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@emxrgence
I'm sorry guys, I swear I've been meaning to come back on here, it's just college takes up the largest portion of my time and at the end of the day I'm just too overworked to get the inspiration to write. Again, I'm sorry, I promise I'll try to get back during the half term.
Sorry for the inactivity, college is a bitch. To make up for it, have a munday picture with my lil noodle snake Akatosh.
Elise frowned, slightly confused. Not an Illusion spell?
"But it does affect your mind and senses to convey informations, right? I’m sorry, I’m just terribly curious, I don’t mean to be pushy… Perhaps you would have notes on the subject? I would be very interested to study this spell."
Upon the realisation that she had muddled her words and confused her company, Yceri placed a hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry my dear, I must have lost you there. It is an Illusion spell, just not the orthodox kind which is used in combat and such. It... I guess the best way of putting it is that it paints a picture in my mind of my surroundings."
Nonil was in the forest, her firey red hair pinned into an intricate braid. She was traveling, though she lacked the robes marking her as a Thalmor justicar … the owner had been taught too take pride in the position, but it had never felt right. She didn’t wish for eleven supremacy, she wished for a peaceful coexistence with others. Of course she’d never speak this aloud… She had been distracted from her path and was now climbing an ancient seeming tree. Her small figure moved quickly, her red braid whipping behind her as she moved. She paused when she heard someone below, yelling something. Perhaps at her? She cast her emerald eyes down to investigate.
Ervelor had been returning to the tree in which he had decided to reside for the past few days, but upon his arrival, the mer saw a stranger attempting to climb it. Deciding to call up to them and demand that they leave his current home, the Bosmer cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Oi! You! Get out o' my fuckin' tree!"
Upon reflection, what he said did sound a bit silly out loud.
SAD RP STARTERS
"Was..I not good enough?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Was it something I did?"
"Was it..something I said?"
"How could you?"
"I don't miss you.."
"I miss you so much, my heart bleeds when I think of you.."
"It's my fault.."
"I should have been there."
"I'm..so..so sorry I couldn't protect you."
"You're dead to me."
"Maybe he was right."
"Maybe she was right."
"I'm not worth your while, am I?"
"Am I so insignificant?"
"I need you."
"It's your choice, now you have to live with it."
"I want to be once again with you."
"You choose the road, love. And I'll make the vows."
"You had it coming."
"You only have yourself to blame."
"I only have myself to blame."
"I have only tears to shed."
"My heart is black and my mind is darkness.."
"The truth is, we're both frauds."
"At least you had good intentions."
"He was too strong."
"I hate this life."
"Once something is truly lost, one can never get it back again."
"You had better start believing in nightmares, you're in one."
"Don't worry about my falling limbs and broken heart, my stitches feel no pain. I love you, that's all that matters."
"You just have to let it go."
"Some things happen, and there is nothing you can do about it."
"This the end."
"Scream all you want, no one can hear you."
"No one can save you now."
"Rest in peace."
"You will never see the light again."
"Lost.."
"Just let me die."
"Just leave me behind."
"I won't say it to him, but he's got us beat."
"There is still a way to defeat you."
"Fine, knock yourself out. I mean it."
"You're not a cat. You're a rat."
THE ALTMER OF SUMMERSET: HIGH ELF HEADCANON
The Cultured Folk:
The Altmer, or the “Cultured Folk”, are a tall, slender, humanoid race of elves whom are descendents of the original Aldmer, or the “Old Ones”, the common ancestors of all the elven races of Tamriel, and the progenitors of the present day High Elf. To the Ayleids of Cyrodiil, they were known as Salache, but in the Empire the Altmer are commonly called High Elves, with “High” being used as a derogatory term meaning “Proud” and “Snobbish”. The Altmer consider themselves the most civilized culture of Tamriel, and with their language, sciences and arts, and culture influencing almost every other society in Tamriel, they are partly correct in that regard. Altmeri religion and language forms the cornerstone many other cultures and religions. For their part, the Altmer argue that they are the first true culture on Tamriel and still the most civilized race; an argument that even human scholars find difficult to refute. The High Elves of Summerset excel at the arcane arts, being masters of magic, and the most magically inclined races in all of Tamriel. However, their mastery of spells comes at a steep price, and the Altmer are weak to the very fabric of their being; magicka. They are vulnerable to the very thing that gives them their innate ability, as they are vulnerable to the spells of fire, electricity, and ice. Despite their weakness to magicka, and their lithe, slender builds, the Altmer are extremely resilient to disease and are often able to shake off illnesses that would put even the sturdiest orc into a sick bed.
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just for the record I will eventually do a munday picture thing. It'll be me with my snake Akatosh (his name actually is Akatosh how rad is that)
You're the most talented writer in the RP community
Holy shit thank you so much, I mean there are plenty of other people who write better but this still made me really happy! ^u^
CRITIQUE MY WRITING ON ANON
I can’t respond, only post. I’m trying to improve my writing over here so any critique helps!
"Nice to meet you, where you been?" (( Not fussed as to who! Sorry it's not specific augh ;; ))
Looking up from his ale, Brynjulfur looked rather haggard from his travels. “Nice t’ meet you too, lass. Last place I’ve been was up near Kynesgrove. ‘S bloody freezin’ up there.”
