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…
I saw it. I saw it before my very eyes. I saw it all happen. --.. This isn’t one of my nightmares anymore. This is real. This has happened.
It was all too vivid of a memory. Even though Cecile knew perfectly well that no memories could remain completely intact, she couldn’t help but allow her feelings to overtake her rational sense of thinking. In her lone cell, she stared out at the bleak view of the near-empty street in front of her. Thoughts flooded her mind like a tidal wave of regret and despair. She should have saved her. She could have saved her.
Why didn’t she save her?
Slowly sinking against the wall of the cell like wax melting from the heat of a flame, the Durant was alone with her thoughts for longer than she would have...
Far up high
Hear the wise men cry
About the Spirit
That protects Regalia
It made a shield
One that kept out the dead
Yet still they crossed our walls
The Queen did come
With her head held high
Her dead eyes casted upon our lives
Her lies were many
Her truths were few
And The Queen was hated
By all but a few
Her reign wasn't long
For men did gather
Across the countryside
Through the meadows
Far in Kronau
And even farther at Rothburg
Everyone fought and trained
For a similar goal
For similar want
Regalia, Regalia
Lift up your head
Regalia, Regalia
The Queen is dead
A dagger it was
That drove out her spirit
A dagger it was
Drove in by her Daughter
The Kades, The Coens
Santorski and Bigge
The Blacks, The Laines
Sinclair and Heinrich
All...
Freedom from consciousness, embraced into limbo by Julla's guiding hand.
The battlefield roared on, inconsiderate to any and all who fell; whether lives were kept or lost. That was the reality that could not be shaken or disturbed, and it was an image that would never change no matter the moment in time and history.
Warriors, soldiers, men, women, children filled the medic tents with their groans, weeps, and howls of agony. What awaited Kaja Santorski would result in nothing less, surely; the two healers that carried her mangled, shrapnel-decorated body parted through the drapes of the tent and into the realm of pain and misery. The young girl was limp in their arms, dead-weight even when placed upon a crudely made cot.
Deep...
Another day. Another moment. Ruins, ashes. The Dark Queen was dead.
Freya's rule over Regalia had been terminated; her deathlings eliminated.
Marisa knew she should have celebrated with the other rebels. She was happy, after all. But with that happiness came doubt. Doubt about her own contributions.
The Countess had never brought herself to fight a single battle. She kept all of her opinions to herself, never once daring to make a stand against the atrocities that had been committed. Cowardice.
But she had committed a few atrocities of her own. Marisa had helped plan out the crashing of Greygate. Her one and only contribution. She didn't even remember exactly why she helped with such an act, knowing people would die. For what? A...
I have never written any stories about my other Kade character, Renly, so this was a first time experiment trying to write with a dumbed down style to emulate his mental processes, given that Renly is somewhat of a simpleton compared to the rest of his social groups and family. Tagging @Muffins, @MantaRey, @BillyTheScroofy, @TheBioverse, @Tiber, @Lumiess, @LadyTeddington @PonyoWantHam because relevant or family related.
It all went so fast that it was hard for Renly to even remember what exactly happened. All he remembered was Rodderick’s blood curling scream, just when Renly wasn’t watching. Something had cleaved into his leg with suck force that the bone was broken and some flesh was just peeling off. Renly couldn’t even make out...
This story is the re-telling of ingame events concerning my character and her matriarch. It took place in the tavern yesterday, so a few people may have spoken about it but please keep it within reason.
‘Julla, give me strength.’
Her icy gaze continued to flick over her shoulder, staring at the back of the platinum blonde’s head. Her stomach was filled with dread, causing her intestines to feel as if they were being twisted in knots. Have I displeased the gods? She wondered. I- I must have. To have been given this fate. To of had to sacrifice so much. She abruptly stood from her seat, hands clenching onto the bar with determination, closing her hands for but a second.
‘Pust, ikke gråt. Vær sterk, Britta.’ The voice of her...
The new of the blockade's movement spread quickly to parts of the Regalian Archipelago, as merchants from all trades began to inform their superiors of the renewing of shipments to the Crown Isle.
