LuneAria

Asvi Frostbeard leaned her head back against the old oak she now called home and gazed through the dancing leaves above. She thought not for the first time of Khaz'a'Dentrumm and the people she had left behind on her journey, so many of them. A kind red-headed Grandaxe bloomed to mind, who had always smiled at her like she hung the stars. Thinking about what had been was painful, and what could have been, more so.

Drawing a hand over the sleeping squirrel on her lap, a denizen of Hefrumm she had stolen away with, she wondered where Bjorn was now. She pictured with blurred memory his cottage, still adorned with scars of her axe, and a warm hearth. There were new shapes moving about. Children, the wife he deserved. The little ones had his fervent hair, smiles the same ferocity as his as they proudly showed their catches.

Or maybe the coals had gone cold. Perhaps years ago, perhaps even today.
 

She shook her head, stilled a shaking hand which had stirred the now-chittering squirrel in it's restlessness, and willed with a deep breath that those memories unwind their thorns.

Hope bloomed in their stead, that wherever Bjorn was now, he had found happiness.

Somewhere in the deepest forests of the continent, Asvi Frostbeard, covered in squirrels, nods.

Asvi Frostbeard scrolls her gaze down the post until she sees mention of a Frostbeard blade. "Mom, look! Ahm on TV!" 

The empty room reminds her that mom left for the cigarette store decades ago. 

Talesii vibes with her sandbagger wife in Stygian Hollow, enjoying a lovely temporary retirement. Her lips curve into a frown as she takes a particularly sad sip of tea. "I suddenly feel a great sorrow in my soul. As if a hero has left us. Wait. Heck." It suddenly dawns on her, the only person who could make her cold dead heart feel something. "That sussy baka. Nooooo."

Asvi Frostbeard remembered Brynaelda fondly as one of the first dwarves to welcome her into Urguan. She retreated into the woods of Hefrumm, perhaps to shed seldom seen tears, upon her realization that the dwarf who had welcomed her almost as family with those warm motherly eyes and a promise of cookies had left down the road. 

When her tears had nearly dried and her hands were not shaking, she knit a doll. Just as badly made as always, but through perseverance and many fireside attempts, it would be something to be proud of. 

Asvi Frostbeard returned to the city the next week, lowering her haul of freshly skinned pelts from her ram. She searched for hours to find her great grandfather, but he was not in the square, nor in his villa, nor the tavern, nor in the clan hall. Dread rooted through her heart that long day, till through word of mouth it finally bloomed its awful, bone-chilling petals.

The moutain halls are empty without his laugh, yet should one escape to open air they will meet yet with the eery quiet of the woods. The trees hold their breath here, the wild beasts have been ravaged by the sorrow and the axe of a Frostbeard daughter who knew the tales of Grand Emperor Rhewen and had the honor of poking his gloriously bald head.

He will leave his imprint on every generation of our clan into eternity. Every dwed will know his name. Narvak oz Rhewen, the greatest great grandfather to ever live.

Talesii Araaloq hands another drug-infused lemon square to her wife as they enjoy the aftermath of the raid. Yet another victory missive falls onto her head, and she smiles in approval. "Ah, Elvenesse was so hospital to our visit! I am glad we can all be good sports about this all. It is just a game in the end. I think."

Talesii Araaloq sits around Valerdya's fireplace back in Talon's Port, recounting the harrowing raid in which they flooded through Elvenesse with zero resistance. "...and then we decapitated a dark elven woman! She was so pretty, huge waste." The missive arrives for her just then, delivered by a Rustler comrade. "HAH! Oh, this is so cute! But I honestly feel a little bad for them." She munches on a lemon square, and the cake given to her by her wife.

“Oh.” Asvi can’t stop the frown that falls over her face. “I… vell. Yair successor vill noht be as good as yew. Und zis village vohn’t be ze same vidzou’ yew as ‘igh Chief. Bu’ ah… ah ‘ope yair ‘appeh ah Thrummaz-lon. Ah guess.” She sighs, stowing the missive away and getting a rather unwarranted wave of nostalgia.

Noemie de Astrea furrows her brows. "Wow. Cousina got over ze forever alone, crazy cat lady phase fast. Kinda sus, uh, I mean, good for 'er!"

Who's that cute person between the yellow and the orange? Wow

Happy pride month y'all o7 stay safe love ya ^^ Fun picture!

IGN: LuneAria

RP NAME: Asvi Frostbeard

AGE: 46

ACTIVITY REQUIREMENT:

Active Legion member, Clan Frostbeard, House no. H-32

CANDIDATE: Levian'Tol Grandaddyaxe

Talesii Araaloq reads the missive several times, her eyes silver storms as she scorns her street-life alone in Talon's. Determined to find the 'fenn father who fled her, she grasps for her scimitar and dons her cloak. Her anger fades to that ever-present melancholy somewhere along the long journey north. 

Noemie de Astrea walks down the road to Elysium safely, the child chucking a potato at the swinging head as she passes. "Love thy neighbor now, pagan. I salute vous, Rangers of Elysium!"

