helldiving

Acharon quirks a brow, the Mali'thill prepares his attendance and garb; whether it be attuned with the Sun or attenuated, veiled by the Moon.

A neophyte, juvenile titanborne began to mutter words in an unorthodox yet guttural amalgam, a rare assortment of speech. Flashing thoughts of the encounter clouded his visage, forcing ashen wails of smoke to emerge from his nostrils. A balled fist sealed the memoir; he seeked change - he wished for the new Scorched Herald's quick recuperation, his recovery from unconquerable odds after acts of valiant grandeur.

this a cruel world we live in

yub

the imposter from among us left us a message he said say sus backwards (sus)

ooc: yo no cap where can i get one of those they look rather scrumptious my friend

"Reivers" stated an old renatian cavalier of renown.

A PROPHECY OF WAR From the Inquisitor Eternal As the Inquisitor Eternal sat in the confines of his cave, he stared out into a slit of wood; the pyres burgeon flames swayed back and forth. In his journey away from his brothers and sisters, he felt remorse. He felt remorse for being away from his kin and unable to stop the conflicts arising in the continent. He felt remorse for staying his hand against a Xannic Hunt and not indulging in prayers with his brothers and sisters. “O’Father Titan watching over me. You shine bright in the skies.” Eluitholnear muttered, his serpentine-orbs shifting into the night sky. “I miss my brothers and my sisters.” He spoke with despondency. “Antonius, Tytos, Haskir, Alric, Avaeramos, Krendogron, Gamling, Elathion, Midnetora, Keledan, Sand. I pray for your protection.” Oliver murmured slowly, a small tear dropping from his left eye into the flames nearest to him. A mighty roar echoed from the cavern's entrance in the form of gelid air; a streak of light flew by, and so came burning images engraved into the embers. They were fuelled by his tears of love. Staring intently, the drakaar held within the confines of his blade mocked. “You fool. Trust not the words of your Father. Trust in me.” It was hidden news that the influence of the sword had corrupted the dragonkin; the Inquisitor no longer sane. He scrambled to find his quil and began to write incoherently, mumbling crazed words instilled with power. A gout of smoke shifted out of his nostril, swirling around to mirror the images from the flames themself. Upon finishing the letter, he sent out copies - each written in repeat - to his brothers and sisters. An incensed, deranged process that lasted three suns and three moons of nonstop writing. First will come darkness; life will turn away. Second will come Prince; life will return. Third will come the dragon; death will come. O’Father, to hammer unto death. Prince will come, one to rule the dragons. Child to the Titan King; the Prince will rule. He will lead charge against the darkness. He will fall corrupt to darkness. Corruption shall take him, corruption shall take him. Prince will come, one to kill the dragons. Child to the Titan King no more; the Prince will rule. He will lead charge against our flames. He is corrupt to darkness. Mists of green, mists of blue. Darkness has arrived. Clad in steel, the dragons shall face. Look to the Sand, look to the Kharajyr. Look to the horns, look to the Horen. The Horen is Prince, bare child no more. The Horen is corrupt. What is left? War. The Inquisitor Eternal, Oliver Helane TO ANTONIUS; @Milenkhov Upon my return, I have forged a blade so beautiful it will shine as bright as your heart, Horen. TO TYTOS; @Valaryon Upon my return, I have forged a longsword so courageous it will instill you with strength, Horen. TO HASKIR; @Ryloth Upon my return, I have forged a spear so long it will reach the Titan above, Kharajyr. TO KRENDOGRON; @Spoons Upon my return, you will need nothing forged for you have richness that the Titan admires, Dragon. [OOC: This prophecy is only accessible to the Azdrazi and Heralds]

Thanks, this is very nice!

When did you realize the impostor was sus?

A scion of renatian-descent gathered an entourage, conversations began then - the hushed murmurs turned into loud chanting - memories enraptured the grouping after hearing of the calling from allies of yore.

Thanks for being a great friend and an ear to hear my many rants, I'm hoping you still stick around in some way and whenever you wish to talk remember alot of us are always down to revive old tales or even chit-chat whenever, hoping for the best wherever you go. Take care!

The Hounds of Don endorse this missive.

Antonius wonders what he's marrying into.

A renowned swordsman flinched in pain as he was treated by the elven-kin in unison, remembering the masterful aim of Korgahk’Gorkil as he was struck by the projectile that propelled from his bow. And thus the man's vision grew dark, he did not recall much of what transpired afterwards.

A duelist survived some clashing - his garb drenched in blood as he was defeated by the grouping of Ferrymen, waking only at the behest of helping hands, he began to recover from his wounds. This was certainly a reckoning.

A defeated figure begins to heal, pained by the amount of wounds he sustained, blood spurting from his side as he was healed by the efforts of the elven-kin. He grimaced in pain, frowning as he thought what he could've done better. "That was certainly, surprising I must be more careful."

"Remarkable, simply put." stated a figure as his visage shifts whilst reading the excerpt. Lips curl into a formidable grin as he concludes.

And so he donned the plate afforded by the Sillumir, and so he wrought havoc upon the fearsome combatants, and so he issued his response in the fray, void of words; a terror in the field for his foes - a hero amidst the united forces of the elven-kin. Thus, the duelist parted ways and was naught more.

reserved

tier list of pvpers & aspirations in the server and for yourself in life

The eye of Horen sees it all.

why do they all look like @kipps