One such person who received this news was the Burgrave of Buechner, Eldrich Drache. As the closest relative to his father, the Viridian Knight noble had been managing the family business as best he could during the last few months, where had been unsuccessful in sending a letter to the Crown Isle. Upon hearing the news, the young heir personally sailed to the city with the next shipment, hoping to reunite with his father.
Meanwhile, Dietrich Drache had been walking around the ruined city, visiting the few business locations that he...
In reference to.
The city started to bleed.
At almost the behest of one man, the sky over the city turned a crimson-orange to make way for the afternoon sun; smoke stacks rising above the skyline to signify the burning of homes, shops and corpses alike. The blood of those who did not turn to dust sank into the ground and seeped through the stone, forever ingraining the event in the minds of everyone who tried to fight for the city, and everyone who tried to keep it. However, like many good points in history, chaos starts to run among. The paupers, the thieves and the thugs, the killers and heretics start to pour from their depths to unleash their anarchistic desires upon the mayhem that the city began to stink of.
Of course, as it...
This is entirely IC-based from the most recent Progression post. Anything in super nitty-gritty detail's probably not known IC unless Kaja told, obviously.
No amount of preparation could fill her spirit with confidence, nor could it familiarize her with the images of war. The cries of men and women alike; the living fighting against the dead. Never had she seen such a melding pot of all sorts of races fighting alongside each other - all against a common enemy. The stakes were never higher. Oh, how bittersweet the feeling was. They were all split up, and her group was to pinpoint the wall.
The stomping feet of oncoming Lo soldiers mixed with those that belonged to the Resistance. Kaja's were no different, yet it wasn't strength...
On the roof,
Sat a bird,
The bird was silent,
As the smoke soared,
Burning building,
Screaming souls,
Oh how nice,
Regalia was,
The park now frozen,
The lake a sheet,
The Regalians skate,
As if to ignore defeat.
The bird that sat,
So far up high,
Watching the horrors below,
With uncaring eyes,
"Oh where."
"Oh where Spirit are you?"
Regalians ask,
The Queen answers only,
Only with a lie,
One no one believes any longer.
The rebels plan,
The rebels scheme,
Rothburg's men and women,
Remember before,
When the Emperor had the throne,
When their families were at arm's reach,
Now the armed men and women,
Plan their attacks,
Plan and plan.
On a grave,
Sat a bird,
Feathers black,
Black as Deathling blood,
On the grave,
The bird sat,
Singing...
Eirik stacked a few boxes onto each other and climbed to the top, he called out to the gathered crowd around him and recited his speech to the gathering masses.
(This would be heard by most to all Rothburg inhabitants for IC purposes)
(I also encourage replies but do try to keep the negativity away)
Lord Commander Coen, Commanders of the town of Rothburg, and most importantly the people of Regalia. We observe today not a victory of morality, but a celebration of freedom - symbolising an end, as well as a beginning - signifying renewal, as well as change. For it has been shown before you and the Imperial Spirit the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three-quarters ago.
The world is very different now. For...
The tavern was empty, most of those in Rothburg had retreated elsewhere to rest, upstairs maybe, but the first floor was bare. Except for the lone Vauclain who sat in front of the fire, one that would struggle to stay lit until the dawn when someone would replace the burnt logs. She had her knees tucked against her chest, chin resting on top of them as bored overtook her.
The girl, lonely as of now, glanced about the room, remembering the drama of earlier.
Shae, Ztril, Eric, and Loic.
She frowned slightly at the name of Shae as she thought it, but the corners of her mouth lifted again thinking of the last two names, her dear friends Eric and Loic.
Her breath was frozen as she sat there. A small cloud that nearly looked like...
The trio arrived in Ellador with relative ease, with Sharian leading the venture through the snowy landscape despite Saria's protests to lead in his stead. Calcifer calmed her by playing a cheery tune over his lute as they pushed past the freezing winds, aiming to reach their destination before nightfall.
