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Credit to TSRodriguez on DeviantArt
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Ser Harald wearing his original Rose Paladin Armor racing in pursuit of a Vampire invasion.
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Firsthand account written by Ser Harald von Drachenburg, Dragon Paladin of the Viridian Order
Drachenburg Press 25 Sebtember 307 AC
"And there we waited, in the cover of the forest line, just several metres West of the Zillerhof Valley. I sent my gaze into the Cantons, for this is where our scouts had determined where the crossing would occur. I lowered my vision, looking over my compatriots, the riders of...
The Inconvenience of Helplessness
&
Vanity in the Face of Misery
It came to him much the same as it had each night before; the staff burst and its shards embedded themselves in his arm, his shoulder, his torso. Needles of pure flame- the remnants of an object forged by a god- burying themselves in his flesh, infusing his skin and muscle and bone with pure Exist essence, bleaching the limb from fair to alabaster, fingertip to shoulder, in only a matter of moments. The sensation was a millisecond of agony unrivalled, and though the pain lasted for time near-imperceptible, it seared itself into his mind and memory like a cattle’s brand, an eternal, internal mark of failure and loss; an heirloom of his people lost in aid of those...
"When the moon rises overhead. . ."
Basked in its light, Gwaeranthe stood, with frozen songs dancing in the wind at her back. Ellador's serene nights shrouded the earth once again, tinted by darkness yet graced with moonbeams. She shifted in place, her fingers impatiently separating the end of her lengthy braided hair. As uneasy as she was, several strands fell from their interlaced connections, 'till the section before the hair tie became broader and looser than the rest of the locks contained.
"Go to our keep's hall. . ."
Her mother had done such diligent work in preparing her. Tresses braided, skin turned shimmery with snow's finest kiss, and a placed her daughter in a dress of mystic allure. A maiden in the harshest of lands, yet...
~MrHasagi
A cell in Greygate was not how he planned on spending the day, but that appeared to be the case for the half-blind brood known as Milo Shinseki. He was, however, not alone in the cell. Accompanying him was an Altalar woman with fiery red hair, standing one inch taller than Milo. The reason as to why they were here, at least in Milo and Fen's eyes, was because of the man known as Cedric of Turrent. However, things went further downhill as the two had conversed in Modern Altalar in attempt to keep to themselves, joking of making a new truth as Cedric had seemed to have done, which proved to be a failure as it turned out the guards actually were fluent in said language.
Milo had been pulled from the cell, then being taken to...
The song is Half The World Away by Oasis
Milo sat on the bed strumming his guitar, hair drooping down over his eyes like branches would a tree. His eyes were closed and his foot tapped along to the music on the wooden floorboards, much to the annoyance of anyone who was downstairs at that time.
"I would like to leave this city
This old town don't smell too pretty and
I can feel the warning signs running around my mind."
His voice had a slight husk and soreness to it, caused by the lack of sleep. He'd taken to sitting in his window frame at night instead of sleeping. It kept away the nightmares if he didn't sleep.
"And when I leave this island
I'll book myself into a soul asylum
'Cause I can feel the warning signs running around my...
Milo looked around the living room of Zadicus' house, guitar balanced on one knee. His ears strained to hear of anyone was coming, and when he realised nobody was, he smiled and began to strum a set of chords out on the instrument, voice joining in not long after.
"Lover come over
Look what I done
I been alone so long
I feel like I'm on the run
Lover come over
Kick up the dust
I got a secret
Starting to rust."
His foot tapped along to the beat, his ginger curls falling loose around his shoulders. Milo hadn't sung in a while, alot having been going on in his life. He was so tired yet his body didn't want to sleep. He was so hungry but his body didn't want to eat. He was- no his mind was- craving any kind of acceptance from people, but...
“Do what frightens you. For if you do not, life is not worth living.”
Over her nearly sixty-two years being alive, her hair had always been something she did not care much for. It was not that she did not like it, but rather it simply something that was tossed back into a ponytail, bun or merely shoved aside when it was shorter.
