As Lym Mirarel began to pass, his eyes showed before him pictures of the heavens.
He saw his life’s dreams pass before his eyes. Flying through the heavens, Lym approached the planet of Oxoron. He felt himself descend upon the surface of the planet, seeing what he always believed he had seen on the planet. Lakes of blue, and white puffy clouds, and an environment hospitable to life. As he walked around the planet, marveling at the unique and alien. He saw life comparable to the life on Aloria, but somehow twisted and different.
He soon approached a strange structure. Written on the walls of the inside were the extent of the history of the Meraic, written in their old tongue. He came upon the central computer of the structure, and...
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The interior of the usually-empty tavern opposite the stronghold was filled with faces of many origin today- not just Kreiguard. Bloodied and battled men and women chanted songs on typical genevaud nature, clanking classes and laughing jeers as the bards played a heart tune- one could perhaps even mistake their Kommandant- the one who had led this victory among them in their glee. The man was pressed in a booth with the officer cabinet- all too drunk to cohesively speak lest remember the words of each other the next day.
His own soberness troubled him greatly, scurrying out of the booth with small chuckles as his officer’s patted his back firm, offering to pay for his drink- he wasn’t after any of that- no. Instead he made his way...
“Mama, why do people hate me?”
The young Relveth sat in the corner of the hut, his mother sewing something in the chair next to him. Elyssiel looked up from the embroidery to focus on her son, an expression of pity on her face.
“Child, it’s alright,” she softly said, trying to sound reassuring, “people don’t hate you, they just… they don’t understand you, don’t know how special you are.” She watched as Relveth’s gaze fell to the floor, his arms clenched around his legs. Setting her work aside on a nearby table, Elyssiel crouched and sat down next to Relveth, a hand coursing through his hair.
“W-when I walk into the village, some of the kids call me ‘Kathar scum’ and ‘grey-skin’, tell me to go back to somewhere I’ve never been,”...
This is my entry for @Ryria's A Moment in Time contest
A Bar Between It All
Ambiance:
keep going keep moving keep
Joseph Marini blinked. The disorder of his surroundings had slowed in their momentum, present issues dimming in importance a second at a time. Time stretched. Screaming voices faded.
In front of him, nothing.
The first thing he had noticed was the sudden lack of pain. Wounds that had stung at the brush of his own clothes were nowhere to be found, his skin clean in its entirety. There was little to feel anywhere. No wind, no temperature, nothing. He hung in a space devoid of any sensation, his fingers unable to touch.
Ahead, a present darkness stretched into infinity. Each step took him a little further into...
♪♫♪
In the current days, most citizens of the holy city would meet their end through the disaster that would be named ‘The Clicker Crisis’. Horrid creatures from the gaping abyss that was no doubt connected to the Void poured out en masse, wreaking havoc in their wake and destroying many years of accomplishments produced by the proud Regalians. And whilst most died fighting for their city’s wellbeing and faced the creatures head-on, others were not granted such an honourable end to their lives.
One of such individuals was Valan Hallev. The once renowned cook had been reduced to nothing more than a sickly heap of frail bones and wrinkled skin. His thin legs had proven unable to support the man and had doomed him to spend his last days...
This is for the Moment in Time competition hosted by @Ryria!
__________________________
a __t h r e a d__ o f __l o v e__a n d__l i g h t
A t h o u s a n d years ago, the gods died in a country far,far away.
She wondered if it had been anything like this. Stone and wood digging painfully into her flesh, piled upon her too high and too great to even attempt to move from under it, her only option to grit her teeth and wait for what would come. Debris blurred the grey horizon, without even the promise of dawn to either bring her salvation or end the pain that pressed into her stomach and inched toward her heart.
She felt blood, hot against her skin, trickle down her leg, which ached and cried out for supplication, begged...
