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#moon guard
zairaalbereo · 2 hours ago
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Just Nicky and all the thoughts and emotions that live behind his eyes.
Because Joe missed him, and he loves his face (and obviously so do I). <3
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official-daichisawamura · 18 hours ago
Hi Daichi!
I'm honestly a little intimidated to be talking to you, but I'm working on building myself up! How have you been?
-Moon Princess
Hi there princess, I've been good. Don't be too shy alright? I like seein' your pretty face around.
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prismspark · 20 hours ago
The Rolling Hills
A work from a recently discovered tome called, ‘Reflections Upon the Beauty of the Light’ published around 362 KY by a ‘Mother H.B.’ - Some speculate its author might be Bishop Kessanella Prismspark...But surely they must be mistaken - right?
And far beyond all sight and sound and mind You keep in all your ken our histories. And filled with all the treasures we can find You hide within your folds our mysteries.
Your slopes have seen the passing of an age And measured every footstep trodden there A his'try written not on a page Within the fens, the fells, the lakes, the lairs
But few will stop and listen to your song Preferring to be show haste throughout their days Too quickly do they trod on paths along Not taking time to listen from their ways.
But I will stay and learn your mysteries Oh Rolling Hills teach me our histories.
- Mother H.B.
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prismspark · a day ago
A Villanelle in Drustvar
“Have you been up all night Ke-Bishop Prismspark? It’s nearly five in the morning - you need to get some sleep.”
The scratching of the Bishop’s quill came to a halt for the first time in nearly two hours. She glanced across the room to the speaker, her brow furrowing. “I awoke at three, as I always do for my prayers. So pious was my devotion that by the time I finished I figured I might as well stay up until morning prayer and get some work done while I was at it.” Back her gaze wandered to the parchment, the quill dipped in ink once more.
“You hate her, don’t you.” 
A little scoff from the Bishop. “Hate her? No - I love her, as I love all of my children - even the rebellious ones who would seek to try and lead the Church to ruin. No, I love my child - but I hate her sin, and she has been graced with the greatest sin of all.”
A pause then, the sound of bare footsteps coming closer. “But you always defend the nobility, the institutions - don’t you?”
“Of course I do. For their sin is lesser still than that which would replace them. But you must remember this. That a noble is a maggot who has found a corpse to writhe in. A noble, no matter how well-intentioned they may pretend to be, is still that maggot at the end of the day who will eat away at whatever surrounds them. And if the person who brings them their corpses shows up with a wound in their leg one day...?” A glance up. “...The maggots will just as happily eat away at them as well.”
A pause then as the Bishop finished her letter, folding it up and setting it aside to be delivered tomorrow. “The fact of the matter is that the only way a noble can be good is if they abandon nobility and embrace the Light. It’s a charge we have set for ourselves, a heavy one too. There are only two outcomes possible...”
“The corpse is consumed, or the maggots are stomped out?”
The Bishop slid from her chair, smoothing her robes. “To bed.”
The Following Day
A letter without signature ‘nor seal was delivered to the offices of a high-ranking noble.
Then black was painted that old weary day With soul by wearied choice made marr As you stumbled blindly onto pleasure's way.
And as the clouds did heavy on us weigh We found new worries, there in old Drustvar Then black was painted that old weary day.
So listen now, and hark to voice's say That little whisper, heard now near and far As you stumbled blindly onto pleasure's way.
In anger you realized you could not our feelings sway And it your pretty world did jarr Then black was painted that old weary day.
That one should fail to dance unto your play Your little stage, oh doubtless seemed so bizarre As you stumbled blindly onto pleasure's way
And so resolved we must now for you pray That this act of yours leave not some dreaded scar For black was painted that old weary day As you stumbled blindly onto pleasure's way.
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adventuresooc · a day ago
Master List of my character’s first chapters.
Veldorian - Just another night
Madorick - Forsaken by the Forsaken
Bori - A taste of Civilization 
Delranius - Strands of Darkness
Tarric - Hunting the Hunter
Tzabo - Call of the Loa
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hunter-in-glory · a day ago
Hunting the Hunter
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The salty sea air bit at the archer’s face as the longboat travelled across the relatively calm sea. Tarric ‘s gaze was on the distant horizon, knowing where they were going and what he had to do. Havi had awoken the hunter in his home in Morhiem and told him that he had to return to his homeland. Tarric had questioned why and Havi simply put, “A great beast is roaming the woods of your people’s home and it will fall to your arrows alone, valarjar.” Havi left as quickly as he came and as Tarric pulled himself out of the oversized vrykul bed he slept in. He rubbed his eyes and got about the house to collect his belonging he would need for the trip. 
