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About TheIchorDruid

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    Quillian Csarathaire ~ Winnifred Alimar ~ Ceres Welier'siol ~
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    Wood Elf ~ Human ~ Dark Elf ~

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  1. C E R T A I N T Y I S R U I N “K N O W T H Y S E L F” And so it began, with flashes of fire and screams filling the air.. “My chera. I will give you the world, its treasures and more..” Whilst smoke broiled, wood splintered and lungs began their demise. That Hawk did not fear, instead it was an odd bliss that came about her tired frame as feet staggered through the crackling wood beneath her feet.. finding the ledge of that ablaze tower of Dun an Ein. The voice of her mother reassuring Darya, flashes of imagery arose.. As the flames clawed higher, the struggling group of Dun an Ein scrambled with what little energy they had left. Hacking.. Slicing. Door after door.. Struggle after struggle. “Sestra! Please.. Jump to us!” Bellowed the voice of Angelika of Vidaus, though the voice of hers would soon be lost beneath the noise of roaring flames.. She of Caermad would not hear. “Blood spilt, I care not if it means the safety of you.” Then accompanied another voice, warmth licked against her flesh as those eyes found themselves looking between the immense drop of below and each face of her creed she had come to love. Angelika.. Solun.. Verres.. Masuo.. Though that voice beckoned her attention, Joseph’s form stood beside her with a softened smile. Higher and higher those flames swarmed, ash spiraling like that of flies.. The form of Darya remained unmoving, peripheral leaving her comrades and instead viewed that drop once more. “It is by the decree of this Imperial Crown, that Darya d’Azor shalt serve these Hexers in place of my daughter..” The chin of Empress Anastasia lofted, yet another form coming to appear behind the burning body of that Hexer. The sternness within the Imperial monarch’s voice remained, offering all but a singular nod. The floors began to cave within themselves, the body of Kolette of Rolin long since engulfed by the carnage. Though still Darya did not come to move, riddled with an agonizing conflict. “Must you leave me? Will I ever see you again?” It was the voice of Gino d’Falcone then, the illusion of how Darya once saw him within her youth. His steps were drawn forth, coming to stand beside that dying Hawk and staring off into the horizon ahead. Once again did the voice of Angelika erupt, yet this time did the sheer terror of such scream that bring Darya to her senses. To a brief fleeting clarity “No! You have just returned to us. Please.. jump to us! Think of Will!” W I L L O F B L A C K V A L E The remaining breath in those tarnished lungs hitched.. realization of who she would leave behind.. And so did Darya jump to she of Vidaus, eyes squeezing tightly closed. “N O T H I N G I N E X C E S S ” It was not arms that caught the fall of the Hawk. Instead she began to feel the flooding of air swarming beneath her frame. “Trust not that which lurks unseen in the clothing of sheep whose faces you haven't known. A hawk's gaze must penetrate that which seeks to deceive, and discern that which bears truth..” As that fall ensued the very world around Darya began to slow, an aged form molding within the very air beside her. The head of Edmond of Sava came to acknowledge her with a solemn frown. Those eyes of hers came to stare above, looking to the crumbling stronghold of the Hawks. Pieces of slate and wood caving within itself. “You were a thorn in my side. But the greatest pride I could have hoped for. My fated child..” As that body of hers continued to fall, another stature appeared.. falling, falling.. Arthur of Caermad’s palm intertwined betwixt the digits of Darya’s own -- gripping tightly. “C E R T A I N T Y I S R U I N” With a horrific thud did the being of Darya’s collide against the earth below, impacting all vitals. With a sharp splutter did an eruption of ichor come to don the chin of that deteriorating hawk. Those above witnessing the plummet of the Caermad. Angelika’s voice shortly came to shrill in disbelief. “DARYA!” It was a distant shock as that spotted peripheral stared upwardly, acknowledging the panicked expression of each of her comrades. “Ever unto the creed, sestra..” Did Solun of Esbec’s voice then call, eyes fixated beneath him. Such would be the last living words Darya of Caermad would come to hear before those eyes drifted to Arthur.. “Are you ready, my child?” “Ai.. Papu..” It was then darkness in which came to warm that Hawk’s peripheral. Darya of Caermad, one who lived and died by the creed, was no more. D A R Y A O F C A E R M A D 1844 - 1896
  2. You have been an absolute pleasure to know Jen and I could not be more thankful for the memories we got to share together. Cannot lie, its going to be hard to see you go but I wish you the best of luck within life and am proud to have seen the growth of you and your accomplishments over the years. (Also I hope you stub your toe.) Make sure to send me plenty of wedding photos.
