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Corlay Island / Re: Our Bodies Safe to Shore
« Last post by Roan Bélanger on Today at 06:42:09 AM »

Was he too impatient? Roan swept his gaze up from her body to her face. The curve of her cheekbone. Th shadow across her shoulder. Her nails tickled him. The almost sensation-less press of her natural nails, dangerous anyway because she was a black widow. The chilling metal scratch of the decorative nails she wore over them. It made the hair on his neck bristle.

No. She was teasing him. Tormenting him. Roan ate it up. "Good." He told her, too entranced to be clever or sweet. He couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else. And since Zephyrine was his, she shouldn't be able to either. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Roan's fingers traced the back of her thighs, mouth chasing her body with little nibbles and kisses.

Tormenting him. Always teasing him. Roan hid a smile in her elbow, palms sweeping up her sides. Cupping the shape of her body. Waist. Ribs. Thumbs brushing the outer edges of her breasts. Breasts. "Zephyrine." Roan sang in warning. But there was no danger behind the threat. He just wanted her to know that he knew. Knew she dangled herself above him like a prize on purpose.

So close his spear was sure it could feel the shape of her. Warm folds enveloping him. But her knees were above water. Her body much too dry. Sucking her lower lip, Roan batted his eyelashes at her. Thick and sun bleached at the tips. He felt all over struck by her beauty. And her wickedness. That she was his alone swelled upward in him fiercely. Violently.

Growling, he licked the space between her breasts, fingers curling over her shoulders and pulling her down until his imagination was put away for reality. Heat to heat. "Right there." He rumbled, her earring clattering across his face as he fanned kisses up her neck. His hips jerked, their thrust halted and turned into a measured stroke. Sliding his spear between their bodies.

Roan held her still with a hand at the back of her throat. The other he slid down her spine. Over her sweet ass with a pinch, and then beneath it, fingers seeking to make sure she was ready. That she was pleased.

Wanted Ads / Re: Plots and ships and drama oh my!
« Last post by Jenn on Yesterday at 07:10:06 PM »
Wanted Ads / Re: Little Terreille Want Ads
« Last post by dergon on Yesterday at 06:18:12 PM »
Territory Troubles
Linked to: Simon Rose

The Spider & The Prince

General Information:
Celeste is a long time friend of my trouble maker Simon. Simon is a Prince of ambition. He is going to start some big time fires via violent take over, and will need his closest friend and confidante to come along, surely.

These two have known each other for many years, and share a lot of similar outlooks/beliefs. Simon relies heavily on Celeste's ability to craft compulsion webs to help him get his way in his schemes. How deeply entrenched she is in his plots, is up to the player. Whether they are simply platonic work friends or sometimes FWB is up for plotting. If it was any kind of non platonic ship, it would not be monogamous one. At least not on Simon's side.

Requested Caste: Black Widow

Relationship: Friend/Partner in Crime

Preferred Jewels: Any

Face Claim: Any

Name change is fine.

The Inventor

General Information:
I'm thinking Landen for this role, but that isn't set in stone.

Simon has managed to gain control of a Glacian flying ship. He has no idea how to work it, and accidentally had to kill the captain when attempts to get information from him failed. What he needs is someone to get this thing off the ground.

I would prefer that it not be Craft that makes the ship fly. Or at least not pure Craft, so as not to take away from the Glacian lore. Maybe a bright mad inventor to help create something mechanical. Or craft power mechanics to get this to work.

Lets turn Little Terreille into an industrial wasteland and start a war!

Requested Caste: Any

Relationship: Partner in Crime

Preferred Jewels: Any

Face Claim: Any

Idk. Kisses! Could be a friend of Simon's son?
Shuki Province / Re: Home is an Empty Word
« Last post by Min Sung on Yesterday at 01:35:21 PM »
She sighed as she woke from her nap, moving out of the bed she shared with Julian, leaving the sleeping man as quietly as she could. They had entered a different era of their relationship. New and vibrant, something she never would have thought of had she been asked at the beginning but couldn't imagine it never happening now. She bustled around her small cottage, making breakfast and coffee for the morning. She wasn't a tea drinker, something she never could enjoy but she could drink coffee until the sun came up without much thought. Pastries purchased in the tiny village near her home set out and Min decided her day.