Arriving at the dungeon entrance by dusk, the trio set up camp beneath the crumbling stone structure of the entrance, keeping a close eye on the fairly rusted metal latch that led below the surface. Making use of his brawn, Sharian set up the sturdy tent whilst Saria made handy use of her fire magic, creating a cosy campfire for the trio to huddle around. Calcifer played his part as the bard whilst they broke bread and talked...
He hated these meetings
Gochnipunchni sat at his tall desk, drumming his fingers as he waited desperately for the meeting to be over.
"And for the third quarter, we pulled in a 30% increase in stock value"
Gochnipunchni glanced at his watch, counting down the seconds.
"And for the 4th.. We lost 20% profit margins"
He perked up, this was interesting news.
"What do you mean we lost profits?! We haven't lost anything since I founded this company!"
The poor accountant bowed his head, apologizing hurriedly.
"It's because of the blockade, sir!"
"The blockade? The blockade shouldn't stop our caravans!"
"But sir, the blockade is preventing out most profitable ventures from going forth!"
He stood up, shaking one wooden finger, then stormed from...
Two days.
That was how long it had been since the Battle of Rothburg, and Dietrich Drache was still somewhat fatigued from the fight. He still couldn't fathom what came over him in the heat of the moment, but what happened happened, and there was no questioning what he did was a stoke of luck, or perhaps the culmination of the proceedings of the last few months. Whatever it was, the aging noble knew one thing, that was a fluke and he could not rely on it again.
The man trekked across the snow around town. He had been taking it easy the last few days, knowing full well that the war wasn't over just yet. Too many Loyalists had lost their lives, or had come very close to it. He was one of the few who managed to get off with a few scrapes...
Wilfre was going to come back a hero; one that a child would scream giddily about to hear for the fourth time in a row before going to sleep.
He was a lone soldier, guided by only his wits, his antimagic, and the trustworthy blade that he has never gotten rid of after almost a full decade of use. He had no friends to aid him, nor did he have any escorts to slow him down. On this night, he would chug to life and never back down on a quest truly legendary. This Magivore was going to hunt down those with the Mark of the Beast and exorcise them, or make them face their fate for what they had done to the populace of Regalia. Every apple and morsel they destroyed in the food raids would be another hour they would spend in the belly of the...
Chapter two (The Unexpected Fall)
Upon a stroll throughout the streets of Regalia, Marcus and Katelyn found themselves in a bit of a predicament. They were lost. Wandering around the city in no direction, Katelyn started to get very irritated with Marcus. “I told you to ask that old man for directions!” she would scream at him. Marcus would just look into her eyes and smile, thinking how wonderful she is when she is angry.
Katelyn, noticing that Marcus is smiling, grows even more irritated. “What?! Why are you smiling? Were lost and I am scared” she said as she shoved him away. It seemed as if it was all Marcus could do to keep himself from laughing, “But, I love the way you look right now, that angry look is just amazing and I am...
*This series will contain scenes with violence, felt I should warn you*
The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. His screams were carried for miles. The fire crept up his body slowly, like little orange spiders. He remembered a different time, long ago.
Part One: Early life
It was a hot summer day, the tar on the roofs had begun to melt, people lay in the shade of the largest trees they could find.
A barefoot boy clutching a stuffed bear runs past, followed closely by a slightly older looking Neflin girl.
"Give it back!" she screams.
"Come get it!" he yells back.
He turns down a small alley with a cheap noodle stand at the end. The vendor looks behind to see the boy running towards him, he realizes at the last moment that they...
!!!!!The Curious Case Of The Vilitatei’s Humors
!!!!!!!!Taken From The Ledger Of A Practical Physician
Pages 1-3
!!!!Some documents put together to help make clear the events of the past week, and clarify them as best as I could manage. The average daily ordeal was taking up my time, if I do recall so correctly, before I was met with a barrage of interesting scenario. Singularly, they were nothing farther from normal. It was when one took the individual happenings as a singular set of interconnected events that they would begin to see them as I had begun. They were all odd events, even separate. I would say.
