Blackwater Islands how could this mean anything to me?
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
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#1
All Welcome 
like the waves, the prophet had receded... and emerged again, anew.

@Ingram; her voidsent prince, the one true match to her immortal soul. where had he gone?

away, away with all the rest, she'd thought. yet as she prowled her islands, the listener felt him in all of it. in the trees and the waves, in the whispering rains and the howling winds. he was here. she could feel it.

so she left her children, those precious few druids she had taken into seclusion with her. @Morgra, @Isangrim, @Ptolemy; they were hers, and would be until the time came to rise to their own greatness.

elsewise, the druids has scattered to the winds. blackwater was empty. and all was as it should be. it had been too soon; the druids had risen too quickly, and their weak foundation had crumbled under the weight of all their expectations.

the listener would rebuild, with the dreadfather at her side. together, carefully, they would forge the druids anew, as the listener herself had done. there would be no talk of war, no deals with demons.

they would go to their purpose. their true purpose.

the children will be powerplayed as npcs until their return or dispersal age depending on player preference. i do not have access to discord right now so please send me a pm with any preferences (:
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
737 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#2
sneaky work post~ <3

they patrol the borders with vigilance despite the dispersal of the druids. leaving blackwater had never been an option: while all others had left, the dreadfather remained. awaiting their nightwife.

their suspicion that she would emerge once more proves correct as their path crosses her scent trail: fresh.

patrols forgotten until thoughts of only her consume them. their sole focus; borderlining obsession.

they find her soon enough; a low affectionate rumble passing betwixt their lips: a welcoming.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette