I had stuff prepared for the Festival of Thorns 2 but I don't think Glom had enough people when I attemped it(again). That chalice looks amazing.
Uhm, I would like to see something happen! I volunteer as tribu- A helper!
The apple is cold, crisp, and sour as the juices fill your mouth. As you consume the fruit, you glimpse, for a moment, a massive, shadowy figure, Her snow-white hair framing a perfect, icy-eyed visage. Beneath you, a vast, perfect web of silken strands lies - and, for a moment, you realize that you too are part of it, weaver and strand both - and home.
Decided to reincarnate Sakaki and give him a new look.
He is a nimble undead faeling and holds a diminuitive, but unsettling presence. His icy blue eyes observe his surroundings with a cold, calculating gaze, set beneath thin, black eyebrows. Through a vicious grin, his teeth have apparently been styled similar to those of a shark - sharp, pointy, dangerous. His coal black hair is cut into an unruly, jagged style, as if his hair was styled to honor the flames of nil itself. His pale, translucent wings carry various holes, tears and other signs of decay, testament to the taint that flows through him, his fingernails carefully tapered down to thin, sharp points.
Kiss of the Enchantress hisses eerily, "Let them fear, and despair."
At first I thought the designer meant venerable. Then I realised it was Myrai's wand, and it likely did mean to say venereal.
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
I designed something for a newbie Harbinger who wanted some kind of green violin. Sadly, I haven't seen her in a few days, so I doubt anyone will ever see or use the design, and since I'm rather pleased with it, I figure I'll share with the world. Also, thanks to whoever approved this within 12 hours of it being submitted!
Appearance: an absinthe-hued jade fae violin Dropped: A absinthe-hued violin engraved with spritely jade wormwood fae rests here. Examined: A number of spritely viridian fae peer from beneath the etched jade foliage that adorns this violin. The instrument is constructed from a combination of the finest spruce and maple woods, and dyed a vibrant, lurid green. Large plaques of milky green jade, carved to resemble the feathery leaves of a wormwood plant, dapple across the violin's entire surface. The wormwood fae themselves have been etched beneath the leaves, and all resemble diminutive young women in revealing dresses and flowery garters, with vicious bat-like wings of black-bordered green. Four steel strings run up the Night-black ebony neck of the violin, attaching to the head by means of jade tuning pins in the shape of the absinthe fairies. The maple wood bow has been dyed to match the lurid hue of the violin.
The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!
So, came up with this, been threatening to do it for almost a month now. Previewing it here so if there's an outcry I can adjust it before putting it in-game.
He is a bouncing furrikin and has a coat of silky white fur with a hint of jade tinting to it. His snout is thin and narrow, with tufts of snowy white fur along its underside. These extend out from his cheeks as well, and connect with a small mane that tops his head and begins to run down his spine before disappearing into his clothing. His triangular ears poke out from this mane with well over half their length exposed, the pale jade emphasised by contrast to the pure white. He's slight and often visibly tense, with most of his motions quick and his powder-blue eyes darting from spot to spot. The base of his spine extends outward in a furred tail, with the same groove of white fur running along its top and terminating in a tuft born from it ducking back under at the tip, which generally rests just above his ankles. Each finger is tipped with a dull black claw, which look as if they've been filed shorter rather than clipped.
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
0
SylandraJoin Queue for Mafia GamesThe Last Mafia Game
Idk how many of these are left in circulation so, here you go:
twilight-touched prayer beads of the Enigma
Perfect polished beads in glittering colours are strung together with links of pale, shining skysilver. Three beads of night-black glass adorn one end, lightly coated with a whisper of frost and twinkling faintly with pinpoints of light like stars. At the other end, three beads of sun-coloured glass glow faintly with a golden shimmer. In the middle, three globes of rich blue gleam with a soft twilight aura. Each end of the string terminates with a perfect sphere of clear glass, within which a cold blue flame burns without heat. Slightly larger than the rest of the beads, these globes are enclosed within thin ribs of pale skysilver, and dusted with white frost.
It weighs 2 ounce(s).
It bears the distinctive mark of Lady Sylandra Shevat, the Starless Sky.
"Oh yeah, you're a naughty mayor, aren't you? Misfile that Form MA631-D. Comptroller Shevat's got a nice gemstone disc for you, but yer gonna have to beg for it."
