amongus

first

Ilya Ivanovich raised a bloodied gauntlet and screamed at the top of his lungs in joy, celebrating the Archduchess' and loyalist Petra's victory alongside his uncle, the Grand Knight.

And though he cried, Veluc weeped very little at the loss of a close friend. Instead, he searched for ways to further Charity, as the great hero once did.

What's your favorite piece of lore that you've actively been involved with (playing a character w/ specific culture or magic, writing the lore yourself, etc)? What about one you've not done anything with at all? also give me music channel perms pls

Jungle Sketch Any and all information in this post must be found out in-character and should not be meta-gamed. c: “I’ll ah- see you soon.” A common phrase and reassurance of his, yet this time said with apprehension despite the elf’s desire and excitement for the unknown. He heaved one, two, three deep breaths before he believed himself ready. But as the cloaked Veluc set his hand upon the tattered grimoire and flipped to its first page, the world as he knew it shifted violently. The unfathomable and esoteric laws of the cosmos entered his mind in sharp, overbearing whispers, accompanied by an aching tension over his entire body. Veluc felt like reaching into his own head to tear away at the forbidden knowledge he was beginning to comprehend, but his arms lacked the strength to do anything but tug on his hood. To him, the only thing worse than this flood of enlightenment was that uncharacteristic yapping in his head. “You really are an imbecile, are you? Wake up, fool!” Veluc didn’t want to move, though. He knew that the young Arran’s vexation and insults would soon pass and that the best way to deal with this situation was to process every mutter slowly and ignore this talkative nonsense. His eyes kept closed in this strained state of thought. “Veluc, wake up! There's trouble ahead!” Was I wrong? Do I actually have to talk back this time? Is it impossible for me to have this one moment of peace? He contemplated in his self-imposed stupor and came to the conclusion that the answer to each of those questions was a yes. Emitting a dramatized groan of annoyance, Veluc still gave them the benefit of the doubt. “Open your damned eyes!” “Would you shut up!?” The hissing yell was harsh and full of warranted spite. But as his eyes opened, the tome’s grandeur and haughty mutterings of the planes were replaced with the rattling of clay plates, the thuds of wooden mugs slamming against tables, and the boisterous chatter of what was obviously a pub or tavern. Both in front of the elf and over his shoulder were lines made up of short yet stout figures comparable in size to the dwarves. Yet, the mottled scales, sharp beaks, and spiked carapaces they shared with particular turtles proved to be a sight even more unsettling than any dwed he had seen before. Stares of beady eyes came from every spot of the lit-up establishment, complemented by harsh grunts and barks in a language Veluc knew not. Quickly recovering his bearings, he immediately broke off from single-file and took flight for the exit. Swinging the door with heavy pants, his eyes took in the setting that awaited. Beyond tall stone walls was a jungle full of more plant life than the lands of the west. Clogging his ears were more noises than any of Almaris’ capitals. In his sight was a city full of beautiful buildings, plentiful marketplaces, and unique individuals of the reptilian sort. “Nature, unhindered.” Though mostly forced to hide behind a gifted cloak, the week he spent in this community wasn’t all that bad for him. At first, Veluc scrounged off the waste bins of the city, scavenging them for the leftover vegetables and meats within. Even with what might be fruitless back home, each dive within these piles of trash were like the troves of the highest nobles, always abundant with at least a day’s worth of sustenance. The elf eventually found himself company among the taller soft-shelled and leathery turtlemen of the slums. Despite language barriers, Veluc recognized the treatment of these less martially-inclined reptilians and offered assistance with any hunting work, in return for shelter from the stronger and snapping zealots of the upper class as well as any others who might have a problem with his existence. Though he persisted, the public sacrifices of both scaled beasts and men to whatever spirits and predatory gods of slaughter filled the elf with dread. People with thoughts, lives, and possibly souls of their own that were robbed of their time, prey to the religious beliefs of another. The feeling could have been similar to that of the shamans he once stood among, if the rituals he was seeing didn’t take place every single night. What am I supposed to do? Will it