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Creative Wizard
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Everything posted by Trinn

  1. Trinn

    The Ichor Way

    Tevi goes to read it for him before she realises that she, too, cannot read.
  2. Trinn

    A thorn in our sides.

    Adeline heaves a great big sigh. Sometimes she wished her family members were normal.
  3. Trinn

    Creative Wizard Tag

    : ( pls
  4. Trinn

    Aether VIP giveaway

    i've always wanted to be bold :^u
  5. Trinn

    Character Art Raffle

  6. Trinn

    Character Art Raffle

    Hi Bailey :U I want your love and your art
  7. Trinn

    [ET Art & Writing Contest] Seasons of Atlas

    But y the prizes so low tho
  8. visualization of Phil creating his events I like it. Phil is a good boy. The one we need but don't deserve :/ +1
  9. Trinn

    The sword becomes heavy

    Tevi offered a brief frown. "Good Prince. Wonderful Prince." She'd utter. Yet a small part of her was glad to see him be able to relish the freedom of the wild once more, without the toll of the city on his back. " Here's to hoping that Khaine will finally get more tattoos in his newly found free time."
  10. Trinn

    [✗] Infernic Castors; Firearms

    Yessir that sounds great + 1
  11. Trinn

    AT Update Log- February

    Diraar r u ok
  12. Trinn

    Maliearnan Ito Cura'cinh

    Ilae sits by sipping tea aggressively. "Haha whoops. Forgot to re-read it. Hopefully no one is petty enough to criticize based on a dead language. Haha imagine that."
  13. I need skinners ://

    1. Show previous comments  4 more
    2. $lick


      alex skins are evil

    3. Slayy


      Girl your skin skills are awesome 

    4. _draak


      employ yourself.

  14. Trinn

    Magical Licensing

    Addy raises a brow. Nonetheless, she will write one and prepares to send it off. "Wow. Frost witches are allowed. What a wonder." Name: Adeli Avern'ii Gender: Female Place of Residence: Currently wandering Race/Subrace/Culture: Frost Witch Type of Magic: Frost Witch Why do you want to use magic within the Princedom?: It's cold, lliran. It's cold.
  15. Trinn

    Concluding the Hunt

    Concluding The Hunt A fire crackled in the midst of the woods--an act of salvation against the cold. Two figures laid huddled around the fire, their worn clothes dull and dark but alight in the brightness of their camp. Merely one remained awake, guarding the companion asleep. Yet the crackling of a fire was a tempting thing, a lullaby of comfort for those amongst the winds of winter. Thus it lulled the man to his sleep, back leaning against the bark of the tree as his hand loosened from his weapon. The fire dwindled only when the winds persisted. The Witch was a figure that blended easily into her surroundings. In her hand grasped a spear of hardened ice, a balanced weapon in the hands of a fjarriauga, as she took quiet steps towards the slumbering man.Upon noting the man to be lacking in armour, the woman raised her spear with a grim satisfaction etched unto her features. A swift movement allowed her to pierce through his neck--and thus his eyes wide open only to feel himself gurgle his own blood. The hardened ice stained with the harsh colour of red, buried deep unto the stranger’s neck. She merely watched his struggle, holding her spear buried in his neck as if to prevent his further movements. Perhaps swallowed by the temptation in which ravaged her mind, The witch inhaled a sharp breath of air and sunk beside the body. The woman only took the spear off his body to allow herself access to his neck--upon which she had wrenched chunks of bloodied flesh with sharpened teeth. A feral, animalistic feast she had allowed herself to.His struggles had ended with the first bite she took, before it was followed by others. The pale complexion of the woman had been utterly ruined by the splatters of blood upon her figure--hair tumbling down to mimic the falling snow stained in the colour red. Click She only had a moment to tear her attention away from her prey. Her gaze briefly settled in what seemed to be a crossbow--yet a flash of silver tore through her sight and landed upon her gut before her gaze fully settled. The Witch offered a sharp scream, stumbling away from her prey with heavy grunts. In her time devouring her prey, she had forgotten about the existence of his companion. He who stood with his arms by his side, face shrouded by a helm adorned with a hat and a cloth at its lower region. There were no signs of the crossbow on him--yet the pain inflicted upon her was quite real. She took her spear and turned to run. Harsh steps against the snow, in the whistle of the wind brushing through the pine trees. The looming trees circled around a singular figure, garbed in red-stained clothes that suffered from the punishing weather. Her breath rasped as she'd stumble through the chill of the tundra, the curl of hunger dominating her thoughts. The blood that dripped from sharpened teeth did nothing to satiate the craving, merely a feeling of warmth undeserved to a daughter of Father Winter. The wandering of a witch had caved her into a maddening hunger, torn sanity in search of merely what she could consume. She could not stop. She knew the man was at her heels. Yet the strain upon her body was heavy. The wound dragged her down, a sharp sting that caused her excruciating pain that soon dragged her to her knees. A red handprint etched itself unto the wood of the tree as she dragged her bloodied hand upon in, the laboured breaths the Witch gave accompanied by a pained grunt. She crouched with one knee upon the ground, gnashing her teeth together. She missed her cousin. She missed her mother. Her mothers. Momentarily she regretted the path she had chosen--hunger driven, to fulfill the expectations one would have for a creature that feasted upon the flesh of men. But she could never truly regret. She’d never regret the taste she so revered. “The coven is dead, mother-” Andri’ante uttered, wheezing the words through trembling lips, “-And let it stay so, lest I see sisters who fall to the temptations to stray.” The witch clenched her eyes shut. She did not bother formally acknowledging the halting of a heavy pair of boots behind her. With the last bit of strength she had, the woman twisted her figure and aimed her spear with her as she did so. A futile attempt, a desperate one at best. She knew him. She knew that helm. Once more did the flash of silver cross her sight. This time she did not feel it’s blow.
  16. Trinn