A glittering frost forms about this Manifestation's nearly invisible form, a mere bending of the light all that hints at its presence. A hungry miasma churns at the gargantuan creature's feet as it hisses with the sound of blasting air, the airstream vibrating with each sinister sound. Glancing over its massive frame, images of countless hopes, dreams and nightmares flicker across the landscape of the mind's eye, each haunted by scenes of vacuum filled voids and uncontrollable currents. A Manifestation of Stoppered Air does not even register your presence as a threat.
Sparkling bubbles float about this Manifestation's nearly invisible form, a mere bending of the light all that hints at its presence. The waters ripple at the gargantuan creature's feet as it gurgles with the sound of hungry waters, the air vibrating with each tortured sound. Glancing over its massive frame, images of countless hopes, dreams and nightmares flicker across the landscape of the mind's eye, each haunted by scenes of never-ending drought and dying sealife. A Manifestation of Parched Oceans does not even register your presence as a threat.
Particles of dust float about this Manifestation's nearly invisible form, a mere bending of the light all that hints at its presence. The ground rumbles at the gargantuan creature's feet as it groans with the sound of shifting earth, the air vibrating with each grunted sound. Glancing over its massive frame, images of countless hopes, dreams and nightmares flicker across the landscape of the mind's eye, each haunted by scenes of crumbling earth and scattered sands. A Manifestation of Broken Earth does not even register your presence as a threat.
Crumkane, Lord of Epicurean Delights says, "WAS IT INDEED ON FIRE, ERITHEYL."
-
With a deep reverb, Contemptible Sutekh says, "CEASE YOUR INFERNAL ENERGY, ERITHEYL."
I was actually waffling for a while over whether or not to give Luce belly/forearm/shin/under-tail scales. Decided it probably wasn't worth the effort to describe it, though.
I'm entirely too delighted by my dark fae tea set. So I'm going to inflict it on everyone here.
Elegantly crafted to showcase the sophistication of Glomdoring's tea culture, this tea set offers a variety of unusually shaped pieces, as each has been detailed to resemble one of the Nightmare's dark fae creations. Most prominent is the squat, disfigured tea pot, clearly mimicking the form of a lumpy, wrinkled squonk. Pink marble has been carefully chiselled and etched to highlight the myriad wrinkles of the squonk's body, while discolourations and impurities look like moles and warts, dotted across the miserable beast's skin. A particularly prominent black wart on the squonk-pot's back can be lifted to reveal a lid that conceals the inside, where a steel infuser keeps the tea leaves contained. The front of the pot resembles a bawling face with a prodigiously elephantine nose. Enormous, weepy eyes fill the face, their misery accented by the deep frown carved below the nose. Curiously, the nose is not the spout. Instead, slots have been cut around the eyes, so when the tea is poured, it gushes out like tears. Thick grooves down the pot's snout attempt to guide the tea to its proper destination. Four thin, spindly legs jut beneath the pot, designed to keep it elevated above a small candle gripped by the tray. As a finishing touch, the squonk's rat-like tail curls up behind it, forming a handle for the pot. Three smaller pots hold additional accoutrements. A grinning redcap, carved from flame maple and capped with rubies, and with an oversized head far too big for its body, serves as a dry tea holder, its cap lifting to reveal the storage compartment inside the head. A proud teak slaugh surrounded by waves of black hair and wearing a purple-tinted formal gown stands as a cleverly designed sugar shaker. A blackthorn barghest with golden eyes holds its mouth open in a fearsome shriek, serving as a pour spout for the creamer kept inside. Four transparent glass tea cups have been carefully blown and shaped into the appearance of wispy, insubstantial women, their hair and cloaks billowing behind to form the vessel for the tea, while they balance, and are lifted, by their widely flowing dresses. Two of the cups have been darkly tinted, and resemble wailing banshees, while the other two have a muted peach and gold iridescence like a vila. Four silver tea spoons have been adorned with gems and images of flower fae - a jade wormwood fae poses seductively, an obsidian rose fae holds a regal pose, a white coral snoefaasia fae appears to dance, and an amethyst nightshade fae wears its blossom as a hat. Finally, the tray itself is a pane of glass that resembles a violent wendigo, ragged and sharp around the edges, and etched with violent whirls and whorls that suggest a raging storm. A treating of cloud essence has caused the glass to frost over so it appears like ice ripped from a frozen pond. Deep black onyx eyes surrounded by grasping white coral hands clutch at each pot and cup, or provide a resting place for the fae spoons, while keeping the whole set stable in even the worst of conditions.
tl;dr - I have a squonk teapot, and I drink its tears.
The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
A special post, brought to you from Lifestyles of the Rich and Decomposing
---
You slip into skin of a zombie.
