Sorcerio

*FTBs* *slips potion into drink* "You don't remember :3" Pretty sure there's already something called the Knockout Potion, but if that was removed then I'm not opposed

It's me.

Magnum opus? More like magnum DONG

This lore has been accepted, its contents moved to this below post:

As of April 28th, 2021, Gravens have been shelved as a playable race. If you believe this is a mistake, please contact ST management.

IGN: Sorcerio Discord: pundimonium#9142 Skin: Exemplar Bid: 240

IGN: Sorcerio Discord: pundimonium#9142 Skin: Exemplar Bid: 220

IGN: Sorcerio Discord: pundimonium#9142 Skin: Exemplar Bid: 180

TBH its a pretty small change you probably could just talk to Squak about fixing it.

Gee thanks for calling me out :( Will you ever impose forced hiatuses for ST and, if so, how can we avoid them?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFFrBZKoxEQ The winds howled and moaned, spewing icy brine unto the shores; with cloud ensnaring the heaven’s light, casting a blanket o’er the abyssal plane that lay below. Alone did that figure pace the stones of the shore, a silhouette of hollow man which glid along the moss ridden shoals. Naught else was heard save for the wind’s whistled tune, that waylaid spirit staring into the far horizon beyond. So tragic was the role to which he had been charged, set as alien from all once held noble and dear. No more than a perversion, a rotting blade warped by flame. Could not even Triton’s breath quench the roaring fire which gnawed his spirit so? The waters churned in murk and blackness, sneering with each rush of lapping waves - taunting the reprieve he could not merit. He scried how they flaunted their discriminate charities, and the rest they’d granted to so-many a’ sailor and men of sea-sprayed stock, but ne’er to him. “Would reprieve e’er be had? Can men come to yearn that which they cannot attain?” Such were the ponderings that chained his thoughts day and morrow, shackling him by a lock to which there was no key. He yearned for escape, a chance to flee this perpetual melancholy to which he was bound. But knowing the truth of all men's spirits, the role to which he had been consigned had been of his own hand. And so he was bound to it until the day the bells tolled. Choked by the darkened cloud and his own bitter tears, the lord wailed a great cry out to the depths, hoping and pleading that by any demon or God-given grace, his call might be answered. But none did. And there it was, in that moment of deafening silence, that he was made privy to one ineffable truth: There was no hope for dying men.

Finally

Sorry to hear the character died, though these are beautiful skins! IDK how I could take these for free though, but will definitely look into getting one soon!

Word of the state of Elvenesse is brought to Korhadtviz deep within his crypt, carried by a stumbling bundle of black cloth. He smiles, and then throws the messenger into the fire as it screams.

Finally

The eastern winds howled across the desolate shores, sweeping blackened sands into the abysmal horizon that lay beyond. Salt and brine sprayed from the sea, followed by the distinct smell of death and rotten water. A single, tragic soul stood upon the rigid banks, as the waters clashed against the stone in furious churn; a faithful mutt (@altiar1011) standing beside it as loyalty so bound it. The figure stretched their hands over the waters, as the whistling tune of the air carried forth the parchment, which the lord snatched swiftly within their shriveled hand. Followed by a wretched tone, the lord did now speak to the creature at its side: "What sways this former lord to relinquish this gift?" "Are his motives straying? His thoughts adrift?" "No matter! I dare not have this jewel be outbid." "Now, let us seek out this bygone lord of the dead." Then, having read the memento, the parchment began to rot in the lord's hand; black ash creeping along its surface, before it crumbled, with the dust flying into the bitter wind.

If you don't get CT admin Treshure I would cry. Awesome work though!