Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
“I-… what? What’s that… supposed to mean?” They tilt their head in confusion.
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
As he dives down closer to the ground, he sees the canary is disappeared, and the rabbit is back, staring at him.
he hears a voice in his head. Cold, unnerving, yet somehow full of personality and sassy. He’s heard that voice before, even if he hasn’t heard it for centuries. he first heard it in his youth, when he stumbled into the feywild by accident.
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
“I-… what? What’s that… supposed to mean?” They tilt their head in confusion.
“If your name is Lonely, would it not be ironic if you truly were alone?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
“I-… what? What’s that… supposed to mean?” They tilt their head in confusion.
“If your name is Lonely, would it not be ironic if you truly were alone?”
“Well-… yeah, I guess…” they say, scooting back on the branch a bit.
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
As he dives down closer to the ground, he sees the canary is disappeared, and the rabbit is back, staring at him.
he hears a voice in his head. Cold, unnerving, yet somehow full of personality and sassy. He’s heard that voice before, even if he hasn’t heard it for centuries. he first heard it in his youth, when he stumbled into the feywild by accident.
gods, you are dense.
He flares his wings out, slowing himself down until he is able to land safely. He bends down inquisitively, doing his best to put himself at eye level with the small rabbit. He sends out another tendril of thought, this time using it to communicate. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Archcrone?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
“I-… what? What’s that… supposed to mean?” They tilt their head in confusion.
“If your name is Lonely, would it not be ironic if you truly were alone?”
“Well-… yeah, I guess…” they say, scooting back on the branch a bit.
”but I’m not alone! I have friends.”
“Sure. Like who?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
As he dives down closer to the ground, he sees the canary is disappeared, and the rabbit is back, staring at him.
he hears a voice in his head. Cold, unnerving, yet somehow full of personality and sassy. He’s heard that voice before, even if he hasn’t heard it for centuries. he first heard it in his youth, when he stumbled into the feywild by accident.
gods, you are dense.
He flares his wings out, slowing himself down until he is able to land safely. He bends down inquisitively, doing his best to put himself at eye level with the small rabbit. He sends out another tendril of thought, this time using it to communicate. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Archcrone?"
Was seeing how long it’d take you, my dear! It disappears, and so does the world around Ragnaris. They find themselves in the Archcrone’s winter cabin, like aa they always do when they want to talk. Ragnaris is shrunken down to the size of a human, so that he can fit inside the rather small hut. The Archcrone is in her rocking chair, covered in many layers of fur, knitting a quilt.
Lonely is hanging upside down on a tree branch, reading a book.
A man walks past He has fairly short, messy black hair, pale white skin, a black upper lip, and green eyes with small slit-shaped pupils, similar to a cat's. Two green lines descend from his eyes. His clothes are somewhat fancy, being a pure white jacket with long coattails, baggy white pants and a black sash around his waist. On the top-left side of his head, lies a broken horned helmet, looking as if it was carved from bones. Just being in his general vicinity isn’t enjoyable. A heavy weight, near crushing presses down on everything around it, as well as a feeling of despair, as if nothing is worth it anymore
Lonely pauses, sensing him come by. They drop the book, climb upright onto the branch, and watch them pass by, staying very, very still. Lonely’s breathing gets a bit quicker, their heart speeds up.
The man notices them, staring them in the eyes. His own eyes are cold and unforgiving. The eyes of a killer. Someone without remorse or reason. “Who are you?”
Lonely’s eyes widen, and they stumble back a bit, almost falling out of the tree.
”I-uh, hi… I’m-uh, Lonely?”
“I asked for your name. Not a description of your mental state.”
*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
“I-… what? What’s that… supposed to mean?” They tilt their head in confusion.
“If your name is Lonely, would it not be ironic if you truly were alone?”
“Well-… yeah, I guess…” they say, scooting back on the branch a bit.
”but I’m not alone! I have friends.”
“Sure. Like who?”
“Well, there’s Jason, and Kori-… why do you want to know?”
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
As he dives down closer to the ground, he sees the canary is disappeared, and the rabbit is back, staring at him.
he hears a voice in his head. Cold, unnerving, yet somehow full of personality and sassy. He’s heard that voice before, even if he hasn’t heard it for centuries. he first heard it in his youth, when he stumbled into the feywild by accident.
gods, you are dense.
He flares his wings out, slowing himself down until he is able to land safely. He bends down inquisitively, doing his best to put himself at eye level with the small rabbit. He sends out another tendril of thought, this time using it to communicate. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Archcrone?"
Was seeing how long it’d take you, my dear! It disappears, and so does the world around Ragnaris. They find themselves in the Archcrone’s winter cabin, like aa they always do when they want to talk. Ragnaris is shrunken down to the size of a human, so that he can fit inside the rather small hut. The Archcrone is in her rocking chair, covered in many layers of fur, knitting a quilt.
”Darling, it has been too long…”
Ragnaris begins to transform until he takes the form of an old dragonborn with a large white beard wearing trousers, a tunic, and a doublet. His clawed feet are bare, and he carries his axe-cane at his side. "Hello, Archcrone. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Ragnaris is prowling through a forest outside the Dome, seemingly hunting. Each of the claws on his left foreleg has at least five dark-furred boars the size of horses impaled on them. His reptilian tongue juts out from between his maw, allowing him to taste the air around him.
