“She had tricked him. She had made him leave his old self behind and come into her world, and then before he was really at home in it but too late to go back, she had left him stranded there–like an astronaut wandering about on the moon. Alone.”
― Katherine Paterson, Bridge to Terabithia
The faint creaking of the old wooden floorboards of the inn were the only sound that night as the small chi lady had come back from her excursions that day but her usual expression wasn’t present. A sad frown had been resting on her lips as she thought over what happened that day, a pain in her heart from the words she was told.
You were abandoned? How horrible of a daughter were you? Was the only thing that hammered away at her insides at the...
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
Player Stories
Filters
Show only:
Loading…
Dreams are Forged from Dwarven Steel
The smell of soot filled her nose, of her father's sweet honeymead breath, of the burbling cookpot. Familiar sensations just out of reach. The dwarf's green eyes brightened with mischievous mirth as she skidded across the dirt roads. Faster. Faster! Each thud made her heart race as she struggled to keep up with her brothers.
"Bryndle, you can't catch me!" Her beloved, golden-haired little brother taunted. Brynhild's legs burned as she desperately tried to keep pace. Excitement coiled in her stomach and sent spurts of fleeting energy to her stout legs. Her long, strawberry ginger hair whipped behind her, intricate braids flapping like a bird’s eager wings at the first signs of spring. Past the...
Filtered sunlight was the first thing the Qadir noticed when her eyes fluttered open. She shifted a moment under the thin blankets of the bed, noting that the majority had slipped off and onto the floor besides her, startling her though as she didn’t realize for a moment where she was. Lifting slowly, the girl took in the surroundings around her, brows furrowed in confusion until she took the time to glance towards her right where she caught sight of the beloved, yet unexpected slumbering figure of Aedarhon. Her flinch of surprise must have awoken the boy, who grumbled in displeasure at his own coming to and slowly opened his own eyes to stare up at Azra, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed besides him rather than curled up...
Heritage of Székeshy
The Curse
Moisture gathers within small pools oddly oozing into one another in a less than futile attempt of becoming whole. Murky crimson and atramentous black bleed into putrid, cold roses forming across broken tethers and shattered floors around a husk decorated with verdant greens and cerulean blues. Curtains of dim starlight caress its lifeless cheeks, nightly critters sing a stern, yet calming lullaby. Cyclopean walls observe with a stoic countenance, and a singular burning heart clings to a rope descending from dark heavens to faintly lit hell.
Days, hours, minutes, seconds, moments and several lifetimes pass as emerald irises peer whilst sorrow trickles down into hell’s depths. Ruin… has come, the cycle...
She won't rest until she get's what she wants...
No matter the cost, she will get her revenge...
,
Valiane woke up in her bed from a strange, green dream, feeling exhausted.
She shook her head lightly and moved her body carefully. Nothing really hurt, except her back a little.
She moved to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror. She looked like a mess and decided to take a shower.
In the living room, she sat down on the couch. There was something nagging in the back of her head but she couldn't put her finger on it. Hoping she would eventually remember it later, she decided to make herself ready before she went outside.
In her bathroom, she checked everything. She noticed something strange.
Her sword didn't glow as soon as she...
┏━━━━━━༒━━━━━━┓
Song (To be added)
┗━━━━━━༒━━━━━━┛
It was a long walk down, a heart-rending one too.
His eyes scoured the very walls that kept the last breaths of someone he had held close to him. They were dark and left, as if the fade of the bricks matched those who had built it’s very grounds. The stairs and halls were dimly lit, to be expected from such a deep point of the night. His boots echoed as he descended into the room. He had dipped his head downward, his dark but curly locks falling around his worn face. His unkempt hair tucked back, along with his semi shaved beard a reminder that he did not sleep as well as he had once. His ever slightly glowing silver eyes made their way around the room in agony, the bile in his throat...
