Vic

Imagine writing over a hundred pages of lore.... hahhahahahahaahahahahaha i know youre dead inside alty

Isolde Barclay never believed her aunt Marcella could die. She was immortal in that young girl's eyes. She was the woman who raised her when her parents were not around, the woman who braided her hair, and the woman who had comforted her after her head was shaved. After her adoptive sister was murdered. Isolde had been sleeping beside Marcella since Mariya's death. She hadn't spoken in years, her throat was hoarse if she ever dared make a peep. The only person who had heard her voice was Marcie. The day before Marcella's death was like any other. Isolde woke up in her aunt's room, got dressed for the day to come, and asked the older woman to braid her hair. This was their tradition since she was little, after all. Marcella paused in her braiding to ask Isolde a question. "Isolde, dear, would you like to wear one of my coats today?" "Ja, please tante!" She'd cried in response, beginning to bounce in her place. She'd always loved Marcella's coats and hoped she could have one like them someday. Her main goal in life was to be like Marcie. Marcella had wheeled herself over to her wardrobe and taken out two of her most iconic coats. The first was her black one with House Barclay capes draped over the shoulders and the second was her pure white fur coat. Isolde could not pick, as they were both so beautiful... But eventually she decided that today she would wear the white coat. Tomorrow, Marcie had told her, she would wear the black coat. Tomorrow never came for Marcella. Later on in the evening that same day, Isolde made her way to the room Marcella was staying in, now dressed in her nightgown. She had a book tucked under her arm and a blanket draped over her shoulders. She'd knocked softly upon the heavy door, only entering when Marcella's voice told her it was okay. The soft pat pat pat of the girl's bare feet on the wood echoed around the mostly empty bedroom. "Tante, could du read me ein story before bed?" Isolde asked softly as she approached her aunt's wheelchair. "Nein, nicht tonight Isolde. You'll sleep in your own room, for your vater and mutter's sake." Marcella's voice had lost any happiness it may have had that morning. Her eyes were noticeably more sunken in. Isolde had never realized how truly unhappy her aunt was until that moment. "Are du sure? Du look like du need ein hug," Isolde had attempted to place a hand on her aunt's shoulder, but Marcella only shook her head. Not long after, Isolde left the room and began the climb up to her own bedroom. That next morning, she dressed as normal. She had her hair unbraided today, as she hadn't woken up in Marcella's room, and she pulled on her aunt's black coat. When she stepped out of her room, she finally heard it. The shouts. The cries. The sobs. Isolde rushed down the stairs, only to stop dead in her tracks upon seeing her father outside of Marcella's room. The door was ajar. Marcella was dead. Isolde turned around and fled back up the stairs. No one saw the child for nearly two days. Even after, no one heard her voice. Isolde learned to braid her own hair.

