#avros

[neon-adventure]

I fucking did it. Here you guys go. Im gay theyre gay fuck it.

[katalogresepmasakan]

Inilah Ciri Hewan Kurban Layak Konsumsi

MEDAN, WOL – Dinas Pertanian dan Kelautan (Distanla) Kota Medan, mengimbau kepada seluruh masyarakat untuk memastikan kesehatan hewan yang akan mereka gunakan sebagai hewan kurban pada perayaan Idul Adha 2016. Hal ini sesuai dengan ketentuan agama serta keamanan masyarakat, penerima daging kurban. Jaminan kesehatan hewan sangat penting, agar daging hewan kurban yang dibagi-bagikan ke masyarakat ... http://dlvr.it/MDTnWs

[katalogresepmasakan]

Pedagang Hewan Kurban Mulai Penuhi Pesanan

MEDAN, WOL – Menjelang Idul Adha tahun 1437 H, pedagang hewan kurban mulai memenuhi pesanan masyarakat yang akan membeli sapi untuk dijadikan kurban. “Sudah mulai ada yang pesan, dan memang banyak masyarakat yang pesan itu di jauh-jauh hari karena takut kehabisan. Alhamdullilah tahun ini persediaan stok hewan kurban mencukupi,” tutur Syamsul, pedagang sapi di kawasan ... http://dlvr.it/M8pH8H

[xirlos]

Frozen Stars (WIP)

Twighliciah stopped to rest for a moment on the river bank to catch her breath. The snow was comparatively calm for such a day. Leaning down to the surface of the chilled water, she took a crystal strand of ice, weaving it through the air and planting it behind her within the snow. Twighliciah gave a long, loud yawn. No mist escaped with her breath - her heart was as cold as the ice she wove. The ice crystal tree behind her sprung slowly from within the earth behind her, twisting upward and outward. Twighliciah shuffled back and rest her back against the frosty trunk, looking up into the darkened clouds above her. Ever since that catastrophic battle, the sky turned to night permanently, stars glittering through a gap in the clouds. Twighliciah’s eyes shone green through the settling blizzard, the snowflakes gently melting away on the surface, reminding her of all the tears she shed for her people.

Thud. Twighliciah started from her sleep to view the most peculiar sight across the stream. A silhouette with glowing blue eyes stared at here from the opposite riverbank. Slowly, it rose, tall, looming, almost hulking in the shape of its armour. Twighliciah peered closer, focussing the light from her eyes onto the mysterious figure. She heard a gasp as the figure stumbled back at the intense green light, the figure holding up an arm to shield his dark blue eyes. Twighliciah could see frozen tears streaming down his face, his other arm clutching his chest, blue blood streaming from a ferocious break in his futuristic armour. Slowly, the figure rose again, and unshielded his eyes. Twighliciah felt the breath escape her. He was just a boy. Even though his body was quite tall and strong, his features were young, the look in his eyes innocent and full of anguish. Twighliciah had seen lost, wounded men before, but upon sight of her, most gave up and died. But this boy reminded her as a young girl, on that lost battlefield - her people slaughtered, out numbered. Her tears turned to ice as this boys did too. And yet, after a moments staring, the anguish in this boy’s eyes turned to hope. With renewed energy, he feebly reached out to Twighliciah, across the river. He began to stumble forward, barely able to stay upright as he fell to his knees again, giving a wretched cry of agony and frustration. Tears began to well in Twighliciah’s eyes, but she blinked them back. The boy refused to give up hope on what anyone would believe to be an apparition.

She had to help him.