Music
Aronne had no reason in particular for wandering through the park that evening. It was simply a perfect springtime night, from how the setting sun caught the edges of leaves in spiraling orange patterns, the way the light reflected in glistening beams across the surface of the pond, and how the light breeze carried the heat away, bringing his worries along with it. He knew this almost surreal display of color would make an incredible painting, as he etched the details into his mind, but the process was interrupted by an odd noise on the path behind him. Aronne moved his head back, tracking immediately to the source of the sound, and his eyes settled on something truly horrible. Some form of Allar, he recognized easily, but its...
The trees rushed past her as she ran along the dirt path, her boots kicking up dust. Tree branches whipped out, scratching at her face and shoulders. She wasn’t completely sure what she was running from or running towards. All she knew, within her head was the singular phrase of: Keep going.
Finally, the woods opened up into a wide clearing of the view of a lake. Panting, she scrambled forth, dropping to her knees before the water’s edge. Cupping her hands together, she dipped them into the water and splashed her face gently.
Her head turned sharply at the sound of splashing water and obvious movement. Moving towards her was a pearly colored swan, head tilted downwards a tad as it glided towards her. The bird let out a loud and...
"But dear, sweet, secondborn,
Let me tell you this.
The truth is, before you were born,
I doubted the infinity of love
And yet
The moment they placed you in my arms,
Cocooned in blankets,
With your button nose and scrunched up lips,
Eyes firmly shut and so new to this world,
It's as if I grew a whole new heart
Just for you."
-Rasha Rushdy
Evening sunshine came spilling in through the open window of the sitting room that occupied the quarters of Juliette and Randulf Howlester. The room at the moment, though, only held the former, who lounged peacefully on the settee with a thick quilt pulled around her and a small bundle of blankets held carefully in her arms. The woman’s gaze had not lifted from the bundle for many minutes, taking in...
Mother Lisa lay in bed next to her newborn twins, tired from the long night before, rain beating down on her windows heavily. She had just decided their names, Cora and Gabriel, when she heard the battles and uproar nearby, in the streets of the Azure Keep, grabbing up her children and wrapping them, and herself up, they waddled closer to where the sound had been coming from outside in the terrible rain. There they stood...those Inquisition fellows, outside the Azure Keep, fighting with all the aberrations that had been locked up and had freed themselves, and grabbing up any Azure people they could as well.
Lisa, quickly trying to remain hidden, only lay around the corner, allowing them to fight it out, then sprinting back home...
Augusta neared Howlester Castle. A looming sadness followed her as she reflected upon her own life and all of her experiences that led her to become the woman she was now. She was going to see her mother and packed for such. Keeping a small pendant to remind her of who she belonged to now. Rain poured from the sky, forming small puddles in her path as she wandered out of her bags.
She then loaded into the carriage, staring up towards a window of the castle, to see a shadowy figure peer down at her. Before she could react, the figure moved away from the window, out of her sight. She had not told anyone that she was in fact leaving, time or date. She had maybe only brought it up, so she had no doubt it was just someone curious about her...
I give you this ring as a reminder that I will love, honor, and cherish you, In all times, In all places.
“Would you stop fidgeting? Spirit, Darcie, I never thought you to be nervous.” Raina nudged her cousin’s shoulder and smiled at her in the mirror.
Darcie puffed out a breath, blowing one of the few strands of hair that had been left out of her updo. Her fingers dropping away from the sashes that were draped across her body. One of purple and one of deep navy blue.
“It’s less that I’m nervous… But more…”
“Fearful?” Julie provided from where she lounged upon the loveseat, cocking an eyebrow.
“I suppose that’s one way to explain it.” She replied, clasped her hands together behind her back, turning her eyes, once more, toward the...
It was late at night, Sif Jormungandr had been disowned by her son on suspicions that she had
been dating another man that wasn't Ullr's father. Sif was Ullr Jormungandr's mother. She had been a good mother to them until that day. now instead of sleeping in a cozy bed she was sleeping on a bench in the slums.
Warning! This part will have some gruesome content.
