The Word Keep

༄ LORE AND SOCIALS ༄ Story and Gpose account for wayward ex-wood warder Leif Renna

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

FERAL

There is a difference between the executioner and the hunter. The former is about snuffing a life--orphaning children, stealing away loved ones, ending family lines, the outside-corrupted body wasted, the forbidden items left behind useless to the Wood. The cost of keeping the Wood safe is being left with that final gaze before death--despair, regret, desperation--and seeing a soul dim from lifeless eyes. It is kill or be killed, but each take haunts my every dream.

This need for survival is also present in the hunt, but there is a mutual understanding in it. My death would mean sustenance for an ecosystem, my body a contribution to the Word. My kill would mean sustenance for me, warmth in the hide, the use of bones and claws for tools. There is no hate in the eyes of the dying creatures of the Green Word, just acceptance, resignation into the circle of life. I can revel in my victory and enjoy my spoils in full belly and warm back, contributing to balance.

To hunt is to worship the Green Word. To kill is to merely defend it.

[rythmecathare-deactivated202412]

J'entendis au loin une voix familière. "Hey Grand Renard! Reviens parmi nous!

L'homme se réveilla subitement , regardant ses mains tachées par l'encre de la plume. Puis il se tourna en voyant le patron. "Et bien mon gars tu nous a fait une frayeur, tu t'es subitement écroulé sur ton livre."

L'homme remit ses cheveux en place barbouillant son visage au passage d'encre. Le patron éclata de rire et sortit un tissu qu'il tendait à l'homme pour se laver le visage. "Égal à toi-même, et je dirai même égale à ton père!"

Je m'appelle Abriel Ver Luern, dit le Grand Renard pour d'autres je suis Sim ou Sim le vagabond.Je vous compterai mon histoire entre deux crises de narcolepsie ou de transe.

[ranmaru-011]

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

FERAL

There is a difference between the executioner and the hunter. The former is about snuffing a life--orphaning children, stealing away loved ones, ending family lines, the outside-corrupted body wasted, the forbidden items left behind useless to the Wood. The cost of keeping the Wood safe is being left with that final gaze before death--despair, regret, desperation--and seeing a soul dim from lifeless eyes. It is kill or be killed, but each take haunts my every dream.

This need for survival is also present in the hunt, but there is a mutual understanding in it. My death would mean sustenance for an ecosystem, my body a contribution to the Word. My kill would mean sustenance for me, warmth in the hide, the use of bones and claws for tools. There is no hate in the eyes of the dying creatures of the Green Word, just acceptance, resignation into the circle of life. I can revel in my victory and enjoy my spoils in full belly and warm back, contributing to balance.

To hunt is to worship the Green Word. To kill is to merely defend it.

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

Summer's End

Time in the rainforest almost seemed to stop, the canopy ever lush, the flowers perpetually in bloom, and the only indication of change at all was when the sway of a sweet tropical breeze would entice moonlit mist, summon showers of rain, or yield to still air thick with heat. This was the breath and heart of the Green Word.

Away from her embrace, time flows like water, the breeze as fickle as the seasons. The death and rebirth of nature, over and over, never ceases to fascinate me, changing like the people who live within it.

I feel the breeze shift, grow cool, long summer days fading to the visit of winter. The trees herald her coming with flags of yellows, oranges, and reds, and the moon lingers longer to witness her arrival.

I stroll along, aging with the seasons, as my thoughts drift back to a time when the world, and my life, stood still.

[gazihsah]

「don’t let it go if you think you have it」

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

Summer's End

Time in the rainforest almost seemed to stop, the canopy ever lush, the flowers perpetually in bloom, and the only indication of change at all was when the sway of a sweet tropical breeze would entice moonlit mist, summon showers of rain, or yield to still air thick with heat. This was the breath and heart of the Green Word.

Away from her embrace, time flows like water, the breeze as fickle as the seasons. The death and rebirth of nature, over and over, never ceases to fascinate me, changing like the people who live within it.

I feel the breeze shift, grow cool, long summer days fading to the visit of winter. The trees herald her coming with flags of yellows, oranges, and reds, and the moon lingers longer to witness her arrival.

I stroll along, aging with the seasons, as my thoughts drift back to a time when the world, and my life, stood still.

[lno408]

ffxiv

[quaithz]

⚔️ Captain Viper! Really happy with how the gold details came out on this one <3

[captainkurosolaire]

Without taking new pics, post one of your OCs as:

Romanceable NPC:

Quest Giving NPC:

The Final Boss:

[bastardofvairemont]

ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔯𝔶

[humblemooncat]

I just love viera so much, man. Every time I see a pretty bun on my dash I just wanna scream about how beautiful they are.

So, if you have a bun, know I am sending them all a /dote. And if you'd like to share them, feel free to reblog this with your favorite shots of them!

[humblemooncat]

Bringing back my drunken love letter to viera from last year. Gimme yo buns. *grabby hands*

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

Arcadion

Fighting someone in the Wood had always been a private affair, almost intimate. Concealed in the canopy's shroud, a single, precise strike earns victory, the battle over before it begins. Blending into the backdrop of nature, ambush is king, a win decided by the rules of the Green Word. The prize is survival.

But in the Arcadion, stealth means little under the rules of the city. Numerous trees are replaced by numerous bodies in the stands, voices in a collective, feverish roar for blood, for spectacle, for the thrill of witnessing drawn-out violence that is taboo outside the stadium walls. A new fighting style is adopted to to show off, to titillate, clothing designed to draw attention to the body as the action unfolds.

Only the outcome of the two fighting styles is the same: survival.

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

((For those of you who keep up with Leif's lore, is it too over the top? Is his past overly dramatic? His skill set too OP? I hope gushing about him doesn't make anyone feel awful about their own OCs; each and every one of them is amazing))

[the-sycophant]

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

((I'm going through a lot of life changes and my self esteem is in tatters, so on my hard moments I look through all of your kind and generous tags to my work. Your comments mean the world to me, so I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. You are all so kind, and it encourages me to post more here.

Will probably delete later, I just wanted to express my gratitude for this little community on Tumblr.))

[ranmaru-011]

Picto Catto❤