Chuuwys
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Everything posted by Chuuwys
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The ginger stopped in her tracks at the out-of-place missive pinned to the boards on the roads making their way from the Western plains on her journey to Iryalen. Out of pure curiosity, she'd halted her travel to read it past still-damp hair after the rain. It isn't the chill of the wet that strikes ice through her body, but a familiar terror she had yet to cure, a nausea-inducing reminder of an incident she had not begun to wipe from her memory for good. She didn't need the missive to remember the name. It already rang in her mind when the nights were late and sleep didn't approach her. Hollow, shrieking, unmistakeably undead. She unpinned the page, carefully folding it with leaves between each fold to keep the ink safe from bleeding and parchment sticking together. "...Ahernan, Harvest. I'll let them know when I get there."
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(A fantastic expansion on what occurred on that day. A truly gruesome and wholesome day of RP for many. Thank you for this, your writing is fire!)
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Eating this lore rn thank you for the meal
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(For those who see this and panicking - Suliin is still an active character. This is her leaving for personal matters while I'm busy IRL)
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Closure of a First Chapter by SweetScribbly .⋆.ೃ* :･↟ ⸙͎ ↟⋆.ೃ* :･ It took several hours, even after everything had been planned and boxed away for transport, for everyone to board the boats off the coasts of Kalldur. One by one, sails unfurled and ships begin their courses to a newly discovered land. Suliin’yuln patiently waited to step on the boat set out for those from the Mother Grove, a camp for like-minded Mali, druids and allies to stay. She still felt out of place, a stranger that had invaded a group she wasn’t carved to fit into. But she left the Isles with more friends than she came with, and that enough was a comfort when the ship finally began once more to wide seas and a promise of home past the horizon. She wore her green cloak, hood covered over bronze locks and her bow and quiver equipped to her back, the weight of Ceru Sul a new one that she had dedicated herself to carrying. The emerald fabric stitched to repair after a significant rip through the middle and frayed at the edges. Yet not nearly as heavy a weight as the one on her mind. Her lasting memories of gore and bloodshed, the wet sensation of staining blood and spine-cooling fear. The invisible scars of being thrust into combat before she ever felt ready. The heavy expectation by peers and friends to take her first stride into becoming a druid. The heaviest weight of all – locating her maln to look after him and save him from his diseased limb. She would continue interacting with those she’d grown to know better after such a long time in a community, putting on a brave smile in the daytime and retreating into herself in the evenings. There’s no doubt she was on the boat. When the ship finally found purchase on new land, amongst the rabble to begin removing belongings, artefacts and more, one thing comes up short for the count from those who knew her. The green-cloaked redhead, who between all the noise, had managed to slip away quietly from everything once again.
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Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Normally, the scent of moss and old water-warped wood would be a reminder of home, of decaying timber amongst the livelihood of greenery and stagnant water. But here, confronted in the entryway of the tent facing an older lady towards the back, that glimpse of home and the warmth it brings is sapped from her, leaving only a cooling dread in her blood. Her neck hairs raised. Suliin'yuln keeps her head down and approaches the hag, sitting with crossed legs onto the cushion. She peeks past the hair that curves over her eyes, wary of what she should say. "My story..? There isn't really much to tell you, ma'am. If you mean my travels so far, then they have been incredibly lengthy and tiresomse and honestly I just feel lucky my legs haven't fallen off from all the walking! The stings and cuts too! But..." She pauses, biting her lip and looking down at the silver bracelet that decorates her wrist and the glistening ruby in the center. Her namesake. "If you mean my history. Not much to say really... I learnt everything I know through my father. Plants, trees, making medicine from them, you name it. Got bit pretty bad by an animal a few years ago - my fault for startling it while foraging- and now his leg isn't doing to great, it's a whole thing. Not able to do much more than sell what he taught me to make. But they say there's potions out there, magical ones, that can heal people up to what they were before. I've never seen one, and supposedly the ingredients to make it are very hard to find. But that's all I'm looking for. Just that one small piece. If it can get my dad moving again like he used to, that'll make the journey worth it all. Even the stings."