Ichaca Grahala had been there when Ullr had confronted his mother and decided that Sif was too much of a nuisance to be around the baby Frigg Jormungandr was expecting. Ichaca was the baby's bodyguard after he lost a bet to Ullr. He approached the sleeping woman and shoved his trident down deep into her neck before brutally ripping it out again. He had no mercy.
Ichaca had...
Benjamin Journey April 1st 306 A.C.
The outstanding bard Benjamin Journey walked his road of the Hightower for the last time, as he was called down to the offices by superior officers. He walked down the velvet carpet of the empire, little did he know this would be his last journey. He entered the offices, standing within would be the officers of Hightower, Albus and Jean du Pont, Wyland aep Latsen, and a straggling citizen of Juneya Perrot.
Benjamin strode into the offices.
He had felt he knew what this was, as Albus du Pont sat in the desk, crossbow ready at the fire sitting upon the mans lap. Wyland strode to take a post at the door, bowing his head ever so slightly. No one said anything, quite eerie Ben could only think as he...
The tension had run rampant throughout the camp. From the smithies repairing armor to the chefs preparing the night’s meal, everyone felt the low tremor of anticipation amongst the troops. Would they have to fight? Would the rebels somehow sneak past the outer defenses and launch an attack? Would they consider peace?
Jamie studied the map before him, secluded behind the coal black screens of the command tent. The Rosendahl's right thumb and forefinger gently rubbed his chin as he drew lines and symbols with his mind, visualizing the troop movements across Narlas. A soft rustle interrupted the Rosendahl's silent vigil.
“Everything alright, sir?”
As per usual, Mortibus was alert and at the ready, his crimson and navy surcoat neat and...
-
Meet me at dawn, we begin tomorrow.
-
Dancing had always come naturally to Mu. The subtle shake of the hips, taking advantage of the eyes and gracefully controlling them with every move you can muster. It was thrilling to Mu, powerful and graceful. Of course, though, Mu learned about the dainty art in a mud-ridden Circus. To her crew, it was showy and unrefined. It took Mu’s certain learned tastes to reign in the talent and glorify the group as a whole. She took to the trapeze, flying and soaring through the air as the routine movements comforted her. Her hair wasn’t a ratty mess then, oh no. It was twisted and woven into a crown that ordained her hair like royalty, not a hair out of place. Nevertheless, dancing on the ground or in...
It started when Kort was called over by a man—Hengest Harhold. He was sitting at the bar, ordering a drink, when he heard a voice behind him. He slowly turned to face the one calling for him before taking a small step back as he realized who it was—Human royalty quite enjoyed their colors.
“You, greenskin.” He demanded. Kort slowly walked over, nervous at being beckoned by someone of such obvious stature, his mind immediately going back to when he was banished from his tribe.
“Y-yes?” He asked of Harhold.
“How's your fighting?” Harhold asked him, a slight smile tilting the edges of his mouth upwards as he asked this question.
“I... Am good.” Kort replied slowly, using his very limited knowledge of Common to respond, hoping it...
”Mimir can we please talk about this!?” Ullr asked, a man and Url were standing face to face with each other from across the table. The url was holding an axe and it was likely that people outside the house to hear them and wonder what the was going on. In fact it was just Ullr and Mimir Jormungandr fighting again, they were brothers so this was quite common.
“I don’t know Ullr, did we talk when you stole the patriarchy from me?” Mimir asked. His brother rolled his eyes in return. When Mimir saw this he brought the axe down on the middle of the table, shattering it and send half of it to the other side of the room. Ullr let out a small yelp and looked to Stig and Frigg for help, they just smirked at him.
“That was twenty years ago...
(warning: does contain adult themes and suggesitve mental health issues. If you’re not comfortable with anything like that, please don't read!)
The d'Soleil residence had settled for the night, Rosalia lay sleeping, as did the hounds, to be expected at such an hour. The leisure however, was not for Lazaruz; his eyes had hardly shut since the day he had received his lashings; The day he was told of the abortion. He needed to see Eve, he needed to make amends..
The rain hit down against Lazaruz' blood stained coat as he made his way out his home and into the storm that was gathering, fighting through the wind, the pain, and the voices in his head.