An hour later, Tarric was boarding the vrykul longboat moored outside his home. He sat near the prow, his lynx companion at his feet, covered with a blanket. Saberfang did not like to get wet so he remained as close the bottom of the boat as he could. Tarric looked a the horizon, wondering what the mad seer Havi had meant by a beast he needed to slay himself. Something was amiss but the was always purpose to the old seer’s will. He settled back, closing his eyes. It would take many days to reach the western shores of Quel’thalas. Tarric smiled at the thought of a vrykul longboat docking in Sunsail Anchorage. He almost laughed, as his people would be most surprised. Sometimes he felt so disconnected from his own people, the sin’dorei. He had long been apart from them, even before he was found by the valarjar. Now, even more so. But Havi had him returning to the shore of his birth. Damn him. 
The days and nights passed as one would expect of the valarjar. Days were spent plowing through the seas, calling boast and jest among the crew. Tarric was no exception. He had been with them long enough to be accepted as one of their own. Laughter and jokes were cast as freely as the clouds rolled through the sky. At night, one man took the rudder and the rest sat close, telling stories of their own glory and honor. Tarric always started with is defeat of the fel corrupted dragon Fathnyr, during the war against the Legion. Mead and mutton were savored and the jests were grand. 
Days later, the gleaming spire of Sunsail came into view. The vrykul smirked silently as they approached. The giant longboat still cut waves through the water, the great sails pushing it fast. Soon the sails were stored and the oars were taken, slowing the longboat for a docking speed. The elves of the anchorage stopped their duties, loading their own sleek ships as the longboat drifted into the docks. The vrykul captain looked down at Tarric, speaking the guttural tongue of his people. 
“Your people look scared, Little Brother,” Hfrager said with a smile, using the name the valarjar had given him. “Do they think we will raid them? Their soft bellies wine is no better than goat’s milk and the trinket breaks o easily.” The rest of the crew burst into a bouts of laughter from the words of their captain. 
Tarric sighed but smiled as the ship eased up to the dock. The gangplanks was dropped and the sin’dorei workers stood there, waiting and watching. Tarric replied the vrykul tongue, “They are more scared of your smell Hfrager.” The other vrykul, Hfrager included, laughed again at the insult. “Don’t wait for me, my brothers,” Tarric said as he disembarked. “I don’t know where this path will lead me.”
“Honor go with you, Little Brother,” Hfrager said as Tarric walked to he docks and the dockmaster. The vrykul pulled up the gangplanks and tended to the oars, pulling the ship out of the docks. As they cleared the dock and again into the open sea, the great sails were let go and the longboat sped away. 
“Now,” Tarric said in Thalassian. “Where to begin?”
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xenofae · a day ago
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I made some ancient Kaldorei boomer memes for all of the old, old elves out there
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prismspark · a day ago
When to Smile
357 KY, Elwynn.
“You’re ordained now, Kess. You can’t keep carrying on like this - it isn’t proper.” 
For nearly an hour the small field outside of Norbury had been filled with the laughter of the village children and the soft whistling rustle of the wind through the stalks of wheat as Kessanella and Father Erdyn trailed along behind the joyous, youthful throng.
Mother Kessanella Prismspark looked a far cry from what she would one day become, a stick of a gnome in ill-fitting and grass-stained runecloth robes - blonde hair let free and loose down past her shoulders towards the small of her back. A simple holy symbol hung about her neck, and her hands bore the marks of a day working in the fields alongside the laity.
“As I can disagree with that, I shall. It wa-” She was interrupted suddenly by a cry raised up from the children ahead as they tussled amongst themselves. “It’s my turn with Mother Kessa’s hat!” 
Kessa watched with a smile as she watched the floppy-brimmed hat, the most expensive thing she owned, being tugged and exchanged between the children, one rather frail boy finally winning it and plopping it on top of his head.
Father Erdyn took the moment’s pause to speak. “It could reflect poorly on you, cavorting about like this - letting the children have your hat and rosary to play with - they could ruin it, they could be spotted by the nobles or the other priests.”
A little dismissive wave of the hand from Kessa. “Let them think what they will - it won’t get them much.” A nod ahead to the children. “Hear them laugh and smile, hear them play as to who gets to wear ‘Mother Kessa’s’ hat and ‘play priest.’ That happiness and joy will serve them far better in finding the Light than any sort of worry about appearances.”
Another shake of the head from the elderly father, nodding off towards the road, where the carriage of Norbury’s baron had halted. “The Baron there, he’s not one to like it if he sees you like this.”