She didn't know many people in the village, didn't know who was who and what was what, but she tried. She loved learning new things about this side of her lineage, still hoping to find blood ties everywhere they went in Dhemlan though they had not been able to do much since the winds had shattered. Neither of them still knew what had happened but they knew neither the summer sky nor the green were accessible. It was their understanding from others that nothing from the black to white were accessible. It was odd and worrisome, but she couldn't change it so she didn't try. A small smile grew on her lips as she heard Julian shifting around in their room.

Setting her cup down, Min stood and went to the door and out it. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the freshness of the air before trotting down the steps. Laughter met her ears and she grinned at the sound, a momentary sadness taking her as she thought of the children she'd left in Little Kaeleer. She missed them even if she knew they were being well cared for. Given the opportunities that they always should have had. Finances left to ensure their safety, food, and education had made Julian cringe but Min had happily beggared herself for them.

She liked to walk after her naps, something she started doing when she came to Dhemlan and she found it brought her closer to her mother's memory when she did. She kicked the skirt out of her path, the fabric billowing as she did so, and made her way down the street and one over. She hadn't come this way in a while, but she knew another healer lived her. One who created pottery and she wanted to find the woman, see if she would make a gift for Julian. Not that she had any idea what kind of piece Julian would even appreciate. Probably a teacup or teapot. He was the tea drinker.

Her eyes tracked the figure on the porch of the cottage, the slender woman's clothing not even giving her pause as she made her way there. What did give her pause was the whiskey she summoned and the amount poured in her cup. To each their own she supposed. Who was she to judge what another did?

"Have you lost children to the Darkness?" she questioned softly as she came to the porch in time to hear the woman's muttered plea.
First Link / Dalibor Weyr
« Last post by DaliborJenn on Yesterday at 09:35:42 AM »

A Dragonriders of Pern RPG
Semi-canon | 11th Pass | No AIVAS | 10+ years running
What is Pern? | Dragons | Whers | Rules | Character Creation
Lore / Re: History
« Last post by The Darkness on Yesterday at 09:17:16 AM »
The Timeline
of Important Events

Witch's Reign
Known as the Black Age, Witch's reign lasted 600 years.

Summer AW101
The Territory Court of Little Terreille is murdered.

Spring AW102
A Red Birthright Queen is discovered hidden by a coven of Black Widows in Askavi.

Winter AW102
A dragon rises from beneath the hills of Dena Nehele and lays waste to the territory.

Spring AW103
A group of men enter to Keep and set off a trap that destroys the Winds and causes a violent chain reaction across the Realms.
Shuki Province / Home is an Empty Word
« Last post by Hae-Won Wuxian on September 18, 2020, 01:35:00 AM »
He was late. In normal times, one of her students being late to a lesson wouldn't have overly concerned her. Children would be children after all. Now, after the recent mayhem and all the death, Hae-Won couldn't help but fear the worst. The earthquakes and deaths had drawn her home; back to this too-big, empty, skeleton of a home. These were people she had known since she was a child, and she couldn't stay a coward when she knew this respectable little Blood town would need her. Her home had been cared for in her absence, basic maintenance done on it to keep it in functional order for her eventual return. The furnishings were all still there, some notable bedrooms cleared out and converted into sick rooms for when she had patients to treat. She'd moved herself into the main bedroom as well, as was only proper for the head of the family.
     "'Not that it's much of a family anymore," Hae-Won commented to herself. A single person did not a family make. The woman grumbled and looked down at the clay she had been working between her hands. The shell-like coil to the clay from her kneading had long worked out all the air bubbles. The other four skull-sized mounds of clay were similarly shaped. She hadn't even realized she'd worked all of them already. Her hands felt disconnected as they loaded up the piles of clay onto a round of wood and she walked to her throwing station. Her eyes kept straying to the back door where Jun should be bursting through any second. He was only thirteen, still so young into his long life and already so touched with pain and hardship. His father had died in the last earthquake and Jun has shown up outside her door not long after she returned, watching with wide eyes as she set about making funeral urns. She'd invited him in to watch her work and he'd just started showing up a few times a week after that.

