AC

A bad choice of music for your listening pleasure: She stands, biting wind whipping through her snow white hair atop a cliff constructed solely of ice. She stands, skin tinged with the blue tint of Wyvurn’s magic. She stands, two icy blue eyes peering out over the crashing waves, almost like beacons of glowing light. She is Fjarriauga: one of Winter’s Maidens. She is called Sif, but that isn’t her real name. No one like her used a true name anymore after so many years. Atop her vista of ice, Sif watched the waves tirelessly. Word had been brought to her, by a stranger coincidentally, Analiana had been kidnapped. She was in the clutches of the Brotherhood of the Golden Lion: The Paladins. Sif’s hands were balled in tight fists, trembling with rage. Her daughter-- her firstborn child was whisked away without her even knowing. The motherly instincts of a Witch Mother were second to none, but that only amplified the pain of losing family. Sif stood idly for hours. It wasn’t until the gentle grasp upon her shoulder made her jump back into the present that she took in her surroundings once more. Two witches had come to assist in Ana’s retrieval. Their word promised Sif others were on their way. The Witch Mother’s helplessness finally melted away. She was not given Ana’s location, but there was only one place she could think of where her daughter may have been held. Sif rallied her witches. If an assault was what they wanted, she’d give it to them. Or so she’d intended, but as she emerged from her cavern of ice, fully equipped for war, a silhouette was faintly visible through the thick blizzard. Analiana approached the other witches. She came unharmed, but not without a message. The Paladins wanted something. They wanted Sif. Her past crimes did not go unnoticed. She was requested to atone for these crimes, particularly the murder of one particular holy man going only by ‘John’. His execution was a fond memory in the Witch Mother’s mind. Atone for her crimes, she would not. For through some twisted visions deep within Sif’s mind. She was right, and she would not let this aggressive act of the Paladins go unpunished. The Fjarriauga had been reborn with her, and they were not to be tread upon so easily. No full assault was needed. Sif didn’t wish to take unnecessary risks if her children were no longer in danger. The Fjarriauga would take something of equal value. Any Paladin would do really. When Ana offered such an easy target, her mother could not object. His name was Nurion, a fledgling of their order in exchange for their harassment of Sif’s fledgling witch. The Witch Mother always took pride in Ana’s great knack for hunting. So quickly she had picked up the process forced upon her, and so quickly she had mastered its skills. This, of course, made Ana’s lure very simple. She promised a date to one of the men the Fjarriauga so despised, and he accepted. The Witch Mother’s process couldn’t have gotten any easier. Baited away from civilization, Nurion was accompanied by Ana into the forests of Tahn. It was unknown, though, what beast lurked at a distance. Sif was in no mood for games. When it came to her daughters, no man harmed them and lived to tell their tale in Sif’s presence. This encounter was not one for trickery. The Witch Mother didn’t need the aid of convoluted tactics and ambushes. She walked straight through the woods towards the pair. The chill of the Deep Cold air only seemed to amplify as she moved. She neared and neared, chunks of ice seeming to explode into existence around her. Her magic, amplified by winter’s grasp, started to form a maelstrom of twisting shards encircling the witch. Sif knew she needn’t forge a single snowball to fell Nurion, but it wasn’t about winning. She already had victory guaranteed. This was all about power, and the Witch Mother’s exertion of control over others. Nothing brought more of a rush surging through her icy blood. The fated glow of the Fjarriauga’s gaze met the eyes of Nurion. He was calm. The old Elf had come to accept his fate, and as much as Sif loved the thrill of the hunt, she was content to evoke death to anything she could get her hands on. “Just do what you do. I’m at the end of my life anyway…” It was a statement from the Elf, not a plea, which was all too uncommon for a Fjarriauga’s prey. Facing death with majesty, he was. This was something that only confused the Witch Mother. “Why is it you so verily accept death, boy?” Sif had nothing to lose in questioning her target. Nurion was forced to his knees all the while Sif’s egotism couldn’t be contained. If she had one flaw, it would be her pride. Her boasting took over. She was all too confident in her abilities to slaughter the man no matter what convoluted strategy he may come up with in his extended final minutes. “You are going to get caught. I’ll be smiling down at you when it happens.” Sif paused, pondering his response for the briefest moment. For a second, she felt anger. How dare he say that, but just as quickly her anger once more gave way to pride. “They may catch me, Nurion… But they may never kill an immortal.” Sif forced both of her hands forth with great flair in her movements. Two sheets of ice shot forth from her maelstrom of ice, moving with such velocity that they delimbed Nurion’s arms, sending him falling onto his back in the grass. Nurion’s vision began to fade, calmly his eyes drew back to the maiden standing just at his side: Analiana. The betrayer, the silver-tongue, the Witch. It is upon the doorstep of the Paladin’s Keep that the corpse of Nurion is arranged carefully with no excess wounds on his body. Sif wanted to make sure that those within knew that he wasn’t another meal. She wanted them to know that she was retaliating. Lying upon his back, the poor Elf is surrounded in a number of shards of ice embedded into the ground around him. It was as if the corpse was ritually arranged by the witches. Just upon the man’s breast lies a note. Sif couldn’t help herself. What is victory without taunting? I came to apologize for slaying John, but I couldn’t find anyone to accept my apology gift, so I left it here. Sif’s daughter drew her eyes away from the corpse to her mother. There was a long pause before the Witch Mother returned her child’s deep gaze. “Many covens have come before us, dear Ana. I’ve lived through them myself, but nothing stops the never ending vortex of time, always waiting to swallow them when they are weak.” Sif stepped closer to her daughter as she spoke with perhaps the most sincere tone Ana had ever heard from the old Witch Mother. “I hold no remorse, if that’s what you are thinking. I am not weak.” Sif shakes her head at her daughter’s response. “No Ana, on the contrary. You are amazingly skilled in our art. I take pride in accepting you as my own. What I speak of is the past covens of Fjarriauga. Each has risen and fallen like some mortal human emperor. I wish for you to accept this passage of time with me. I wish to welcome you to a new age-- a new coven, and with it, a Fimbulwinter…” And so Sif’s tale carries on.