  3. S E E K I N G A N A P P R E N T I C E [!] A neatly penned parchment would be pinned to many notice boards across the realm! Reading the following: “Good day! My name is Nememne Iesoh, a mali’ker of many trades and responsibilities -- seeking an enthusiastic and hard working apprentice to aid me in my day-to-day happenings across the realm! You see, with the many jobs and responsibilities I am tasked with I often find it incredibly difficult to complete little tasks and errands upon the side; urging me even further to require assistance along the way! My work consists of: The Co-Heading of a Library, Bartending in Vienne, Cooking for many a-people and other little things. What do I desire? A capable youth unafraid of hard and oft at times, grueling work of potentially late hours! Your responsibility will be completing tasks given by myself and learning of my schedule. What will you gain in return? What I can offer is a roof over your head, food in your stomach and clothes upon your back. I shall also be mentoring you in a wide variety of academics and stylising lessons suited to your preferred learning method. Potential minae payment can be considered after a review of your first week of work! If you are interested, please send me a bird and we can arrange an interview for the role! I look forward to hearing from you! -Nememne Iesoh.”
  4. That Rochefortine bellowed amongst her slumber, swearing she heard the drunken curses of her late Aunt.
  5. ONE GOD. ONE EMPEROR. ONE EMPRESS. As penned by Lady Helena Charlotte Rochefort, 14th of Owyn’s Flame, 1868. The years amidst that Rochefortine’s life had been ever changing, lonesome and cruel - bound from one land unto the next. She recalled memories fond of the symphonies orchestrated in reverence of her Imperial home. The woman recalled the holy march against heathens that threatened the very foundations of GOD’s rightful throne. They remained vivid, lessons and teachings that had aged the Rochefortine into the fine wine her father adored. Though there was one memory, one recollection that beat louder than every drum amongst her mind, that never left her as her own mind grew weary. A promise. An oath. Uttered to the very father that challenged the system, the radical Lord Robert Foltest of Helvets - a man who stood only for what he wished to see. Rather than lay idle in a time that did not befit him. Her promise to him: to loft their once revered house back upon the mantle it once claimed. It had been thirty years since that challenge and still, with a steel clad chest, she persevered. Even as she grew worn, her stature that of a lame mare, she plodded. That very promise was to uphold her father’s intent - to kneel to the change he sought to see. To an Empire that would allow the House of Rochefort to blossom. While the House of Rochefort had heard of the Urguani-Orenian war fought great valor beneath Emperor Philip III, with the war being ended; the time of glory had just begun. Peace was formed - but nonetheless broken. But this peace that had been broken did not harm the House of Rochefort, instead it strengthened their utter loyalty to the Holy Orenian Empire; and to the rightful Emperor Peter Augustus IV. He who is to succeed his mighty predecessors and to lead Our Holy Empire forward into the future. The time had arrived, where steel would be brandished and as the House of Rochefort had always done - to risk for the future they demanded. A future where ONE EMPIRE, ONE HUMANITY - could flourish. It is within this recollection, the Lady of Rochefort would kneel before the rightful Emperor, Peter Augustus IV and march against the pretender.
  6. THE ASTER SIGHTINGS As recorded by various witness testimonies, 6th of Horen’s Calling 1867. ‘It was surreal, a name I recall buried - returned to the earth. They roamed the halls, jaw agape and swayed in motion. The simple sight made my stomach churn, but… it was the early hours of the morning, perhaps I was simply sleep walking..’ - The words of a disturbed maiden of the courts. Amongst the prospering eighteen years of our reigning monarchs and the development of numerous historical events taking place in our very halls of Aster - a rather unsettling air has settled. There has been no rest between the ghastly sightings both amongst the prime of the day and the silence of the night. At first, physicians decreed these expansive sightings as a bout of mental lapses amongst the courts though these diagnostics could only account for so many before the number of reports began to grow out of hand. Causing those of medicinal nature, left without an explanation and scratching their heads. In quick succession upon the dismissing of these cases by medical professionals, the reports were taken and composed into a collection of tellings. Delivered amongst the courts in that very same hurry. THE LIBRARIAN Recorded as one of the more docile phantoms, the ‘Hushed Man’, or more commonly named amongst the palace as ‘The Librarian’ has been sighted rather frequently. Though the time of his appearance fluctuates amongst the tellings of each story, what is a common trend is his distaste for rambunctious presences and bouts of noise amidst the palace library. Various accounts record that once the noise rises above the usual hushed acceptance of the space, shelves begin to quake and books often collapse from their shelves - such being the beginning of this ghastly activity. If the noise from here does not lower, accounts speak of the air feeling much heavier, almost