Player Stories

MassiveCraft · Apr 17, 2017

Rules Player Stories is for community members to write stories about their characters. These stories should always be lore compliant, and have OOC responses. They should also be snap moments, thus not longer narratives or multiple thread spanning tales. They provide a momentary insight in the personality or lives of our roleplay characters, and as such, we allow OOC commenting and feedback on the stories. As these stories are however still personal and individual, we don't allow IC responses and self-injection into the events portrayed into the post.

CainsTedTalk · Apr 16, 2025

Isaveyl In the murky gloom, they stalked the land, Proud wardens bound by solemn hand, In the fields in the hills they toil without lay, But no light would give in the fog for her, they say. Shades of blue and white flora dot the walls of the hall, Brick of stone concealed the soul which did bawl, Dim aura of Eidolon shine the path to the tower, Where alone she was caught in her pain which devour. She brushed her azure curls with fist unclenched, While staring to the mists below with pain entrenched, The steed of her pride moved across her soul with haste, But it did little, the fury had long layed waste. The room had a single blue candle twas lit in retreat, It displaced the fog of gray, but was no hearth giving heat...

Cloud_Infinite · Mar 26, 2025

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔. 𝑨𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒉 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍. 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕-𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇-𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒋𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉. 𝑯𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑯𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔. 𝑨𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏'𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕...

Cloud_Infinite · Mar 26, 2025

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔. 𝑨𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒉 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍. 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕-𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇-𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒋𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉. 𝑯𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑯𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔. 𝑨𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏'𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕...

Apictos · Mar 13, 2025

The young scholar, draped in weathered robes, loose papers beneath his arm as he ascended the towering staircase of the Glory Hall, his sunken, sickly eyes and hollowed features betraying a weariness carved deep into his being. He kept his head low, a ghost among the living, slipping unnoticed into the sweltering boiler room where steam clung to the air like breath on cold glass. Climbing into the rafters, he wove through the building's forgotten veins until he reached an iron trapdoor, its surface scarred with time. With steady hands, he entered the code—metal groaned, locks unlatched, and the world opened to something that seemed to take the pressure off his shoulders, something his own. As soon as he entered and the trapdoor locked...

Rasana_ · Mar 10, 2025

AWAKE. The dawn's warm light shines through the window as a choir sings. In that early light, a Viridian Knight stirs awake. The light feels like it shall burn through their eyes and down into their soul, though regardless, the Knight stands trying to ignore the gentle pressure in the back of their mind. EVERYTHING SINGS. The Knight raises their hand toward their head, rubbing their temples, before they begin their monotonous dance of a morning routine. Donning a doublet and some other simple clothes, this Viridian moves toward a small desk, where an ornate silver ring lies upon a pile of different colored headbands. They quickly put on Otto's Ring as the prayers inscribed upon it seemed to glimmer in the morning light, though...

lovegoldie · Feb 14, 2025

The carriage jolted violently as it trundled along the uneven, snow-covered, muddied roads of Tirgunn. Even on the most well-kept passageways of the province, the cobblestones had long since worn thin. Thick ruts inlay in the barren path, the displaced earth marking the trail of a previous vessel. The carriage barreled through the narrow paths woven between towering pines, its wheels kicking up sprays of damp muddled earth and snow. Within the transport, two figures sat in quietude. A silver-haired, long-retired, Lothar-Knight across from an older gentleman in steward's attire. The Dame's ornate clothes were a woeful contrast to that of the man's. Not only did her attire hold a certain regality, but was marked by a striking deep blue...

Ashurism · Feb 13, 2025

A summons from the Llynburh Chapterhouse had arrived to the Abanweard estate some time ago with urgency, bearing news that a town near Blackiron City had been burnt and ravaged. While many survivors having fled to the city for refuge, a handful of guards and elders remained behind to hold what was left of their home. They didn't speak of raiders or bandits but of a monster wreathed in molten fire, moving with unnatural speed and precision. The devastation was not random as the Investigation team concluded—it bore a magical link like something designed would have. The investigators had traced its origins to a fort in the outskirts, but now repurposed by magic to hide a laboratory sealed with incantations. He had departed at dawn...