The tussling of the children seemed to grow louder ahead. The play as to who got to wear the Mother’s hat turning into a brief and unnoticed brawl, before the play resumed - leaving the frail boy behind and sniffling. Quick was Kessa to make her way over to the boy, a hand going to his shoulder. “Come on then, Tim. What’s the matter?”
A little sniffle from the child. “They took your hat from me, Mother. I...I had just gotten it, and I tried to say it was still my turn. But they stopped me, see. I wasn’t strong enough to hold onto it like the others were...” His head slumped slightly. “...I never am strong enough.”
“No talk like that, Tim. You’re plenty strong enough and I can prove it...” A pause, a glance about as she leant in, nudging his elbow conspiratorially. “...Come on, lift me up - we can go get my hat back together.”
She didn’t need to ask twice, and in a moment the small little gnome was being held aloft in the air, joining in the giggles of the child as he began to race off after the throng. She even extended her arms as he charged forth with her above his head, imitating the noises of those flying machines particular to her people “I’ve got Mother Kess coming in hot! We’re going to win her hat back if it’s the last thing we do!”
Into the throng they plunged, the laughter and playing only growing the more vigourous as the children began to play keep-away with the Mother’s hat, all while she herself was bundled back and forth in the air as well, pretending to try and snatch at it.
Father Erdyn watched from a distance, glancing to the side and giving a nod as the Baron Norbury came up to stand beside him and join in his observation of the scene.
“She’ll never make more than Curate behaving like that, you know. You should warn her.”
Kessanella Prismspark, for her part, was smiling - for all was right in that moment.
 633 KY, Stormwind City - Present Day
“You’re ordained now, Sister Ellys. You can’t keep carrying on like this I will remove you - it isn’t proper.”
For an hour Sister Ellys had stood there opposite the Bishop’s desk, only the scritching sounds of the Bishop’s quill and the faint chant of the Cathedral’s monks filling the silence as she waited to be addressed so that she herself could speak.
“If I could, your grace. It wa-” She was silenced in a moment by an upraised hand from the portly bishop, eyes quickly cast down to the floor once more. She continued to stare at the floor as she heard the Bishop adjusting the rich silken cappa draped about her shoulders, the sapphires in its clasp sending glinting blue reflections dancing across the floor.
“I’m not interested in your excuses, Sister Ellys, they reflect poorly on you...” Bishop Prismspark spent another moment in silence, before resting her quill back in its font and leaning back in her seat. “...the fact of the matter is that this is the fifth time you have forgotten to address Confessor Tiller by his title.” 
Sister Ellys blanched slightly, timidly glancing up towards the Bishop’s desk. “But Confessor Tiller had said it was alri--” 
Again she was cut-off by another upraised hand. “I do not care about the mistaken beliefs of Confessor Tiller. If tomorrow your friends tell you it is right to push people off bridges, will you do so? No - You will remember the respect and propriety that members of the Clergy are called to. We have the Church’s image to uphold, the burden of representation to the world -- even when we are simply amongst ourselves.”
Bishop Prismspark leant forward in her chair then, her eyes narrowed as they burrowed into the Sister - who suddenly found the floor much more interesting. 
“If I hear you forget the respect that is due those in position or title again, I will dismiss you at once. What is more I will write to every other Bishop of the Synod - every other prelate or Knightly Order explaining why you are unsuitable for any post, any position, or any recognition. I will not allow ‘nor brook such flagrant disregard for propriety and respect within my Church. Do you understand this, Sister Ellys? Have I not been kind and made myself clear?”
A few moments of silence passed, before the Sister returned a meek little nod and a hushed little, “Yes, your grace.”
An approving nod then from the Bishop. “Good. Take the day off and spend it in prayer - this is my gift to you. I hope you learn from this, Sister Ellys - I truly only wish the best for you, after all. Dismissed.”  Sister Ellys was already nearly out of the room by the time the Bishop finished. Bishop Prismspark watched her go with a careful eye, leaning back in her seat once more.
Bishop Prismspark, for her part, was smiling - for all was right in that moment.
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tyra-greydawn · 2 days ago
Codes are Stupid
Ugh. Mom why did you have to write everything in code? And why did you pick a different code for each page?!
I could ask for help. I bet Khaz or Val or Amelia would get this done faster than me. Haxley definitely could. He taught me how to break codes.
I could.
But I won't.
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tyra-greydawn · 2 days ago
what is your character reluctant to tell people?
Anything related to Ny'alotha. If you were there, you know, otherwise she doesn't bring it up unless it's relevant to the conversation. Outside of the Dragoons, I think only Mun-Li, Val, and Kyuusei have heard anything about it.
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Hi Daddy, it's your Moon Princess.
This is my first time doing something like this, and I just wanted to break the ice. I hope you're having a good day!
