Theme I | Theme II | Theme III
Author: @MantaRey
A droplet of dew fell from the branches above. Inkeri swiped it off from her brow as she knelt by the brush with a mere flick of a finger. Even for something so simple in action she moved as subtle as she could, in caution for the early morning’s purpose. A few reckless steps followed by her brother’s near-immediate lecturing had especially encouraged her to remain wary and careful. Their trek had seemed to last far longer than what the sun told from the horizon nearby.
They began from their humble home, a simple fur-pack upon each of their backs and moderate tools strapped to their sides to assist them for the long haul. Kabira and Inkeri both knew hunts were often long-lasting yet...
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The third of February was a day Horace would never forget, even if he ever wanted to. It was late evening, and the the colonial city of Dawnton was quiet. The ice coated streets were empty, aside from a small group of coat-clad men and women. The conglomeration of faces, all be it diverse and different, all had something in common; the absolute look of sorrow on their face. Six men clad in absolute black carried a casket between them, it was painfully obvious, this was a funeral service. The man leading the carry of the casket looked perhaps the most miserable, his eyes were red and bloodshot and he looked as if he had been crying. He held the casket with one hand, his other clutching the little hand of a small toddler. The child didn’t...
With the end of the winter snow came the arrival of new faces to the Crown Isle. Some from other Imperial lands. Others from far away. Others from very far away. And so our story begins.
The ship from the far eastern desert shores arrived, carrying with it the usual spice traders and individuals looking to score it big. But of all of them, one individual may have caught someone's eye. Or maybe not; this city is the largest in Aloria after all. And what is one foreigner in a sea of millions?
Yet this individual made his way down the street. He looked the same as any one of his kind, wearing foreign outfits and wearing odd things on his. Things that whirred, others that ticked. Even something that moved around. A peculiar sight, but not...
Interlude: Noun, an intervening period of time.
Her boots were muffled as she walked slowly through the hall, eyes studying each of the framed paintings there. Each of the past heads of the Le Havre family and their spouses. She halted towards the end of the hall, gazing up at the portrait of her deceased first husband.
“Ten years now mon amour. I hope wherever your soul is you are able to rest that beautiful head of yours and not worrying after me or your brother.”
Darcie mused aloud, raising a hand to gently touch the frame of the painting before dropping it to her side. A small sigh escaped her as she turned her head towards the way she had come, hearing the soft sound of piano keys and music.
It had been nearly a week since...
It was late, darkness swept over the cyan coated estate that night. The windows on the second floor only Illuminated by a crackling fire. A dark figure leaned against the mantle of the fireplace, a piece of paper in hand. A grim line formed the debating womans mouth, her instincts begging with her mind. Her fingers bent at the corner of the page as her foot tapped the same motion onto her estates floor. She prepared herself as she gave a brief flushed out breath and a tight squeeze of her dull blue eyes. Her thinly lined lines opened in a call for a servant, the lasting one rushing up the stairs to her mistresses calls. The echoing of the foot steps made the calm woman into a nervous tick of her foot, and increasing pace of the tapping...
A particular young woman stood outside the noble district in the vastly empty lot that had once been the overgrown noble park that she'd remembered from the previous year but had noticed to become less and less beautiful until it was just a vacant space awaiting the word of whoever controlled the gardens of the city. Her black dress cloaked her quite well in the spring night as she gazed up at the sky until a small chirping from above brought her attention away and the Velheimer lass turned her gaze to settle on the snowy owl that had come drifting on the wind. It flapped its wings and slowed itself while the girl extended her arm as a perch to it, no doubt recognizing the rather out-of-place animal. The Northerne seventeen-year-old...
The Rise of the Black king
As the moon shines down on Regalia and the wind blew with a strong gust, Leon was walking towards the Slums. As he passed the gate of the Slums he would get to his secret spot where he dawn his Black King armour. He walked out of his secret spot clanking in the Slums towards the Lady Emporium. The walls are filled with Spiders and other insects but not many of them just a couple crawling on the walls.
Leon eyed the insects as he was walking down the rocky steps and heads straight to the Tavern at the end of the tunnel. As he was walking towards it Leon heard two slum dwellers are talking about the castle or a fortress next to the Asylum, they were talking about it has some new things inside it. He turned...
