Alone, the Chloromancer roamed the dark sea. Were those seconds, or were they entire eons passing right before his eyes? Waves crashed upon the cold hull of the steerless metallic ship, yet no matter how much it rocked, the ship would never sink. No matter how often he tried, he could not jump into the dark waters below. With his book of memories held close against his chest, Zerathur hummed songs of old, and another voice joined his chorus. Sat upon the taffrail, The Traveler examined the o...

It is done. Their memories were compiled and adequately rewritten to further fact from fiction. Did it take him long to revise his work, or did it take no moment at all? Zerathur closes his book and carefully cradles it in his arms. Every lover, every friend, every acquaintance, forever with him. None of them shall ever be forgotten. The breeze died millennia ago; The endless forest was illuminated solely by the illusionary phantoms that moved back and forth in their unending routine. ...

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 ...

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...

"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 ...

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...

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 ...

// Exactly what the title says, any lore on Zera's universe that I come across when rummaging my Dreams of Lothlorien folder (Aka the one folder I keep all of my important posts, lists of important characters, replies I forgot to send, etc) will be posted here. This will be updated every once in a while I remember to do so. There will also be a couple of annotations here and there, and my grammar will be fairly deplorable because... These were originally meant to be read by me and maybe some ot...

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...

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...

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

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...