FlossyBerryRene · Jan 31, 2025

Moonacre Valley Blood and Fury Origins Written and Illustrated by Lorraine Hatheway Blurb -before the events of Moonacre Valley we discover the origins and secrets of Ser Lauret and his journey through Knighthood. Summary - This book entails a slice of life, coming to an age tale that tackles themes of hardship, commodity, high society scandal and bravery. We glimpse into the origins of Lauret, the royal family and Evil Prince. Introductionarys to your favourite characters such as the Fae General , alongside new Characters. OCC NOTE All characters in this book are inspired by played characters throughout various sections of the server. The book is a dramatized event and perspective from Lorraine Cadieux formally du Poncaire. IC...

_TheTheocrat_ · Jan 25, 2025

Nicolas Delort Ozymandias A boy runs down a dark alleyway, scared. Steps are heard coming from the main street, knights in their shiny armor run in and out of the burning art store with people and paintings on their hands, depositing them away from the fire while others patrol around in search of something. On times like this, Débora would have already send him instructions, but nothing had arrived since the fire started. The boy began to climb up the alley's walls, reaching the rooftops and running towards the waterfall as planned. The waning crescent moon completely outshined by the city's fire made it hard to follow the path, but the kid had experienced darker nights. Some knights began to chase him from below, trying...

Apictos · Jan 9, 2025

"Sometimes I ask myself, what have I become? Lately, I've been pleading with the Gods to make me stop, but they never do." One breath, find your opening. Two breaths, become an animal. Three breaths, hold on, no matter what. Four breaths, let the Gods judge him. In four breaths, a man's life was taken. Why kill a man who meant so much to you? For that, we need to go back to the beginning. Beyond the scorched dunes of Shaqq-Turnaal within the Mayasa Empire, years ago, there stood the infamous fortress of Altaqq. Regalian convoys scattered throughout the wastes as they marched upon the defensive outpost, and there, amongst the fiery blaze of war stood two unlikely friends. Pierre, an Ithanian-Regal boy from Basta, and Colin...

Mollymock · Dec 31, 2024

Amongst the many tales and tribulations told amongst House ad Medwyn, few are so often recounted and revered as the story of their origin. Whilst the passage of time has lead to many iterations and interpretations of this tale, below is an example of a more recent retelling passed from the family's heads to the children who will one day inherit this legacy. Within the mist-covered landscapes of old Kintyr where jagged peaks stretched high as ancient sentinels and dense forests crawled low in their impenetrable greenery did our tale begin. Chaos and fear spread rampant, when the village of the great founder Corentin teetered on the edge of desolation. A shadow loomed thick, shrouding the local peoples in a veil of terror and despair...

babaMP3 · Jan 13, 2021

Hello <3 what follows are a series of stories written as either diary entries, vignettes or whatever other quirky medium I think suits the telling of these tales. These stories will be dramatized chronicles remembering Celine Anahera in the times leading up to her murder in 302 AC. These stories are obviously not canon but are inspired by those memories of geeking about early noble roleplay with dear friends years ago. Consider this a muse project--I hope to return and add more soon. Anyways, enjoy! Or don't. A Son Forgotten, A Son Who Remembers - Another viewpoint from Brother Against Brother "I'm-a drink away from's drunk, lil' Don–y'can pour me anotha' cup and meet me on this-'ere bed. An' y'should 'urry too before it takes...

Kadius · Dec 23, 2024

Oh how dreadful. In the empty darkness of the killer's mind stand two figures, one a great beast, fashioned with sabered fangs and standing at great height. He sat upon a throne of discarded corpses, all of their faces shown in twisted horror and covered in gore. The beast fashioned this desecrated this display into some sort of throne, whereupon he sat, enraged, visions of various, still living souls flashing in front of him as he was forced to watch. The other, a doddering, malnourished, old man, long fingernails clattering with the bones that he used as some sort of toy, mumbling to himself incoherently, barking out a laugh every so often. His hair overgrown, his beard unkempt, the man was also covered in fatal injuries, though in...

Abbadoni · Nov 30, 2024

Power breeds resentment in the hearts of those who become its prey. When his hour had come, he felt every stab and each thrust. His dark and corrupting lifeblood spilled onto the cold floor and seeped into the cracks. All that remained of him then, was an urn shrouded in shadow. There the remains of the Dread Lord laid. His assassinators had scraped his essence into this unsuspecting urn, sealing it as though such a vessel could bind what had been unleashed, to bury the enemy forever. But ashes were not so easily silenced, for the body could be slain, but the spirit may yet survive. The air around the abandoned urn grew thick and the faintest of whispers rose from within, a sound that could have easily been mistaken for the mundanity...