Reunion of the unexpected
Part 1
Memories of a life long past
308 AD 26 March
Late evening
The sun descends as the evening begins to set itself upon the lands of Ithania. A young woman in a navy gown makes her way up a flight of stairs into a brick house furnished neatly with items from varying origin, ranging from regions across the Archipelago. The woman, tired and panting, pushed open the door with her right hand, the other holding stacks of papers near her chest.
“<D’I> Coming home just to do papers again… A repetition I seem to not be able to escape from.”
She muttered out under her breath as she slumbs the stacks of papers onto the light oak wood table before turning on the oil lamp. Two fluffy felines of a...
ACT 1: A MOMENT IN TIME
SCENE 1: THE END?
LOCATION: HANGROAD SQUARE, HOLY CITY OF REGALIA. EVENING.
VHILOMIR KADE lies in anguish whilst pinned down by a Clicker’s tail tearing into his arm whilst TRISTAN KADE is beaten into the ground by a Clicker using HELENA KIND as a human mallet. They are surrounded by Clickers on all sides.
A record scratches.
Freeze frame.
VHILOMIR
"Indeed, that’s me. Inches from what feels like the end, and what do I do with my final moments? Perform a soliloquy whilst my Silven Uncle-In-Law is being beaten down by a Clicker using his bastard Silven daughter into the ground. All to save one Manathar. Fitting for a Kade with Dorrin-Lo blood, I guess. All the same, I’m sure you’re all wondering how it is I...
What was only ten seconds lasted too long, and all the same it passed by too hastily. All of the time in the world could not amount to this point,
The right man in the wrong place with unexpected allies to die with.
A military tactician and great leader, hiding under a roaring inferno using a tent he set ablaze and using it defensively in a nearly fatal move.
A matron of the draconic, normally with tranquility superseding outside pressure was unsure of their fate, limping and afraid of what was to come with each thud of her currently unusable leg.
A kinsman, his equally stoic appearance falling apart as members around them began to disappear to these invisible creatures.
What first began as a callout to find sanctuary for...
Authored for submission to the 'A Moment In Time' competition.
Before the wretched hew of Man
On the eve of His Salvation
A pregnant pause, a time to plan
His brief moment in Damnation
In his ruin, the earth made still
He found himself wandering light
Amongst friends and foes, the furious mill
Quarreling beneath Heaven’s Might
Amidst the destruction of Life
Man fumbled for resolution
Stood before the altar of strife
He had come to his conclusion:
“How sweet War is to Death’s evaders
Saccharine in its infernal lure
Triumphant, do cry those few victors
Forgotten, do lie the dead obscure
How terrible is the battle’s din
Heard over the wailing bell’s appeal
A mother’s cries laid out, forgotten
Buried deep beneath our misplaced...
Coldness seeped over the woman’s body, a dull pain in her throat. She tried to open her lips to speak, to question what happened to the Inquisition members around her, but… A gurgle came out, a sharp pain washed over her throat as she tried to speak. Hot, red ichor, dripped from her throat as she’d stare out for her opponent-- Though, she felt the exhaustion swing at her, a twisted tango at best as she danced with it.
Her opponent, however-- An Abyssal Kathar. Inky black eyes danced with red starlights met her rose-colored ones, as she felt the fear wash over her body, a sea of cold fear meeting the sand that was her body. His gray lips twisted into a wicked grin, a sinister one as she’d come to realize-- This wasn’t a dream, one of...
The bright rays of the sun blinded Gwelurin as she was pulled out onto the balcony. She had been tugged along like a dog on a chain, with little to no resistance on her part. She already accepted the world of pain coming her way. Her golden eyes fixated on the boiling pot of tar placed in the center of the “stage.” A phantom pain, the feeling of burning, crawled up her back. Soon it would be real. The guard behind her pushed Gwel to the stone floor and gave a harsh kick to her back to make sure she stayed down.
Rodrigo Peirgarten came from behind and started speaking to the audience below. She blocked it all out, not wanting to hear whatever insults he hurled her way. Whatever he was saying, the citizens below ate it up. They yelled...