Hae-Won set up the clay on her station, throwing it on the the spinning table and kicking a bottom wheel with her foot to get it going. She used Craft to maintain the speed when she got it going fast enough and set to work with her hands. This urn was for her neighbors who'd watched her family home while she travelled. Their daughter had died in the earthquakes and they wanted something to place on their family shrine that represented her well. Hae-Won blamed her mother for the local trend. It didn't extend far from their village, but most households used urns and pottery to represent or even hold their loved ones ashes. At least it kept Hae-Won busy.

Hours passed in silence broken only by the wet sound of Hae-Won pushing the clay into shape. It turned from a formless lump to a small cylinder before being opened on the inside and rounded into an elegantly round pot with a small opening that she quickly crafted a simple but equally elegant lid for. Hae-Won cut both from her throwing wheel and set it aside while she stopped the wheel with her foot and threw a second mound of clay down. It turned into a similarly shaped urn with a slightly more elegant lid.
It's not right.
She kept throwing. This one was tall and thin, a flared top, the lid fit snuggly but a lip hung over the edge, giving it a more interesting shape. No! She threw that one against the floor in a sudden fit of anger. The white-gray vase collapsed in sadly as she threw a third mound of clay onto her wheel and forced it to center for her. This one was more of an oval shape, rounded more at the top than bottom. The shape fit. Four lids had to be thrown to the side and she had to start peeling off pieces from her final mound before she found something that worked with the shape of the urn. it rounded out the top of the urn in a natural curve, slotting in almost seamlessly to create a unified whole. This would would be worth showing to her neighbors, so see how they would like it to be painted and glazed. She set all the urns, excluding the one she'd smashed onto the floor, into a backroom of her workshop to dry and leaned against the door, letting loose a long sigh. Her heart felt sick with worry for her absent young student, and the silence of the home connected to her workshop weighed on Hae-Won, settling itself about her neck and shoulders like a too familiar and unwanted embrace.

Hae-Won gave a small snarly sigh and stepped outside, uncaring that she was dressed in a dark grey clay-smeared fitted sleeveless top and loose black pants that settled themselves about her like skirts when she stood still. She sat herself on the middle of the three steps leading up to her workshop from the road and used Craft to summon a bottle of spiced whiskey into her hand along with a small glass. She filled the cup to three fingers and threw back half of it immediately, relishing the distraction of the burn down her throat, and wishing that maybe this time it would successfully drive the nightmares away before they could start to come. She tried to find Jun's house six homes down and across the road, but it was out of sight. She could hear the distant sound of children laugh, though. It let her hope that maybe he'd just decided to play and wasn't being prepared for cremation or burial.

"Don't you dare take more children, you horrible bastard," Hae-Won whispered out to the Darkness, rubbing a thumb over the Summer-Sky Jewel on her finger.
Character Applications / Re: Alesia Skye
« Last post by The Darkness on September 17, 2020, 05:04:27 PM »
The Darkness has granted you...
Cut 17
Cut 7

As requested, THREE family rolls:
1: Opal to Opal
2: Rose to Opal
3: White to Tiger Eye
Character Applications / Re: Alesia Skye
« Last post by Alesia Skye on September 17, 2020, 01:28:36 AM »
random roll and three family rolls, please.
Character Applications / Alesia Skye
« Last post by Alesia Skye on September 17, 2020, 12:45:58 AM »
    Alesia Skye

    The Basics

    Full Name: Alesia Skye
    Age: 26 as of AW103
    Gender/Pronouns: She/her (nickname "Sia")

    Ethnicity: Short-Lived
    Birthplace: Roeselare Province
    Current Location: Mountains of Dendrabelle Province
    Profession: Survivalist

