DahStalker

There she was, poised before the unknown Colborn with warm smile. “Hej, kin.” She ushered, Elia Eryka beckoning the fallen Colborn along, welcoming them to the skies with an offered glass of fresh goat milk.

this isn't realistic bc the pre med student would be crying

Elia Eryka formally tweaks in hell, distraught. “She gave away the family recipe.” She said, taking a triple shot of vodka with her goat milk chaser.

Adela feels so much pride that she smiles. The de Leuven is so absolutely happy. She plans to write more for her Queen later.

Lhoris provided no overtly emotional reaction to the missive brought to her, brows vaguely knit as she stared at the words before her. It took naught twice but thrice to fully garner the context of those delicate scribbles, enabling her to gnaw at the interior of her mouth with deep thought. "As much as it pains for me to confess- those girls were bound not by blood, not by Lurin nor Lubba, but by Mika. With him gone, I am certain things shall not play out neatly for this wreckage of a homeland which that red-haired 'Lord of the Night' called home." The bitter elfess mused, glancing to her husband from afar with soft chuckle as she tended to her obese cat 'Mr Kitty': feeding him daily dosage of three sausage links and a large hen.

From the depths of her comfortable home, the devoted messenger of hers sent news of this change in political tides. "She shall be more fitting than her father." Lhoris had said to herself, brows scrunched with an irked facade, eventually folding the paper as to dispose of it later.

Silently with a palm held to her collar absently in admiration, Adela Taronitissa admired the work before her in written form. Having been fortunate enough to be exposed to such new works with her isolated nature as a hermit, the woman was greatly moved. "Oh, to be a Lady." She ushered softly to herself, moved so much so by the written script she teared up some.

Adela Taronitissa de Leuven slowly lowered her worn quill back into its haven of an ink jar, fingertips liberating their grip from its hold as she briefly ogled at her ink-stained flesh, lips held into a timid smile. “This is good.” She commented softly, hand gently crossing her mouth in idle pondering. A blue-eyed stare landed itself onto the colored glass of her window, watching from afar the bustling streets of the capital, content with its tireless nature. Although an isolated hermit, the skittish woman could not help but feel connected to her fellow people through the writings of their history, no matter how insufficient of a topic one might personally deem it. She took a hold of her beloved quill once more, writing to her Queen with the readied anticipation of a third volume, unrelenting in her work.

Adela Taronitissa de Leuven mourned for the distant relative. Although she had not occupied herself with the public eye nor general populace, she felt some sort of pity for the Godunov family. Priscilla welcomed Manon to hell

no one is policing, this is an attempt to literally help those who are non-bilingual play more into the theme of the culture they’re roleplaying as besides the only thing being “hola, si, and tu”. It is an attempt to immerse them into the roleplay of Hyspia. Hyspia(ns) are influenced from a variety of post-colonial Spanish cultures, and this post by Lizzy is meant to help them. I trust you, people of any role played race will and do get shit on for using the irl language from the based cultures no matter what. At least the Hyspian playerbase is trying to assist their players. Also, the spoiler for not meshing the languages is because most players don't use Spanglesh as mentioned above prior, but just use “tu”.

(( that last verse was crazy

Somewhere in the afterlife a goat-loving Scyfling hoped Walter would pursue a healthier alternative than therapy to cope with ones trauma; to dance ballet.

(Very nice post. I can see how much effort and thought was put into it. Hopefully it provides some nice rp!)

Somewhere a ‘thill with pale golden tresses occupied herself by detangling the many strands via ivory brush with nimble bristles. She mused as focus was taken to her appearance, basking in the glory of her natural grace and inherited beauty. The question remained on whether or not she would dare step into the public once more, but one thing was certain. Mira Visaj would remain her name.

@yopplwasupxxxvalid response. Having grown up on a server full of men with different perspectives compared to this one, it is refreshing to see an older gentleman who is able to set healthy personal boundaries. While there is no problem with people who are older roleplaying with younger people, I've always found it awkward roleplaying with people who have considerable age gaps from my own age, and have noticed majority of players who play females now a days in the humanity player base to be much younger compared to my age spare few.

For the sake of Anastasia that aged goat-loving woman approached both Via and Brendell once they had greeted the more relevant people they loved - who too had passed. “You lived beautifully you two. Very gudi. Come- I'll show you the best place to watch over your babies, and get you a glass.. Or two.. Or three, of goat milk, ja.”

For the sake of Viorica, the unyielding march of eight goats sounded at the gates of the seven skies. From the back of the gaggle their shepherd appeared; Elia Eryka. With a motherly smile to bid the Kortrevich some solace, she reached outwards to entangle that newly passed Kortrevich. “You did nejt anything wrong, little bull. Come, go meet your family as we await your precious modir. Then you may overlook your children as they grow- they shall be in gudi hands. They've the might of a bull, do they nejt?”

Elia Eryka, in the seven skies, knows this only happened because Walter drank goat milk.

Favorite Houri memory Scariest shit you endured in Karkosa eventline why Alucard why How have you enjoyed lotc so far

From afar with a simple smile etched onto her lips the recently deceased Colborn approached the arriving Astrid with many goats in tow, once she was welcomed by many warm faces. “Like my modir you shall nejt see your child grow alongside them. But from above you will see them loved and care for- our kin below will care for them. Until they too, join us. Come, little goat.”

Elia Eryka dances, having formally beat Aleksandr to death. Thus winning.

@Papa Liam

((Very good post))