This is for https://forums.massivecraft.com/threads/writing-competition-a-moment-in-time.82884/
@Ryria
"Time slips away like grains of sand never to return again." Robin Sharma
One second...
Two seconds...
Three seconds...
"Is she home yet?" a child's voice asked, stark and bold against the gentle pattering of the rain.
"Not yet bud. She'll be home soon." a somewhat deeper voice replied, though it still seemed to be childish. He ruffled the child's ginger curls and they both turned their gaze to the window, watching the rain slide down the glass.
Seventeen seconds...
Eighteen seconds...
Nineteen seconds...
The ginger child lay a hand against cool glass, letting his finger trace the raindrops...
She had to stay strong.
Fen’nan repeated this notion in her head over and over as she knelt upon stone, hard stone digging into thin knees, and felt the weight of the crowds stare bare down upon her. The iron shackles weighed coldly and heavily upon her wrists and it surprised her how familiar they felt. Her actions. Her doing. Her fight.
She had to stay strong, she thought, as she eyed the two guards retrieve the bucket, a bucket filled with hot tar, ready to assault and singe her. But she had been through worse. She had survived. She was a survivor. A damn fighter.
So she lifted her gaze to the crowd, blue-green gaze burning bright, fierce defiance clear on her features. She didn’t dare bring herself to glance at those who...
This is a Lore story for the A Moment In Time competition
The subject for this story is Agis Torsalor.
I will never take a wife.
I will never sire offspring.
I will never have a life.
He had not questioned it. He didn’t question it when he was given the mark.
He did not object. When that Lord told him what he had to do, he did not object.
He did not feel. He did not feel when he was handed the payment.
He did not stop. He did not stop when that boy ran.
He took the shot. Oh how he regretted taking that shot.
Agis sat on the ground, hands trembling, as he held onto the weak, convulsing body of his mark. This young boy, barely eight years old, had his life cut so short by Agis himself. This boy had done no wrong, committed no crime...
⠀⠀As theater curtains drawing shut on the echoing screams of a tragedy, the clouds rushed with a sense of urgency towards the horizon, blanketing the city in an unsettling gloom. With their hurried crawl, they stained the sky a deep red, a macabre sight if only deemed as much through mere superstition. In combination with the ever-nearing darkness, the palpable feeling of danger was starkly apparent in the ominous tolling of the city bells, marking another hour gone by. The sound reverberated through the clouds themselves, shaking every building to the stones of its foundation. With each CLANG the city grew colder, darker, until only the thick haze of dread remained, draped with open arms over the living hell that erupted after all...
The beat of hooves echoed throughout the forest for the first time in many years. The path they rode had last been ridden down by the young man's father, three years ago. Just behind the diminutive rider sat a young woman, who could not help but reach out for the Ranseur strapped to the side of their steed. No others rode with the two, but as the gentle lapping lake peaked out from the treeline, their steed came a sudden stop. In seconds, the young woman was off the steed and tying it up to a tree, as the rider struggled to steadily get off the horse.
The sounds of the forest surrounded the two as they dismounted. Croweagles screeched from overhead, while crickets and small mammals buzzed and chittered from somewhere in the distance...
The coins slide across the table, clinking gently against the table as Tatiana mechanically sorts through them. She lets one roll between her fingers, testing the weight and feel of it—after years of this work, it is second nature to tell if a coin is good or not. Finding it clear, she lets it clatter onto the table, drawing out a thin sheet of paper. Deftly, she stacks a long row of coins, encasing them in the crackling paper, and draws the ribbon around it.
The baker’s daughter had come by earlier. With a flourish of her scarf, red and white checkered, she had revealed a mound of doughy cod pies, still steaming in their golden crusts as the other counters crowded around her, eager for a hot bite to eat. The girl had left, her...
I will not make
The same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery
Amber eyes staring into emerald green ones. Scanning his soul and shredding it apart with with rich glare that tugged at his heart every time he saw them.