be my heart ripped out next? I’m no turtle person, no lizard! Veluc’s racing thoughts, the constantly astonished voice in his head that couldn’t get their mind off trees and bushes, and the unfamiliarity of the area and its languages worsened his anxiety by the second. His life was stable for now, but how long was that going to last? These musings tugged at his mind just as much as the three velociraptor corpses atop the sled he hefted back through the city streets. With dinner and coin acquired, Veluc sat sleeplessly in a decrepit room all by his lonesome. Plagued by those hideous utterances of one he thought to be soft and dull, true rest felt impossible. “A domain graced by the Forest’s beauty…” “Stop that!” None of what Arran said made any sense to Veluc in his exhausted distress. They had never been anywhere near this loud in the past. “The cycle flourishes like none other in this perfect place…” Their voice continued in that droning tone that disgruntled the elf to no end. “We don’t belong here!” “We do not belong anywhere.” More nonsense! I should’ve known! Settling more firmly amongst the people of this realm still didn’t quell Veluc’s troubles. In fact, he felt as if they had deteriorated even further. And though he did his best to ignore any further clashings of the psyche, those last few words lingered with him. “Run, Veluc! They’ll get tired soon!” The elf was focused greatly on reaffirming his own wishes in a vain attempt to turn them to truth, as taught to him by a fellow dream-achieving traveler of the stars. Alas, no words were enough to stop the trio of stout turtlemen with gnashing beaks and metal clubs from chasing him down the busy streets of the shelled city. It took the fanatics only a month to make note of the scaleless Veluc’s presence, betrayed by those who once housed him. Whether it was his first instinct to survive or the ability to forgive, he felt no ill will towards those leathery sorts. “You see why I want to leave, Arran!?” The exasperated cry was left with no further response as Veluc pushed out of the city proper and into those dense and surrounding jungles. He expected as much, after seeing how the people of this world were similarly as bloodthirsty to those he had seen on Almaris. Making his way past bush after bush, vine after vine, and hiding at the base of a tree within a large nest of twigs and crunching leaves, he finally took respite. The fatigue from lack of rest, that long run through the crowded bazaars and the ever-lively wilderness, and the relief of safety from the turtlemen caused him to collapse face-first onto the pile. He brushed aside the cracked eggshells from long ago and burrowed himself within. Why did I come here again? Through his weariness and an almost-slumbering condition, he still searched for an answer. It wasn’t the thrill, as charged as Veluc was upon hearing of this power. It wasn’t the knowledge, for what good will knowledge do if there wasn’t a purpose? No, it was to search for a place of peace and rest! One unshackled from the unforgiving mongoose, where those innocent or capable of redemption may enter the calm repose of The Shore. The elf took this stillness to recognize his ordeal as another step, one of the millions to come. Pushing himself up to his feet, Veluc stretched his arms upwards and prepared himself to continue on with his journey, only to find himself within the confines of a familiar room.

From a quiet room in the west, a sleepless and sickened dark elf clutched a copy of the sheet tightly within his grasp. He scrutinized the contents of this Woven Way, a series of hacking coughs leaving his lungs after every sentence read. As that headache of his grew worse and worse, the nails of his fingers clawed deeper into his temple. The enfeebled bard managed to call out only three desperate words to the open air. "Please, stop screaming."

Veluc perused through the work with a soft smile, reassured and ready to walk the path of The Shore.

I've been around for a solid two months and had some p baller experiences in all sorts of different communities! Chill times getting to meet new pals and seeing the effort they put into their creations, RP and groups. 🙏

What is your name, hero-to-be? Veluc Strixxi! What is your age? 84. What is your race? Dark Elf. Where do you reside? A true man of freedom, I've no home but the road! Leave a response at Vailu Valmiran Bards' College in Nor'Asath or Elvenesse. What powers do you have to fight against this great evil? I bring with me pen, blade, and a creative mind. Bardmancy accompanies my love of poetry, entertainment and the people. What is the meaning of a free-spirit, in short words? One who does as they please, following a path best fitting for themselves that brings the most happiness to all.

veluc