MunaZaldrizoti

IGN: MunaZaldrizoti Character name: Syndra Caerme'onn Which game(s) are you signing up for: All of them.

From her cavernous dwelling, an ancient monarch contemplated upon her next meal. The tyrant-King of Haense proved more and more each day to be the perfect choice. Even with her more wicked inclinations, perhaps she could do that northern kingdom some selfish act of kindness.

Every night, for the last two elven weeks, Syndra Caerme'onn had dreamt the same dream. A dozen winged beasts, horned and scaled and breathing molten flame, descending upon long-abandoned cities and castles, reducing them to nothing but melted stone. Afterward, once their intial chaos had been wrought, those same creatures flew to great inhabited citadels and villages, leaving any who once lived there with nothing but ash and death. Always, in conclusion, would one singular great beast turn upon her, in her frozen observation. It would settle two golden eyes upon her form, seeming to acknowledge her before opening its maw and coating her in flames. She would feel her spirit rise into the air, almost upon unseen wings of her own, and pay witness to what came after her demise. Nature, with all of it's force and bounty, would begin to creep through the fallen towers and demolished streets. Grass would grow, flowers would bloom, and the natural cycle would resume where flames had previously wreaked havoc. Her return to civilization hadn't been easy. For a decade or more, she had searched for her father, who had yet again abandoned his sole daughter for the life of a wayward druid. She had need of him, for his tutelage and approval...but now she also needed him for the sake of her own anger. All her life, she had lived to only be the star of his life. He pushed her out into the wilderness at ten years old, bidding her good fortune so that she might return wiser than before. That had only left her feeling as if she had done something wrong, something to make her own maln feel shame when in her presence.When she had arrived at the Father Grove, he welcomed her as if nothing had happened. Syndra was her father's daughter again...and that was all that mattered to the young Caerme'onn. She could prove herself to him, be what he wanted her to be. Venom. That was the totem she had taken, after her attunement. She had been so sure, so keen, on claiming for herself a name that evoked the same power and strength as that of her maln, Viper. Only later did she realize how everything around her, at a time when such a connection is so sacred, was all related to him. Attuned in his own private pool, hidden away in his own home. The visions of snakes and her own mother's gruesome death. And at it's climax, a specter in the form of her own father...speaking in disapproval. How could she not seek to please him, after paying witness to his disappointment in her own attuning? All these woes and worries were brought before the sacred nature dragaar, Taynei'Hiylun, as Syndra located the last of her remaining beacons. She witnessed others there too, though paid little mind to their tasks as to see through her own intention. As the dragaar spoke, it relayed to her a warning, that dreams of Taynei's own ilk were never good. However, the source of these visions might be found in the young druid's own totem. Syndra seemed to understand in that moment of clarity, but couldn't grasp the idea of her totem being the pinpoint by which these troubling images had manifested themselves. As the beacon faded and she made her way through the trees, she crept up onto a sturdy branch and sat awhile. She dwelt on the meaning of her dedication to the Aspects, her dedication to her father or the legacy of their bloodline. She felt as if she didn't know herself anymore, she was unnatural in this natural world. But in that moment, the realization collided with her all at once. Syndra knew, finally, what the visions had been trying to tell her all along. Her death in flames was her rebirth, leaving behind the woes and invisible chains of her past to forge a new life in dedication to the Aspects. The weak-willed, prodigal child of the Viper Druid needed to shed her skin, not unlike a serpent, to ascend towards her higher self. And so too would she claim the unnatural for her own, so that perhaps she might one day guide them to a more natural existance. It was at the union of two druii that she came into her own, renewed and revitalized. A friendly face from her past, keen to know the reasons for her abrupt departure, sparked a certain hubris within to tell of her new identity. Beneath the cover of a tree's winding canopy, Syndra Caerme'onn spoke the name of her new totem for the first time. No longer was there Venom, a weapon the Viper could wield. Now, she would be nature's punishing flame, a force of restoration. Sister Venom was no more. In her place, Sister Wyvern now rose.

Nienna Telemnar prepares herself for the river race, venturing out to find a proper boat for the task!

Purple Witch - 75 mina

Amid her travels, an ancient monarch emitted an amused hum at the oddly-detailed guide. "Hmm...I suppose we shall have to teach the girls some new tricks."

Nienna Telemnar, having been shown the work of Princess Idril's students the previous elven day, would take the time to pay witness to any completed mosaics within the cavernous sanctuary. Before each intricate work of art, she muttered a quiet prayer to Thalassa.