"What's your plan, then, big shot?" this voice was smooth, accusing...
As the moon shines down towards the land beneath it, Leon down the steps of the d'vaud country estate. He thought about what Solaine has told him, to let his past go and start a new family. He looks down on the steps before he looks towards the man with the carriage
"Ready to leave Lord Claudio?" The man ask Leon with a polite tone.
Leon Looked up towards the man giving a nod "We Shall but a new destination, Head back to the city and wait for me, I wish to grab something before i head elsewhere."
The man nodded at Leon's request and gestures his hand towards the open door, Leon looks at the door and starts marching towards it before he gets in and sits down closing the door. As the carriage started to march Leon looked out the...
After Mimir had turned into the monster he saw himself as, he was disgusted. The day after he turned, he had run out of the house into the night's snow, fleeing the confusion and conflict that both he himself and his family held for the situation.
As if subconsciously doing it, he reached the area of the woods where the Oorl Worm had attacked him, and Mimir grabbed at his head in panic, only finding the monster-like head. It was uncommon for newly formed Url to feel this way, but he didn't know that. All he knew was that he was a beast, a Gorr, and he was no longer who he thought he was. Everyone he loved would treat him differently, since he was no longer Ailor, no longer blessed.
There was a war going on inside his head. Mimir let...
A typical day for the Ch'ien-Ji, his name Hyun-Joo Lee, only 62; his health degrading slowly as years past as his fingers twitched along the bookshelves in front of him. His surroundings were vague and slum-quality; he was obviously a slum-dweller that had the ambition to bring his family and name into prevalence although failing because of lack of self-confidence and anxiety.
"T-The memories of the past, h-how can one n-not forget?"
His mutters escaped through his breath and throughout the dry and cold atmosphere; his lisp seeming to be the only sound noticeable by the people around him, although no one was; by himself and in his cheaply made house, appearing to struggle to stand as gravity tugged its mossy layers.
His fingers...
-
I'd like to dedicate this story to everyone who has ever roleplayed with Emilia Reyes, who has ever had a smile or a tense moment, for those who have been with her for better and worse. She is still my favorite character to write for. Thank you, everyone, for everyone who remembers her.
Fair warning, there will be slight gore. Tread carefully.
-
Chains clinked viciously together as Emilia writhed in place, confined in a cell that seemed to be perpetually closing in on her. Screams echoed and boomed throughout the chamber, though whether it was hers or the other prisoners escaped her twisted mind. She had become her own prisoner. What was real to her could be entirely fake. Had she imagined everything that had happened to her? Where...
Mood
The gentle splashing of water against the Hull stirred the male awake. The storm had come and gone, the harsh sound of waves crashing into the wood gone, the swaying, as though drunken or dizzy, gone. The boat hadn't sunk, and the male hadn't stirred. He'd lay in a peaceful slumber, though he had been rolled around on the floor by the harsh movements of the waves and of the boat. He'd been sound asleep. Until now.
One eye cracks open, him taking in the sight of the barrels and crates, some lids open. An apple is laid by his hand. With a lazy yawn, he pushes himself up, snatching the apple up and taking a bite, his other hand rubbing his eyes. He casts a critical eye around where he had slept, groaning as he stretches. Mental...
You didn't know what came over you but you had to leave as soon as you could, the urge to escape was in your bones and you couldn't shake it off. You wished it didn't have to be like this but at this point, you realized the longer you stuck around the worse you'll get. So you packed your things, kissed your fiance goodbye, and took the first boat to Daendroc.
It was fortunate your brother gave you a couple pointers and a general idea of where your mother could be. Tracking her down won't be easy by any means but you had a lead. You held onto the hope she'll return for as long as you could, but it was clear to you now that hoping wasn't going to cut it.
The sea stretches out before you and you take a deep breath. The smell of brine...
“Why are we doing this again?”
“Because you need to fix your marriage and get back into working gear, Sera.” A particularly tall Yanar replied, leaning against the counter in the kitchen.
