luv

purrr

Back in my day- No, seriously we used to have lots of different items that did this - all of which utilized cursed ice from the altar in some way, shape, or form. My witch (or well, I guess Vivec at the moment) has at least 3 of these items still, never got around to verifying with the ST if they’d still work. Brunhylde’s Bribe, False Princesses’ Fetish, and I forget the one that used to belong to Meguzara. If this ends up getting passed I’ll make sure the witches get them. Anyway! Frost Witches in their current state are by far one, if not the, weakest dark arts magic/creature. Not that they’re designed to be endgames, but their lore inherently comes with a lot more downsides than it does reward. Over the years it’s only gotten worse. From the inclusion of charms (which now means our teeth, skin, blood, etc are even harder to conceal). The lack of available magic slots partnered with changes to their mentality which kills character development outside of the coven and makes it hard for them to do much else aside from the coven. The sisterhood is a pillar of the lore, yes, but when the sorority is MIA because the girls hate playing… I mean, no shit I’m biased, but something has got to give in favor of the witches. Once again they’ve fallen into a period of complete inactivity due to the circumstances surrounding their lore. +666 🥶

Maushflokh flips her bangs with a dramatic huff. “That’s amazing~” she’d groan in her best attempt at showing support.

Addressing the profound darkness of addiction, it's a relentless force that drives individuals to destruction, fostering a cycle of taking, manipulating, and consuming everything in its path. Reflecting on my first character, Kypris, who was a self-insert grappling with addiction, I initially shied away from portraying the gritty reality of substance dependence. Methanphetamine and Fentanyl withdrawal is actually hell on Earth, AND I was already playing a Shade? I chose the insomnia redline. Over time, I've observed characters labeled as "addicts" over the years, yet seldom does addiction serve as a central pillar shaping their identity and narrative. Unlike my gender identity or abuse trauma, addiction has been the defining force molding my life, seeping into every aspect of my personality. I resonate with the relentless dissatisfaction, the absence of foresight, and the persona of the fun, social, party-goer masking the underlying struggle. For those who've experienced addiction, it's more than a mere aspect; it intertwines with our core. It's not akin to a peanut allergy; it permeates every facet of our existence. Encountering a depiction of addiction on this server that captures its essence felt profoundly validating. Your nuanced understanding and depiction of the struggles with addiction resonate, and it's admirable to witness someone who grasps the complexities and perhaps navigates their own journey through such challenges. 🤍 “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”

Nefertiti and her sister strolled merrily down the winding birch wood forest path, their destination beckoning in the distance. The skeleton trailed closely behind, escorting the beleaguered Druid prisoner. Casting occasional glances backward, she relished in the dread etched across his visage, a testament to their wicked triumph. With self-satisfaction, she broke into a playful song for her sister, a wicked twinkle in her eye. "He thought we were bad, wait 'til he sees the stairs!"

🔥

@fighting evil by moonlight lookie, our snow elven man servants are… ALIVE!!! 🧊 ((great job dio ilysm please do a river dance on my face 🤍 going to come back and leave an actual review/thoughts later~))

Nefertiti would smirk devilishly from atop the upper balcony’s edge of the Qunita del Sorda. Her gaze shifted back to the rest of the Alzgomalda huddled up behind her, all adorning their faded crimson robes and various masks. “It has begun, sisters. Time to make ourselves useful”.

always luv and support alchemy expansion packs 🤍

Amorette awkwardly into the vicinity of the crying woman, holding up a flyer and whispered her pitch to the next closest person; “Maybe she can live without parents, but the needy can’t live without food! The Eternal Library is doing a canned food drive-“

don’t listen to them! 🚮 let me passively corrupt everyone’s mind spaces, no matter who i play, because — ✨i am the true darkspawn ✨

Horrific images of tortured souls and twisted landscapes. The visions were relentless, invading her mind whether she was awake or asleep. Nataliya’s nights were haunted by nightmarish scenes that left her trembling in fear, while her days were spent trying to escape the clutches of the grotesque images that played like a relentless film reel in her mind. These images transcended the boundaries of the living world. The afterlife revealed itself to her in nightmarish visions that clawed at the edges of her consciousness, leaving an indelible mark on her psyche. In her nightmares, Nataliya found herself standing on desolate plains where the sky bled with hues of blood-red and the air was thick with an otherworldly sorrow. Tormented souls, their faces contorted in agony, wandered aimlessly, their haunting wails echoing in the emptiness. The ground beneath her feet felt like cold, pulsating flesh, and twisted, skeletal trees cast long, ominous shadows. The landscapes she traversed in her dreams were vast and ever-changing—abyssal pits filled with the anguished screams of the condemned, towering citadels where monstrous entities presided over realms of eternal suffering, and desecrated temples where false gods demanded tribute in the form of ceaseless agony. Among the most disturbing visions were glimpses into realms of punishment, where souls endured unimaginable torment for sins committed in life. Nataliya witnessed souls entwined in writhing chains, their bodies engulfed in ethereal flames that provided no warmth, only searing pain. Faces distorted with eternal suffering pleaded for release, but their cries fell on deaf, otherworldly ears. These images would haunt her even in her waking hours. At times, the veil between the living and the afterlife seems thin, and she would catch glimpses of the tortured souls lingering in the corners of her vision. Faces contorted with despair would peer out from the mundane world, leaving the young farfolk in a perpetual state of dread. Sleep became an elusive refuge, as each night brought a descent into a surreal hellscape. Her waking hours were marked by exhaustion and an overwhelming sense of isolation. The weight of the afterlife pressed upon her, threatening to consume the fragments of peace she clung to.

🏳️‍⚧️🤍 wishing you the best!

(it won’t f*cking load but it’s-) +1