ChillDemonLad

Hey, dyslexic here. Genuinely cant read this post. Could you include a spoiler with like- the text without a font? Thanks! Edit : Got a copy of the text incase anyone else wants to read it. In the spoiler below.

+1

His hand shook. The twitching was not new, years it had been now. Years of shaking and convulsions that racked his form. How his body would crumple to the ground, head hitting the floorboards of the home that felt more akin to a prison most days. Ythur and Ekythkeezh did their best to help- of course they did, but neither knew what was going on with him. How could they? So he shook, and sobbed. ---------------- His hand shook. The missive in his grip had been read one too many times to count, eyes always landing on what Elijah had done to him. How that memory he was told was a simple mistake from the universe, one where alternatives became mixed, was not truthfully that. How the slap of the hand against his cheek had been real, how the porcelain mask had been shoved onto his face had been true. How close he had been to death as a child, it was all reality. He knew not how to cope with the history he now knew besides sobbing into the arms of Sisu. ---------------- His hand shook. The smell of death reeked. There was no calm, no peace in this wretched church. How the chorus of laughter echoed around him only furthered his fear. He heard the words through ears focused not on speeches but on tear drops. The sight of the world, dead and baren. The parchedness of his throat, the hunger in his stomach. It had all been too real, and he had tried his hardest to forget it all through the listening to something else. He had been hyper focusing upon the fall of tear drops from his eyes to the ground. Tiva heard it, though. "As for you. . . You fail to impress me. . ." He made up his mind then he would not beg. ---------------- His hand did not shake. They would find the corpse of a dark elf in the night, some distant travelers. His flesh and muscles ripped apart, gored, and flayed. Even his bones had been torn out from his body. Only identifiable by the glasses he wore, for everything else that made Tiva the man he was had been torn away. The empty skull sitting on top the pile looked almost mocking. Looted as it was, what little remained would be given to his parents. He at least had a cloth wrapped around him when handed off, so their final image of their son would not be one so profanely wrong.

A now adult Clement, though of course he goes by a different name, stared at the missive. Memories returned, though scattered and distorted. Memories of the mask, of the slap, of how close he was to death. What had been told to be a dream was now made true. He would sob that night with the realization it was all real. How cruel, that he learns his torture from a missive.

free shadowfigther97l

hell ya king will get you in contact with druids rn

Welcome! I wish you luck.

A 'ker excitedly moved to show such news to his parents, enthusiastic to reach out. Perhaps things would go well for him, but only time would tell. For now he simply celebrated the selection.

Two children have been found in Idunia. Their names Lyu and Everly, one is a 'ker and the other seems close to an 'ame respectively. Details on their remaining parent are requested. If you would know anything about them, please send a letter to Clement, Ekythkeezh, or Ythur. They are currently in Aelwen for safety.

A letter was sent back in response to the missive, two handwritings seen. One the simpler, messy handwriting of a child and another, looping in the extravagant cursive of one more used to the pen. Hello! I am Clément. I am eight years old, I am a Mali'ker, and I want to try and see if I can study under whoever is going to be the High Wizard of Idunia. Please send a letter to me or my marn, Ythur, about this. I am very quick to study and I really really like god (I want to be a monk if I don't get this!). Have a good day! I would like, first and foremost, to meet whomever is chosen for this position. I've no other comments to add, besides the simple fact that Clément is a very bright and energetic boy.

What it says on the tin. Would look at other stuff. Dm me on discord, ChillDemonLad12. I can make skins. CST timezone.

He was quiet as he sat in the field of flowers. Father Rossano had long since stopped mourning his own death. But, seeing his mentor once more, brought both joy and sadness to them. Joy to see him once more, and sadness he was taken so violently. They had so much to catch up on. ---- The ghost didn't understand. The one he needed to speak to was dead. How could this be? He had not spoken to him, so he could not be dead. That is what Azerdel had decided. He would wait for him to come out of hiding, and they would speak then. They had so much to discuss.