Drixgha
It was a normal day for Idunn As she walked down the park. Then she saw him, a dragon worshipper fully armed and armored. She hid in the bushes her axes unsheathed ready for the worshipper to come a little bit closer before she would make her move. Only armed with a bow the Dragon stood no chance against the axe wielding demon. When he was unconscious she would tie him up and drag him back to her boat for Reinhilde’s plan.
It took ten minutes before the masked Dragon to take off his mask only to reveal that he was Idunn’s ex-boyfriend. That’s when she started boasting, insulting and commanding him around the small cage near the mast of her boat. Urijah Jamesson, the man who shot Commander du Pont three times had been...
Sunset in Regalia, the sun retreated behind the trees, and darkness began to fade. The sky was a mixture of a gradient of azure to topaz, and what remained of the sun still shone bright.
A group of four; An drow, a nelfin of some sort, a maraya and an ailor navigated their way among the trees until they came to the crystalline waters of a lake located on the outskirts of Regalia. The tranquil waters mirrored their sorrowful expressions, ones of remorse. For all had lost something- someone dear to them just the previous night.
The first individual; the lover, the fiance.
The second and third individuals, friends closer than any could fathom.
And the fourth, a mere onlooker, but trusted by two of the three others.
They traipsed...
DOCUMENTATION OF EVENTS TAKING PLACE BETWEEN ELEVENTH OF ████████████ AND ████████████ ████ AC. LOCATIONS SPAN OVER THE CROWN ISLE, ██████████, AND THE NORTHERN BORDER OF ████████████
MOST OF THE EVENTS RELATE TO THE ████████ CRISIS, AND SUBJECT’S INABILITY TO CONTROL THEMSELF
The shifting of winter into spring always gave way to the most mediocre, taunting and bittersweet scenes possible. Snow was much better scenery than blooming flowers, and they’d take mist laced breaths over stuffy pollen filled air any day. Though, they did enjoy the harsh notes the ocean gave off, especially the strait between Kiliarallis and the Crown Isle. The lingering taste of seafaring supplies did them no justice, given their extensive palette. Despite the...
January 24, 306 AC
The azure eyes of a certain bowtie loving blonde flicked open; with in seconds the man had slipped briskly from the grasp of the snoring red-head that lay beside him; doing similarly with the balled up hound by his feet. He'd grown a routine; which he tried his hardest to follow to the best of his ability..
Lazaruz's mind was full steam ahead to do work; the man would very quickly find himself in the sleeves of his Vigilant Sheild attire; a magnificient mix of purple, grey and gold..
He'd offer a smile to the two still sleeping, before trying his hand at silently making his way downstairs in his armour. Sigrun, the pooch on the bed would offer him a mere tilt of the head; questioning why he'd woken up far sooner...
She never particularly cared for the color black. Though she, of course, would wholeheartedly admit that it does have a place in one’s wardrobe now and again. Her own current riding outfit did consist of mostly black garments save for the deep blue cloak wrapped around her shoulders.
Darcie’s mind continued on with it’s contemplation of appropriateness of certain colors in one’s wardrobe as she was led along by one of her lady’s maid.
With each step, the pair went further into the cemetery, their feet trodding over the grass. The maid led Darcie along, holding firmly to her employer’s arm as they stopped before the deep gray tombstone that bore the name of her late husband, Adrien.
“Leave me now, Angelique and return to the...
"Crawling-.. W-writhing and tearing at
my flesh! I-.. I can feel the burning and the
bleeding and the blistering." - Tobie Peirgarten, 306AC.
In the early hours of January 24th, 306AC. A loud and incredibly agonized roar could be heard from the upper floors of the Apothecary, shortly afterwards, Valentius Decimar left the building with naught but a dismembered hand and a slightly blood-spatter upon his person. The scream had come from none other than Tobie Peirgarten, after realizing his hand was in no usable state after his run in with the Arken, Gabriel.
Tobie left the Apothecary with the assistance of Johanna Sauer and seemed to be clutching his wrist, or what remained of it. Painkillers had given him little assistance against the...
