Keefy

Hareven Screams.

Contact: Keefy#0001 Age: Old Description: Tall grey door-wide man with brown hair and purple eyes, built ford tough Refs :

Haha twins go bye

This MOTHERFUCKER GOT BEEEEEAAAANS

OOC: I forgot to credit the art, i cant recall the first one but the other two are pieces from Stand Still Stay Silent by Minna Sunderberg(?) Edit: Bisco found the first one linked here https://www.deviantart.com/wakingofskytree/art/Spiral-Dreams-Of-The-End-886850736

The Tome of Entelechy How many times do you find yourself sat somewhere, laid somewhere, occupied anywhere, amongst thoughts of what you can do? How often do you accept and acknowledge what you could do, how often is it pointed it out to you by others, brought to the surface? How often do you bring this concept into realization? Owning that which is you and taking it the distance? Let me preface this. This is not just meant for only druids. This is not just meant for only those who cling to dirt and wood. This is for all those with feet. With hands. With a will, with a talent, with a life. This is meant for people. Inside of every single one of you is a burning energy, pulsing always, never sleeping. Hidden in everything, immortal and ever-present, capable of achieving the peak of what you are. Who you are. And you are the only one stopping it from thriving. Burning. Sparking. You sit amongst yourselves, valleys upon your back, with burdens innumerable. Hollowing you out as you do what you believe is your limitation in life, a crumbling mountain of souls. You idle like stale alcohol, you preserve ghosts that have long since left, cling to molded bread. This is not how to live. We are not meant to be cages, designed for our own imprisonment. We have the capacity to learn ourselves so well we achieve a personal balance no-one else can effect. Our dogmas, faiths, cults, beliefs, they have the capacity to drive us forward so far forward we can't see those futures. We are meant to exist loudly. We are meant to exist freely. The chains that bind us are not wrought of everlasting bonds. We choose these things, these commitments, these oaths. We break them and hurt. We break them and thrive. We never know until we try. All to achieve a vital purpose in life that you'll never know until you accept everything that you are, and cast away what you are not. There is no real secret to this. There is no real taboo to achieving it. No valid plan. No illusion that can't be discarded. There aren't even proper words that can define this undefinable something, that makes up our everything. But here I try. There is blood in your body. There is power in your heart. There are ideas in your head. There is grace to your soul. No-one else will ever be able to match what you are capable of. You are the sum of your life, given direction. You will succeed at times. You will fail at times. You'll want to give up. You'll boil with anger. And that is how you know you're in the right direction. My fellow Sages, we all are taught many concepts. The Beauty of Life. Accepting Death. The Flow of Balance. The Guidance of Fury. The Soothing of Harmony. We all follow Tenants to help us achieve what we are meant to be. Not all of us follow the same paths, and mine will never be reflective of my fellows. As is the same with all those who bother to read these texts. You might be a human librarian who got bored and flitted through these pages. A dwarven smith who took a peak before pitching it into your forges fires. You could be anyone. And there will always be one thing in this reality we all permeate through and exist in, that no-one else will match you for. Within you exists the potential to achieve this. Realize it. Grasp it. Embrace it. You are capable of it. You and you alone. Turn your potential into reality. Be You.

"Well there goes the last wonk" The grey man pauses for a moment, before shrugging and researching the possibility of frog based alcohols

"Called it, some folks owe me bet mins" Remarks a grey-man sitting out at the Perch, rubbing a brow before tossing the missive onto a stack of ignored subpoenas

"Dedicants have no rights. Rest in peace...or probably fire honestly" Mutters a Grey Man somewhere

[OOC: This is just me genuinely thanking this post for helping me crack a smile cause of the picture just "Local fedora druid and sundress woman inconvenienced by ongoing magical warfare"

None of y'all are okay

He's free of this place. Let him rest.

You good bro?

Pog

"Ah swear t' Gods ah'm gonna smear **** int' their eyes" Mutters a Stern faced grey-man as he dusts the road dirt from his trousers, catching rumors upon the wind

"What" utters a confused greyman

R

The news would reach the tavern-keep amongst the mess of another loss. He'd receive it and send the courier off with a tip and a smile, and steps between his breweries stills, leaning against the wall and letting out a loud sigh, sliding to the ground.. "Gods above, please give her some rest. She deserves it. We all know she does." He'd mutter to himself, tossing the letter into the fire of a still and going about his work.

Hareven would laugh and visit amongst the mess, enjoying his drinks amongst the chaos.

I understand what you're trying to do here. I really do. But this isn't good to be blunt. If you're going to flesh out a new culture it needs more depth that this. If I may suggest you read up on other cultures, such as the assorted Seeds of the Wood Elves, or even the Aaraloq family lore from Fenn. But this is a paragraph that tells me nothing.

"Ye fuckin' idiot" Mutters a man waiting for a still to properly heat up

A small letter appears to whom it may concern. The family both close and distant to Hareven Lorenthus. "I have made mistakes, time and time again. Not just actions that can be mended, but the kind that might have left many of you wanting or hurt. I am sorry for them. It has been brought to my attention I have not all been as well of a man of the family I wished to be. That my selfishness has caused harm, which yes I knew of, but now it has hurt others as well. I do not know when I lost sight of what I wanted to be for all of you, but I do want to improve. I want to be better. So I send these letters, to those close to me. I want to talk, to learn how to be better. Cause I'm tired of hurting, and I'm tired of hurting you. I'm tired. As always, you know how to find me. A small seal lays on each letter, of a strangely simple crest of a Circle with a rigid crack through the center. Directions to the Owl's Perch sits on the other side of the letter.