The rotting flesh grows over you, spreading hungrily over your limbs, then your torso, before
reaching your head. All about you goes black as it consumes you completely and you feel the life
drain from your limbs. Your eyes blink open and you hunch forward, your body still functioning fully
in undeath, and you smile wryly as a hunger for the living overcomes you.
Vivet is a disgusting zombie and little more than a fetid remnant of her former self. Sickly grey-
green tones, mottled with black and yellow, grant her entire body a taut and lifeless shell. Great
rends and tears sunder her limbs and torso, perpetually oozing a foul substance, and the corner of
her mouth peels back to reveal broken yellow teeth. The nauseating stench of necrosis follows in her
wake, sending even the hardiest of stomachs roiling.
You remove skin of a zombie.
You claw at the rotten flesh that covers you, desperate for the life you once had and it slowly
peels away, revealing your own skin beneath. Feeling returns to your limbs as you continue to tear
away at it until it sits before you in a heap of disgust and decay which you gather and tuck away
once more.
---
As a special note to the admin - hair curios look the same and don't go away if you're also wearing one. I think it'd be extra nifty if there was a special "zombie hair" that any hair curio defaulted into so long as you're wearing the skin, but that'd only be for fun and giggles at this point. Not really useful or anything.
Since a couple of people have asked, @Jadice's description: She is a radiant immortal and stark white, with a faint rime of frost covering Her hardened skin. Gem-carved orbs the hue of a frozen sky spin within Her otherwise empty eye sockets; energy flickers within the faceted stone, shifting rapidly through spiralling waveforms and equations. A stern vigour infuses Her graceful movements and, though Her features are lovely, Her expression is cold, and Her lips are a harsh indigo compressed into a thin line. A light dusting of snow covers the cerulean, crystalline hair which cascades from atop Her head and twists into ornate fractal patterns. She is wearing a set of fractal-emblazoned bracers, a long gown of silvery silk and a fur-trimmed cloak of indigo satin.
Bracers: Smooth, close-fitted halves of polished, sky-hued ice fit together neatly, bound by smoothly- interlocking, sharp-edged crescents of platinum. Frost glimmers across the exterior, casting itself into line upon line of interlacing, fractal circles: between them, loops and triangles shift in unrelenting patterns. Thick rime of velvety crystals smooths itself over where the armour cuffs itself to the arm.
You look at a long gown of silvery silk that Jadice is wearing: Liquid swathes of silk trace the lines of the form beneath, cowled at the neck, flawlessly tailored to flow over the hips and fall to the floor. In the folds and fluttering train of this garment, ice crystals sparkle over the shadows cast by brilliant fabric as geometrical formations are born and disperse in orderly, ever-changing patterns. The broad sleeves and thick sash of the gown give weight, while the delicate silk snaps and flutters, as light as the wind.
You look at a fur-trimmed cloak of indigo satin that Jadice is wearing: Soft tufts of ivory fur from some strange beast adorn and line the hooded expanse of this regal garment. Complemented by the beast's pelt, the flawless satin which makes up this garment is a deep, rich indigo, reminiscent of the depths of a glacier. A clasp of smooth platinum wraps itself around a spinning ornament, a crystal of pure, transparent ice that glows from within with a faint, greenish light: this rests at the bottom of the deep hood, fastening the garment at the neck.
Dozens of spherical glass orbs string together to form the massive length of these prayerbeads, capable of circling loosely about the neck in thrice. A sparkling frost coats the simple threading that binds each of the beads together, the air about the icy crystals giving off a fine haze as the warmer air blows over it. Deep within each of the crystal spheres of the necklace a misty haze swirls about, the rhythmic movement of each miasma mesmerising in its movement. Staring into the transparent globes reveals a faint whispering that escapes from the churning fog, the sound only broken by an averted gaze.
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
Viravain, Lady of the Thorns shouts, "And You would seize Me? Fool! I am the Glomdoring! I am the Wyrd, and beneath the cloak of Night, the shadows of the Silent stir!"
After @Drocilla stole my voice, a room in the gardens got changed.
The ruined Crossways of Redemption.
The air is filled with motes of light emanating from a healing shrine of Terentia nearby. This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. It is warm and quite pleasant. Four different paths spread out from the Crossways of Redemption, each framed by vandalised statues of angelic beings, their wings and praying hands ripped away and cast to litter the ground. Charred trellises arch above the different pathways, their lengths lined with decaying greenery spotted with black flowers weeping blood. River-smoothed pebbles have been lain across most of the paths, a sizable amount of them missing or cracked. A blackened lawn of shriveled grass surrounds the paths, a stark reminder of the tragic events that took place here.