    Caste: Queen
    Birthright Jewel: Yellow (CUT 17)
    Offering Jewel: Summer Sky (CUT 7)

    Face Claim: Marie Avgeropoulos

    The Body

    Height: 5' 9''
    Body Type: Curvey. She has a thin waist, but curvey hits. Muscles legs and arms.
    Hair Color: Brown
    Eye Color: Green

    Sia is used to living in the mountains and does not care much for fashion. She makes her own clothes and is usually covered with a fine layer of dust or mud. She loves nature and usually ties her hair back in braids to keep it out of her face as she hunts. She wears her Jewels openly, around her neck, two delicately cut beads that clink together as she runs.

    The Mind

    Craft Strengths: 15pts
    Land Sense
    Combat Craft
    Craft Weaknesses: Sia has been isolated her entire life. Her mother was demanding and often terrifying with her constant drive to protect Sia. Such an upbringing made her incredibly distrustful and stunted some of the natural empathy that a Queen would feel towards others and the land. Mother Night help any of the males that come to her needing anything but tough love. This same weakness can been seen in her Queen's Touch. She has never used it much and thinks that individuals should not need Craft to make themselves feel better. 

    Personal Strengths: Fighting gives Alesia control. In many ways it is her meditation. Every morning she wakes up to do her exercises and it makes her happy. The sweat. The sun. The burning in her muscles. It gives her peace in a way that her constant worry and fear of others never truly allows her. Sia also enjoys strategy puzzles. Books. Games. Anything that involves trying to think one step ahead of opponents is something that Sia enjoys. It allows her mind to strike as strongly as her body can and she finds the symmetry of that enjoyable.

    Personal Weaknesses: Growing up with a mother that constantly reminded her of the danger of her caste, the difficulty of the world, instilled a fear of the new and the unknown within Alesia. This fear conflicts with her thirst for adventure and her desire to understand who and what she is. This conflict causes great turmoil in the Queen and she often lashes out when she feels it. Additionally, her mother preached that connection, getting close to others, would be her downfall. That is how she would get trapped as a puppet or used like a pawn. She told Alesia that all she needed was herself until she came to believe that. The scary thing is, there is a part of her, that years for connection though. Craves it. Such needs fill her with fear.

    Sia is fierce and determined. She is brave and unrelenting. Harlow and her mother instilled many admirable qualities within the  Queen, but a life of near-total isolation took its toll on Alesia. She is hesitant to make connections with others. She is constantly suspicious and likes to react before she thinks. She feels lost when she enters the world, only told how to avoid it and not how to be a part of it. But she feels a longing to join it. She feels something calling for her, but she does not quite know what it is, and that makes her afraid.


    She detests it. Although Sia loves her mother dearly, she blames the woman for making her afraid of the world. Of making her unable to confront it like the people she sees in the village, wide-eyed and accepting. She is always thinking, planning, tinkering with ways to make her life, and those she has grudgingly grown to accept, better. Such plans have failed more often than not within the harsh climate of the wilderness.

    Her desire to explore and confront her problems produces a conflict with the conditioning that her mother did manage to instill within her. That of obscuring the truth. No matter what, she must always hide her caste. It was the most important rule, over all else. Over her family, her friends, and her happiness. This conflict--that of exploring who she really is and hiding the most important aspect of herself--has produced the recklessness that leads her into the village too often. However, soon this conflict within her will have to be addressed and it could destroy the image of who Sia thinks she is.

    Such an upbringing magnified and perhaps, to some, perverted her caste. Alesia uses her Queen's Caste to sense other's movements, where their feet hit the ground, the vibrations of the air when a fighter moves, and the slightest twitch of a toe across the dirt. And then she attacks them. As Queen's are naturally connected to the land and those that live on it, this has produced a conflict within Sia. She only has ever used her Queen’s gift to attack, not replenish. She feels the pain that her territory is going through, but instead of using her gifts to help, she uses them to avoid the problem. Eventually, she will not be able to outrun the feeling within her.