But now as she sat on a stool, her head dipped forward over the bathtub in the Vauclain house, she contemplated whether or not this was worth it. Sure she wanted her long curls gone, but Darcie had decided to give her the whole salon treatment. Not that she minded having her hair smell nice or the woman’s talented fingers work out the stupid knots that appeared, but her neck was starting to hurt. Plus water...
‘I still recall the fresh sea air, the haar swept over the waves like an impenetrable wall of endless white void afront me. Truly beautiful and unimaginably complex to even attempt to begin to understand. I left home with the intention of escaping everything and now I see that there was no way of letting the past stay in the past, I’ve proven to myself time and time again that I’m still the monster I always believed I was.
Sometimes I wonder if you’d ever forgiven me for leaving you, I never forgave myself. Continuing as though everything was normal wasn’t an option, I recall my conscription finishing and the moment I decided I couldn’t come back to Galloy. I knew they’d continue to mock me so I fled like a coward, I left for Anglia...
WARNING
The following lore story contains elements of violence such
as blood, gore, and death. You have been warned!
❧----------☙
❧----------☙
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
In that silent moment, no one could even speak or use a tongue to speak. In a quiet emotion, for no one to hear, the bodies remained.
Not a single corpse moved as each second passed, nor could the wind detail if they were alive in this very moment - that moment where all hell was unleashed. From the time when she first knew them, to the point where she never knew they would threaten to harm others she dare loved and cared for - WHY!?!
Damn them all… damn them all. No love or care could blossom in their hearts ever again - not ever. All was lost in that moment...
Note: The narrator is Jace.
The Lone Castaway
Hello stranger, you came in at the right time. Come sit down and have a drink for I'm about to tell the tale of my voyage to the city. I was twenty-five when I left the plains of Daen, I bought my way onto a ship that was destined for the Regalian Highlands. When I boarded the ship, the crew members all gave me a look that I couldn't explain if I tried. When we set sail the and the crew finished their duties for the day, they came up to me in a large group. One of the sailors asked why I wanted to leave Daen, I told them I wanted to get away from my tyrant of a father. Eventually night fell upon the seas and the crew went down below the deck, myself included. We spent hours either telling...
Bells by the Sea
The dark night sky shone faintly with the fading moonlight, gently flowing clouds aloft in the air. The trees were silent, all the animals at rest, the slow sloshing of waves sounding against the beach. The city was silent bar for the few taverns that hosted the two or three regular night drinkers. For many this was like any other night, but for a few, this would be one of the most memorable moments in their long lives. A small group of purple skinned elves and a few select others were gliding throughout the streets, slipping away from their homes and friends as they made their way to a unique and rare occasion. They gathered along the shore of the beach, long rows of benches spread neatly in the sand as the few...
In Montania, the leaves on the trees had begun to change, symbolizing the transition from a warm summer to a cool autumn. However, summer refused to leave Aloria, allowing her warm breezes to grace the earth a little longer and a certain aging Dressolini would take advantage of this.
The man sat in the center of his villa at a table with only one chair - one he'd sit many hours at - sometimes he'd spend the whole day with his thoughts smoking pipe after pipe of the finest local tabacca he could acquire. However, a mirror rested betwixt his fingers as opposed to the normal pipe. His other hand held his chin, looking over his features. The man's days of a youthful appearance was coming to an end. The wrinkles began to show and his eyes...
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬
Death took the image of a woman.
Within the ensemble of ruins Gwenyth walked, Death awaited at the very end in a single veil of harsh light, still and unaware of the present pale woman. Like the moon against the night sky, their figures neared, distance closing. Decrepit Death's hideaway littered with the crumbling stones of something that once stood tall, and yet it seemed to flourish still. Only the sound of Gwenyth's bare feet traipsing against an aged set of stone, dirt and moss echoed along the shambled walls.
The peek of a storm front curtained overhead. Thunder growled in its approach.
Closer, Gwenyth could look upon Death with clearer detail. Death was solemn, ragged, and aged--grotesque to many, but for...
