Eadil is a Necromancer. It is common in his kind's folklore for healers and medics to arrive too late to save the heroes who've fallen in the great battles of old, those born with the natural affinity of healing often mocked as 'healers of the dead': A pejorative term turned official with the consolidation of the Velgraviran Empire. As he stares at the skulls piled upon his desk, he curses the irony. He wasn't here to help those who needed it when they were hurt, much like the 'Necromancers' of ...

Waves crash upon the golden sands of the Southern Shores. Seagulls fly above, silent fireworks explode in the distance. His shoes sink into the damp sand, and the maritime breeze of the early evening fills his lungs. "Zera?" A feminine voice calls out, prompting him to turn his head to look over to its source. Even though she was heavier than him, the changeling mare skips next to him with unparalleled grace, not leaving a single mark where she stepped. Her purple mane flows along the win...

Ever since they moved to the proximity of the Whispering Woods, Frost Tear's parents warned her of the dangers of the forest. Never explicitly so, keep in mind, for legends and myths are perhaps one of the best ways to elicit a child's imagination. Tales of trees that walk on their own, that snatch up lost children, and poof, they are gone. On her eighth autumn, she found that trees were the least of her worries. Instead, it was they who shielded her from Fletcher's eyes. Her father took her...

Bellowing roars and guttural screeching from below marked the entrance of this cave as the only way into their Hive. And yet, despite the stench of blood and bone, the corruption that spreads through air and land, there was no one at the door. Not a single insectoid guarded the area, only the carpet of flesh that pulsated with a heart and mind of its own. As he trudged through the snow and stepped into this revolving putrid mass, its tendrils latched onto his hooves but were not able to stop his...

The Archmage sits alone in his kitchen, pale blue eyes focused entirely on the grimoire before him. No matter how he weaved and twisted the words and glyphs, it felt like he could never finish this spell without the proper components. And those would be simply impossible to gather! How on Khas' sacred lands could one find crystals of such magnitude so far North? A knocking at his front door briefly distracts him from the empty parchment. He eyes the kitchen's doorway and holds still for a cou...

As the day turned into night, the golden city of old came to life. Orbs of light flickered into existence, illuminating the recently cleared-up streets and spires; dozens of hundreds of ghostly silhouettes roamed the plazas, parks, and suspended walkways; flags and decorations strung between buildings waved with the passing wind of the Frozen South. This wasn't Antioch as they remembered it, but they've done so much progress in the last couple of weeks that they simply could not let the opport...

There were no birds here, at least none that she could hear. There were no insects either. This deafening silence was only broken by the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant flow of a brook deeper into the forest. Her eyes dully counted the fragments of metal and stone that once composed one of the walls of her now ruined home, feeling as though her mind was about to give in to the deepest states of boredom at any moment. Quarantine, he called it. One hundred years away from one's pe...

A twisted visage, a creature most foul, wearing the skin of one who once was her prized best friend. Her thoughts converged, so did her feelings, and while at first she was terrorized by the fiend that stood on those grey shores, her fear was turned into a wave of blazing anger. , She thought, . Not a second had passed since his words left the creature's mouth when she began to retaliate. The mare jumped forward, twisting her body mid-air and using her psionics to empty the contents of her pouc...

"As deft as rocks swimming upstream." Words that forever marked her early teens. Spoken in these selfsame shores, back when the sand was just as golden as the city behind them; when the clear blue ocean only gave way to the white foam of the waves, the beautiful sounds of nature clashing with that of their boombox, their laughter, their taunts. They're gone now. The golden sand has turned grey, ruins lay where a great city once did. With the bay closed by the carcass of a great ship, even ...

Perhaps the worst of it all was the sickly smell of decomposing leaves, Fletcher was never a fan of the Fall season for that very reason. Mist crept through the trees, crawling up their roots and wrapping around his legs as he made his way through the woods. He didn't mind the cold, he didn't mind the dark, those had become oh-so natural to him over the last few years. What truly bothered him was that smell, decay. The certainty that all things are one day to whither and rot. He halted by ...

It isn't often that a story ends with the death of its protagonist, at least not the stories sung by the bards or written in the common books. This one proved to be no different. However, unlike the other stories, this wasn't the tale of one born with great power tearing down the evil of their homeland, nor that of a simple commoner rising and winning against the otherwise impossible. This is the story of one who has done nothing but flee. And flee he did. ...

World lore, anyone? Because you know, universe building is the only thing I'm somewhat okay at? Right, right, so, I did this thing a while ago and said I was going to update that one specific blog as I came across old bits of lore in the Dreams of Lothlorien folder. But! I'm lazy and am currently sleep-deprived (Not a good combination to even write in the first place), so now you have an entirely new blog about the exact same thing. - (There was another piece on it on the last one, but there'...