molly molly molly

Zilvira Nightblood suddenly leaps from the bushes. She sprints towards the Atronach, running it down like a feral she-wolf. It runs in terrible fear, but she catches it, and tackles it by the legs. She begins to viciously pummel the Atronach in its stupid face with brass knuckles. "If I wanted mages DEAD--" A quick blow nearly shatters its artificial cranium. "I would HUNT THEM DOWN--" Another blow, faster; this time cracking its skull. "And they would already BE. DEAD." A vicious hit snaps something inside the Atronach. "LIKE! YOU." She laughs hysterically, and the blows come harder, faster, over, and over, and OVER until there is nothing but a greasy smear of mana on the pavement. Her deranged laughter spills from her lips, and she pointlessly screams at its corpse, "DON'T TRY TO POISON THE SANCTITY OF MY AUCTION WITH YOUR--" "STUPID! LITTLE LIES! It's very, very rude! -- okay?" She then princessly hmphs, tears down the missive before it spreads, and carries on with her day, with bruised knuckles.

჻჻჻ ꜰ ᴏ ʀ ᴀ ꜱ ᴏ ʀ ᴄ ᴇ ʀ ᴇ ꜱ ꜱ ᴇ ꜱ ' ɢ ʀ ᴏ ᴡ ɪ ɴ ɢ ᴡ ᴀ ʀ ᴅ ʀ ᴏ ʙ ᴇ ჻჻჻ Across western Azuras and noticeboards across the wild thousands, a neat missive is posted. Spiders seem drawn to the missive, and crows are never too far away. Hello. I have recently... returned a magical cloak back to my grasp, one which will be of interest to Azuras' most fashionable sorceresses; the Cloak of Chromeweave. This cloak's very threads were directly ripped from the sinew of the Greater Vixus known as Chromeweave, and spun with care by yours truly. It has a bizarre effect upon a sorceress' magic. She will find her spells to grow discordant and irregular; while her focus will be enhanced tremendously. Upon the battlefield, your beauty and flare as a spellcaster will have no equal. In halls of magic and courtrooms of splendor, this cloak's sheen shall draw every gaze towards your ethereal presence- captivating, and unmistakable. It shall inform all that your fashion, beauty and command of elegance shall not be so easily forgotten. I desire to see this cloak fall into the hands of a most capable and fashionable sorceress. Thus, I will begin the bidding at; 750 mina. Male wizards are permitted to bid, but they shall suffer a 100 mina penalty upcharge to the final price. The auction ends when I stop receiving bids. ჻჻჻ ϟ ⫘ ϗ ჻჻჻ ⫥ ⸶ ⸷ ⫢ ვ ხ Lil' Uyl'udith Golhyrr Ssrig'luin nau Faer ulu Luth ხ კ ჟ ხ Vin'ult Qu'ellar Istovlos, Vin'ult Vailth ხ ჭ ᴍᴀᴛʀᴏɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴠᴀɪʟᴛʜ ს ა ს ა კ ლ ა ო ქ ა ლ ბ ა ტ ო ნ ი ჟ

჻჻჻ ⫥ ϗϟ ⫘ ϗϟ ⫢ ჻჻჻ ჟ ხ Where spiders dread to tread, the Matron toils in shadows. She prepares a feast. ხ ჭ ვ ხ Meat for a starving belly. Blood for a parched throat. ხ კ In the Underdark's oppressive black shadows, Matron Nightblood looms over Professor Hilda's recently eviscerated corpse. Two bloody options are weighed, scrutinized in her hands- Hilda's heart, or Hilda's liver? Which should be dinner? Heart. Liver. Heart. Liver. Heart? Liver.. ... Heart. "Another down. Vailth below— I've forgotten how good this feeling is. The aches.. they're quiet, again. It's.. bliss." She gives in. She couldn't possibly hope to fight against this dark temptation, not anymore; she didn't want to. It didn't scare her, not any longer. Who could resist their nature forever? She loses herself completely to deranged, cannibalistic bliss. So she eats; adoring every bloody, raw bite. -⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢- ჟ ხ Nind el whol dos Ilhar Vailth. ხ ჭ ვ ხ Xun dos saph lil' i'dol usstan lodtyn? ხ კ ⫥ ⸶Phu' dos sae'uth, Ilhar Vailth?⸷ ⫢ -⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢-

the goat strikes again! useful for new elven speakers AND vets!! hail to unw !! 🫶🫶

⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢ ჻჻჻ ⫥ ϗϟ ⫘ ϗϟ ⫢ ჻჻჻ ʜᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ᴅᴇᴄʀᴇᴇ. ᴏʙᴇʏ. ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ. ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ ᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇꜱᴘᴀɪʀ. ⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢ [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErSwDczBYD0 ] Outside the Veilward there is one final missive staked to a wooden post, whose papyrus rattles in the dry wind. Too, do black ravens send the parchment to remaining members of the Veilward. Mages who could not be reached might see the missive nailed at crossroads in the west, and the Crownlands if they were brave enough to pass through. The missive’s author worked tirelessly to ensure this missive would be seen by their eyes. ჻჻჻ ᴛ ᴏ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ʀ ᴇ ᴍ ɴ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ꜱ ᴏ ꜰ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴠ ᴇ ɪ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʀ ᴅ ჻჻჻ I write to inform you that the meeting hall of the Veilward… Has been repainted red! Such a vibrant color. It’s almost sinful, I’d say. Sin, sin.. Perhaps it feels sinful because this paint is drawn from the corpses of the Veilward’s own? Those whose gore now lovingly smear its walls? Those whose blood comprises this very ink? Oh how deeply I am in love with my work. Our, work, I should write. Oh, but it’s not my sin, is it? No, no. That would be Architect’s, your beloved, world-eating parasite! She, who is responsible for their deaths, and those guaranteed to come in the near future. -⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢- ჻჻჻ ⫥ ϗϟ ⫘ ϗϟ ⫢ ჻჻჻ Read, and read well, you primitive sorceresses, and wizards of the Veilward. The Veilward has been reduced to rubble, and its inhabitants slaughtered– as I always intended. All remaining Veilward associates who still draw breath are next. How little you impressed me. Even the most novice of my Shadowsages, fresh from Faern Magthere, infantize your intellect, cunning, and magical prowess. I suppose it is to be expected. You are a primitive people, you wizards of Aos and Eos. How I hated every moment I was forced to spend with you. Each and every one of you are known. You will be hunted down. There is nowhere you can hide. Not the ruinous south, the forests of the west, nor the ice of the north. Not the Dragon’s volcano, nor the Black Church if you are truly that stupid. Not Adria, nor Viru, where I know you flock to. Not the Crownlands. Not Storm Island, or Junmura which you failed to infiltrate. Nowhere will shelter you. My web stretches to every shadow, every place you believe is safe. You will die in vain. You will die for nothing. You will die because the immortal Architect does not. ⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢ How many more must die before you are willing to face justice, and suffer your final death, Architect? Kim is dead. Macintosh is dead. Many more will die vain deaths. They died, and will die because of you. It is only her attempt at playing assassin to blame for why you will die in vain like Macintosh and Kim. Her attempt on the late Emperor Hadrian’s life is why you are killed on sight in every city, every day. Her immortality, and evasion of justice are why this doomed fate is guaranteed. You, Veilward magi, and magi abroad, suffer, and die because of her actions, and her actions alone, while she lives forever. Isn't that twisted? And I thought I was cruel. She– it, is the Architect of nothing but your unceremonious, pointless end. ⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢ Why do you not hate this creature, who has doomed you, and led you to oblivion? Are you stupid? Lucky for you... ... it doesn't need to be this way! Abandon all loyalties you may have to Architect. Turn on this creature. Hunt it down. Destroy it, as it has destroyed you. Betray it, as it has betrayed you and your wellbeing. It, who has made this plane inhospitable for your kind, it who has made its denizens kill you so pointlessly on sight. Serve me. And in return? You will be spared. By aiding me in ending this creature, you will earn your life. You will not need to hide any longer, and you can continue your miserable, boring lives in peace. The few among you who possess a brain may even be welcomed into my service. Saneral @JustMeMorgan, perhaps. Even the Rimelance too @StingyParrot, if he is not blinded by vain notions of justice. Do write quickly, though. Refuse this mercy? And you will die miserable, pointless deaths as scheduled. If you’re lucky, you may find yourself in a grave, rather than feeding the maggots in an alleyway or ditch somewhere - your head mounted on a spike outside of Rittersburg to rot in shame. If you’re not lucky–.. Dread what a woman like myself might have in store for you. Hunt me. Curse me. Plot against me. Scheme my downfall. You will fail, because you are dull, slow prey. Go ahead. Construct a Tear, as I expect from you of such exceptionally low intellect. Make it easy for me to track you down. Try to turn my allies against me. Hunt me with the Iblessian monstrosities I know you possess, Shadowspawn. ⸶ ჟ ⸷ I will see it coming. You will be stopped. And when you are? I will torture you until your lungs give out. Or– avoid this fate. Aid me, and my allies, in slaughtering this parasite, who has deceived you in ways I never could. The choice is yours. Choose wisely. Either way, I win. ჻჻჻ ⫥ ϗϟ ⫘ ϗϟ ⫢ ჻჻჻ ⫥ ⸶ ჟ ⸷ ⫢ ⫥ ⸶ ⸷ ⫢ ვ ხ Lil' Uyl'udith Golhyrr Ssrig'luin nau Faer ulu Luth ხ კ ჟ ხ Vin'ult Qu'ellar Istovlos, Vin'ult Vailth ხ ჭ ᴍᴀᴛʀᴏɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴠᴀɪʟᴛʜ ს ა ს ა კ ლ ა ო ქ ა ლ ბ ა ტ ო ნ ი ჟ

The deranged Lady-Matron Nightblood overlooks Alba from her tower beyond the bay, and she lounges. An airy black robe adorns her damp flesh after a well-earned ice bath. A crystalline chalice of cold vodka threatens to grace her purple lips. A rare reward, reserved for victories of this scale. The little spider savors her victory, twelve years in the making. So she drinks. And she couldn't possibly hope to fight her smile.

i audibly scream whispered NOOOOO upon seeing the title in your mind, what do you believe makes a good villain on lotc? who's been your favorite character to play thus far in the 5 years you've played? who's your favorite character on lotc right now that isn't your own? :)

peace out snavier, you're a good egg -- don't you forget that. i don't know what's occurred in your life but i hope it passes and quickly, and all is as soon it should be. much love to you. <3