I will not break
The way you did, you fell so hard
I've learned the hard way
To never let it get that far
Warm brown eyes staring into dull green ones. Melting the barriers that bad been built in his mind and mending his heart every time he saw them.
Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Soft smooth hands wrapped around rough, calloused hands. Gripping his wrists and tugging him into hugs, making...
^Quick trigger warning^
There are a several mentions about scars/self harm and death, so if you are uncomfortable with that I'd advise either against Reading or read with caution
You're not the only one who's feeling broken
You're not the only one who feels alone
A man lay curled up against the arm of a sofa, a blanket tucked around his shoulders, small snores escaping his mouth. Ginger curls were loosely tied with a ribbon, matted and dirty.
You're not the only one who's feeling hopeless
You're not the only one without a home
A little further down the sofa from him sat a brown haired woman, her own locks chopped short around her ears, looking somewhat boyish with their style. She had one arm laying across the back of the...
Note: this is an IC journal. It’s only posted here for your OOC reading pleasure and anything in it should not be common knowledge, being kept in the privacy and confines of Morgan's home!
The pages seemed home-made in the dexai traditions of bookmaking. A certain estalar had made sure to give its covers an unique touch, even though she did not know what their intended use would come to be.
Chapter I, 18th March 308 AC
A reflection on matters most unparalleled
Today, I begin anew with reminiscence - it has been more than two years since I have last sat down to write, my previous entries lost to my own lack of caution. Admittedly, everything lost requires another book of its own, but today is not the day for rebuilding of the...
(-) The light she once had in her eyes was gone - the memories, drifting away as well. All was lost in this moment.
(-) Rain fell from the sky that day in that very moment, the fields of flowers soaking up the water, her armor rusting up from the water. Her hair soaking wet and her face, slick and moist from the water and air. She had been resting in that field of flowers for far too long with no one around her, not even her own companions. She was alone in the wet field, resting and at peace. With death nearly taking over her, Vivienne drifted off in death, but not for long.
(-) When her eyes opened after a few minutes of silent peace, they were Violet and filled with no remorse. Death had given her a chance. A chance to live? She'd...
Music
((OOC note: This is a two part series since I couldn't combine two different stories. Feel free to respond ICly or OOCly if you see it fit. As I always say: If you feel that the weight of this is too much to handle, please leave. For those who think they can brave through, please continue as you have been warned.))
“They say when you lose a soulmate, you die internally. If that’s the case, then I’m just a dead man walking.”
The Return: Part 1
The rain would gently tap against the roof and windows of Connak's house on this dark and stormy night. Dwelling in the darkness alone, Connak would lay shirtless on his bed awake as ever with numerous thoughts racing through his mind. Some were questions while the rest were fragmented...
“You were born a leader, no crown or throne needed.”
“Do you think they’ll say yes?”
“I’m sure they will. This is what they’re good at, Vala.”
“I’m still a bit unsure. You know them better than I do after all. Within reason I suppose.”
A peculiar pair was crossing through the courtyard just outside the Grand Cathedral just as the sun was rising into its eight in the morning spot in the cloudless spring sky. Stepping up to the door of the house tucked into the corner just beside the stone steps of the Cathedral and making up the pair was the white-haired, white-skinned with deep red facial tattoos and golden eyes of Valarosta with a red-haired elf known as Ilipharan. The pair glanced at each other, seeming to expect the other to...
Hurried footsteps could be heard coming from the corridor that morning, as maids rushed to and from the far chamber with buckets of water and cloths under their arms. On either side of the entryway, two middle-aged guardsmen looked at each other, though unlike the countless days before, their faces showed signs of celebration and mirth rather than stoic resolve. As servants rushed out the doors and back, the two of them gave confirming not to the other. Both of them remembered the first time such events transpired, and they were only too happy to be apart of the latest moment in history.
The two men were about to begin a slight bout of guard banter, before the sound of several footsteps came down the Royal Oak floorboards. Immediately...