(Hello mods! How are you? Please be patient with me as I'm still learning ❤)
Hi there my little moon princess, I'm glad you're spending your first time with me. I hope you have a good day too
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tyra-greydawn · 3 days ago
what would completely break your character?
what was the best thing in your character’s life?
what was the worst thing in your character’s life?
1. She'd be utterly destroyed if certain people betrayed her. Haxley or Mun-Li are obvious ones. There are others, but that list keeps changing over time.
2. Answered here!
3. When her mind shattered after Ny'alotha overlaid with Azeroth. There weren't any upsides to simultaneously seeing every possible reality and being locked in an asylum for months. She's better but she's still terrified of all things void.
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tyra-greydawn · 3 days ago
does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?
The two are somewhat intertwined. She's an engineer, so she builds things for fun. But she's an engineer because she wanted to maintain her own plane.
Her other primary hobby is writing. That started out as a way to put her thoughts in order at the end of the day but has turned into a fun routine for her. It also helps her when she's struggling to express herself.
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tyra-greydawn · 3 days ago
what was the best thing in your character’s life?
Asking me as the player with an omniscient view: Haxley rescuing her after she was shot down in the Jade Forest. She was completely alone before that and ended up with a family, friends, and connections. Plus without that rescue she's a feral druid hunting people in the woods.
If you ask Tyra: Mun-Li. Full stop.
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tyra-greydawn · 3 days ago
what are your character’s major flaws?
Social ineptitude, impulsiveness, and being easily frustrated. Tyra has ideas for How Things Should Be and doesn't handle it well when reality deviates from that.
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tyra-greydawn · 3 days ago
Haikus are stupid
Dreams vanish with dawn,
Replaced by a raging storm,
Spring turns to summer.
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bloodsun-knight · 4 days ago
Strands of Darkness
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It was not often that a Blood Knight was called to the streets of Silvermoon for a murder. The city guard usually handled it and the Blood Knight order was not the police of the nation. Still, it was not often that the victim was a knight himself. Delranius knelt by the body, running a plated hand over his chinstrap of a beard. He had just got there and, using his fingertip, he traced through he air at the various wounds on the body. A few minor cuts one the unarmored biceps and a few more on the hands, defensive wound, he tried to fight off his attacker but was unable. Delranius moved his finger to the air about the chest of the fallen knight, to the deep and bloody wound over the knight’s heart. This was the killing blow. The unarmed knight, as he should be when he was safe in the city, had no chance against the armed assailant. Closing his eyes, Delranius reached out with the Light, trying to gain a sense of why the knight had not called on the Light to save himself. In his mind’s eye, a golden aura spread from Delranius. It spread until dark motes of purple and black stopped it. The aura collapsed in on itself and Delranius opened his eyes. Anti magic, he thought. That’s what the knight could not call on the Light. Delranius sighed and looked back at the body. Something curious caught his eye. The symbol of the order had been taken from the fallen knight’s tabard, cut savagely and taken. Why? Looking one last time, under the savage hole, a small brand could be see. The brand had seared through the knights tunic and on his dead flesh. It was a cryptic rune, like a barbed wreath.
Delranius sat at his home, in his study, his hand resting under his chin. What was that rune and why had the killer taken the Blood Knight symbol? These were questions that he had no answer for. Sure, a murdered knight was enough to start the city a buzz with rumor. There were enough degenerates, Row Rats, and foul minded killers in the city but not many, if any, would be stupid enough to attack a Blood Knight in broad daylight. Yet, that is exactly what happened. His concentration was broken as a servant entered the study, holding a small brown wrapped parcel. 
“My lord, this was found on the landing by the main door,” the servant said, his eyes on the parcel. 
Delranius got up from his seat, walking to the servant. “Did anyone see who dropped it off,” the Blood Knight questioned. He took the parcel from the servant. it was small and did not weigh much. 
“No, lord, no one saw anything,” the servant apologized, shifting nervously. He was not scared of his lord lashing out of hurting him. He was more disappointed that the staff had failed the lord. 
Delranius set the parcel on his desk, nodding to the servant. “You are dismissed Marcarus and thank you.” The servant bowed slightly and left he study, closing the doors as he did. Delranius pushed his chair out of the way and stood over the small package, looking at it. It did not radiate magic and seemed to light to contain a mechanical trap but he was still wary. Slowly he opened the wrapping and then the small white box. He was ready to call upon the Light to shield him if needed but he did not have too. Inside the box was the torn symbol of the Blood Knights, taken from the tabard of the fallen knight earlier that day, and a letter. Delranius opened the letter, again caution tempering his haste. 
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