chilling and the brief whisper of a hush echoes amongst the room. This spirit is said to be the most introverted of the number of accounts and only stirs if provoked or the arrangement of that tidy library is tampered with. The appearance of The Librarian seems to be the same amongst the recordings, an elderly man roughly in his late seventies, donning an unkept beard that rests just above the belly button. His attire does not seem to host the disposition of wealth, but rather a coarse and worn robe held up by a twine belt. It has not been recorded that this spirit makes physical contact with the living and the sighting of the man is rather rare. - A documentation of The Librarian’s sighting - SIR OTIS Sir Otis, or ‘The Watcher’, has been recorded as one of the most malicious spirits and only presenting himself as the apparition of a floating head. Sightings have reported this phantom appearing from a certain painting amongst the Aster court - no matter where a person stands amongst the room the eyes would follow. These same accounts tell that if a person looks upon Sir Otis’ painting for too long, the painted image begins to warp and contort until this decapitated head bursts from the art’s confines and shrills in an eerie, near ear bursting shrill. It is not known what causes the upset of the phantom, a man once devoted to the imperial crown, but what is known is that the activity of Sir Otis only sparks once the clocks have chimed upon three o’clock in the morning. The tales tell the appearance of this spirit as long since aged, sunken eyes and a hung jaw - often sparked into anger when one invades the personal space of his painting within the early hours. - A documentation of Sir Otis’ sighting - THE WEEPING MOTHER Another report retells of a phantom maiden, hosting a swollen belly and often sighted around the fountain of the Aster gardens. It is recorded that this unnamed maiden usually appears to lonesome men and during the gardens being empty. If a man was to linger around the vicinity of the fountain they would hear a faint whaling echo - a heart wrenching sound. Upon closer inspection, the fountain’s surface would begin to ripple as if tears met the water’s depths and some even record the fountain beginning to overflow. This spirit has been spoken to be another malicious entity, that targets male presences that linger near the fountain. There has been no specific telling of the time this phantom appears, only presenting herself to men. Some accounts even state that this maiden accuses them of fathering her unborn child, yet the woman’s grievances or how she came to pass remains ever unknown - most not lingering long enough to discover. Most stories regarding The Weeping Mother states the spirit being a dripping opaque figure - long tresses drenched and clung to her brow. Yet the most prominent detail amongst all recollections stands as her unidentifiable features - her face remaining a blurred and featureless surface. - A documentation of The Weeping Mother’s sighting - SISTER EVELYN A rather terrifying sighting reports a decaying nun that frequents the walls of the Aster chapel, though amongst the stories there does not seem to be any ill-intent granted by the spirit - the rather unnerving appearance of this phantom remains ever horrific. Bestowed with the name of ‘Sister Evelyn’ by numerous reporting accounts, the spirit seems to be one of the rarest sightings of the mass collection. It is said that this ‘Sister Evelyn’ appears in the early morning after the conclusion of morning prayers - when those of low mood or desperate aid of the Lord’s guidance spend a few extra moments praying. If this spirit decrees an individual in need of faithful guidance then she will often appear in a flurry of distant, choral singing. Those will know of the quick approaching presence of ‘Sister Evelyn’ when candles begin to flicker and a vague mist begins to coat the ground. There has been no tellings of malicious intent from the creature, rather it is said that she offers religious advice in a non-verbal form. Instead she eerily stares upon the beckoner with empty, skull-like hues and resorts to both body language and the forming of images amidst the mist that composes her form. - A documentation of Sister Evelyn’s sighting - THE STALKING SOLDIER Possibly one of the most approachable spirits that has been recorded, the nameless soldier is most often reported to be standing at attention before the base of the dias within the throne room and donning the plates of the Imperial State Army. Through the recording, numerous accounts have stated that this ghastly presence would appear hours before scheduled court happenings and usually inquires if the individual requires any protective services or chaperoning. Individuals have also stated the attempt at further conversing with this protector though there seems to be a lack of want or willingness to convene further than the offering of his services. Those whom have come to interact with this odd fellow recall a gentle air of comfort and safety upon his appearance. The sign of his approaching appearance is known when the thunderous, metallic, sound of marching echoes through the throne room. Upon these tales, some have stated of their attempts to rouse the spirit’s presence day-to-day although all attempts falling upon deaf ears and leaving his appearance to the mentioned scheduling of court. - A documentation of The Stalking Soldier’s sighting -
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