The subtle crunching of the sand under the attendees feet grew as more of them came. Sunshine reflecting off the lazy waves that lapped at the shores nearest to the layout of the wedding. Logs would be strewn about to create a seating arrangement, circled around a slight platform with a podium and an archway. A few tables dotted the surrounding log benches, topped with opened barrels of various alcoholic drinks accompanied by empty wooden mugs. Unfortunately, no nonalcoholic drinks could be found, side for a single bottle of cider, rather inconvenient for those not wanting to get drunk. In the background, an array of colors would be painted over the skies by the oncoming sunset. Bonfires would be lit ablaze to accommodate for the...
┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈
The dark wraps the cistern, the foul smell of sludge and death riddle the walls. All of this only to be bat away by the gentle flicker of a fire in front of a tent. There, a joke, a halfling clown sits looking over a book. In it details many things regarding a new life, a new start. And in an instant, the halfling was no longer alone. As if like magic suddenly sitting beside her was a young Avanthar woman, dark brown hair and deep sea blue eyes all lit up by the warmest of smiles. “Annelie...you are trying to start over again?” The Avanthar would say, it seemed so real to her, even the touch on her skin as the Avanthar’s hand met her cheek. “I’m worried if I do this that I may never see you...
Snow coated the ground of the Inner Realm, per usual. In a cozy house, situated close to the fighting arena, there was a certain lavender Manathar dressed in all white. Her sister behind her as she looked in the mirror. Gwelurin began to cry as she looked at herself.
“Why are you crying?” her sister, Norin, whispered.
“I don’t know…” Gwelurin would start, wiping the tears away, “I’ve never married someone before. I didn’t even think marriage was an option for me. But now, look at me? All dressed in white.”
“Need another shot of vodka?”
“Definitely.”
---
Far from the house, there were three rows of seats, with an aisle in between them. In the front row to the right sat Arwen, Astaroth, and Aq’uello. They talked amongst...
-⛤-
-⛤-
The water in the bath had lost its warmth long ago. It was ice cold like the snow that coated the Inner Realm. Though Gwelurin stayed in the bath, staring at the flame of a candle that flickered in the distance. Soon she breathed in and let herself slip down under the water. Her eyes and lips were tightly shut, and she focused on the dark paradise she made for herself. Even then, with her body submerged in the icy cold water of the bath, the phantom pain of tar burning into her skin did not go away. The heat of the flame that was held so close to her body. The feeling of almost dying.
Such things would never go away. Physical scars may fade, but mental scars stay. All she could do was cover them up. The thoughts of...
♪♫♪♫♪♫
He tried desperately to remember how he'd gotten here, squeezing his thoughts with a tight and harsh mental grasp. It felt like his brain was about to explode but-- Nothing. The hazy gaps in his mind revealed nought to enlighten him on his predicament, and at that the looming terror and dread took hold. That sinking dread, the kind that tears at you deep in your chest, like metal hooks dragging you to some subterranean void: inescapable, all encompassing, suffocating and crushing.
The tips of his fingers tingled, as if the circulation of his blood had at a whim ceased to keep them supplied. They went numb, and up the length of his hands the same effect took place. In anguish he narrowed his gaze and pierced his running...
Drifting rays of sunlight shot through the heavy foliage; the forest calm and dim. The morning frost made the grass stiff under the url's hooves, and small puffs of fogs flared from his nostrils.
Beneath the wolf's skull, Einherjar sampled the air on his tongue — he was certain of the taste of the Northern Moose. It gave off an acrid musk; albeit pungent, it was not noticeable amongst the different scents in the forest. With the ever-elusive cloven tracks here-and-there, he followed the trail for his game.
The url traced his fingers round the edges of the hoof imprints; they were as big as his palms. He gave off a rather nasty smirk, one full of sharp teeth.
"Big."
Bovëen knew that it was at least eight feet, feeling rather...