    The Backstory

    • Nadia Skye | Relation | Opal to Opal Black Widow
    • Dalia Skye | Daughter | Rose to --- Priestess
    • Harlow Rivers | Friend | White to Tiger Eye Warlord(Deceased)

    Some would say that Nadia went crazy when her daughter was born. She had fostered a street child for four years, but the pregnancy was unexpected. A one night stand. The striking scent of a Queen hit the air and the Black Widow screamed. She clutched her daughter close and worried that someone would take her. A stranger. Thieves. Slavers. She lived in Rosenheim, within the bustling streets with so many prying eyes. The woman became increasingly obsessed with her child, not wishing to leave her side and often taking her to the market or appointments with customers strapped to her back. It was not enough though. Never enough. People looked. They caught the scent of a Queen and asked questions. They wanted to touch her. Hold her. Nadia did not want any of it. She could see plotting in their eyes. Scheming. She had seen it in her Webs too. Someone was going to take her baby girl.

    Nadia left Rosenheim with her foster son, Harlow, and Sia that night with only what she could vanish in her psychic cabinet. She traveled west, towards the mountains that separated the territory from Glacia. She found a small cave high up in the mountains and moved the two of them there, intent on protecting her daughter from those that would use her and steal her away. The Black Widow began to build out the cave, chopping down trees and constructing walls and a front door. She caught fish in the stream and used Craft to take down prey. The first few years were the most difficult, Nadia used to living hard, but not living rough. Soon though, by the time Avin was ready for her Birthright, the Black Widow had become an expert on living wild, living to survive. She had meat for the winter. Blankets made of animal fur. A complex cloaking spell that hid her daughter's casts, even when there was not a soul around.

    The only difficult thing was Sia’s Birthright. She needed to get it, but Nadia refused to go back to the city. She refused. So she grudgingly took her to the closest village, Avin bouncing behind her, full of energy. The village was the last one before the mountains started, a logging outpost. It was small and the fires were warm, but Nadia was still suspicious. She gave no surname at the Birthright ceremony and did not allow her daughter to stay a moment extra, even as Alesia's eyes grew big with the houses and the children running through the streets.

    It was after her birthright that the training began. Harlow helped out with everything he had learned before Nadia took him in and the Black Widow began easy, teaching her how to breathe and how to position her body. Over the years their training increased in complexity, the woman showing the "witch" how to use her speed and bodyweight to overcome her opponent. By the time she was ten, Nadia introduced Craft, teaching Sia how to incorporate a surge of her power into a blow with a dagger, causing it to slice through unfortified shields or defenses. Avin loved the training, partly because it allowed her the security of being able to protect her mother and partly because it was some of the only physical human interaction she had. Nadia did not only teach her to fight, but she taught her to think. Strategies. Nadia told her of all great battles of the past and how each of them should have played out. It was like a game between them. Try and find the perfect battle strategy. Every morning, once her training was over, she would slide and hop through the mountains, through the maze of Black Widow traps she had memorized, and peek down at the village she desperately wanted to visit.

    She first crept there, against her mother's wishes, when she was fifteen. Harlow was with her. His dark hair, blue eyes, a smirk. Sia had never noticed before, but he was attractive. They went secretly into town after that for a few months. Exploring. Testing the waters. Harlow was who Sia first kissed. Who encouraged her to venture deeper into the village. Who gave her new foods to try. Who opened up her world. Her mother asked Harlow to show Sia through her Virgin Night when she was sixteen. He happily agreed and the night went well. The two grew closer, spending more time together in their secluded world. It was months after that when Alesia became pregnant with Dalia. Nadia was furious.

    But Alesia would not abide the yelling. Such nonsense was for children. She put each of them in their place and Nadia saw a glimpse of a Queen in her daughter for the first time. Nadia grew more paranoid, concerned about Harlow taking her daughter from her for the first time, but her worries were short-lived. In a tragic accident, Harlow was killed in a logging accident while he tried to get new wood for their cottage. The progress Sia had made of leaving the forest and trusting others promptly vanished. She grew deeper into the isolation her mother preached.

