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vielle

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vielle last won the day on February 16

vielle had the most liked content!

About vielle

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    Devotee
  • Birthday April 18

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    Female
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    sleepless in space
  • Interests
    writing, reading, movies, music, dungeons & dragons, video games, outer space, the ocean, and other distant things.
  • Occupation
    exhausted college student

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  1. vielle

    The Reverie Maze [Accepted Participants Only]

    RIGHT TURN There are but endless stalks of nothing but green, and it is becoming all too clear to him, the fear of getting lost in this vast maze. “The maze would be interesting, they said,” Iyalon mumbles under his breath as he stalks forward through the greenery, his high-pitched tone mimicking that of Esme’s, the cheeky little brat. Almost immediately after thinking that, he sends a remorseful prayer in the name of the Hildebrand daughter. No point in antagonizing anyone when he himself had chosen to go through with this. His bad mood dissipates after a while, replaced by the wary sense of anxiety, of tension, of eyes lurking in the undergrowth tracking his every move. They had been advised that there were dangerous creatures lurking in the maze, but he hadn’t really thought about that piece of information for too long. Now, it’s come to him with a vengeance, sending a cold shiver down his spine. Iyalon stops for a moment, his eyes scanning the forest floor for a handful of stones. He picks a few oddly-shaped ones that are easy to distinguish apart from the rest and places them down in the middle of the path every turn he makes. It is perhaps an idea that might not bear fruit the way he wants it to, but he might as well try anyway. He reaches an intersection eventually, chooses to turn right—into a dead-end, which is fine, he can turn back anyway, but then—the hedges are shaking. “What,” he whispers, slightly confused, and then two imps jump out of the bushes, tiny hands clutching pointy sticks and stone slingshots. Just great. Iyalon backs away, and then starts running, turning the other way towards where he should have gone left, the little monsters chasing after him with wild cries.
  2. find obelus? do not trust obelus?

    how can i
    trust you?

    tell me how to find

  3. vielle

    OBELUS IS WATCHING YOU

  4. vielle

    Dice Rolling Thread

    d2 roll for Iyalon's jaunt into the Reverie Maze
  5. vielle

    A (Temporary?) Trinity

    "I do indeed know such experts. I can send them to you at your request." Varda smiles and nods with gratitude in Lord Grant’s direction, quite simply delighted with the offer of help he is extending in her direction. “Ah, yes, many thanks, my Lord. They will be very much needed in this project,” she replies, incling her head in respect. "Eh, we'd just need to build it with a fish ladder to let them go down and up over the dam safely, and do it in such a way the fish can actually use it, and hope they can handle a bit of swimmin' through a slackwater lake.” “Hmmh, I see. That could work,” Varda murmurs, rubbing her chin in an absent-minded fashion. "Anything else y'all wanna discuss while we're here?" She has long suspected that the Singlances are not one for leisurely discussion, but rather people of action, the works of their hands speaking volumes far greater than idle talk. It rather makes her respect them moreso than when she had first arrived; perhaps they are not quite as eloquent and well-versed in the ways of social grace as the other nobility, but they do seem like individuals who enforce solid accomplishments on their end. If anything, a Hildebrand can appreciate the value of hard work. “Nothing more from my end,” she says, clasping her hands together over her skirts and leaning back in her chair. “I’m very happy with how this meeting has turned out. We are seeing productivity, my friends!”
  6. vielle

    Breaking An Egg To Make An Omelette

    When Samael awakens, his eyes are the color of green-tinted flames. The boy picks himself up from the ground with precise, mechanical movements, expending only the least of effort to get his legs back under him, unheeding of the blood trickling down the length of his body from the damaged skin barely holding themselves together. As if wounds are below him, not when his limbs till move with grace, with capability. He gazes upon Lilith with a dispassionate glance, noting Deathbringer’s change of hands back to its owner; the spadroon stabbed into the earth’s flesh, its steel glittering with sickly jade light the same shade as his eyes. The tangible aura of corrosive spirits is almost oppressive, ghostly fingers seeking, always seeking for its next victim’s internal horror, but Samael remains detached, almost uncaring of Heartbane's existence before him, its power so easily within reach of his grasp. As if nothing more is awe-inspiring, nothing more is essential but for the next command of the Lunar Daughter. My Lunar Soldier, she had said. “As the Commander wills it,” he replies: quiet, montone, matter-of-fact.
  7. vielle