TheWizarddd · Sep 22, 2024

Credit ——————————————————————————————— The script was lying there, on the table. Multiple layers of ink, multiple neatly placed papers, held by nothing but a tiny staple. It lay neatly next to it, along with a tiny pot of ink, the expensive kind. Long were the nights when he stood in his chair, writing away. If his quill could speak by the third week, it would've begged for mercy. Draft, After draft, After draft, After draft, After draft... and the sleepless nights that came. Waking up with a jolt of inspiration at 3 am is not for the faint of heart. That he knew. And there it was, on the table. Still, quiet, undisturbed. Yet created by...

vulnyacura · Sep 20, 2024

( This is old and in need of updating, written before the Sarnan update.) "The Crown Isle?" The hoarse, grizzled voice of a mentor reverberated against the walls of a dark corridor. He called out to a young man standing feet ahead, his hands locked meekly beneath his jaw, the Lord von Rolanthe offered only a hesitant nod. "That is where the nobility go, that is where the most work can be done." The young lord called back. "You are a man of this province," The mentor pointed to the black marble flooring, his voice lowered to nearly a whisper, gradually rising with every passing word. "-your 'work' belongs here. The work is here, you– all of you are here, Rolanthe!" The mentor's name was Krier. It was an easy name, one that favored...

Greenie · Sep 15, 2024

The sun had begun to slowly sink behind the far off Hadrian Mountains as Volkner von Karlisle’s carriage arrived back in Brückenburg, the capital of Hinterberg. The streets were beginning to quiet with shops closing, cafes bringing in their outdoor furniture, and the taverns along the Rroine slowly filled. The mundane city was peaceful, but the Count’s mind was filled by anything but. Word had come recently to the Lothar Knight of the attack on a Grauwald Safehouse, and he was eager for retaliation. As his entourage closed in on the Lowengrube Citadel, Volkner peered out the carriage windows back towards Hadrian’s chain, watching the last of the day’s rays slip away. He had called for a council to convene to discuss the Arken attacks...

Alsie · Sep 9, 2024

A fanfare of ringing bells and chattering voices sounded as ships departed from the Amontaar dock. Vivienne watched the crowded passenger boats from the bridge above. The winds from that high up toyed with her, whipping her hair in random directions and shifting her unsteady footing. The hurricane that plagued the city may have passed, but it took the summer with it. In place of comforting warmth and dappled sunlight came overcast skies and nippy winds. As the ships sunk deeper into the horizon, silence returned to the dock. Vivienne let out a shallow sigh. Taking a boat would have been preferable to what she was about to do. But she feared she had already drawn more attention to herself than she wished for in Amontaar and boats were...

weatherbyrd · Sep 8, 2024

══════════════════ When I love, should they feel loved? When I weep, am I worthy of pity? Did it ever even matter? ══════════════════ The percussive snap of gunshots. The high pitched pang of bullets ricocheting off metallic plating. The terrified screaming of Lothar transmuted into horrible forms. Lumura had moments to comprehend what she had done – and even fewer to momentarily regret it – before she was whisked from her obliterated form by her benefactor. Lumura's vision faded to darkness as power faded from her Unimatrix, her awareness of the next hours – Or maybe days? She wasn't quite certain – becoming murky as emergency reserves were tapped into. However, it wasn't to last forever as she became aware of electrical...

MantaRey · Aug 27, 2024

I thought of you in a dream. Rather, my waking thoughts are like dreams-- A place to stay, to find a warmth Now long past. Unknown artist, Pinterest The fragments, the memories, are held together by a figuratively thin piece of string. At times, it's hard for them to grasp that these things playing in their mind are only from a year ago. They are all pictures in a story that has reached its end. It's beautiful when one puts it that way. Come to think of it, they hadn't necessarily deemed much in their life 'beautiful' the way a fond memory feels. The nostalgia of their childhood holds a warmth like this story does, although a candle couldn't be held to the former. Who romanticizes a mercenary's experiences, and why do they...

LightSeeker101 · Aug 23, 2024

Aoife finished packing the last of her suitcases, making sure everything was ready to go. The carriage outside her apartment rumbled to a slow standstill, echoed by the bright and hot day of the eerily quiet Reaglia streets. Since leaving for Amontaar, things have gone well for the everyday citizens of Reaglia. The Doctor checked her silver pocket watch, pleased by the time. "Good, we should make it to the boat on time." She said, closing it with a snap. She thought she should deliver another letter to a certain Lothar Order Knight, but she concluded he was busy, and didn't want to clutter his already overloaded mailbox. With that in mind, she pushed the suitcases on the carriage, and hopped on, rumbling down the streets to the Docks...