Of the tale of how green turned yellow, then magenta.
The day began with blood-curdling screams. These screams were the sort that make flowers wilt. These screams were the sort that shatter glass.
Audrey was having a bad hair day.
Through no fault of her own, the fashionista and aristocrat had wound up with hideous, bright yellow hair. The discovery was made early in the morning, for the woman always primped and preened before letting anyone into her room.
So, when she removed her silken bonnet to look in the mirror and the hair that tumbled out was the color of a banana slug, she was appalled. She grabbed a handful of the stuff, holding it up to the mirror. She hoped, nay, prayed that it was some awful trick of the early morning...
Several years ago, when the Ithanian mutt was still a child of sixteen without the worries of combat, child, or marriage, she lived in a beautiful city estate under the wing of her eldest sister. The sisters were fairly opposite from looks and personality alike. The elder had striking emeralds for eyes while her little sister’s appeared as windows out looking on a clear sea. One was made for formal duties while the other wanted to show herself off as a forced to be reckoned with on the battlefield.
For fifteen years, the girl had never been close to her sister until her mother and father had enough of her and sent her off to be their eldest child’s issue. The two were distance from one another while sharing a mutual love for each...
A simpler time
Amidst great seas of golden wheat there is a humble village. A picturesque little place where entire lives can pass with hardly a passing thought for what goes on beyond the horizon. Only four of the approximately hundred and ten villagers can read, only twenty two have ever been more than ten miles from where they were born and yet it has the same vibrant feel of any great city. But there is just something.. Different about this place.. Something.. More wholesome.
Scythes drag through the fields, collecting the first harvest of the year. The hardworking men and women haven’t eaten a morsel since the sun arose eight hours ago, however the sound of children’s laughter in the distance, reminding them of what they...
ꕥ The Children's Adventure, A Fantasy Story By Alarin Relioꕥ
AN (Probably the only one unless updates happen O.o): (This'll be my first attempt at doing something like this on Massive and I'm very excited for this project! A part of this will be my own thoughts and ideas with settings and what not, but I also love the settings in Aloria and highlighting some of them here sounds nifty! (At least, I think so ;-;)
The way TCA will work; every chapter = new forum post (weekly - 2 weeks hopefully!)
After TCA is complete, I'll make a final post with all the chapter links, kinda like a binge session!!
I'll do my best to make sure I won't drop this half way through (nasty habit of mine >.>) and provide chapters forum browsers will enjoy! Now...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Percy Arratay reached for the door of his own Estate, he saw Alyss, the family Matriarch, staring him down. "Your locked out." She said, giving a glare to the adopted Ithanian.
"Wha'? I didn' do nothin'?!" The Ithanian stared at her, blankly. His scarf previously used to mask himself was down, to his neck.
"I heard about your stunt, Percy, or should I say "Masked Dumba$#."
He scoffed, "Let me in!" "No, not after what you did. You tried to save a /slave,/ Percy. You're done."
These words hit him, hard. He was just saving a life, and she obviously was oblivious to the fact that he was earning the family more money.
As he walked away, he gave a sigh. He knew...
“And for as long as I shall live, I will remain by your side.
Ever-faithful, what is mine is yours until and beyond
my final days.” - Tobie Peirgarten 306AC
As the days flew by in Regalia with the coming of the new year, a war on two fronts and a dragon assaulting the homeland on an almost daily basis, many were relieved at the coming of a joyous occasion. The 18th of January held the Union between Kimmie Grey and Tobie Peirgarten, a purely Unionist Wedding, mind you.
In the early hours of the morning in the chapel grounds, large banners of House Peirgarten were hung as well as fresh flowers being set about the grounds. The chapel bell rang out it’s lunchtime tolls by the time the decorating was done and in that moment, the...
Room of Angel
Jarsdel Lore Stories Collection
"...Right. I had a woman back then. Before I forbade myself from loving. There was a woman. A woman I got close with. Very close."
Her name was Angel, how could he ever forget that name? Resting back in his white sheeted bed in the middle of the darkened, gloomy four walls he called his room; Edward reached for the pipe he filled with a tincture of opium. The opium was routine. While sacrificing his mood into the darkness that overshadowed the room, Edward inhaled from the opium pipe he had carefully prepared, resting backwards in his bed and allowing his baggy eyes to come to a close. This was the only way he could ever fall asleep. He had to whirl his mind if he ever wanted to receive...