We can find a way...

Illion should become a Frost Witch.

"Put me in there coach..." Sif would ready her armaments, impatiently awaiting Solan's call.

@Fury_Fire might be interested.

Yeah that.

Pugsy.

Sif stood observing the speech in between groups of Arbiters and citizens alike, joining the company of neither. "My blade stands with the man of Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya over the man that simply seeks another bout of power. My blade stands with you, Cahir..."

This doesn't seem right at all to me. As someone who commonly uses a bow, I've rarely ever done bow shots in three or less emotes. Any time you do, I imagine people are complaining that retrieving, nocking, drawing, and firing can't be mixed. Three emotes is way to short in my opinion.

Ah, I see you are an exquisite hunter as well. What a fine hobby it is. I recall one of my fondest hunting memories being the time I assisted my mother in setting mouse traps in our garage.

Don't mind her appearance. I think my dog is a bit sick.

In the spirit of you all getting Visa gift cards from the relatives you never speak to...

Favorite author: Howard Phillips Lovecraft Favorite book: At the Mountains of Madness What is the last book you've read: Everything's Eventual by Stephen King What is your favorite genre: Tie between thriller fiction and horror fiction Weirdest book you've read: A Clockwork Orange was really weird and difficult to understand Hardest book you've read: I have no idea What is a book you never finished: Every Harry Potter book I've tried to read Next book you plan on reading: The Wind Through The Keyhole by Stephen King

Definitely something unique and extremely interesting. +1

"Be on the lookout for a Mali'ker with a hood? Accurate descriptions and expert work from ElViran as always..." The young mali'aheral lass gives a shrug before scurrying along about her business.

"This man has lived a sheltered lifestyle..." Magna mutters to herself. "Though I suppose it's rather adorable that there is someone in the entirety of Vailor that still thinks that way.

Magna blinks a few times, a surprised expression crossing her face upon sighting the poster. "I wonder if..."

Anything Yohei makes is perfect. Yohei is perfect. +1

I am a fan.

Magna brought a hand to up to her face to rub her temple slightly upon hearing the news. "It appears I went out a bit early before the fall. Oh well..."

+1 Yes, Bullywugs please.

Orakal sighs as she begins to wheel her siege catapult elsewhere.

I am a huge fan of Nation RP, but I would have to do some reading up on WW1. Either way, I'd love to join.