When Milo woke that night from a nightmare, he was unusualy calm. It wasn't your usual kind of nightmare though, where the person jolts ups in bed, breathing heavy and eyes scanning the room for the danger they had dreamed of. No, when Milo awoke from his nightmare, he was silent, quietly sliding his shirtless body out of bed, making his way to sit by the window and stare out at the city.
He hadn't dreamt of a danger, he'd just dreamt of a boy who plagued his dreams with his gut wrenching smirk and beautiful amber eyes. Tears were slowly beginning to gather in his eyes, but he made no means to wipe them away when the slid down his cheeks. Memories of a boy he had once loved clouded his mind, and a small chuckle escaped his lips as he...
Silence is golden they say. Not a word. Not a single word.
Hexagons with erratic designs that stemmed from heavenly origin descended from a bed of bleached sheets, coating the land with thick crystal that was the colour of fresh periwinkle. Water ceased to flow due to the halting divine power of the weather. Streets filled with cushions that had fallen off the bed, leaving a cluster of fluffy white pillows that marked every inch of the city, sticking to it like a mother to its child.
Typical it was of a certain Sihai to wander away from the leisure of his settlement, but it was apparent he was in need of his own congenial company. His attire was neoteric to some extent, not possessing the same qualities as his regular Sihai kin...
Milo lay with the side of his head resting on Uri's shoulder and one of his arms wrapped around the younger mans waist. The purple bags under his eyes were almost invisible in the dark room and his grip on the other man was lacking it's usual strength, another one of the cons from not sleeping. His eyes gazed weakly about the room, ginger locks having long since fallen down over them, shielding his view slightly, though occasionally the slight breeze coming from the open window pushed them out of his way. His jaw slackened from its previous position and he began to quietly sing.
"I thought I saw the devil
This morning
Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue
With the warning
To help me see myself clearer
I never meant to start a...
"Ah, Lady Grace.. Um, when will I be allowed to perform?"
I wish I hadn't said that. I wish- I pray to the dragons that those words of mine fell on deaf ears- but... If my wish were granted, if I were to speak and sing and never to be heard- I would betray her.
The frigid feeling underneath my feet is nothing compared to how it is to be without her. I feel her presence when I feel the warmth of the sun, the cooling embrace of the rain, or see the colors that paint the world. When I smile and laugh at the worst of jokes, when I cry with no other restraints-
-I can feel her by my side.
And when I worry and feel as if all is to crumble and shatter around me- It is her I hear.
Yet here, I can't feel her or sense her. I feel blinded...
_________________
Fen’nan Solaveira stood frozen in the darkness of the Mercenary Keep cell, distant footfalls ringing in her ears as they faded down the corridor, leaving her with her promised words hanging in the air. Slowly she drew her gaze away off the dark, stone wall, blinking away the water that blurred her sea-green hues, swallowing thickly. When the footsteps had faded completely, her pounding heart surpassed the noise of her own barely breathing breaths, dread twisting and ripping her gut in a despair so large it left a wide, empty hole in her gut. A numbness so big, so hungry, she could no longer feel the stab wound in her leg. Not the stinging loss of her removed ear-tip. Nor feel the Crimson Lion Sigil brand carved into...
The year is 291 A.C, the end of the Chrysant is near and the Regalian force comes closer and closer to the capital by everyday. But the Nomad could care less what the ailor pricks are doing, she has one target and that has not changed since the start of the Chrysant. It was time, both of his Undercros were killed in the fight beforehand, all he had was two Jogro to protect his tent now, everyone else was sleeping. It took her months, but she finally got her hands on fire bite, it was time. She put her half-helmet on, the names of those she lost engraved on it, and now crysteel glasses implanted in the eyeholes. The horse she had stolen in the previous battle sat outside the tent, waiting for her escape.
She walked towards the tent in...
Although he was the kind of person to dream often, this specific dream felt a little too real for him. It almost felt as if he had control of everything around him- or rather, he had control of the dream itself.