    Mr Stark I don't feel so good [Relic Quest]

    It is almost tangible, the way the magic drains from him, the way his powers melt away like winter’s frost in the young summer sun. Samael’s lip tightens almost imperceptibly as he wrenches his bloody fingers away from the gaping hole in the swamp creature’s body and gives the mirror world’s frizzy sky a calculating look. He had been relying on the destruction of the creatures’ Shatterpoints, but with the way the Other Place creaks and groans under the influence of the magic vacuum, it cannot be trusted on for Samael to continue using in this fight. Disappointing circumstances, but not altogether unsalvageable. Samael twists away from a violent swipe of animated treebark, rolls out and jabs a foot into the attacking creature, sending it into a collision with another monster. Suddenly, he cocks his head in attention at the sound of the Commander’s voice booming over the battlefield, listening and waiting. "To the left! Run left toward the soul stone. I think it's absorbing our soul energy. We need to go. GO!" The Vanguard are to move forth and clear the way for the group to progress, and without the use of his Shattering, the boy is rendered useless in this position—if not for the weapon his Commander had granted him. Dashing quickly over the murky ground, Samael pivots to the left, joining the frontliners as they mowed down the Nightmares in a haze of violence and crimson spray. He unsheathes the spadroon attached to his waist and clutches it with determination against the creatures, wielding it expertly and without mercy. Heartbane.
  8. vielle

    the symphony within

    Of all the individuals housed within Ravenel Manor, the most unlikely person to stumble upon her in the godforsaken hours does in fact stumble upon her in the godforsaken hours. Just her luck. “You guys have any coffee around here?” Shirin’s lips tighten into a thin line for a moment, tense and wary, before the stiffness bleeds out of her frame, loosening her shoulders as she turns towards the man by the door. It is strangely therapeutic, the concept that Crowley represents; being chosen by an Oathblade entails certain traits, certain privileges that separate her from the rest of the populace. Try as she might, she can no longer go back to how things were before, the perceptions that people hold towards her. Even now, Shirin can see the way her brother acts around her, and she knows he is trying his hardest, but something about Iyalon seems changed, somehow. The chaotic tangle of feelings between them is a mess she wants to ignore for as long as possible. As an Oathsworn, Crowley knows how it is, and Crowley has the capacity to understand. With him, she needs not hide anything. Ah, so he awakens. Shirin ignores the disembodied voice, shifts her attention to Crowley. “Yes, we do,” she says softly in response, as if unwilling to disturb the solemn silence of the early hours before the awakening of the dawn. Taking one last fleeting look at the sword hidden beneath the fabric, she moves forth towards the door and into the hallway, crooking her finger wordlessly to beckon the man to follow her. The walk to the kitchens seems endless but is really only a few minutes long, perhaps due to the tension still shimmering in her gut. Even as she knows she can show her doubts and her insecurities pertaining to her new station, she does not yet know him enough to deliberate how exactly to act before him. Shirin leads him to the the manor’s kitchens, brick-walled and vast, and her feet direct her to a small alcove with an ornate breakfast counter. She gestures for him to sit on one of the stools and sets about preparing coffee for the both of them, because gods-only-know what Nai intends for her to do today and she’s running on the last vestiges of yesterday’s adrenaline. The ensuing silence is deafening, and so Shirin speaks, almost without thinking. “How did it feel, the first time it spoke to you?”
  9. vielle

    The Brittle King's Tragedy OOC

    Whoopsy goopsy, this ran away from my to-do list 😨 So my partner @Csl has just come back from her AFV, and I was waiting on her to read this before I did anything else. Kindly look this over, pardner, and we'll see about maybe making a post within the day or at latest, tomorrow, if that's okay? 😊
  10. vielle

    Patience is Power [Artifact Quest]

    It is almost too easy, but then again, such is to be expected. They who had once been wildlings themselves are no longer; Koru and his daughter are now under the servitude of something greater than themselves, something far more contemporary and newfangled in its modernity. Koru melds into the shadows, ghostly pale robes bleeding into the ivory blanket of snowflakes with ease, and moves into the small courtyard, feet whispering over snow and stone with nary a sound. Along the edges of the township, the men slumber in weary restlessness, replenishing their strength for another day on the battlefield. It is quite unfortunate that this night shall be their last in the waking world. Koru moves in a systematic manner, snapping the necks of the barbarians with the help of his crystal quarterstaff: soundless, quick, and undoubtedly merciful. Men with less compassion would have seen them burn, relish in the pain of their death throes. It is certainly a staple of their old tribal origins, for himself and his child. However, it is not one tradition he wishes to propagate. “How goes, neika?” Koru whispers in the aftermath, his prosthetic ear already hardwired to their personal comms: a hardy gift from C’zirqonia, peculiar but welcome all the same. “I am well, adeir,” comes the soft response from the other end. It is not as wordy as he would have liked it to be, but it is enough, should be enough. Sinjari is a far more ruthless warrior than he ever will be.
  11. another posting storm in the bag 💪 @Thotification