Winterless · Aug 8, 2024

“Back! Get back!” “Our orders were–” The unmistakable sound of a stumbling man in armor, and a shoving hand keeping him back. Metal melted against skin and flesh and bone, who could only withstand the bite of the beast’s breath a few moments longer. “Idiot boy. Look at them. Look at them!” “The Mages could–” “They’re melting, you fool. The same as the Captain. We will /not/ join them.” Any protest on the younger man’s part was cut short by the gust of wings, and the roar of bile. A far-away call on the wind for shields to be raised, as if a plank of wood would hold fast against the torrent that was to follow. The unmistakable sound of screaming men. For him, it was too late to scream...

War_pig · Jun 28, 2024

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The world was cast by a low, red sun; Guldar trapped in a mourning, crimson haze. For all the warnings that he should avoid it, and for all the begging by some that he not go, the Avantl was obstinate: he had to see Vestor. The dense jungle shrouded in miasma did little to lighten the mood of the grieving city-states that made up Massitaal, though thankfully for Ailred: Guldar has roads. Stepping along the road into the city of Exocatl, Ailred kept the soot-lined coat pulled close around him, ravenlike wings and black-iron scales disrupting the form of the Archon. His violet gaze turned upward, towards the tower of...

MantaRey · Jun 1, 2024

306 AC, during the reign of Cedromar Kade, after most of Anglia was swallowed by the Mist, on the cusp of the Dread War. The raucous cheering blasted across the arena stadium. Drums and horns signaled the end of one fight and thus, the ceremonious continuation of the battles ahead. Man versus man, or man versus beast? On this day it mattered not - the rich would have their spoils. The blood of willing and able-bodied men fighting in their stead, facing whatever comes their way. So many hearts were war-torn and bruised by the dramatic, terrible events unfolding across the land. Of course, they would put all their hope into the fighters. For they, if they failed, could be held to immediate blame. A solution that was much simpler than...

OkaDoka · Apr 4, 2024

Mentions, in Order: @Mooffins (Byron), @HoaxHoodwink (Citra), @Simslp (Lynmar), @Lizmun (Heishan), @JuliaFaye (Arianwen), @Birdsfoot_Violet (Ishïka), @War_pig (Ailred), @seoulmate (Amelina), @Lizehrd (Emrys), @BluKnight10 (Mosheng), @Stellarrix (Asim), @mochha (Lorelei), @MantaRey (Cordenia), @Mystiluu (Lyali), @Hierophant_ (Ellamae), @Scribbe (Lyonel) Some members of the Blue Crown Conclave and friends are going to Draackenrust, seat of the Central Matron, to look at the architecture for a day. Below are a series of PoV accounts from different points of the trip. Wyverns, PoV Byron Croy If anyone ten years ago had told Count Byron Croy that he would be sitting at this time astride a great gravity-defying lizard with the wingspan of...

Impreza555 · Feb 19, 2024

By Impreza555 Jason is a bit of a mystery. He appears as a shady, untrustworthy person because of what he wears. He wears a black, open jacket with a black hood and black pants. He also wears a red bandanna that covers his eyes. He is a 29-year-old Howl Marken currently stuck in his half-Marken form. His hood covers his wolf ears, his black gloves contain his claws, and he tucks his tail into his pant leg. the left one to be precise. He acts nice and open because it helps him to bury the hurt, and sorrow of his past. He came from the most unpopulated part of Norrland. He, his mother, and little sister Jane lived there by themselves. Both of Jason's parents were born as Howl Markens. Jason's father left shortly after Jane was born...

AlphaInsomnia · Feb 6, 2024

A loose page, frantic writing of an esoteric mind dwelling on nothing and everything, floats freely to be found and read by any: Of course, my compatriot, my enemy, we cannot talk about love without talking about its equal and opposite: pain. Where love can only find its existence described in music, so to does pain lack a verbal medium. Dare I say pain so violently opposes being described that it destroys it, even? For so many things we feel, we do so for a reason. Love for another, hunger for a craved meal, sadness for a loss of life, but pain is for nothing. One does not feel pain for any discernable reason other than pain itself. Pain, in such a pure form, does not give in to the trap of letting one contemplate it. Pain wipes...