    She was even distant from her own daughter, uncertain how to be a mother any more than how to be herself. She tried though. She was fiercely protective and she tried to do right by her, but deep down she wonders if she is doing it wrong. Time drew on like that. Training. Surviving. Paranoia. More training. Eventually, Alesia even went into the city once a week to train with a Prince there, under a different name of course and with the Webs hiding her scent tightly around her. Life seemed to stretch on like that, day by day, and Sia could feel something just off in the distance, waiting for her.

    The Writer

    Player Name: Kenna
    Player Pronouns: She/her
    Timezone: GMT -5 (Eastern time)
    Contact: Discord, PM
    How did you find us?: RPG Directory

    Inactivity Instructions: Archive character

    Roleplay Sample:
    The sun blazed in a cloudless Pruulian sky, filtered through the thinned canvas of a covered cart, and caused sweat to trickle down the temple of the prone form of Avin Graves. She was stuffed into a large burlap sack, only loosely tied, so she could easily escape. Cyrus had only done it so no one would discover his Queen until they were safely outside of Onn. Away from the madness of the True Sabbah and their followers. Away from poverty. Away from putting all of their problems, their sorrows, on her back. The drug he had used would keep her unconscious for the first day of the Tabur’s travel from Onn and he had fully recharged the webs that hid her castes. The male could only hope that the Clan would take pity on her from there, declining to leave her in the desert, as most Clans were inclined to do with water-takers. He could only hope that Avin might one day forgive him.

    But as the Queen woke up, the morning sun smearing through the burlap bag, Avin gasped at the pain shooting through her head and she was unlikely to forgive anyone anytime soon. Her vision blurred and she grasped frantically at the fabric, splaying out and rocking until her head popped out. Her hands grasped her head as she crawled forward over the sacks of fabric underneath her, the foreign sounds and smells bombarding the Queen. Where was she? What had happened? Where was Cyrus? Avi felt sluggish and disoriented, so she had just put together that she was with some kind of caravan when she heard the latch to the covered cart pop open. Panic. The Priestess Queen had already shot forward, two knives called in, by the time an older woman, her hair dark brown, but wrinkles creasing her face, pushed the cart door open. Avi wrapped a blade around her neck and pushed the woman forward, oblivious to her cry of surprise as she stepped down from the cart into the blistering sun.

    For a moment there was only the whiteness of her golden eyes adjusting to the sun-soaked sand, but then the caravan came into focus. Their markings were those of the Tabur and while they had all been moving calmly forward before, the old woman’s cry drew their part of the caravan to a grinding halt, which sent the carts and horses further back to a confused halt as well. The Clan mobilized around Avin like a finely-tuned organization, men and women drawing their khanjars at the presence of the intruder. They tried to encircle their prey, but Avi pressed her back against the cart, holding the old woman closer, pressing the knife deeper into the soft skin under her chin.

    “I-I don’t want to hurt her. Bring me a horse and I’ll let her go, unharmed.” Avi placed a Tiger Eye shield around them both and yelled at herself for allowing her voice to crack. She eyed their khanjar, all of them, brushed with the sun, and knew she was in deep shit. Clan members did not put down their swords without letting them taste blood and there were too many of them for her to fight. They weren't going to give her a horse. She probably wasn’t going to live long enough to figure out how she ended up in the desert, alone, with a Clan she had never met before.


    Welcome to Witchlight

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    FALL - AW103

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    Recent Topics

    Our Bodies Safe to Shore [cw] by Roan Bélanger
    [Today at 06:42:09 AM]

    Plots and ships and drama oh my! by Jenn
    [Yesterday at 07:10:06 PM]

    Little Terreille Want Ads by dergon
    [Yesterday at 06:18:12 PM]

    Home is an Empty Word by Min Sung
    [Yesterday at 01:35:21 PM]

    History by The Darkness
    [Yesterday at 09:17:16 AM]


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