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
Comments
Poke at Makaela! She likes helping out with things!
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."
Mysrai strokes the decapitated head of Persayis tenderly.
---------------------------------------------------
Mysrai Thrice-Crowned intones, "DZA NA III."
You say, "Dzaa."
You nod your head emphatically.
Mysrai nods solemnly.
Mysrai gives you a peck on the cheek.
Reality solidifies, mending itself into a single paradigm as Mysrai departs.
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Mysrai strokes the decapitated head of Persayis tenderly.
---------------------------------------------------
Mysrai Thrice-Crowned intones, "DZA NA III."
You say, "Dzaa."
You nod your head emphatically.
Mysrai nods solemnly.
Mysrai gives you a peck on the cheek.
Reality solidifies, mending itself into a single paradigm as Mysrai departs.
Appearance: an absinthe-hued jade fae violin
Dropped: A absinthe-hued violin engraved with spritely jade wormwood fae rests here.
Examined: A number of spritely viridian fae peer from beneath the etched jade foliage that adorns this violin. The instrument is constructed from a combination of the finest spruce and maple woods, and dyed a vibrant, lurid green. Large plaques of milky green jade, carved to resemble the feathery leaves of a wormwood plant, dapple across the violin's entire surface. The wormwood fae themselves have been etched beneath the leaves, and all resemble diminutive young women in revealing dresses and flowery garters, with vicious bat-like wings of black-bordered green. Four steel strings run up the Night-black ebony neck of the violin, attaching to the head by means of jade tuning pins in the shape of the absinthe fairies. The maple wood bow has been dyed to match the lurid hue of the violin.
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
A Manifestation of Stoppered Air does not even register your presence as a threat.
Sparkling bubbles float about this Manifestation's nearly invisible form, a mere bending of the light all that hints at its presence. The waters ripple at the gargantuan creature's feet as it gurgles with the sound of hungry waters, the air vibrating with each tortured sound. Glancing over its massive frame, images of countless hopes, dreams and nightmares flicker across the landscape of the mind's eye, each haunted by scenes of never-ending drought and dying sealife.
A Manifestation of Parched Oceans does not even register your presence as a threat.
A Manifestation of Broken Earth does not even register your presence as a threat.
-
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Appearance:
a ring of verdant light amidst shadowy blossoms
Dropped:
A soft green glimmer betrays the presence of a platinum and onyx ring.
Examined:
Crafted from silvery white platinum and fashioned into a flawless torus,
this ring is made to snugly embrace the wearer's finger. The matte
finish is, at first glance, featureless, but the soft brushing bears the
faintest impressions of curved lines and points that, when studied
carefully, form the image of a noble hart. Within the nearly illusory
tines of the hart's antlers is nestled a full moon, just as faint and
hard to see as the cervine shade. The central focus of this ring,
however, are the shadowy blossoms of numerous flowers, carved from onyx,
and overlaid with layers of other gems that have been cut so thin that
only a hint of colour is discernible in the inky darkness of the stone.
These flowers burst forth from the band, as if in vigorous blossom, and
only just kiss the wearer's flesh, each petal and leaf afforded an
attention to detail that mirrors their natural counterparts nearly
flawlessly. Deep in the midst of the blooms is a single emerald, tiny
and alone, but shimmering with a gentle viridian light. The small,
persistent glow seemingly hopeful within the sea of blackness, appearing
brighter than it actually is for the darkness which surrounds it.