“Plus it’s been so long since you’ve done anything truly romantic for Catalina. We’re just here to help.” The short halfling Eroth chirped from where she sat on the edge of the kitchen table.
Seraphina sighed and crossed her scarred arms over her chest, glaring towards Nyth and then Seno in turn.
“And you two are going to help me cook?”
“Yes.”
“Si.”
“This is going to end terribly and one of us might die.”
“But that’s the fun part.”
“Just keep me away from the fire please.”
Nyth‘s tone was firm as the Yanar spoke. They moved out of the room...
"Watching people leave is hard, but it's harder remembering a time when they promised they wouldn't."
In the dark of the March night, a young mother found her way home in the fading light. Her ginger locks were snapped to utter imperfection from her night of crazed actions that had lead her on a series of events since then to what she'd do now. The door opened silently as she entered the home that would soon no longer be that of a family but only of a confused and broken man. She crept across the dark den of the first floor, swiping her hand carefully across the bookshelf across the room before she pulled loose a notebook. The young woman tore a page from the book as smoothly as possible- waiting a long moment until she knew that noise...
“Sometimes life tests just how far it can bend us before we break.”
Events in this story took place during “A Field Daubed in Red”.
“We have come far, and I know we've been through the void and back, abandoned when we needed help the most, however we cannot afford to fall here, if we do everything we have fought for was pointless, all those who fell were in vain, so get out there and show those Elves the same mercy they've shown us, that is to say.. Show. No. Mercy." The speech sounded good enough, a speech that would have rallied the spirits and hearts of any normal group of men, these however, were not a normal group of men.
The Bloodcast finished up his speech and turned his back to the group, closing his eyes as he listened...
“Leaders are meant to keep their promises.”
“I did not.”
The event in this story derive from the ‘No Apathy Among the People’ Progression, specifically the lore story ‘A Field Daubed Red’.
“One hundred and ten thousand overall- Surely enough to wipe tha’ Elves from tha’ Moors.” Stated the General, Garth Viduggla. The Northerner seemed to be quite joyful at the news upon arriving in the Elven Moors, commenting so to his uncle Ardige Viduggla, who in turn responded with a simple nod as he headed off with a young man- Francis. Garth soon looked out from the top of the hill he found himself upon, gazing to the camps his men had situated themselves in. He smiled upon the side, before making his strides for it.
“.. Idiotic.”
Not...
“I- I killed him… He had lived and now ‘e jus’ ain't livin' anymore Oh Gods. What- what have I done…”
The young teenager stammered his words, gazing upon the still-bleeding body of a poor man. A Northern man, who stood beside the child clasped a hand over his small shoulder. The Northern man spoke gently, kneeling over and muttering silently into the ginger’s elongated ear, speaking much like a father would when their child was in turmoil.
“All men have to die. If they don’t die, they aren’t a human, they aren’t a Nelfin, they are no orc nor yanar. And what do we do with people who aren’t any of those?”
The child stuttered his words, his welling eyes looking up at the thin-bearded man, “W- we kill ‘em… N- no matter how hard… W- we...
"I do not know that her being sorry to leave her home is really against her, for, with all its faults, it was her home, and she cannot as yet understand how much she has changed for the better; but then there is moderation in all things"
The General sat across his carriage from a ginger girl, not yet two years in age. She looked rather confused, yet calm as she knew the blonde man from her time living with him when her mother vanished off. Perhaps it was another time like that, another time when her beloved mother would return again for her- yet now she felt rather lonely. No matching boy sat besides her, mellow as always. The child was alone with the General, who gazed at her a moment more before he offered his hand across the narrow...
"She cut her hair as flowers fell. She no longer wanted to be seen as pretty."
The woman fled from her home and from her worries, her grey skirts billowing like thunderclouds as she raced into the darkness outside. Her shoulder was still wet from the tears of the other Claith who had sworn he'd never forgive her if she didn't return, never ever. Strands of curly red hair stuck to her damp cheeks despite her many attempts to get it off and soon enough she went into a desperate frenzy- blaming all her issues on the hair clinging to her tear stained face.