Rodrigo found himself in a lavish corridor with magenta and gray banners hanging from the walls, pristine decorations surrounding the hallways and servants carrying food plates walking along the rooms, leaving one door and entering the other. He was certain after a few glances that this was the Peirgarten Castle in Lorhauser, the Chateau de Courtoise. However, it looked nothing like the way he remembered it. The furnitures were greatly different- just as wealthy, but still, he was certain that the time period he was dreaming...
Trigger Warning!
This story contains heavy mentions of Gore & Torture! Please read at your own risk.
I will find enjoyment in your misery after this <:
(Quick mention, this is all an illusion and none of it's real. There is an IC character behind Taendross' illusion, however, I doubt anyone will go after 'em.)
It was the night after she’d shared a meeting with the Isldar. She spoke those words she’d regret, and her life was changed.
--------------------------------
Agony. That was all she felt as she'd try to take the least shaking breaths that she could to limit her movement. Everyone would survive, they'd all be safe. The others would be able to lead the Isldar on and help legalize the Isldar of Regalia.
They'd be saved. The...
Everybody seems broken nowadays. You can't find a person without a broken past or a traumatic experience locked away in the back of their mind, wrapped in chains. Kaian Bennett knew that all too well. The young man had his own fair share of dark secrets and he'd spent years locking them away in a place nobody would be able to find them.
Kaian saw them as a weakness, something to be ashamed of, a horrifying thing no person should have to witness ever again. So now he instead spent his days studying people, watching from a distance the way they spoke or the way they walked.
People were like machines to him, all made up different parts and when put together causes them to function in certian ways. He enjoyed figuring out how a machine...
The Shattering
--~[x]~--
The staff shattered in his hand and he felt his link snap like Elastan pulled too tight. Callandor- or more accurately, its sundered remains, embedded themselves in his arm like broken glass, shredding through fabrics of blue and white. Aeralaanys had all of a moment to lift his hand, a hand older than the Regalian Empire, look upon the gushing blood and tattered skin, before the limb fell utterly numb. He screamed as he hit the mud-and-blood beneath his feet, a wail of agony as much as one of loss. His companion in battle, the Yanar Joasaie, collapsed at his side, speaking. He could hear the sound of her voice, of approaching medics and cheering soldiers, yet he couldn't listen, not through the sound of his...
Fields of Lavender
By Deo dei Termini
It was a cool early summertime day in the rising part of June. I and my travelling companions trotted along upon our gilded Carriage as the day lazed away. My eyes soon felt themselves begin to wander towards the precipice of the windowpane, the fields glistening in a recently dropped sundew of the rain droplets upon the tall elephant grass. I remarked idly to my companions on their gleam. Though none felt it as interesting as I. Tapped the ceiling of the cab with the headpiece of my cane, a golden eagle sat upon a simple perch. A quiet tapping ringing out to halt the carriage in its way.
Once the good driver ceased our movement I made my way from the confines of the stifling coffin of the...
Victor sat gazing at his reflection in the murky waters of the puddle that lay before him. He wasn’t sure what exactly stared back at him. As he sat there among the rot and filth he got lost in his thoughts of an era long past.. “Victor, come down stairs honey, or you’ll miss breakfast!” Lucille cried from down stairs. Victor groggily woke up from the sound of his wife's voice, he proceeded to wipe the ‘sleep’ from his eyes and went to dress himself in a simple shirt and trousers and proceeded to head downstairs. Lucille was there in the kitchen with a large smorgasbord of breakfast items set out on the kitchen table. “You have been busy..” “What's the occasion?” Victor inquired perking a brow. Lucille chucked “come now Victor don’t...
==+•+==
“I miss the comfort of this house.
Where we are where we are.
The floor under our feet whispers out
Come on in come on in, where it all begins.”
- Lakehouse | Of Monsters and Men
==+•+==
Starlings flocks twirling in the sun-setting sky. That was the most memorable thing that Siselle remembered distinctly of Regalia. Those types of birds didn’t live in Drixagh, where the ground was nearly always frozen even in Summer and the children required coats against the breeze despite the summer season.