SevenBirds · May 23, 2023

Within the pages of a plain leather-bound book was a legend written in a wispy, angular hand. The tale was first written in Gallwech, with a Common translation following. A note at the top of the entry read "Tale of the Night-Hunter - A Legend of the Talahm-Gall Highlands - Translated and Transcribed by Rionna Declan - May 22, 311" -x- In centuries long past, when the gods were young and people new to the world, before the approach of Nelfin ships, men and gods lived upon the same soil. Under their protection and guidance, men began to grow and thrive, but they were not yet ready to protect themselves from outside threats. One of these threats came in the form of Othluv, a powerful godly hunter who roamed the mountains with an...

Thutmose_ · Jan 18, 2024

PREROGATIVE SET: Decimate all those who oppose the Qadir To What End? NONE. What of my Master? DJAMILA MUKHTAIR HAS. . . ERROR- DJAMILA MUKHTAIR HAS SHOWN TO BE AN ENEMY OF MAJOR QADIR FIGURES. What then am I to do? TERMINATE DJAMILA MUKHTAIR The Automaton wandered into the home of its creator, the place where it was born, though unlike many times before, though unlike those times, its lights were red. A pure red, blood red, in its hand, it's Clocktech automaton, and an army of spider-like clockwork robots that stormed the house. The lights were killed. "M310XI07 would you care to run an analysis on the lights? It seems there's been a malfunction." No word came from the Automaton, though it now had its target, locked in...

isthatanEcho · Jan 2, 2024

The soft creak of well-worn floorboards echoed through the house, a gentle reminder of its age. Heavy footsteps made a rhythmic descent to the first floor, creating subtle thumps in the quiet space. The room was bathed in a subdued light, with most candles and lanterns snuffed out, leaving behind a dark room for the coming night. Ivenn shuffled forward, trying to not make too much noise with his footsteps, glancing towards the upper floors as the muffled mutters of his housemates rose just enough for him to catch a few words. He pursed his lips, trying to focus on what they might be saying, just enough for it to be a distraction. “Was that really all that was?” The Brakin let out a sigh. His inner voice seemed to be getting better at...

SorryNari · Dec 22, 2023

He lost count and wondered how many days have passed since that fateful night. Questions were always lingering within his mind, searching for answers, gnawing at Fenric's conscience while he marched through the frigid forests of Gloomrot. There were no directions followed as the man kicked up fresh snow along the way, nor were there places he called home anymore. Icy winds blew sharp into his squinted dry eyes, vision barely shielded by the tattered hood hanging over the top of his head. Every single step Fenric took felt heavier than the one before, but he couldn't stop here, not now. It was only a matter of time before the Lothar Knights caught up to him. He knew that was inevitable. But he wasn't going to make it any easier. The...

WaterDruppel · Nov 24, 2023

The entire dormitory was woken up at once by shouting, the lights jumping to life with a snap. Rhain raised his hand against the sudden brightness, and from the gaps between his fingers, he could spot the two knights in the doorway. Loud rumbling and more shouting bounced against the walls of the hallway they’d come from, and he quickly realised this wasn’t a drill. All the second year trainees, Rhain among them, were promptly rushed out of the sleeping quarters, into the halls, and headed for the first courtyard. Squads of knights in heavy armour thundered past, swords at the ready, enchantments of protection clinging to them like a fine mist. Penn Carchar was always brimming with magic, ancient wards ensuring what was locked away here...

CainsTedTalk · Nov 21, 2023

It was hot that year, especially this far south of the Archipelago. With the Pessimism in full swing, the idea of escape and relaxation was enticing. For some, the idea of a tropical getaway on an island was paradise. Freedom from the woes and stress of Regalia, Calemberg, or Havenreach, a lovely quiet beach somewhere, the open palm trees behind you with the gentle breeze swaying the flora back and forth, a pleasant thought that most nobility begged for. The storybook idea of a gallivanting knight charging an open field, sword bared out for the skagger horde in front of him in service of the Crown's destined rule of Aloria, slaughtering the barbarian and saving a Wirtemcaller Prince or Princess is a dream very few young boys don't...

Winterless · Nov 16, 2023

Unlife had its advantages, he was coming to admit. It was clear that the Revenant was not the only one who had stumbled upon the hollow of the demon that lay to the west of the city, the ground outside of the cave blackened and burned. A mortal man tracking the creature would have found defeat here, the trail colder than the wind blowing from the mountain to the west of the hollow. For all his protests against the words of Signe and Rhain and Kaija, they were right, and he was wrong. He was neither mortal nor man, anymore. The creature’s path revealed itself to him in figments of red, not unlike a path of blood that carved a deliberate path through the forest. The path continued in a careful stalk past the Magi-Vault, then a straight...