Name: Nienna Telemnar Race: Almenodrim Age: 43 Citizen of Elvenesse?: Yes. Username: MunaZaldrizoti Discord: MunaZaldrizoti#6175

Nienna Telemnar sat with her elder brother, Olorin, as they read the published accord together over a lunch of seafood stew and salted bread. "My arrival is timed with a declaration of peace. Perhaps I carried good luck across the sea," She'd jest, humming in approval. @Gilded

[!] An anonymous reply, written and scrawled in ornate hand, is copied and pinned around the city of Karosgrad. The corners of the parchment seemed to be slightly-coated with lingering frost. "To the poor author of this foolish scrap of paper, I advise you decide what the remainder of your days shall consist of. You have attempted to tarnish the name of my descendants and have now attracted my attention. This is something you should've feared when you first decided to bring such lies to parchment in the first place. Your claims of auburn hair are especially false, considering the first Ramdir Amador's own mother, Abrielle, had bright red hair that was passed down to her children and grandchildren. I understand that your clear-lack of education prevented you from investigating this matter beyond hearsay and gossip. I will give you a single saint's week to recant these claims. If not, I will find you and take your writing hand. It won't be difficult. I act on my own, but I will act. rest-assured." - A

AUCTION IS NOW CLOSED! WINNERS WILL BE CONTACTED TOMORROW (3/5/2021)!

I have never related more to a post on LOTC than this one. I have dealt, several grueling times, with being made to think an opportunity was going to happen for a persona I was growing to love, starting to make plans and imagine what I'd like to do with that opportunity, and then have it either be snatched away by another player or denied to me for some overarching ooc reason. It is not fair what happened to you. It is not fair that so many ooc hands play into the story of a character you made. I know we aren't best friends or anything, but you've always been so kind and forthcoming. If you ever want to just talk about all of this, get stuff off your chest, message me. I can say, without any doubt, that I entirely understand the nauseating and stressful experience you've been put through, and you don't deserve to go through it alone.

From a place most-distant, an ancient monarch of Lotharingia frowns deeply. The culture she had risked her life to restore was once again lost in a blunder. Perhaps her descendants, bountiful as they were, would put to use the claims to the Archduchy that they inherited by right of her historic proclamation, supported in her time by the man who would eventually become Emperor Peter II. These continued embarrassments, now concluding in the abandonment of the religion upon which much of the original Lorraine was founded, were too much to bear.

MUNAZALDRIZOTI'S SKIN AUCTION Hello everyone! I'm broke and need mina, so I will be holding a skin auction for skins made for and worn by a few of my past personas. Considering I found over 20+ skins I'd like to eventually auction off, stay tuned for another auction in the future! Rules - The auction will run until this Friday, March 5th. It will end officially at midnight (12am EST). - Please don't edit replies. If you wish to bid higher for a skin, please make an additional comment. - All heads and skintones will be removed from each skin if sold. The heads are not included in the auction. Only head accessories that go with the skins will be included. - Bidding will begin at 20 mina. - Bids may be increased by 10 mina. You must make a new comment if you bid higher on a skin. - Please only bid if you will be able to pay the bid amount at the conclusion of the auction. - You MUST follow the format below (credit to my girl Fie for the easy format): Skin: Bid: Discord: SKINS Little Lorna The Rose of Kaedrin Strawberry Shortcake Day with Auntie Anne Efficient Scholar Loss The Faerie Queen The Princess of Pruvia The Minister of Culture The Rose's Debut (These skins were past commissions done by both @Ivoreyy & @kitty_irl!) BE NICE AND HAVE FUN!

Charlotte Augusta would send a butler along to collect a list of necessary items from her cousin Anthony, eager to don her exploring hat once again and descend into the mysterious sand-sunken city.

Username: MunaZaldrizoti Discord: MunaZaldrizoti#6175 Skin: Purple Plum Bid: 60 mina Previous Bidder (Put N/A if none): N/A

The Steward of Greyspine, Henriette Marna de Rafal, would take great care in preparing a special gift for her dear Isabel's own daughter. How much she felt like a grandmother, doting over the fruits of her educational labors planted so many decades earlier.

The dirt-covered child Elizaveta Ruthern prepares for war.

more regency lewks (and maybe some high-fantasy stuff. I feel like you'd do really well in that area.)

Henriette Marna de Rafal would ALSO tack her campaign flyer to the bottom of the election announcement!