!!!!A bit of a preface before the proper beginnings take place. For some time I’ve operated a small shop out of a home in...
End of Undoviel
If there was ever an unforgettable stench, it would have come from the main sewer system beneath Regalia. Stagnating canals of sewage and moss-coated stones, and a bar that the dwellers liked to gather in. Of course, when Glineth stepped inside the Magdalene, there was nobody there besides a single, four-armed Yanar and its screeching blades, two arms holding its swords and the other two running whetstones down their edges. The sound was ghastly, a gravelly howl with each length of the blades. And yet, the bar felt too quiet. Too peaceful.
The Yanar seemed quite content with sharpening its blades forever- or her, when Glineth finally turned to look at her, judging by the face- based on the lack of any indication she...
It had started to snow again. Dieter Fischer sat on a wooden chair in his small, rented apartment, listening to the running footfall and shouts coming from outside. He wore a bandage wrapped tightly around his eyes to alert others as to his blind condition, but his hearing was as keen as ever.
"They're building to a riot again," he said, rocking his head slightly towards the window.
"Let them," commented Falke Berger, a falconer, as he placed a fresh set of clothes on a side bench for the next day.
"Mm," replied the apparent blind beggar, Dieter, turning his head then towards Falke and changing the topic. "How did your meeting go? Did you get the pages printed up?"
"No," said Falke, darkly. "The fellow who owns the printing...
Soft waves lapped against the large ship, now turned tavern, as few dwellers of the undercity were heard conversing with various others and likely arguing.
“You know I won that fight.”
“You wisssh you did.”
“Shall we take it to the stonesss then?” The larger Slizzar cooed out to his little sister, a teasing grin across his face.
“Yesss, letsss.” She hissed at him as the smaller more feminine Slizzar stood from her seat and went to slither off to a booth.
The two settled into a booth as the male Slizzar pulled a pouch from his side and dumped out the contents onto the table. Eight strange coins and two dice clattered about before resting and being scooped into a pile in front of the two. These were no regals, perhaps they were...
"Your goal is to make your opponent yield. Whether they lose their weapon or you force them into submission in other means."
It was not the first spar between the sisters. Surrounded by sibling fist-fights in her childhood, they both managed to get the gist of the game. Still, the twins had no proper training or practice.
"Now, do what you must to take down your opponent. Begin."
Once the wooden swords and shields were thrown to the ground, Peggy picked it up, almost like it was totally foreign to her. She carefully traced the sword with her finger, flipping it over to observe its shape. She glanced to Eliza with uncertainty. With the encouragement from young Lizzy Black, she lifted the shield over her chest and stood in a ready...
It was a simple spar, simple rules. Do what you had to win and it ended when your opponent or you dropped your weapon or fell unconscious. Juliette, dressed in wrinkled green held her shield straight on her right arm, prepared to block herself, a wooden training sword held tight in her left hand. Elizabeth stood a good few feet away, her own wooden blade held in an unsure grasp. She held no shield.
"Jou first, mon amie."
Juliette spoke the words calmly, preparing for an attack.
Elizabeth drove forward, going to slashed her sword and unsteady the Ithanian, who countered the attack by stepped backwards in a flash and sending her opponent's weapon to the left with a startling crack as the forces collided. Juliette rose her shield...
I saw the light at the end, and I ran for it. I bloody ran like a coward-- there were still others in the Under. I...I was one of the first out. We all got out...No, I'sn't thinking of them, I was thinking of myself. 'Teroa, Gwenion; if I never see them again, bloody Void, if I never see my wife and son again,' that's what I thought to myself. That's why I ran. But I also waited to make sure they all got out. May I be forgiven-- I waited for'em.
I watched each face as the sunlight hit it, terrified faces that I could tell felt the same guilt I did. As Santi drew into the light, I reached to clap a hand on his shoulder. I didn't know many of those there, but I knew him and 'Renzo. Those two'd gotten out, at least, and most others. We...