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A Story of Essalonia
It had been a long day for the boys working in the field. Vati had need of extra hands, for the harvest season had made the field heavy with fat heads of fletcher's wheat, so while the men flailed at the wheat stalks, the boys sifted the kernels from the piles of grain that accumulated on the threshing floor. The town had completed its work insomuch that each farmhand was rewarded a bagful of grain, ready to be ground at the gristmill the...
♪ Theme ♪
»»———————————- ———————————-««
Normally one going through the woods would find themselves in an environment of peace. One that one could enjoy with the soft rustle of leaves, birds chirping and the crunch of leaves under your feet. At least that’s what he thought- as he went through his daily walk through the woods. One that he helped keep safe for a couple of years now, and he was proud of that. Today, however, the wood was not giving him the peace he was hoping for. In fact, it was rather annoying him as all he heard through the normally still woods was - very loud and obnoxious sobbing.
The Hunter already had to change his path a couple of times, trying to track down the seemingly endless crying. Female? Doesn’t sound very...
Tunes
Fathiyaa’s vision blurred, the pain overwhelming her nervous system, her legs failing her. The Songaski collapsed backward, her armored body hurling to the stone steps. The Cathedral, that was the last thing she saw before it all went silent. The clicking sounds from the monsters, the screams and shouting of everyone around her all faded to a sweet silence. And for a brief moment all she could see was the towering steeples and gargoyles looking down on the horror that had cracked open just a few meters from her. Blood rushed from her stomach, bright red spilling out quickly from the wound left by the claws of the creature. She lurched, Fathiyaa twisted onto her side bright red liquid coming from her mouth as she spit up. Her...
⚔
The cliffs of Vultaro were a beautiful thing. When the sun rose, its rays glinted off the natural mineral deposits and lit the cliff-side up in a spectacularly dazzling way. Marianna would often refer to this island as her origin, in spite of the fact that she was born in Regalia.
Relieved from her duty as a guardswoman and the stalling of her family's business, there wasn't any point in staying. The port city was particularly quiet that day and her eyes scanned over the streets. The Speziale was supposed to meet her father here, despite the rumors of some sort of 'White Order' terrorizing the island.
Regardless of whatever rumors she had heard, the young woman wasn't afraid. She was a proud, devout Unionist and...
“..It was shattered, Admiral Dipshit.”
“Was it?”
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No. No, you don’t. You’re dismissed.”
Abelhard waved away his counsel, watching as they stood opposite of the desk, and exited the room. Shortly afterwards, he’d reach out to grasp an oaken box from a drawer, peeling away a faded logo with trembling fingernails. Grasping a cigar between his index and thumb, he’d use his free hand to strike a match, rolling the bundle of tobacco as he ran it over the lit match. Quietly, he’d muse to himself “Well- Look how far i’ve come. How much would those bastards mock me, sitting in a fancy office, wearing uniforms, and socializing with those we hated the most? Tzzo would be rioting, pah.” He’d take a pull from...
Wind rocked the Hammock side to side as the Songaskian tossed and turned, muttering in his sleep. Dreaming of a time long passed.
Heavy chains, darkness, dirt in his hair. His eyes opened with the sound of gears
grinding, the heavy cage door ahead of himself opening. His chains went loose, and forwards he
stepped, into the moonlit pit. A a rowdy crowd of thieves, bandits, murderers, pirates and even commoners alike shouting and roaring for the coming fight.
"Survive" He told himself "Its the only thing we can do."
Again, gears began to grind as the second cage door opened, snarling and growling...
To Seamus Gowan of Dungarron
___Good health to you, friend, and blessings on you and your household. I hope that you will still permit me to call you friend, as one who would become my father, but given the circumstances, I understand that you may not. And though it will grieve me if you do not, it is not for friendship that I write to you now. It is for forgiveness. You will remember that summer when the young men went away to fight for our laird. Many did not return, including Daniel. I realise that over six years is far too long to not know his fate and that perhaps this will only open old wounds, but as his father, it is your right to know. What you choose to do afterward is your decision.