The young mother threw herself onto a bench, her hand shoving into her pocket and removing a pair of sharp knitting scissors. Her knitting had been left behind for when she'd heard her...
Trigger Warning: This lore story contains sensitive subjects.
"I want the Chien-ji with the short hair."
Those were the words she was terribly afraid of hearing. Unfortunately, she would hear them at least once every few days. It was a different man each time, with differing intentions, however, of equal cruelty. At a young age, Shao Lin was sold to a pleasure house and forced to work for men. If she defied her job, she would be beaten brutal. There were times she was beaten to severely that she became unable to stand or talk, but even then, even in that state, she would be forced to do this disgusting job.
There was no night where she did not cry herself to sleep. She remembered her parents, her poor innocent parents she was...
"I don't want serial killers and psychopaths working under me."
It had been months since she witnessed it, a good yet terrible act. She saw so many Arken fall and she didn’t bat an eye, but when Cora died by beheading...she felt cold and broken. Maybe it was because she was no more than a small child...or maybe it was something else digging into her mind. Someone else. After she finished this little event she went home...tortured by dreams of the small corpse in front of her, blood spewing from the new hole in its head... before a loud singing voice filled her mind.
It told her that “All will be fine, if you follow me, and do as I say whilst I am away. You can and will fly high. Follow the route to the fire. Follow and find my...
As the moon dawned, Alban looked toward a ship approaching the Regalian Docks. He gave a sigh as he heared a very recognizable voice yelling from behind him. He turned, and glared at his cousin, Marie.
"Marie, I'm doing this. Go away. Tell Adalwolf, whomever you wish..."
His voice echoed across the neighboring houses, standing sternly,
on the wooden boards of the dock.
"Alban! You do not need do to this, please..."
Her eyes released tears, stretching a hand out to him.
"Stop saying please! I'm returning home. War is not for me."
He turned his face to her, revealing a gash on his cheek.
The ship docked as a sailor sent out a boarding slab. Afterward, the captain of the ship, and fellow friend of Alban sent him a shout.
"Old lad...
Marry for love. Marry the person, your heart cries out for.
-Death Comes to Pemberley, P.D. James
They say that love is patient, kind, and that it is never envious or even jealous. Love was also known to be extremely fickle and Darcie knew it all too well. However, it seemed that love was on her side this year, so far at least. It was only third month into the year, nearly the fourth, but she really was not keeping track. At least not daily.
Humming gently, the woman puttered about her kitchen, one of her dogs following at her skirts and gently barking every so often. Darcie grabbed the towel off the railing and moved to begin cleaning up after her late afternoon lunch, clearly content in her duties as today was one of her less...
Remorse is a funny word.
I find no meaning in it.
Sure, it could be in a dictionary, but it doesn't matter.
I never look back.
I always look away.
-
Perhaps this is why I'm stuck.
-
The horned beast stays silent, peering down at their oddly familiar drink. Thoughts ran rampantly around their head, yet they looked stoic and sure on the outside. Truth be told, the Url themself was suffering inside. In true fashion, the newly formed symbiosis of an Oorl worm and an elven host had found a crisis afoot. Fitting into their old life, it was like putting on your old shoes from childhood when you're nearing a hundred or so years, or when you've replaced something that worked well on its own for something that looked better in your mind...
Salvation from the Shore
Stuck with the sea to their back, an Elven Army to before them and no plan in place to evacuate them from their fate, the Cadar's Wing continue to find themselves between a Rock & a Hard Place. Will the Spirit grant them salvation from their plight?
Contents
Shale
Watch
Scrolls
Showers
Shale, Shells & Sand. Sand which scratches at the skin, provides no pasture for the horses, and no sustainence for the troops of the Cadar's Wing. What limited provisions that the levies had gathered before their prolonged siege by the Elven forces had long since been eaten; fish had become scarce and any wildlife that flew over-head was fought over by the rivaled arrows of the enemy. As he came back from counting...