A Snake, A Dragon, and A Fox Art by Kajenna ♫♫♫ Briala Atmorice. Or was it Serene? Lorenthus, perhaps? The girl had so many names in the past, she couldn’t remember them all anymore. She started as an Atmorice, then became a Serene. She left Sirame and married a Lorenthus. Yes, that was correct. Her mother, Sonna, had gotten her to smoke many different herbs. Getting to where she was now was difficult, and remembering things was much harder. She was in a clearing, in the middle of the woods. Many words were said, but she couldn’t quite remember them. She knew she had to get home — to the Vuln’miruel seed hall. She knew Pip the fennec fox was here with her. Pip was elderly now, his cream-colored fur now graying. He’d been with her since Arcas, before she was even attuned. She’d never actually spoken with him, despite having learned Beastspeak long ago. She couldn’t do so now, she couldn’t focus. Briala stumbled toward her companion, but he began to run. His small legs carried him out of the wide clearing, much faster than the tall woman could move in her inebriated state. She kept him in her sights, her hand reaching out to stop herself from running straight into a tree — but the tree was now a person. Brown hair, tanned skin. Arms filled with tattoos. Her father? Theris. “You left your family, vuln’ii. What makes you think this one will want you? I didn’t.” His voice caused her to jump away — but Pip didn’t stop. He lept over a fallen log, looking back at Briala a moment to see if she was coming. She locked eyes with the small fox, fighting back the growing panic. “You are not my father. You did not raise me, you left me.” Briala ran past the man — who had faded back into the muted browns and greens of moss on a tree trunk. An illusion, but she couldn’t have known that. As she started again, Pip turned to bound off in a seemingly random direction. The redwood forest was becoming thicker the farther they ran from the clearing. In the trunks of trees, Briala saw the faces of those who had passed away or abandoned her. Katia Atmorice, Chrom’ilvya Atmorice, Awaiti Sirame, Diomedes, Erin Atmorice, Rithon, and... Her own. Her own face caught her eye amongst all the others she tried to forget. Sister Forget-Me-Not. Had she abandoned herself? No, no she hadn’t... She had tried to forget aspects of herself as she grew. She tried to forget her mother, Katia, as she had tried to forget her father. It was not her mother’s fault for dying, but it was her own fault for her friends turning their backs on her. “Forget-Me-Not. A totem befitting a woman so easily forgotten. When was the last time I sent you a letter?” Rithon’s voice echoed around the forest. No, her ears. Was he real? Yes, yes he had to be. He had to be real. “N-no… You said you’d take care of me, you did. You do.” Her pleas rang out as she continued after the fox. But, he had left her long ago. She hadn’t seen him since before she had taken the Sirame name. Did he still love her? Doubt. So much doubt. Where was Chrom, anyway? And Dio? The faces followed her in every tree she passed. They whispered to her, telling her to stop. To give up. She couldn’t give up, right? She had to go on, she had to prove she was worthy. With a shout, she ran straight into a tree trunk. “My love,” Ciliren. She had found her. “What are you doing out here?” Briala went to wrap her arms around Ciliren — only to be met with the rough tree bark. Cili’s laugh resonated, bouncing off the trunks around her as the other voices had. Ciliren had left her now too. She was gone. Was she ever there? She pushed herself away from the tree trunk, starting after Pip once again. She could only see the tip of his tail disappearing into a thicket, but he was there. “You never leave the house anymore, Bri. I want us to get out more” Ciliren’s voice followed her. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” “No... No, I want us t-to do more too! I promise!” She called out to the voice, fighting back the urge to turn around and search for her wife. “We can when I’m done. Please, love.” “You always say we’ll do it later, Bri… We never do. You’re a liar.” Tears formed in the woman’s eyes as she forced herself on. Her legs hurt. Her feet were bare, scratched. Blood was leaking. Was it real blood? Run. Chase Pip. Keep running. Prove yourself. Are you weak? You must be weak. What would Awaiti say if she could see you now? Poor little fox. The voices became louder. Shrieks. She had to cover her ears. Why were they louder? What did she do? Why did she deserve this? Her foot caught on a rock, sending her toppling forward. She had landed with her face in the dirt, hard. A bit of blood seeped from her nostril, but she had bled enough from her scratches she didn’t notice. With a soft groan, Briala lifted her head to see… The gates of Elvenesse. She had made it, and the seed hall was not far now. Pip squeaked as he bound into the city. Briala pushed herself to her feet and began to stumble after him again. Faces passed her, but she didn’t recognize them. She had her goal set in mind and little could halt her. Finally, Briala stopped. She was at the Seed Hall. Sonna Vuln’miruel, her Haelun, was waiting for her. She had done it. She wasn’t weak, nor was she forgotten. She had proved herself to her mother. The snake had become a dragon. Now that dragon was a fox. Briala Vuln’miruel gained her ilmyumier from the same woman who had given her the previous name she had held. Briala Lorenthus Vuln’Miruel ((Art by Weulemon))

A particular elfess's daughter held back her mother as she waved her arm about wildly. "Haelun! She's doing her best!" @altiar1011

Revas would hear of the news, retreating to her room soon after. She clutched a dagger in her hand - no longer the cold Druid Bronze. It was harsh steel, much like the girl's heart after the death of another pseudo-family member. The thought of the headless corpse of her sister haunted her mind as she stared down at the new blade. "Heal, don't kill." These words she had said to Stefan, the opposite of what she had been told for years. Revas would have to go back on her word to the young Baron to avenge their friend. Isolde Barclay had always seen Mariya as her older sister. She was there for her when even her parents weren't present. The young girl had believed it was a joke at first. Mariya couldn't die. She would fight off her assailant, easily! Her sister was not allowed to die. But she was dead. Isolde waited beside Mariya's office door. She believed she would come out. She had to, right? She wasn't able to die. She waited until her parents came to get her. She climbed into her vater's arms, asking a shaking question; "I-is it.. She.. Is she really gone?"