    Necessary Changes To The Rules.

    Didn't welves kill the rex after repeatedly being attacked by orcs ? *__*
  17. Trinn

    skinwalker's skin shop

    IGN: Trinn_ Full/Clothing/Head/Edit: Full Alex/Steve form (if you choose the alex form you're a soyboy and i cant make female skins anyway): Alex :J Ref: (The one with the coat) Description/Reference: Ignore the head of the reference. She's a blonde, long haired high elf lassie. The skin is peachy-pale, with teal eyes. Your discord/skype so I can contact you if I need you to elaborate about your request: You have it zzzz btw still paying u with art cause im broke xoxo
  18. I treasure diraar so please spare him. In all seriousness, you're a wonderful person. Good luck my boy .. .
  19. Trinn

    Dooms Art tings

    Oh **** dude that's sick. +111111111111
  20. Trinn

    The Language of Tiva

    The Language of Tiva The guiding hand of the woods (Credits to Phobs) “Tread lightly around the flowers, my sister--for we are lost without them” The Language of Tiva: A History The Language of Tiva is a craft founded under the gazes of the wild mali of the forests, of whom tread within the winding roads of their forests. The craft aimed to recognize meaning within each individual flowers, gradually forming a language as the flowers began to weave itself unto the daily life of the elves. The Language of Tiva was a craft that eventually became dedicated to aiding many of the other traditions found within the society of the elves. The language of Tiva gave meaning to the flowers, and gradually the flowers would be intertwined together to create a certain message for those able to comprehend it--whether it be through wreaths or petal lines. The Three Major Pillars of Tiva Offerings, Guidance, Identity http://theartofanimation.tumblr.com/post/94369990158/anie330 As the Language of Tiva gained more complexity throughout their life within the seeds, the language began to serve Three major pillars within the traditions of the elves. The language remained the same within these pillars, however their purpose altered. The First Pillar: The Aspects The Second Pillar: Guidance The Third Pillar: Identity
  21. { MC name: Vulariter } Character's name and age: Tevi Yelvairene’amil and 63 Character’s Race: Mali'ame What magic will you be learning?: Nature Communion and Control Who will be teaching you?: Artimec Camoryn, Leowarrior14 Do you have a magic you are dropping, due to this app? If so, link it: Nah Welcome to insanity
  22. [ MC Name ] Trinn_ [ Character’s Name ] Andri’ante Izalith [ Character’s Age ] 200~ [ Character’s Race ] Fjarriauga [ Link to your accepted M.A] [ What Magic will you be teaching? ] Fjarriauga - Frost Witch Magic [ Summarization of Magic ] The curse of the Fjarriauga are only gifted unto women, though the origins of the curse unknown to most, of whom are burdened by their woes. Placed upon them by creatures known as the Frost Mothers, these women will then undergo changes to transform into a Fjarriauga--forevermore abandoning their original race. A newly-cursed woman witnesses their descend into the curse over the span of a year (1 irl week). These changes are both physical and mental. By now, the cursed woman will not find relief in the comforts of normal food. Her mouth tastes like ash when consuming cooked food. Instead, the newly cursed Fja finds their craving satiated by the raw flesh of men--their appetite gnawing if the Fja rejects this change, to a point of eventual madness known as a state of being ‘Feral’. Nevertheless, the only other comfort these maidens will find are within the flesh of raw animals--yet even then, their appetite will only ever be satiated temporarily. A Fjarriauga has the ability to disguise themselves, a measure necessary in order to hunt for food and to survive. Their disguises are not illusions--they are physical changes. Nevertheless, as these are physical changes, a Fja can never alter their appearance from a woman, or to something completely unrealistic. They must be able to envision it, and it cannot vary from their original form too much. Through examining their body, they may eventually notice that wounds upon their skins are like cracked ice--blood turning into slush, and cracks appearing from wounds received. Their body emits no heat by now, a hand with the chill of winter upon its skin. Thus, why even in disguises a Fjarriauga is often wearing measures to avoid bodily contacts. Next comes their dominion over ice. As their body is now akin to the ice they control, a Fjarriauga receives immortality. Through ice, they are also able to control existing bodies of frozen water, or freeze the air around them to create more. This gift cannot be used should the temperature around them be hot, as such a temperature weakens a Frost Witch to a point where their magic and disguise fails. Depending on the severity of the temperature, a Frost witch may even have to avoid certain areas due to being completely unable to survive within it. On the occasions that these women are revealed to be one of the Fjarriauga, by a particularly clever individual, they may offer favours as a token to gift the individual. These favours cannot be saved, be anything sexual, or result in any harm being given to the Witch’s coven/family. Should the witch be