forgotten in time eternal. . . They toiled away at it. At him. No.. No it was 'him' no longer. A helmet is placed overtop where a new head now lay then seered shut. For a Gloomguard's flesh could not be wasted. In the light of the full moon he would be made to rise. The prayers of his people echoed out from above ground. The monks had done their work.. Now the Gloom would do the rest. [Just a lil narrative]

Tanoshi Heat. Irrefutable. Very well written. +1

A passing strand of red ribbon did cross the visage of the one eyed purple haired kabuki. How long had it been since she had seen such a thing.. Was Tamaki-dono missing it? Perhaps one of the.. other shrine maidens....? It was an afterthought she would have at this; a moment in time, so long ago.. How a certain maiden saved her arm. What a wonderful smile she did bare.. The gift of the kami she bore with such reverence. A memory burned was a life lived. To be carried ever onward somewhere deep in the heart of Tanoshi Kanade... She returned, shortly after, to her meditation atop the hill overlooking Yorumachi.. (Although brief. Thank you for your time, your writing and allowing me to see the fruits of your character's labor.)

˚✧₊⁎ 🫖⁎⁺˳✧༚ (茶道, 'the way of tea') Let all allies to the Shugonate come and enjoy this traditional cultural event known simply in common tongue as a 'tea ceremony'. Snacks will be provided with a variety of tea in selection! From across the realm! Come and bare witness. Drink with us and rejoice! -Signed by the Yorumachi Okiya ˚✧₊⁎ 🫖⁎⁺˳✧༚ [[Happening TODAY!]] 6 pm EST [Late Notice! Meet in the 'Hageneki District' by the bell. Right by the bank!]

I will tell you aesthetically, that character would look best on a Clydesdale. Based off your given options.

The flickering gaze of a spectral crow catches itself upon the missive in passing. It’s burned form twitches as it ponders. It’s reddened eyes a mix of torment. ‘Finally someone is doing something other than rotting in the dark. Waiting to be snuffed. Or debating in shadowy councils.’ The Monster returns then to it’s cawing. To pecking of stray seeds.

Within the halls of honored slain dwedmar a certain blind dwarf... THE Blind Dwarf, with eyes that could now see, watched or perhaps heard as his old friend finally met his fate. And though he may not witness him here, in their people's sacred halls one final time at the end of it all, there was a certain joy in his large white beard. He spoke no words. But another pint of ale he'd bring to pour down his maw in toast to OBOK METALDRINKS. Alongside other fallen kin. May he rest knowing he left the realm a better place. The legend may not draw breath, but he will certainly- never die.

There would be no mourning for the late Hina from the Purple Haired Kabuki. She had gotten what little goodbye she could in the form of a hug at the sushi shop those many weeks prior. Days... There were great memories she shared. Of her youth, being granted that impossibly rare Hina smile. The kindness of her bento-boxes. Allowed to sleep, in a trauma riddled state in the room of the woman's daughter. Trained in the arts of dance. Broken by them. Made into a Geiko. She was.. Hina was.. a terrifying figure. Who was deep down always so very kind. A motherly figure that Kanade had never received. "Whatever happened in the end.. Wherever you are now. I will never forget.. Sayonara. Hina-sama. Until we meet again for tea." ((+1))

A number of individuals within the realm would receive a very carefully, handcrafted letter stamped with the family mon of the Tanoshi.. The Kabuki of the Shogunate.. ⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ You are requested to attend the wedding of Kanade and Peony It will take place in Yorumachi on the kami day of- - - Saturday EST 8pm May 2nd [For other timezones-] May 3rd Sunday Tokyo Time 9am Sunday Aussie Time 10am All visitors and guests are requested to abstain from combat during the ceremony or violence of any kind. どうもありがとうございます!!! [Thank you very much!] ⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ [This Wedding Location has been Allowed by honorable Shugo Honma! To meet in the capital of Kurai-Kuni atleast ten minutes prior!] [Please comment below if you are to attend!] Invitations to go to: All noble clans of Kurai-Kuni All citizens of/or serving under Shugonate -Notable mentions. Kepha's Family Qi Zheng Members of Imperial Buisness Association Knight man- [If you're a knight and you've interacted with the slightly annoying purple haired merchant. That's you.] Reinmar! We love Reinmar. Any and all Taigen-friend associates! [Within the go-shugi, as is tradition, is a lil candy coin. Because Kanade spent all her actual mina on outfits]

The Shugo is dead long live the Shugo.