It was just a normal day, with an Ithanian man walking down the road towards the slums.
He didn't know much of what he was doing, until he swept down the stairs of the hole in the ground, entering the underground tavern. Instantaneously, he saw a teen being dragged away from her brother. Such a nice first impression, right? As he did this, he pulled his scarf to cover up to his nose. He now knew what he had to do. He slowly stalked the woman, who was dragging a small, and defenseless teen. They went inside a house, which the Velheim slaver left open. He waited to hear a small yelp, then snuck in. He made his way toward the room where she was being briefed on becoming a slave into the Ulfmaerr. He sighed quietly, knowing if he failed...
The fight was over, The strong Inthanian has been severely beaten. At the last second the strong Velheimer girl uppercutted his right leg and bruised it badly, he would now Be in a kneeling position, “Do ya’ submit?” Idunn would ask her opponent, “Never” said her opponent, “Alrigh’” Idunn said with a smirk on her face. She would hit his jaw extremely hard, shattering it and knocking him out, He was breathing shallow and the doctors rushed on the arena and rushed him out. This made all the people watching her flinch.
“‘Es thet all ya’ got?!” Idunn would ask the crowd with her axes raised. She got no response, it was obvious she had won.
When she got home to her ship she was greeted by her loving and faithful dog, Trenne. She spent...
!!!The story is rather graphic so do read with that in mind!!!
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"It's not fair."
The tavern was bright and loud. Men and women alike of all races laughing and cheering as they socialized over a mug of ale whilst most waited out the light storm that was passing by. A table rested at the center of the building, every chair occupied. Seated at the head of a table was a woman with the beauty that left men gaping and women green with envy. Her hair was a bright blonde with the touch of silk, her skin so fair and untouched by any unwanted markings, her eyes a beautiful peppermint green...
Letting the arming sword slip from his fingers, Alexander marched across the turf, his strides long and calculated. It would be a curious sight to happen upon. No matter how determined his expression or supple his movements or short his haircut, nothing could fully obscure just how boyish and childlike Alexander's visage was.
And Alex despised it. He wanted people to know that he took this threat seriously, even if he was only a mere twelve year old. He wanted people to know that he was all too familiar with the fear of a veiled enemy, waiting to pounce. It was just like the last time.
Snatching his bow, the young Rosendahl quickly knocked an arrow to the string. Bringing the bow to full draw, Alexander took a moment to steady his bow...
Boorish, perverse, brash, ignorant. Possibly some things that Irina would never not be. A shallow bear of a woman, with nothing on her mind but violence and conflict, though hidden behind a mask of peaceful serenity. And a name derivative to boot.
Walking into an empty estate struck her hard, almost breathless upon the first encounter with silence. Irina creaked open the door, and entered, the door left slightly ajar to permit a soothing spring breeze to pursue her. A slow wander of the house led her to feel lost, isolated within her own home, but a home in which she possessed no bed, no room. A home in name, and not in character.
Somehow, she identified with the house, she was there, a Haagenvig in name. But from her experiences, her...
As the silence of the night invaded the snakes ears, she’d slowly crack open her eyes and blinked away the sleep as she slowly sat up. She’d quietly move herself out of the bed as her partner continued to sleep away. Senobia would lean forward slightly as she sat on the edge of the bed, carefully moving the arm that had been resting around her to lay on the pillow she had once been laying her head on.
Once she stood up, tugging on a warmer cloak seeing as it was still night out and traveling to the upper door area, stepping out of it quietly and locking the door behind her. Despite the lateness of it all the slizzar couldn’t help but feel restless and moved to make her way down the ladder and onto the worn path. She’d step out of the...
The Darkness
It was but two days after his father died, Jason was still held up in the keep of the stealthmarks, dreading each moment since. He was still but halfway through the training he needed... thus not allowed to leave and quit now. Out of sheer depression and exhaustion his body finally went off to sleep. He didn't dream, instead he had his visions. The world collapsing around him and the death of the dragons... but within this vision he heard his Fathers voice "This is your fault" He was horrified as he assumed it was his failure, that caused this dis order. He snapped awake "Wh-What... what did I do." looking around the darkness surrounding him.