killed instead, their soul is dragged to the nearest altar to reform should they have no wish to die--consuming raw flesh in the form of ‘banshees’ in order to reform. Recently came the revelation of the Altars. Created from a ‘seed’ created by a Frost mother and the body of a living man, an Altar is the source of the Sabbaths performed by a frost witch. These Sabbaths have different requirements, but ultimately they are created with the embedded magic of the Frost Witches, and result in the certain creations that are dependant on the type of Sabbath performed. From these altars also come the creation of cursed ice, an ingredient which may be used to create the newly discovered Thralls--servants of a coven who attain immortality in exchange for servitude. [ Lesson Given to Students: ] Amidst the Tundra found in the foreign land was a secluded space, in which the ice loomed as branching hands upon the travellers who dared to enter within. The bite of Father Winter’s breath remained upon the bellowing wind, showing little mercy even within the secluded area. Nevertheless, the two women within regarded the weather with nonchalance, their attention rapt upon each other as the taller one begins to speak. “Your pleas fell only into the ears of Father Winter-” Andri’ante began, the plethora of sharpened teeth marking her for what she truly was despite her disguise. “--lest you wished to have attracted a band of men who would surely have cut you down for what you are.” “I cannot stay here any longer!” Her pupil demanded, the newly cursed witch staring at the Frost mother with a luminous gaze. In turn, Andri’ante had merely looked down upon her--brows arched and the sharpened teeth bared in slight amusement. “For a year I remain within this… this… I need to go out again, Andr-mother. Mother, please.” “Lest you wish to venture out into the world to proclaim yourself cursed by winter, you must learn to change.” Andri’ante turned from her pupil. When the witch turned back, the face her pupil met was a stranger’s. “Can you at least do that without whining? Whine one more time, and I’ll toss you to the wolves.” Her pupil merely nodded--and Andri merely smiled at such. “Come.We begin by using the simplest example--the appearance you once more everyday. Your original form.” Andri’ante continued, stepping towards her pupil as she did so. “Imagine once more. Brown hair and brown eyes, was it not? Convince yourself that you look like that once more, imagining the tips of your hair tumbling down in waves of brown. You yourself must believe that your appearance will alter to such. Let that image etch itself into your mind, gradually sinking in.” As the Frost mother approached, her disguise had gradually melted away to reveal nothing but the true Fjarriauga she was. To her, her pupil said nothing. Instead, the creature had opted to close her eyes and steadily began to pace her heavy breathing. It was not long before her pupil strayed from concentration. Her brows scrunched, features slowly turning into frustration before the pupil opened her eyes wide once more. “It’s not working! Mother, it’s taking too lo-” Andri’ante placed a hand sharply upon her pupil’s shoulder. “What did I say? One more whine, and I’ll toss you to the wolves.” The frost mother stooped towards the height of her pupil, her amused smile replaced by an expectant gaze. “Whatever heartache you felt before this curse will be replaced by a sword physically imbued within your heart by any man who sees you in this form. Know this, until you learn how to control your power and defend yourself. Now, try again.” Her pupil held her state for a moment, before faltering and looking away. The newly cursed witch repeated the preparation she had done prior, except this time she stayed in such a state longer that her expression merely molded into concentration rather than irritation. Her student mumbled her appearance under her breath, hands curled to a fist. Gradually but surely, the roots of her hair began to darken whilst her skin coloured to a tanned peach. Though the witch had done this, she continued to mumble and keep her eyes harshly shut. “You’re done,” Andri’ante declared, having seated herself in the process of waiting for her pupil. “Excellent work--second try, only. Congratulations. It warms my frigid little heart.” Her pupil gaped as she opened her eyes to examine her features. She turned her head vigorously as if to catch glimpses of herself in the ice walls. Soon after she turned to her mother with a proud smile, to which Andri’ante shrugged in response with merely a touch of a smile back. "I did it! I can go out now, can I not? Oh mother, please, please. I look nice, don't I? I look like me again!" “Yes, yes. You look nice. Admire yourself later. We’re getting you weapons now.” The Frost mother grumbled as she began to stand once more, dusting the layers of snow from her coat. She did not look back to see if her pupil followed, merely offering a soft grunt as she trudged off. “Don’t trip on the way.” Do you have any magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it: No Do you agree to keep the MT updated on the status of your magic app by using the Magic List Errors topic? Yea Have you applied to teach this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app: no