Preface: Just foreword, this will get into some... Plot Twist? Territory, as far as reveals for my character Conf goes. None if this is known IC. By anyone. But I felt like writing it, as this was a cool little moment that I wanted to expand on as far as detail and narrative goes.
Point Of View: Connthus (Conf) Helethium
It was... Cold. That was perhaps the biggest complaint he had with the new Haven. Perhaps even the only complaint. It was firmly out of the way of everything else in this new segment of the Sewers. Hidden where nearly nobody could stumble upon it- though, even if they did it was very unlikely they would make it far inside.
He sat at a table, within his office, within the Haven. It was hardly the highest...
After a barrage of explorations, Amelia had been rather exhausted, just relieved be in the presence of a bed. Even paper on the floor would have been appealing to her. She decided to lie down and just take a long, deserved nap. Unfortunately, her rest was ended prematurely by the voice of her youngin'. He woke her to inform her of a strange a person requesting to see her at the door. Hesitantly and grumpily, she'd yawn herself to the door, opening it while trying not to pass out in the middle of the inquiry.
Upon opening the door, Amelia was greeted by a dark, hooded figure. They stood over her, at least a solid foot, and had one sparkling green eye peeking from under their hood. Amelia, who was already slouching, looked at him...
Belated fanfiction I've been wanting to right, in reaction to an event a few weeks back.
@SupremeCripple @Walrusaur_ @Patsie
It's okay ily guys still
Echos of boots on stone reverberated throughout the dreary hallway, being among the only sounds lingering in the dense walls. Morning light forced itself through small and stout windows, worming into the typically lifeless corner of the castle, providing brilliant streaks of orange to wash over the gray, dim area. Percival came to a slow stop about halfway down, his tired and restless eyes pouring over the sight ahead of him. Scrubbing, constant and annoying. It’s been over a week, and this hall was still being cleaned. He watched silently as the small task force of Ravenstad maids...
First time doing this, thought why not? This story is based on Llytaei’s childhood at the age of five. It depicts language that was developed from his viewpoint, reflecting on the age and wisdom of Llytaei at the particular time.
I’m late. I need to finish these studies on time, otherwise no breakfast; and since I haven’t eaten for a few days, I have to make sure I get something to eat. Father is making his way around around the estate yelling at Syrimon and my mother. I can hear him stomping through the hallway towards the study. I focus my attention upon my studies once more. It’s too late. He catches me.
SMACK. Father sends a hand against the back of my head, I topple from the chair to the floor. I know better than to stay down. I...
The old man was exactly where he was when you had left last time "So,your back." He says "Come to hear my tale of woe some more?" He let out a small bit of laughter and starts coughing "Where did I leave off with you last time..oh yes that's right." He looks you in the eyes "Well as my humanity disintegrated so did my health, as my wrinkles grew and this blasted cough worsened there was one man who tried to help me. His name was Pan, I'll never forget what happened. He tried to convince me that it was the amulet doing this to me, and I should throw it into the sea and never look back. I can't say what I did that night was right but the amulet. Had a hold over me, so in the night I snuck in and stabbbed him and dumped the body...
In reaction to: "Of Red And Black - A Proclamation From The Royal Council", "The Plea of a Desparate Man", and "A Message from the Organized Resistance".
@Film_Noir @PonyoWantHam @Shayin
I am under the impression that some posted slightly altered versions of an original copy, if which such is true, please tag the original writers.
A Dice
It was Cesar Martinez that was affected worst of all.
For a long time, Cesar had been the prime example of what a brother should be like with his immediate family, even if that was drastically different from how he was with the public. Nicolas and he were nearly inseparable. They had grown up together, worked together; now, it was a terrible thing for him to know that he wasn't there when it had...
The young yanar gently kicked her legs back and forth over the edge of the floating island. The night sky looked so different in the forest dream. Barely any stars, if those were even stars. She had been visiting the real of dreams for the past few nights some kind of narcolepsy making her fall asleep at the straightest of times while keeping her awake during the nights. Moving herself into the forest dreams seemed to help even though it was a lot quieter today. Normally rows of evergrowth mages would walk past chatting and meeting up. Normally her grandmother sat with her as well but apparently she had better things to do today.