"Another day like this? I can not keep this going..." He would get up...
Three days. Three days in captivity, shackled to a wall and used as a vampires chew toy. Three days without proper food besides on this day. Three days with no water before the fourth day, the day she had gotten free. After the few intense days, lack of proper food, water and sleep in those days, the slizzar was finally at peace. Having taken a chance and getting away with it, she had managed to get out of her captors clutches. However that had consequences as she limped her way home and the faint sound of the screaming male, Jochund. As the sound blanked out as she stumbled along through the slums, reminiscing. She did what she had to, to get out of there even kicking someone where she probably shouldn't have but she had made it out...
There it - she? he?? - lay, leaving Côme to wonder to himself the gender of the Ceardian Bloodhound as he carefully tiptoed around the sleeping beast. He was thankful for the wall shaking thunder, as it only made his task easier. It wasn’t his first time sneaking out of his sleeping quarters and in truth, probably wouldn’t be his last. It was only in the hours of darkness could the Viridian in training truly explore the castle; and himself. For under the light of day and ever watchful eyes of his teachers there was no time to express the confusing thoughts and emotions that invaded his mind. He glanced to his right hand hand where a band of silver and gem of deep azure was wrapped around his finger. Just looking at the ring brought...
Steel as icy cold as the northern winds of Jorrhild enwrapped his hands, the spiked gauntlets making not a noise as he flexed his fingers. The metal moved with unnatural ease, almost as if his skin was bare. He looked out through the slits of the helmet atop his head and saw only a sliver of his surroundings, and the fraction of what he saw was a living nightmare. All around him was ash and flame, mountains spilling torrents of lava while a storm of soot and fire rained down upon the barren world.
The other boy went deaf from the explosion and Côme fell into a coma. On the Ombre’s records, he was honorably discharged from service for medical reasons; as it was believed the other boy had prepared a bomb of sorts to kill Côme but it had...
“Darcie this isn’t right.”
“HUSH! I’m working. Leave me be.”
“As much as I enjoy watching you working with such clear pleasure, you’re going to work yourself to death. Think of those who love and care for you… What of Nyth? What of the Wodenstaffs themselves, they need you! And what of Wulfram…? Of…”
“DON’T. DON’T YOU DARE.”
Darcie snapped, her head twisting to stare at the woman seated upon the edge of her desk.
Marianne tilted her head slightly and gazed at her younger sister. Deeper forest green eyes meeting a pair of ocean blue eyes. She let out a breath of air and drew closer to her younger sister, placing her hands upon her shoulders.
“This won’t solve anything. This won’t make matters easier or go away, you know this.”...
The boots of a certain female mutt would make a revolting squelching noise against the mud. Rain hammered down on the poor woman as she navigated the slums cluttered street, eventually reaching her destination… The house was large, containing four stories, sitting in the center of the slum. Many windows surrounded the walls and roof of the building, alas all bordered up, taking the appearance of an abandoned manor of sorts. The woman lowered a hand, retrieving a copper key her brother granted her. The mutt took a moment, gazing down at the key that was not pointed towards the lock… A flashback of the previous events that had taken place in this very building struck her… ‘What am I going to find?... Is he going to do it again?... Is he...
As the rain lightly tapped against the window, near where the young noblesse sat. She’d rest her head against the see through glass, the first time she had taken a break in who knows how long. She couldn’t remember when she got proper sleep even due to her hard working and oncoming stress she felt close in surround her. As she closed her eyes, the exhaustion creeping up on her she’d let her head lull forward and smack into the window causing her to jolt up before a voice cut through the silence.
“...You doin’ alrigh’?”Her husband would inquire, raising a brow before moving forward towards her as she gave a tired smile to him.
“Oui, I am fine. Just...tired dear.”
“Then you should rest.”
“But I still--”
“Bu’...