The chuckle and the smile eased her anxiety slightly - and then the effort to pronounce her alias wiped it away completely.The cat began to relax into her seat before answering. “I’ve just been wandering around. I, ah, I stop wherever I can; get drink, food, sleep - and then I move on.” The Khajiit took a sip from the tankard she received as she pondered how to ask her question.
"What was happening in Kynesgrove, then?"
"Fair enough," the Nord replied, sipping his ale as he finished. Truth be told, he did not believe for a minute that the Khajiit had given her true name, but Brynjulfur didn't blame her. Whilst natives to Skyrim such as himself could expect a warm welcome and have no risk of giving their real name, he knew that other races, especially Khajiit and Argonians, had far more trouble.
"I was trackin' a coven o' vampires 'round the area. Turns out, it was just the one, usin' Illusion spells to look like more 'n' scare off others."
Misora just stared at the bloody deer as it hung from the high branches. The empathetic mer couldn’t help but feel bad, but deep inside she knew this was the way of things. At least she would eat well tonight. Silently, she followed behind the Bosmer, the only other noise heard was Albus’ hungry moans.
"Quiet now, we’ll be home shortly." The Dunmer tapped the guar gently on the snout. "You’ve been good today, haven’t tried to escape once!" She then cast her eyes to the ground, scanning for something.
"Ah!" Misora announced gleefully when she spotted a small green bush. She approached it and yanked off a few berries. "This should be very tasty!" The mer dangled the juniper berries over Albus’ mouth and the guar expressed his eager hunger by dangling his tongue expectantly. One by one, she dropped the berries in his mouth until the handful was gone.
"Gwuh!" Albus protested, but Misora simply hushed the guar, then turned to catch up with Ervelor.
Ervelor noticed how Misora looked up at the elk; it was the same face that many whom had never hunted before wore. The killing and bleeding of an animal was brutal, the mer did not deny that. But it was more humane than to hunt it from horseback with a pack of hounds, as many nobles were wont to do.
In an attempt to steer the conversation towards a topic more cheery, the Bosmer nodded down at the little guar. "So where'd you find the little one, anyway?"
Krajyk shoved the smaller Khajiiti bounty hunter aside form the post on which bounties were nailed. Not even bothering to acknowledge the other, the Orc continued on to read through the bounties.
"That armor must make it very difficult to move. Perhaps you require some assistance navigating a walkway without bludgeoning others? Or do you just enjoy being disliked by those near you?"
The Orc looked at the smaller being with irritation. "You'll dislike me more when I pull out yer fangs, cat."
A small brown box, wrapped simply and tied in string, sat on the Emissary's desk, with a note beside it reading "I would have gotten this to you sooner, apologies, Caryndil". Upon opening, Elenwen would find an exquisitely crafted amulet of Auri-El, inlaid with the finest cut gemstones and at the centre, a diamond that glittered a different colour at each glance.
{{ ♦ }}
Raising the amulet from its box, a light gasp was drawn from the emissary; hand resting over her mouth while her eyes examined the piece. His gift had far surpassed hers — a set of Aldmeri spices was nothing in comparison to.. this. Not only was it absolutely stunning, but she was certain it must’ve been considerably expensive.
Without another thought, she rosefrom her seat and began towardshis office, hoping to find him in theEmbassy. Before she reached the door, her nails worked on the clasp on the back of the necklace, slipping it around her neck and snapping the back to secure it.
“Caryndil,dear?” Elenwen beckoned as her knuckles rapped against his office door, “May I come in?”
What Elenwen could not have known is that Caryndil had been up all night finishing off a mountain of paperwork which regarded a number of Justiciars and their encounter with a vampire coven. The knocking upon his door roused the old mer from a light slumber, and he looked around dazedly before realising from where the sound originated.
"Of course," he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear, getting up from his desk and swiftly putting a kettle of water on. Tea was sorely needed at this moment. "Please, do come in."
anonymously send me an ✖ if you’re afraid of talking to me and tell me why.
Hvem skal synge meg I daudsvevna slynge meg Når eg på Helvegen går Og dei spora eg trår er kalda, så kalda Eg songane søkte Eg songane sende Då den djupaste brunni Gav meg dråper så ramme Av Valfaders pant Alt veit eg, Odin Var du gjømde ditt auge
You've been one of my favorite people of 2014. Send this to everyone who has had an impact however big or small on your life this year (っ◕‿◕)っ♥*:･ﾟ✧!!
Thank you very much ^u^
The Dunmer obeyed quietly, keeping her pet hushed as Ervelor hunted. She pouted slightly as the elk fell to the earth, though she took solace in how deftly the Bosmer’s arrow flew. At least the poor creature didn’t suffer.
Suddenly, Misora was incredibly glad she hadn’t tried to flee from the thief as it would have resulted in her assured death. She patted Albus on the head, keeping the basket turned away from the blood accumulating on the forest floor.
"Very Swift, Ervelor. Shall we head to the Librarium?" She suggested nervously.
"Thanks," The thief wasn't used to people complimenting his hunting skills, as he hunted alone, so his reply may have come off as blunt. Tying a long rope around the rear legs of the elk, the Bosmer slung the other end up over a high, thick branch in the woods above.
"Gotta bleed it out of reach of scavengers," Ervelor explained, slitting the dead animal's neck and heaving it upwards. Once it was well out of reach, the mer tied the end of the rope around the trunk, etching a cross to mark the tree. "We'll come back this evening. Let's go."