Slowly she drew a few lines in the sand sighing as her marks didn't seem to leave an imprint. Confused she...
Two months, give or take.
It has been two months since the Deathlings appeared and turned the city upside down. And it was even longer since Dietrich Drache had seen any traces of his family. His last visit to the family estate was cut short, and he had planned to visit them to celebrate the holidays.
Only that was not to be the case.
The aging Alt-Regalian leaned upon the rampart of the Buerg Eleng, clad in bits of pieces of Ravenstad armor that barely fit him if it wasn't for the cloth padding he had been utilizing. He had done the same routine for the past two months: Patrol the outer walls. Man the gates. Look for the next supply wagon. Attend a planning meeting. Repeat.
Repeat. For two months. Dietrich had come to the point...
A messy journal page covered in struck out sentences and doodles lay open, revealing the recipe inside.
Something sweet to top off your fruit or anything really, I learned how to make this at the Crystalline Iris to top off the “Melon and grapes” recipe. (It’s just nicely cut and presented fruit with berry syrup and garnished with a sprig of mint)
Anyway you can do this with any berry but blueberries are what I’ll be using this time around.
All you need are blueberries (about 4 cups give or take), a cup of sugar (or half a cup of honey if that’s too rich for your blood), and half a cup water. (Add a little lemon juice for taste if wanted)
With sugar, you combine everything into a decent sized pot/ and stir til all the sugar is...
Winter
Winter begins now,
Icy lakes and frozen ponds,
People skate about.
Snowmen constructed,
Carrot noses and coal eyes,
Woolen scarves, woven gloves.
Drinks in the Willow,
Teas and ciders to warm yourself,
Fires bright in the hearth.
Snow, snow, ice, and snow,
Everywhere in the city,
Ice and snow falls white.
The white snow and ice,
Falls like a opaque blanket,
Painting the city.
The city silence,
The snow not yet treaded on,
Snow not yet sad gray.
Winter has begun,
Months of snow and ice await,
Woolen scarves and red gloves.
A page of a journal was covered with scribbled out notes and little doodles here and there. Upon closer inspection one could see it’s a recipe of some kind.
My recipe for shepherd's pie is a rather easy one, you'll need the standard vegetables and meat as well some extra bits and bobs.
I made this for a cooking contest and it received rather high praise. Which I would’ve won if it wasn’t for that blond malformed orc hybrid and his grandfather cursing my food with their words and irritating presence.
(Ground lamb, diced carrots, mashed potatoes, broth, peas, butter, an egg yolk, chopped rosemary and thyme, garlic, diced onion, salt, pepper, oil, tomato, and just a bit of that sauce)
Once your potatoes are cooked, mix in the egg...
The Fortune Teller.
There is a stagnant warmth about the place and the smell of old leather-bound books and hay in the air. Morning light breaks over the summit of the Golden Willow, shining down onto the shoddily kept man. Despite his current state, he was usually of proud stature - a defined figure, he was strong of will and proud to a fault; everyone who knows him would know by a glance that this was not the man they knew. From his seat, he could see the spot he met a friend, and previous employer, Tristan Kade. With Tristan, he had discussed his fear of going to fight the bone horrors, he believes himself to be the last person to see Tristan before whatever happened to him and he blames himself for allowing it to happen.
He had...
The vissi creature arose from the murky vegetation and approached the docks. He stumbled several times unable to get used to his recent body. He continued to stumble to a nice ithanian boat upon the shores of the bay. His bare yellow eyes showed no protection to his soul. They were lifeless hiding large agony. They were the pure essence of irony.
The night was dark and the vissi approached his home. He walked slowly to the entrance of the boat as he saw the large amounts of vegetation scattered across the boat. He noticed a new globe upon the boat ((thanks secret santa!)). He stumbled across the boat to the entrance to the small hull. He opened the door to awaken a startled wulong. The wulong stretched to the back of the hull in...