___It was at Deargmuir that we fought -...
Wedding by the Sea
With love in the air and the festival in full swing within both Regalia and Hostesse, it isn’t a surprise that decorations for a wedding were taking place just on the beach. It could have even been described as picturesque from how carefully put together everything was. The stairwell going down to the beach had been decorated with a white carpet to help keep the sand at bay for both the guests and the happy couple that was getting married. Following along the path of the carpet down the steps there would be several tall torches pushed into the ground decorated with a white ribbon. The trail led to the archway, the trail of the carpet ending where it stood along with rows of seating on both sides. However, most...
Optional Music
I was never up early enough for any of them. Papa was always gone first, and never without Stein: I’d never seen him leave the hut, unless he was dragging me along somewhere. Mama would gently wake me up when it was time, and at a certain point I stopped asking her whether Lorelei was gone or not. She would be up and gone before either of us. Drove Ma ragged, when she was young. Had to nearly tie her to the cot post with furs but she’d squirm her way out of them and be off before the sun hit. Too much energy, Ma would say. More than I ever had, Papa would always chime. Stein didn’t ever have anythin’ to say about Lori, unless Papa asked. Wasn’t a Bond-Man’s place. But she wouldn’t have listened to him, anyways. Papa...
Music
((OOC note: Feel free to respond ICly or OOCly if you see it fit. As I always say: If you feel that the weight of this is too much to handle, please leave. For those who think they can brave through, please continue as you have been warned.))
"Just when thing were getting better, everything comes crashing back down."
The Familiar Dispair
"I'm back Zaide. I brought you some nice flowers."
Is what Connak would say as he neared his husbands bed with a bouquet of colorful flowers. As the Sundial came around the corner, he saw the worst that he could not expect. His husbands body with the head on the ground beside the bed. Connak would drop the bouquet and fall to his knees.
"No..."
"I'm sorry for your loss sir."
A medic would say...
OOC: This Lore Story is a bit unorthodox compared to previous writing. It builds upon the Arc of History in where this contains events pertaining to Andreas Myrslin, Zaide Dalsian, and Calder Du Toyair. It also introduces a character thought to be dead, but as explained in the story, this is not the case. This story also contains heavy cursing.
~(+)~
"Everything you knew. Everything you can tell. Everyone you have ever loved. It will all burn."
Zaide had nearly wasted away due to tuberculosis, but there was something else that itched within the psychopath's mind. Something that connected pieces of events together like thread in a tapestry. It was not easy for him to deal with tuberculosis as the coughing fits and the feeling of his...
Her eyes fluttered open to the orange tinted sky above her, the stars obscured and the air itself heavy. A soldier loomed over her as she lay sprawled on the cold mud covered earth, the man’s lips moved yet no sound came. She stared up at him, her brows knitting in concentration as she did her best to make sense of what the man was trying to communicate. Eventually the man stopped speaking to her, instead going to hoist her up from the muck. Her armour weighed her down, the plate was caked and loosely packed full of the earthen mess. The soldier waved another over as Yvonne could finally make some sense of her surroundings. The sky was not painted by any glorious or joyous source, but rather by the burning of pitch, tar, trebuchet shots...
Night III
The Stairs into the Ground
tunes
He chuckled looking down to his dancing partner, Fathiyaa staring wide eyed up at him as he lead her about the mist covered beach.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
She’d not seen the blue eyed man in nearly three decades. She’d presumed him dead for all she knew yet he felt so real. The pair danced a few more paces before he aimed to pull her chin up in a kiss. She resisted, still wide eyed she yanked her face away attempting in vain to pull away. With a deep laugh he granted her wish, pushing her out in front of him with a whirl keeping a tight grip on her hand enough to jolt her to a stop and cause her hand to ache.
When she looked back, he was gone.
Staggering a step or two she whipped...