Elegantly crafted to showcase the sophistication of Glomdoring's tea culture, this tea set offers a variety of unusually shaped pieces, as each has been detailed to resemble one of the Nightmare's dark fae creations. Most prominent is the squat, disfigured tea pot, clearly mimicking the form of a lumpy, wrinkled squonk. Pink marble has been carefully chiselled and etched to highlight the myriad wrinkles of the squonk's body, while discolourations and impurities look like moles and warts, dotted across the miserable beast's skin. A particularly prominent black wart on the squonk-pot's back can be lifted to reveal a lid that conceals the inside, where a steel infuser keeps the tea leaves contained. The front of the pot resembles a bawling face with a prodigiously elephantine nose. Enormous, weepy eyes fill the face, their misery accented by the deep frown carved below the nose. Curiously, the nose is not the spout. Instead, slots have been cut around the eyes, so when the tea is poured, it gushes out like tears. Thick grooves down the pot's snout attempt to guide the tea to its proper destination. Four thin, spindly legs jut beneath the pot, designed to keep it elevated above a small candle gripped by the tray. As a finishing touch, the squonk's rat-like tail curls up behind it, forming a handle for the pot. Three smaller pots hold additional accoutrements. A grinning redcap, carved from flame maple and capped with rubies, and with an oversized head far too big for its body, serves as a dry tea holder, its cap lifting to reveal the storage compartment inside the head. A proud teak slaugh surrounded by waves of black hair and wearing a purple-tinted formal gown stands as a cleverly designed sugar shaker. A blackthorn barghest with golden eyes holds its mouth open in a fearsome shriek, serving as a pour spout for the creamer kept inside. Four transparent glass tea cups have been carefully blown and shaped into the appearance of wispy, insubstantial women, their hair and cloaks billowing behind to form the vessel for the tea, while they balance, and are lifted, by their widely flowing dresses. Two of the cups have been darkly tinted, and resemble wailing banshees, while the other two have a muted peach and gold iridescence like a vila. Four silver tea spoons have been adorned with gems and images of flower fae - a jade wormwood fae poses seductively, an obsidian rose fae holds a regal pose, a white coral snoefaasia fae appears to dance, and an amethyst nightshade fae wears its blossom as a hat. Finally, the tray itself is a pane of glass that resembles a violent wendigo, ragged and sharp around the edges, and etched with violent whirls and whorls that suggest a raging storm. A treating of cloud essence has caused the glass to frost over so it appears like ice ripped from a frozen pond. Deep black onyx eyes surrounded by grasping white coral hands clutch at each pot and cup, or provide a resting place for the fae spoons, while keeping the whole set stable in even the worst of conditions.
tl;dr - I have a squonk teapot, and I drink its tears.
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Tonight amidst the mountaintops
And endless starless night
Singing how the wind was lost
Before an earthly flight
She is a radiant immortal and stark white, with a faint rime of frost covering Her hardened skin.
Gem-carved orbs the hue of a frozen sky spin within Her otherwise empty eye sockets; energy flickers
within the faceted stone, shifting rapidly through spiralling waveforms and equations. A stern
vigour infuses Her graceful movements and, though Her features are lovely, Her expression is cold,
and Her lips are a harsh indigo compressed into a thin line. A light dusting of snow covers the
cerulean, crystalline hair which cascades from atop Her head and twists into ornate fractal patterns.
She is wearing a set of fractal-emblazoned bracers, a long gown of silvery silk and a fur-trimmed
cloak of indigo satin.
Bracers:
Smooth, close-fitted halves of polished, sky-hued ice fit together neatly, bound by smoothly-
interlocking, sharp-edged crescents of platinum. Frost glimmers across the exterior, casting itself
into line upon line of interlacing, fractal circles: between them, loops and triangles shift in
unrelenting patterns. Thick rime of velvety crystals smooths itself over where the armour cuffs
itself to the arm.
You look at a long gown of silvery silk that Jadice is wearing:
Liquid swathes of silk trace the lines of the form beneath, cowled at the neck, flawlessly tailored
to flow over the hips and fall to the floor. In the folds and fluttering train of this garment, ice
crystals sparkle over the shadows cast by brilliant fabric as geometrical formations are born and
disperse in orderly, ever-changing patterns. The broad sleeves and thick sash of the gown give
weight, while the delicate silk snaps and flutters, as light as the wind.
You look at a fur-trimmed cloak of indigo satin that Jadice is wearing:
Soft tufts of ivory fur from some strange beast adorn and line the hooded expanse of this regal
garment. Complemented by the beast's pelt, the flawless satin which makes up this garment is a deep,
rich indigo, reminiscent of the depths of a glacier. A clasp of smooth platinum wraps itself around
a spinning ornament, a crystal of pure, transparent ice that glows from within with a faint,
greenish light: this rests at the bottom of the deep hood, fastening the garment at the neck.
haze-filled prayerbeads of the Lord Nightmare
Dozens of spherical glass orbs string together to form the massive length of these prayerbeads,
capable of circling loosely about the neck in thrice. A sparkling frost coats the simple threading
that binds each of the beads together, the air about the icy crystals giving off a fine haze as the
warmer air blows over it. Deep within each of the crystal spheres of the necklace a misty haze
swirls about, the rhythmic movement of each miasma mesmerising in its movement. Staring into the
transparent globes reveals a faint whispering that escapes from the churning fog, the sound only
broken by an averted gaze.
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."