Now, though, those coats were shoved into bags in her chambers aboard their ship. Løvid had since woken up and he was currently pressing his face against Siselle’s throat while continuously mumbling, “Mamma, mamma, mamma.” Easily...
|__♡__|
Please.. stay a little longer..
Rosana had her cheek resting on her palm, looking out the window - just another night that he had not come home, and though she had been faithful, she couldn't help but wonder.. Who could he be out there with - that kept him away? Memories flashed of a girl and him.. and her sadness deepened... The rain poured outside and she felt unmotivated to move.. hanging onto each word he had said to her in the past.. when Ayla and Skye even tried to make her mood better.. nothing was working and she dug herself deeper into her hovel of blankets. Nothing could bring back the smile that could light up a room, instead it looked more pained...
"And I told you to be patient..."
Doubt seeped in - was she not...
Ser Brandon cursed under his breath as he wiped the dirty girls forehead with a wet cloth. ‘Spirit save us she’s burning up’ he thought, ‘Why now? Am I being tested? The spirit’s trial to prove myself a true knight or not? Trial or not I have to do something, but what’. He grabbed his pack spilling the contents onto the blanket he’d laid down for the sickly girl. Their supplies had dwindled to almost nothing since Ser Rodrick had departed. It had been two weeks since then and Brandon had not adjusted. He would wake half-expecting Rodrick to be seated next to him prodding at a fire; instead he’d only find the dirty girl hunched by herself, brooding.
Brandon started count on their supplies. ‘Three ten piece regals, one wineskin with...
Milo stood infront of a mirror, trying, although in vain, to flatten his hair against his head. He'd gained a case of bedhair and his hair stuck up in almost every direction, water doing nothing to keep it down.
When I was just a kid
I couldn't wait til I grew up
His freckles stood out on his nose and cheeks, having become much darker as the summer months came around. He lowered his head momentarily to grab a new ribbon from his pocket to tie it back and when he looked back up all he saw was his brother.
Tried walking in your shoes
But couldn't even tie them up
The rugged sort of look his face had taken seemed much to similar to Anthony's and, although his hair had always been a much brighter shade of orange and his eyes a more...
tunes
The rain poured down outside, dancing down the panes of glass leaving streaks of water behind them as they rushed to the base of the window. The spring rains had been coming nearly every evening since the season changed. The tall Songaski entered her bedroom, ambling over with a faint stagger to her dark wooden desk.
The top, dotted with trinkets most of pink and gold she’d collected throughout her life along with a potted bright green plant that trailed along the edge of her desk crawling up the bookcase. One thing that seemed to have a place all its own, a sundial with what seemed to be a compartment underneath held closed by a small aged clasp. The woman sighed as she looked across the items, taking up the quill that set...
A freelance mercenary stepped up to the desk of the Commander Delmotte. The Delmotte was looking over paperwork figuring out when his leg would be healed so he could start training again to work in the field. He didn't pay mind to the lone mercenary who didn't wait for the Commanders attention, simply getting to his point as was expected of him.
"The Lord Chancellor has resigned from office, there have been a few people voicing their desires for the position, maybe you shoul-"
"No."
Guy Delmotte casually cut off the mercenary as he kept reading over his documents and looking at the calendar he had on his desks with depictions of kittens delicately drawn on its border.
"I'm not applying."
He finally looked over to the mercenary as...
───│†│───
A gap in one’s memory is often left unnoticed; so meaningless in its existence that many times we needn’t bother recalling the fine details. Infanthood goes up in smog, life from years ago shrouded in some mundane loss from age or from apathy. Oftentimes, lost memories are missing for a reason. Irrelevancy, trauma, or simply an unwillingness to bother keeping them fresh.
Not once did Leufred feel as if there was a true gap in his memory. If he needed it, it was there. Nights drunk were foggy enough to at least recall the where, and sometimes the who- but he never quite felt like he needed to remember them anyway. Even memories of infanthood, like the identity of his mother, often meant nothing to him. Who needs a parent that...