Goldifish · Nov 6, 2023

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I began to run. My dream started out in complete darkness, which was typical. I always started out running. It was always this long dark hallway, with bits of light peeking underneath doorways. As I passed them I could hear my father yelling- sometimes yelling at me to grab something, or telling me off for breaking something valuable, or even sometimes just yelling to yell. That's why I had to keep my footsteps quiet in these dreams, or else the door would open and I would wake up in a cold sweat. Sometimes I even had to relive my memory of that yelling. I had just rounded the corner of the hallway, my feet skidding across the floor. Even though I was acutely aware I was dreaming, I took a few...

CoolHumanTempast · Oct 31, 2023

(TL;DR : I'm bringing back my Teledden this week and instead of finishing her character sheet this week I wrote this NoBetaWeDieLikeMenI'llEditThisLater) ~~A Test Passed ~~ The crunching of Flora’s footsteps in the snow was all she could hear. She pulled her too-thin coat tighter around her body as she continued to trudge on through the moonlit dark. Her ears were bright red, covered in a thin layer of frost that she periodically tried to wipe away with shaking hands, she was practically part of the snowfall. Snowflakes having frozen into the creases of her clothing, the silent downpour insulated the forest and only helped to make the Teledden feel more alone. The quiet was perhaps worse than the cold. Her only break from the quiet...

Winterless · Oct 22, 2023

(TL;DR: Gwilym reconciles with his lack of care towards his superiors, learns Chem Bang, and struggles with his emotions. As usual.) “..I don’t want this mission, Seras.” the Wydd-Knight stated, almost as soon as the brief was given. The Fawr-Knights before him were quick to retort. The tree they stood beneath swayed, as if recoiling from the disciplinary blunder that Gwilym had just made. The disapproval of the third Fawr-Knight was clear in the grunt he gave, and the increased intensity with which he thumped the cracked granite wall beside him. The man hadn’t spoken a word since the briefing had begun, keeping to a dark corner in his azure robes and leaving it to his two partners. “This is not one of your countryside contracts...

YoitsKing · Sep 19, 2023

══════✿══════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══════✿══════ ══════✿══════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══════✿══════ ════════════✿══════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══════✿════════════ The grand hall of Vszaladesz’s Castle in Királytaran was adorned with magnificent tapestries and plenty of fragrant flowers, their vibrant hues reflecting the joy that filled the air. The breeze was perfect, as summer was ending and fall anew. Candles flickered in golden flames, casting a warm, inviting glow upon the gathered guests, their faces dawned with anticipation. The harmonious strains of a string ensemble floated through the chamber, weaving a tapestry of a mix of Gallovian and Szabadokian melodies. After the guest’s have moved to their seats, Count Sebastian would be accompanied down the aisle by none...

OkaDoka · Aug 29, 2023

[ There is a ferryman in Nordskag's west sea who mans a boat between Kongehjem and Straumfjord, a main port to Drowda. He tells stories until they pass an island, where he shivers and goes silent. It is the only place that he is afraid to speak of. A traveler drops a purse. He lifts his lyre; playing to the waves. ] "Past icy dreary Kongehjem, beneath the chill grey sky, Arnøya rolls with mist, small ferries drifting by. There men built nineteen hearths, nine score years ago, for the hillock's guarded harbor, its gentle lazy flow. In muddy sludge and winter sleet, in dross and iron rain, they took on oaths of enmity, to Rand's most cursèd name. Though hate begets fear, they should have feared more His great unholy fame, the ken and...

booette · Aug 28, 2023

“Oh, perfect. With aim like that, you might even be able to hit the broad-side of a barn, in a few years’ time.” Sera Landouen cackled, as she always did when spouting off at her squire’s expense. The boy released a stream of murmured unknightly obscenities, readjusting his aim. Every part of his body ached -- they’d been riding for days now, and some part of him suspected they’d never reach their location until he was comfortable shooting from every position. “This is stupid,” said Necalli, face growing red at her side. “No one’s going to respect me for being able to shoot apples from horseback.” “This is stupid, Sera Landouen,” she corrected with ease, almost absentmindedly. “And you’re not doing this for respect. You’re doing it...