Briala laid with her head in her wife's lap, tears rolling down her face silently. She'd not believed it when Ciliren told her of Awaiti's death, nor had she wanted to accept it. But it was true, her grandmother was now in the Eternal Forest. Once she had recovered enough, Briala took up a quill and began to write.

Revas stayed up the first night awaiting Addie's return home, then a second. Despite comforting words from her closest friend, she couldn't shake the feeling that her sister should have come home. Despite these feelings, she dared not leave the confines of her family's manor. Instead, she opted to gather her sons around the fire and began to try and distract them with a story. Two German Shepherds joined Oddwig outside of Addie's room, their cries echoing through the halls of the manor.

Upon Oddwig's arrival after the attack of the trolls, a Mali woman gave the hound many pets and treats before opening the letter. Once she read its contents, she'd suck in a breath in shock. She hadn't dared produce her mists in public and this only confirmed her fears. She tossed the letter into the nearest fire as to not be found with it and set off to find an old friend.

Revas Asul'onn chuckled upon hearing her mother's wish to be in the paper. She'd roll her eyes soon after and crumple up her edition of the Hearsay.

Isolde Barclay sniffled softly as she watched her Aunt depart from Reinmar, safely hidden from view insde the Fort Marcella had once showed her. The girl had not spoken a word in over a year, but she uttered something softly to the small figure in the distance in a hoarse voice, "Stay safe, Tante." She pushed herself under the bottom bunk - her brother's bunk - and began to silently play with her knight doll.

Isolde Barclay can't read, but she rejoices upon seeing a depiction of her mother in the pamphlet!

Daerine uttered a soft prayer as she finished the tome, a smile crossing her face. "Ahern ito nae'leh," she mumbled as she finished. She then began to make a copy of the new scripture.

Revas Asul'onn beamed as she read the missive. "T'at's my mother!" She'd say proudly.

A disturbed monk nearly choked on her tea at her husband's words. She rushed down the stairs, promptly swatting the man on the head. "We have a two year old who repeats everything, Rhaelanthur!" She screeched in return. @Sphookas

I'm going to miss ghost Talas, I'll admit, but I'm honestly glad you're moving on from LoTC. It can be very draining and bad for mental health. I hope that we can hang out more soon, you're such an amazing person!

"Haelun, what is happening?" Marette asked her mother, standing beside Alyssa as she read the missive. @SilkieSilky @Demented_Delila

((MC name: FenHarel__)) Name: Daerine Meracahe'onn Vote for Okarir'hiylun: ( ) Maeve Elibar'acal (xx) Aestenia Aevaris

Tell me why

Passing the Torch 6th of Malin’s Welcome, 1796 [!] Missives would be posted around the Haelun’or boat & camp. To the Elibar’acal Talonnii, This has been a long time coming, I’m afraid. When I was given the title of Laurir of Elibar’acal I never intended to hold it for very long. Ever since the day it was passed to me I have known whom I wanted my successor to be; Maeve Elibar’acal. However, in recent months a challenger has come forward intending to take over the Talonnii from me. I had originally intended to debate him to place Maeve in the position of Laurir, but I have been progressively becoming more ill. My duties as a Tilruir come before a debate that I have no drive to win. I hope that you all understand my decision. Due to all of this, I leave it to the Elibar’acal Talonnii, the Maheral, and the Maelunir to decide upon the next Laurir. I would also like to formally announce that, while still recognizing my blood ties to Elibar’acal, my husband and I have decided to create a new branch of the family. We have always had different views regarding magic than the Elibar’acal Talonnii, which has led to our wish to branch away. It is well known that Rhaelanthur is a paladin who was allowed to stay in the city by the Titan, but it is less known that I am a Monk. I have walked the path of the Sun for many years now. From now on, Rhaelanthur and I will use the surname Meracahe'onn - as will our children and any family members who wish to join us. I hope that you all respect our decisions and still treat us as kin. maehr'sae hiylun'ehya,

[!] A reply was quickly sent, in the handwriting of Laurir Daerine Elibar'acal. To Mister Irulan Elibar'acal, I appreciate your concern for the wellbeing of the family, but I have never met you nor do I understand why you would wish to challenge my status while we are sailing away from our previous homeland. Nonetheless, I completely accept your invitation to a debate. With this, I would also like to say that I do not worship the Aengul Xan, nor does my husband. Yes, he is bound by to Xan, but we are separate beings. I do not agree with every choice he has made in his life, but I have known him long before he became a paladin. I wish for that to be made clear before a debate is struck. Give me a time and a date, cousin, and we may discuss this. All the best,

beamed as she noticed the new poster of her mother's making. "Goo' on ya, Haelun! We won' le' criminals tain' our family name."