The faint glimmer of an eternally tortured soul lingers and would gaze upon the letter in a mass of confusion. She subsequently haunts whoever called her a failed being. And ensures all of their pillows are rigid. And their drinks are forever lukewarm.

((For everyone who thought Charles is just a meme. Bro was in the kitchen cooking the whole time.)) +1

It is fortunate news that the creature known as The Monster has finally passed on. She is survived by no family. Remembered by no friends. Her death was meaningless as her life was distraught. There is no greater claim beyond this. No great and final word upon the world. No will. No letters. She is dead. And that is enough. Her spirit is asunder. To burn in the depths for eternity. As the burning of her body and rending of her flesh made manifest Hilda in some manner would find herself relief. This is what she wanted afterall.. An end to the whole horrible thing. A broken and mad life.. Maybe she should have strayed from her path. Waited for longer. And kept herself free from the world. In hiding. Maybe she should have done as Stanton asked. Lived piously. Withdrew from her plans. Her magic. And laid to rest. Maybe she should have died with her husband Albert.. Maybe she should have died with Mac.. Maybe she sh... Mayb... But now. It is. Too late. [Goodbye, Aloisa Barclay] For archival purposes this characters story was as follows. . . Guilote the Rosethorn entered Reinmar one hundred and thirty years ago from the day of her death. She wore her father’s armour. A cruel man that died too early and left her to fend for herself. She was notable for being exceptionally large for a woman. And often disguised herself in that armour to remain genderless to wandering eyes. After several years in employ of the hird, fighting and killing beasts she was blooded into the city of Reinmar. As Aloisa. She made friends with several people including one of her closest- Jay. It was not long after- that she met Albert Barclay. The two fought as was her family’s tradition for the right to marriage and he won. They married. And she became a princess. They had one child (who never got a player but he probably chilling). During her royal presence she would travel to Lurin to learn magic out of curiosity. Despite knowing her people actively forbid it and her culture frowned upon it. She wanted the power to defend them when the time came. Also during this time she participated in the fight against the Red Lich. Aloisa fell into a coma early in her years from the strain of her body and magic which left her red hair to turn white. In age she gained wrinkles. And during a wedding, which was assaulted by the fiends of the dark, she would be forced to use her magic in the defense of her kin. For this she received a malflame burn upon her face. And she was outcast to roam the lands. Never to return to her home. For the rest of her normal lifespan she sought to defend her people still- in the outskirts. She joined bands of mercenary. A traveling warrior. Then finally at the end of her life she settled down to rest as her husband had done. To join him in the eternal battlefield. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately she was given another chance. Another chance to continue her battles and the defense of the realm and people she loved. So began the general descent of Aloisa. As she became a vampire. Fed upon the blood of an altar. Rejuvenated. Youthful. And with more time she got to work. However time would only serve to further twist her mind. Aloisa took on a new name. Of Hilda. Operating alongside fiends like herself her mind continued to crack and loosen. She found herself in employ of the Imperial college. Destined to one day, based on that broken mind, overthrow it in some fashion. Ofcourse soon after the college found itself embroiled in a conflict and an attempted assasination… Hilda followed the one known as Ark hoping to continue her work learning. And teaching. At that point a husk of the woman she once was. She sought peace in the light and offered horror in the dark… One day the Veilward would fall. And with it her first great injury. What followed was a spiral into true insanity. Revenge. A hunt that would last until the very end of her days. Along the way she had made deals. Made friends. Made enemies. And provided a fair amount of (content) memories. This background character ultimately suffered a tragic end. But it was deserved. She was deep down perhaps a good person. Perpetually blinded by her own thoughts and desires. Stricken forever and eternally by grief that had no place to safely reside. A tale of what power can do in the wrong hands. A cautionary tale to serve warning. Her many names and faces were now at rest. Left behind were only scars. And maybe- just maybe. A smile from those that in someway understood… If any of them were alive to smile in the first place.