Twighliciah managed to drag the boy back to her abandoned village. He passed out halfway, making it even more difficult - the armour he wore was of such a bizarre design, she couldn’t figure out how to take it off him. She laid him down on the wraithgrass of the healing room in the barracks, the soft turquoise tendrils gently caressing his form. Twighliciah started a fire in the wall recess, the orange flow contrasting nearly everything within the room. Her people didn’t need fire before, it was strange to her - but this boy’s face felt warm. The soft, pale skin was so alike her own, even his snowy hair was akin to hers. But his body radiated heat like it originated from within; something Twighliciah had barely heard of before. The boy began to wake up. At first he winced in pain - Twighliciah had to stop the bleeding somehow, so she created a snowpack to stop the flow - slowly rose up and placed a hand to his face, looking about the room. His gaze stopped at the snowpack lodged into his chest. “I’m sorry,” began Twighliciah, “I couldn’t fathom how to remove your armour, so I had to improvise.” The boy looked up at her with a half-asleep, but wide-eyed stare. He thought for a moment and looked down at his chest. He tapped the side of his chestplate in some sort of combination, and the armour came alive with a series of strange sounds, sliding away with small, intricate mechanisms beneath its surface. He slowly shuffled forward, the armour closing behind him, his body much sleeker than she imagined, clad in simple garments suited for under-armour wear. Twighliciah was simply astonished. “How did you do that?” The boy simply frowned and stared at the gaping hole in the chestplate. “I designed it myself,” he said, his voice young and soft, but stern and clipped. “I’ll be able to repair it, but I’ll need the right materials.” He glanced over at Twighliciah, his glowing blue eyes meeting her glowing green. Suddenly, he turned timid, hunching down. “I’m sorry, I come across you as I’m dying and I don’t even tell you who I am after your save me. My name is Avros. I’m a Celestial Knight. Well…only just recently. As you can see, I’m new to all this. I’m glad you found me.” Avros smiled sweetly and innocently, his obliviousness something to behold. Twighliciah could only help but smile back. “No,” she whispered, “You found me.” Avros’ smile faltered as he clutched his chest. Of course. If he radiated heat, the snowpack would definitely begin to melt. Twighliciah moved over and sat on the wraithgrass mat in front of him. “Tap the wraithgrass three times.” “Erm…why?” “You’ll see.” Avros dubiously tapped the grass as she said, and almost recoiled as the different glowing blades rose up around his finger, slowly spiralling along his arm and across his chest. He gave a slight yelp as the wraithgrass entered the would, the snowpack melting away into steam out of his chest. “Hold still,” Twighliciah hummed to him, placing a hand on his knee to calm him. Gradually, the flesh and even bone began to reassemble, Avros’ face going through a variety of different grimaces and winces of awkward pain as the wound sealed and completely healed. Twighliciah gave a satisfied grin. “See? We used wraithgrass to heal any physical wounds, great or small. All you need to do is remain calm.” Avros was staring into space, still shocked at what happened. He touched the scar. “Ow,” he said, breathing heavily. He maintained the wide-eyed gaze and looked down to Twighliciah’s hand, taking it in his own. “You’re incredibly cold. Come here.” Avros suddenly pulled himself over to Twighliciah and wrapped his arms around her slight frame. The embrace took her by surprise, but the warmth slowly wove its way through her, like wraithgrass, healing her. Instinctively, she clung to his body, taking on the heat in full, letting it rush over her.

She let out a deep sigh, mist escaping on her breath in the deep cold.

[xirlos]

Avros - Intro

The land of Caldeva was a prolific one. Many men from across the plateaus and plains created arts of war, conquering nations, controlling the elements and bending reality to their will. Caldeva expanded at an accelerating rate, every element of combat taken from further reaches of the world - manipulation of the universe, control of the body, power of the mind, strength of the soul.

There lay a monolith city in the centre of this great nation - Twist Tower. The giant pillar of metal rose through the sky as a testament to the power of those who built it. The Great Twisters, bending the metal to their will, the perfect sheen of the walls surface reflecting the dappled fields that lay beneath it. The Great Twisters perfected their techniques, teaching those worthy enough to join their ranks.

But within the tower, a boy began to experiment. Arts of Direct Magic, in tandem with Swordplay. 

The boy's name was Avros.

Standing atop the Tower, Avros perfected his style, wielding focussed moonlight and a longsword, fighting invisible assailants in the thin air above the clouds. He did his best to remain hidden, nobody capable of detecting his abilities where he practiced. And yet, he trained himself only for what was to come.

Twist Tower would fall. And that day was coming all too soon.