    Image result for rihanna umbrella gif

    1. Thotification

      Thotification

      Cause Vielle is a monster poster🤣

    2. vielle
  12. vielle

    Quenching the Madame's thirst (Artifact Quest)

    rami, of the cult of power Sera was the first to notice the old man. It was a familiar face and she waved back only to realize it was just Lord Suzy. Shrugging, Sera resumed her drinking spree. Beside her, Esben too was taking her fill of the precious liquid. Only the Madame was mildly interested with the old man. After one long drink and healing the rather almost dead Rami, she threw the would be corpse into the pristine body of water in hopes the liquid would facilitate the healing faster. After a few minutes, Rami appeared out of the water like a newborn stork, sailing out of the oasis in almost whalelike fashion. His wounds were mostly faded, aided in healing through the Madame’s magic. The Madame did join the old man later, and they had a long talk. Mostly, it was about the legendary artifact and how the stories she learned and the old man’s knowledge never matched. It seemed the Madame had gone through a lot of trouble only to realize it was all pointless. Still there was one last trial, an older fable that was handed down through generations of desert people. It was worth the try, after all.
  13. vielle

    Quenching the Madame's thirst (Artifact Quest)

    rami, of the cult of power After the first personification of a deus ex machina with the fire elementals a little earlier on, Rami wasn’t really very surprised by the appearance of the second. The woman with the spear in her grasp began shouting from the distance, almost like a mirage with the way she had shown up out of seemingly nowhere. Dashing forward, she spun like an overbearing top, jabbing and stabbing and striking at the bandits around: a merciless dance of death and sizzling blood against the sand dunes. Had he been more in control of himself, more aware and conscious of his own surroundings, Rami would have applauded the woman; he would have even cheered her on as she saved everyone from their current dilemma. However, he is this close to bleeding out dry from his wounds, and so Rami closed his eyes and continued to turn his focus inward, keeping his attention on not dying any time soon, thank you very much.
  14. vielle

    Quenching the Madame's thirst (Artifact Quest)

    rami, of the cult of power His blood was spilling into the earth, swallowed up by the very sands he could control, and Rami tried his best not to keep any more of his lifejuice from leaving his body. He kept himself as still as possible, clenching his muscles tight in an effort to hold his damaged skin together. From where he lay face down into the sand, Rami heard the Madame’s cries, begging for clemency from their captors to show mercy towards her companions, her followers into the wastelands and their own likely deaths. For such a proud woman as she, the Madame had chosen to grovel at the feet of these bandits, and all for the sake of her friends. Even as he lay bleeding out on the ground, Rami closed his eyes as a faint smile floated over his mouth; if anything, he could appreciate such a loyal perspective. Only a true leader would lay down their all for the sake of their followers.
  15. vielle

    Quenching the Madame's thirst (Artifact Quest)

    rami, of the cult of power Never let it be said that Rami was not someone who acted entirely due to advantageous circumstances; he was far too brash for such a thing. When a skinny boy came near him, limbs flailing about from side to side in a manner that suggested youthful incompetence, Rami braced himself for a brief moment and then, quick as a desert viper, he pounced forward, his body whipping out like a jackknife in the direction of the boy. The two men collided violently; he angled his body in such a way as to fall near the dagger in the boy’s grasp, intending to grab it and use it to cut himself and then the others free from their restraints. After a brief scuffle, Rami unfortunately with the short end of the stick, being trussed up in ropes and powerless, but he eventually managed to grab ahold of the knife— —and got stabbed for his troubles. He coughed, glancing down at the sword embedded in his gut, and the boy scrambled away from him, scared but more or less unharmed. “Do not try that again,” the bandit with the blade intoned, deep voice almost unearthly in its nature, and Rami squeezed his eyes shut, willed himself not to react outwardly. Gods, but it hurt like hell.
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