Briala A. Sirame regrets never properly meeting nor speaking to her adoptive sister. She’d take a few moments of silence for the loss of her sort-of lari’onn.

Two of my favorite handwriting fonts are March Script and Dancing Script.

give me rep +1

“The Tower is commonly interpreted as meaning danger, crisis, destruction, and liberation. It is associated with sudden unforeseen change.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Agz8AQhfHZI The night was perfect; the rain had gone away and there was not a cloud in sight. A mali’fenn with pure white hair and violet eyes sat in the window of her room within her family’s manor, stroking the head of her tan owl. Her daughter, the tanned skin half-’ame girl of only seven, was curled up on her mother’s bed sleeping soundly. Katia watched her daughter with eyes filled with pride as she sealed her letter and sent it out. She was requesting her lari’onn’s presence in the Fennic tavern later that evening to witness the private union between herself and her fiancé, an ‘ame named Theris. She moved over to the bed and tucked her daughter in for the last time, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. The girl stirred but did not wake. Katia turned to Theris, who had been standing near the door of their room, with a large smile. The thing they had postponed so many times, waited years for, was finally happening. She slipped her hand into his and they slowly moved out of the room. The two of them stood in the tavern an hour later. They were still waiting on Erin to arrive and had become impatient. Eventually, Katia suggested they start without her. They exchanged vows, but as Theris pulled his beloved’s ring from his pocket a mali with a bandana pulled up to cover the bottom half of his face stepped out from behind a pillar within the tavern. He had his bow drawn back and released an arrow. It lodged into Katia’s neck with ease and the woman slowly began to sink to the ground. The man began to speak of purity as he slowly made his way towards the young couple. He discarded his bow in favor of drawing his longsword, stopping in front of Theris. Erin, the woman who shared Katia’s blood and had been her closest friend since they were born, arrived at this moment to see her twin with an arrow in her neck and lying on the ground. Theris clutched Katia’s hand as he sobbed over her body. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t make out what the mali’thill was saying to him. His wife was dead. The mother of his daughter was dead. In her dying moments, Katia was able to mouth two things to her new husband: I love you. Protect Briala. Erin grasped her Fennic spear with determination. Before she could make her way to the group, Theris was struck by the pommel of the mali’thill’s sword, causing him to be flung into the back of the couch. He clutched Katia’s hand as the ‘thill plunged his sword into her skull. Once, twice, three times. He mangled the once beautiful ‘fenn beyond recognition before turning his attention to the late woman’s stomach. “Family,” The ‘thill’s voice resonated throughout the tavern. “Family is a lie. Watch as your precious love leaves you.” And watch he did. He watched as the ‘thill brought his blade down into Katia’s stomach. He watched as the man practically gutted the woman he had fallen in love with. He watched as the man finally took a step back to admire his work- The ‘thill’s moment of glory was cut short by Erin Atmorice’s spear plunging deep into his throat. She dropped the spear the moment she stabbed him, her eyes going wide. She stared at him as he fell to the floor, the blood of the ‘thill mixing with the blood of her sister. She forced her eyes onto the body of her twin with utter horror. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the gruesome sight. In a moment of desperation to just get away from the scene, she tugged her dagger from it’s sheath. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks as she dragged the blade across her throat. Theris watched as his sister-in-law dropped to the floor. He watched as blood seeped from her, Katia, and the ‘thill. He looked down at his wife, now beyond recognition, and began to sob once more. He remembered his daughter in their manor, sound asleep with no idea as to what had just happened. Many hours later, the mali’ame pushed himself up and dragged himself out of the tavern. He began to wander the barren city, hoping to find someone. [[I have had a wonderful time playing Katia, but it is time to turn over a new leaf. Lots of love to all of the wonderful people I have met in Fenn. This also serves as the pk post for Commander_Jester’s character, Erin Atmorice.]]