He senses something draw near, in the forest. It’s tiny, but it radiates power… it’s about a thousand feet in front of him, and he can see it on a hill: it’s a tiny rabbit, wagging its cotton ball tail at him, mockingly.
He growls at it, hoping to scare it off. He laces the growl with arcane words of warning: he is in no mood for a fight today.
It does not scare off. It instead hops a bit closer.
He attempts to turn around and walk away, maneuvering his massive scaled body around the trees. His maw begins to crackle with flames as he prepares to torch the foilage in his way.
It continues following him, from a bit of a distance, but always out in the open. The power it radiates feels familiar… too familiar. Impossibly ancient.
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
As he dives down closer to the ground, he sees the canary is disappeared, and the rabbit is back, staring at him.
he hears a voice in his head. Cold, unnerving, yet somehow full of personality and sassy. He’s heard that voice before, even if he hasn’t heard it for centuries. he first heard it in his youth, when he stumbled into the feywild by accident.
gods, you are dense.
He flares his wings out, slowing himself down until he is able to land safely. He bends down inquisitively, doing his best to put himself at eye level with the small rabbit. He sends out another tendril of thought, this time using it to communicate. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Archcrone?"
Was seeing how long it’d take you, my dear! It disappears, and so does the world around Ragnaris. They find themselves in the Archcrone’s winter cabin, like aa they always do when they want to talk. Ragnaris is shrunken down to the size of a human, so that he can fit inside the rather small hut. The Archcrone is in her rocking chair, covered in many layers of fur, knitting a quilt.
”Darling, it has been too long…”
Ragnaris begins to transform until he takes the form of an old dragonborn with a large white beard wearing trousers, a tunic, and a doublet. His clawed feet are bare, and he carries his axe-cane at his side. "Hello, Archcrone. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
She rocks back and forth in her chair, smiling her warm, but crooked smile. “Well, part of it is I just wanted to check in on my dear, favorite Dragon named Ragnaris the wretched! And second… I heard you had a grandson.” Her smile fades to a more calm expression, still crooked.
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*page 500!*
”s-sorry, sir, that-uh… is my name.”
Ragnaris inhales deeply, then exhales a massive torrent of white-hot flames, instantly reducing the trees and other plants around him to ash. He half-spreads his wings, taking a flying leap 100 feet into the air before extending them fully and beginning to flap.
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
One moment, the rabbit is there, then it’s gone. It’s replaced with a miniscule, miniature golden canary. It flutters up to him, just a small bit slower.
*page 500!*
“Odd. Most parents do not name their children adjectives.”
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name!” They yell. “S-sorry… w-who are you?”
He glances at the small canary following him, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. He allows a tendril of thought to extend to the canary's mind, attempting to sense what it's motives are.
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
The moment that he reaches the canary’s mind, he senses that it definitely isn’t a canary. He can’t read it, but again, very familiar. It flutters up close to his face, just twenty feet away.
“Ulquiorra Cifer. And your name is sufficient. Albeit odd. Almost like a self fulfilling prophecy.”
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
“I-… what? What’s that… supposed to mean?” They tilt their head in confusion.
Now slightly unnerved, he banks to the left and begins to dive as he tucks in his wings. His body whistles past the 'canary' as his immense weight carries him downward.
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
As he dives down closer to the ground, he sees the canary is disappeared, and the rabbit is back, staring at him.
he hears a voice in his head. Cold, unnerving, yet somehow full of personality and sassy. He’s heard that voice before, even if he hasn’t heard it for centuries. he first heard it in his youth, when he stumbled into the feywild by accident.
gods, you are dense. It says.
“If your name is Lonely, would it not be ironic if you truly were alone?”
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
“Well-… yeah, I guess…” they say, scooting back on the branch a bit.
”but I’m not alone! I have friends.”
He flares his wings out, slowing himself down until he is able to land safely. He bends down inquisitively, doing his best to put himself at eye level with the small rabbit. He sends out another tendril of thought, this time using it to communicate. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Archcrone?"
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
“Sure. Like who?”
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
Was seeing how long it’d take you, my dear! It disappears, and so does the world around Ragnaris. They find themselves in the Archcrone’s winter cabin, like aa they always do when they want to talk. Ragnaris is shrunken down to the size of a human, so that he can fit inside the rather small hut. The Archcrone is in her rocking chair, covered in many layers of fur, knitting a quilt.
”Darling, it has been too long…”
“Well, there’s Jason, and Kori-… why do you want to know?”
Ragnaris begins to transform until he takes the form of an old dragonborn with a large white beard wearing trousers, a tunic, and a doublet. His clawed feet are bare, and he carries his axe-cane at his side. "Hello, Archcrone. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
She rocks back and forth in her chair, smiling her warm, but crooked smile. “Well, part of it is I just wanted to check in on my dear, favorite Dragon named Ragnaris the wretched! And second… I heard you had a grandson.” Her smile fades to a more calm expression, still crooked.