There were many things peculiar about Gideon Hackett, as all knew and were willing to tell. What no one ever mentioned, was the drumming. ‘t-tap, t-tap, t-tap’ It followed him everywhere, thudding and thumping like mad. It filled his every hour from dawn to dusk like a heavenly, or hellish, drumbeat. It always was a very long time before he realized that the sound was coming from him when he looked down at his own frenzied fingers. The agonizing, tormented, never-ending rat-a-tat was both his grace, and his curse.
He sat there, alone, slumped over his desk, cold biting at his bare back. It was like an old comrade, a fitting motif for his life, and so he cared of it not. Gideon simply sat there, staring at the pieces of the marble...
It was cold, and he felt as though he was floating through darkness, drifting quietly along through a world of empty sounds and motions. It must have been the Void, with how wrong it felt. The feeble Shendar couldn't help but note the irony of his position, with what little shreds of consciousness remained. His hatred of the Void seemed not to be enough to save him from It. But no, something was wrong here-- Cecil was not dead yet, had only slipped into unconsciousness from...From what?
The Shendar's eyelids fluttered, opening ever-so-slightly, the quiet din of the world calling him fully awake as some greater motion shook him. He was being lifted, his limp form cradled in the arms of someone as they staggered down a flight of stairs...
Well. I can't say that any of this mess was part of my original plan, but it's all working out so beautifully I can't complain.
— Tarvek Sturmvoraus, Girl Genius
The evening was as normal as it usually was, or so Suri thought as she made her normal rounds throughout the town and poking her nose into places. As she held her cloak above her head as the rain poured down she made her way into her home, however the house was too still for her liking. Normally, even into the dead of night it’d have some sort of chatter so this set the snake on edge before a scent caught her nose. The faint sound of giggling upstairs caught her off guard as well as the sound of Sera speaking.
The slizzar began to make her way up the stairs cautiously...
How would you feel up you woke up having no recollection of the night before? Confused, right? Well, how would you feel if you woke up next to someone you didn’t know with no recollection of the night before? This was the case for poor, unfortunate Lemoran, who had downed about six two many bottles of ale, with no drinking experience whatsoever prior to this. Today, we, @Faunfire and @Emo_Bunny , bestow unto you, the most eventful night of the Mayara’s life thus far. Too bad he can’t remember it. The next morning, however, is one he would surely never forget...
The night before was a night of fierce passion and… Sword fights? A brunette nelfin, accompanied by a ginger ailor clad in red were sparring relentlessly with two heavy...
The curious few who looked up through the top windows of the Peirgarten townhouse would for days see the same chestnut brown hair shielding the face of a figure. The figure didn’t seem to move an inch, not for days. To those inside the townhouse this figure was known to be Kimmie Bigge, a woman engaged to one of the family members who was currently staying at their place due to family issues. When they checked in on her she didn’t seem to respond. She was still breathing and blinking, but she refused to eat, speak, or sleep. Her gaze remained fixed on the wall, the life seemingly drained from her usually cheery bright blue eyes.
Kimmie’s brain repeated the same memories and thoughts over and over again for what felt like years. She...
The water crashed and slammed against the boat. Finally, it was home. Finally she was home. Though, was this city truly home anymore? That was the question that had kept her awake for most of the evenings on the voyage home. Alongside the ghost pains and shiftings of her now non-existent left eye, the question had kept her up.
Her boots made contact with the wood of the dock and gathering her bag from the cargo, the large Avanthar woman moved away, going to join the crowded streets.
Seraphina kept her head down as she shouldered her way through the crowds, not at all caring who she bumped into or even knocked over. Her fingers were tight upon the strap of her bag as she made her way deeper into the city.
It was a decent walk from...
She was a defiant little girl who thought she could rule the world. With every step she took since the age of fifteen and her arrival into the grandest city in the Regalian Empire, her head had been held higher than she ever earned to. She strode with a step that was undeserved, that came with the pampered life of being raised by a jewel covered hand. Her hands were free from blood, they were pale and uncalloused for she had yet to drive her nails into the dirt to fight her way to the top.
So she appeared to those that glanced at her from the corner of their eyes. The young Ithanian that demanded respect when it all felt undeserved: but why was it?
At the age of fifteen, a defiant little girl entered Regalia, free from the hawk-eye...