+1 Simply put. Whimsical Mages are important to fantasy.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ "Mother, will you come home soon? Father says he misses y o u . . . . Pain shifted through then tore at her body. Her mind. Her Spirit. Split between the ending of it all. Heaven did not want her.. She was far too tainted. Hell did not have use for her.. She was already broken. The Void would offer itself as everlasting rest. Free forever from her mortal binds. As servant of its immense powers of creation. Her hand did reach across the dark expanse she had known most of her life. A place to hide. To learn. Away from it all... Reaching for something. A n y t h i n g. . . A noiseless scream left to echo. ' P l e a s e . . .' The forever darkness melted upon itself. Chains that did stretch across her as brush to a canvas dragged her further and further into its grasp. There would be no escape. She could see it then. The faint glimmer in the distance. Her son looked to a husband whose face was left to smile. How ever did he always seem to be so happy? The woman could never understand it. Then another glimmer. Her husband sat peacefully for a death well-earned overlooking their homeland forests. In the place so near they had met in battle and fallen together. How could life have been so cruel. . . She would lash to drag at the chains and break herself apart in the process. Into pieces she was dragged deeper within. Her memories left to fade. Shattered visions of her past and present. Names and faces she wore. Smiles, frowns, tears and it was all . . . . So. . . . 'W o r t h l e s s. . .' 'P i t i f u l. . .' 'P a t h e t i c. . .' The darkness beckoned to her. It's never-ending expanse crept around her as she struggled. A finger mere inches from freedom. A return to those moments. Those memories. Freedom from it all. Relief. 'Finally. . . I will die. .' Her husband fighting alongside their kin in the eternal battlefield. He would reach back to grab her hand, smiling, knowing finally she had come to join him . . . But there was nothing more to grab. . . Nothing. . . ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ In the dark lingering patter of rain on a stormy night shore her body was left. Burnt. Battered. Broken. She had crawled there maybe.. Been placed there perhaps.. Eyes that felt as if they were no longer hers opened to stare at a sky so unfamiliar. Was it. . . All. . . A dream. . . No. . . A nightmare. . . Her hand lofted to connect herself, as she always did, to a magic she had forever called her teacher. Her student. Her friend. An escape. A way out. Power... To defend who she loved. But there would be no answer. . . Again she tried. Reaching out to the beyond to grab! And again. . . No answer. Even the Void would not accept her now. She laughed. She cried. She cursed and bled. And then. . . She smiled. For what was left. . . A Horror. Hilda... Aloisa.. Maria.. Amelia.. . . . . . . . T h e M o n s t e r ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

+1. 💕

Make a dark elf female, name her Iblees, and go a full day without learning what Iblees is irp. Or play a ghost. Nothing else. Ghost is the challenge.

The Monster, from the forests of Imperial terror. Of nightly horrors. Enjoys the wonkness. And gives it the ‘no evil’ pass. 🫶

((We love this. <3)) The Monster did not linger. Her fledgling corrupted the forest. The information the creature required had been garnered but the shadows were quickly retreating by efforts of the good knights of the Empire. The kind and honest men. The Godly people. But such shadows only ever grew somewhere else. It was the nature of it all.. For where light does shine the immense weight of the shadow would ever remain. The story continues. . . .

DEEP in the forests of the Empire.. Where no man or woman could hear screams.. A blonde woman.. or red haired? Or black.. or brown.. This woman adorned in dyes would be busy in her work.. What was a warm motherly smile was naught but the broken curve of the lip. A certain degree of madness struck it's fated purpose across the peaceful Hilda. A teacher turned outcast. She had not wanted violence.. She had sought peace at every turn. But now what was left.. As she twitched the monotone set of eyes to read what a letter she would thusly burn it in the flame of a candle. No word would be spoken. No thought that hadn't already burned into her mind.. 'You're three steps behind already.. And I haven't even begun..' She returned to her dastardly work.. Another poor soul questioned at the edge of a knife. Another ruthless woman returned to old ways. God save the young Zilvara who now had those eyes set upon her... Perhaps the message would reach her soon.. On the near dead body of an elf.. 'This one is for Mac...'