Alone. Weeks go by with the blink of an eye, months fly on the other side of the closed window just as quickly as the swooping birds. Yet nothing changes. The letters go out, but no reply ever comes. It happened again, didn't it? He never wanted to leave, but it wasn't much of a choice. It wouldn't be long before his last energies dripped away, thanks to the disease. If anything, he lessened her burden by saying that last goodbye and vanishing off to the world, rather than staying and hav...

// Decided to look into my unpublished lore posts and found this. Did some rework, but I haven't written something propper in a while, so bear with me. Very short one as well, which is good. "Those that close themselves off are the ones in the most need of affection." The chloromancer read out loud, the dull blue eyes focusing on those words. He stared at them for a while before setting the book over the desk and pushing it aside. "Huh. Any thoughts, darling?" He asked, the focus shifting ove...

A warm breeze rolled down the golden dunes of Old Antioch, dragging along the salty ocean air and the sound of waves from beyond. Zerathur slowed to a halt and raised one of the front legs, covering the eyes just in time to protect them from a waft of sand that followed the breeze. "Windy! the perfect weather for some good waves. The sun is quite warm today though, isn't it?" A moment of silence followed, but it wouldn't last long. "Oh, no joke, Sherlock!" Mel burst into laughter somewhere behin...

Two lanterns softly swayed in the darkness, lightening up the way to their destination. No breeze rolled through the hills, a light mist curled and twirled by the corners of the eye. This was no ordinary night, but that information was never given to the young stallions. No, no, no, that would ruin the whole surprise, we wouldn't want that, would we? The colder temperature seeped into the flesh and bones of the smaller one like thousands of thin needles, but none of the others seemed to be re...

"And that should conclude the class for today, not a lot more to learn about the simple acronyms. The test's tomorrow, as y'all probably know by now, but if you paid enough attention to your High Khalani classes, there's really no reason to spend the night awake studying more. Oh, and don't send me questions at two AM, I'm not going to respond... Looking straight at you, Yenn." One by one, the students made their way out of the small park. A colorful bunch of immigrants, they were, all of the...

White clothes. Originally the symbol of Protoss who weren't born white-coated, a way to hide from the shame of not being 'physically pure' under the eyes of their society. That until Empress Arden, daughter of Great Khas, started using them in every meeting, every ceremony. Many Lorekeepers joined in an outcry, questioning her for breaking the tradition. And to those, she replied, "These are the clothes of someone who is in shame, are they not? Then I am not breaking traditions, for I am ashamed...

This is it. To have lived thirty years with a disease such as this particular one, to have gone through all the challenges that it and life had presented... It is truly a miracle. But even after all of that, the time has come. Time to rest. The early morning sun rises just beyond the horizon, tainting the sky with light purples, blues, and oranges, making glister the dew-covered grass of the valley. This is a nice place, always has been. Energy sips out of the body slowly, trickling away...

Water dripped onto cold stone, freezing shortly after hitting the ground. Sounds echoed far under the ice, yet no wind or falling water would ever be capable of creating the terrorizing screeches that came from below. Eyes glowed in the surrounding darkness, filled with malicious intent but never approaching. Purple, they were, the color of his nightmares, the color of his deepest fears. He knew what awaited him at the end of this tunnel, it wasn't a way out. But he couldn't keep himself from...

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. ...

"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 ...

Dr. Lindsley's Report 29th entry. 04/05/1056 A.N. 08:00 PM ...