S'Qineli lied back on the ship Eos, careful of her wound as she scanned the horizon for signs of her kins' safe return. She kept waiting, and when the masts were lowered to catch the winds of return, she kept waiting. 

"Qiqi is so sorry, v'neaht. We were fools. Qi was fool." She finally uttered as the distant pillars of smoke faded out of view. She would sit in vigil under the moon from rise to fall that night. 

Noemie de Astrea, ten years old, blinks. 

MC Name:

         SoleilAria (alt of LuneAria)

Character's Name:

         Mina the Mini

Character's Age:

         10

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         N/A

Transformed form:

         Musin

Creator's MC Name:

         N/A

Creator's RP Name:

         N/A

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

Musin were the weak runts of the Ratiki. Since they could not fight, they were made to work in the mines under harsh conditions. Then a warchief named Musin rose up and fought to free his brethren. During a large battle known as the Battle of Red Vale, Musin slew a great Ratiki leader, and the Musin fled Rat Island as the Ratiki tore themselves apart in the power vacuum. 

Now free creatures dwelling in Almaris, the Musin encountered and befriended a creature simply known by the Musin as the 'Giant', who taught them how to speak, dress, farm, and more before he finally perished. From this, the musin spread out across Almaris, building many small keeps like Crumlin Keep. 

Musin lack muscle, and this coupled with their size makes it incredibly hard for them to lift things. For a musin, a one-handed sword is more like a large two-hander, and a dagger is more like a sword. Attacks toward them will do incredible damage, with a strong hit from a blunt object sometimes able to kill a musin instantly. They are also incredibly sensitive to light, and see at half a descendant's normal vision in full sunlight. However, Musin are nimble. Musin are highly pacifist due to their great weakness in physical combat. 

Musin are named after their mother's favorite thing. Their religious beliefs are highly syncretic and superstitious, and they often try and incorporate the Giant into other religions. Their clothes are made of mostly whatever scraps they can find, as they have few tailors and are natural kleptomaniacs. Musin have a strong urge to clean themselves to protect themselves from diseases, unlike their Ratiki kin. They can live to be 70 years old and can never grow taller than 2'6". 

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

Mina is a 2'0" tall Musin of ivory cream colors who is not yet fully matured. She wears a far too large shirt and pants, taking inspiration from the pirates of Almaris' southern ocean. 

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No

S'Qineli licks her lips as she reads the missive. The young kha promptly promptly smacks herself. "Mice awr friends. Nawt fuud." 

"Right foot, les stomp." Asvi sings, stomping on a makeshift model of Providence. "Left foot, les stomp." Another Orenian village falls to her feet. "Cha cha now y'all."

After a brief dance, Asvi picks up her axes. "Les go to vork." 

Asvi Frostbeard, absolutely covered in fuzzy squirrels, smiles at the news. "Our figh' to end ze sqvirrel massacrin' ov Yaz ze Cruel vas ah lon' and arduous vun. Ahm glad et's finalleh comin' to ah 'appeh conclusion."

"Vow, anodzeh five star review! Business is boomin' fo' Urguan as usual." Asvi Frostbeard scrubs out the sky cells, hoping an Orenian can sample their finest 'top floor' lodging soon. "Ef anyvun else vants ta make arrows o' do 'ard labor, jus' send me an owl."

Asvi then looks out over the Undercity and feels very lonely, realizing no one was around to hear her. In her overwhelming sadness, she tosses the random Canonist paper. 

25 minutes ago, Willstertheking2 said:

Nikko de Astrea sneaks into his fathers room and picks up a sword "I will not sit this one out."

Noemie de Astrea sneaks into Nikko's room and steals the sword he stole from his father, then replacing it with one she stole from the Purifiers in a needlessly elaborate stunt that only served to be quirky.

"Me, well, I am probleh gon' sit zis out, because ze Oreners will ruthlessly kill eight year old girl me, et I am scared child! But, bad Oren!" She says to the Elysium streets. 

Noemie de Astrea picks up the missive and reads it once. She reads it again. She pours some lemon juice on it to check for a secret message, then reads once more. 

"I am... not Norlandic anymore? Unclo, where did zey bring vous? What 'as 'appened? Zis... zis is not right!" The girl frowns and takes a seat by the Elysium river as she thinks on this some more. 

Noemie de Astrea, in her youth, doesn't really care to comprehend the missive. Yet she cheers all the same upon seeing the O'Hara name. "Oui! O'Hara has ze snazzy drip, very cool clan, Oren slayers! Mhmm, join today!" 

Asvi Frostbeard sighs, "Mistah Gran' Kang 'as such vay vid vords! Bu' ah dohnoht zink zat mush good. Noh, umros need intimidatin' from scary dved lady, jah." She looks off towards what she thinks is probably Oren, a nearby animal pen, and bellows: "GIVE ME DVED MOUTAIN, O' GIVE YERSELF DEAV!"