- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Quite often
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Zombie, slice-of-life survival, Post Apocalyptic, Cyberpunk, Sci-fi, High Fantasy, Modern, medieval
The afternoon sun beamed through the crack in the curtains, soft orange light falling on his face. Callawyn woke, his head pounding as the light summoned him from slumber. He was sprawled across the plush bedding, half-covered by a silken sheet, accompanied by two of the brothel's residents and multiple empty bottles. He groaned, sitting upright as he tried to rub the pain from his temples. A measly consequence for a day well spent. His curse making him a creature of the night, the common man's afternoon was the rogue's early morning. Callawyn crawled from the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping Dolls or his throbbing hangover. He slipped into his ragged pants and tunic, disappearing through the door as it clicked quietly closed.
The place was becoming increasingly familiar, but it would be a long time before he became as intimate with the passageways of the building as he was with the one that burned with the rest of Santos. The trauma of the Lich War and the Razing of Santos was still fresh in the minds of all who had witnessed it, though it had been nearly two decades since. Everything in the city was now ash and rubble; from the homes of the rich to the merchant stalls and Madame Vixen's old brothel, in which the shade-cursed thief found the closest thing to a home he had known since he had become a shadeshifter.
Lorna and Callawyn had fled here together, along with as many of Lorna's Dolls as they could save, and Felix, the doorman. It was a tri-bordered city, on the outskirts of the Ivory Inquisition's territory, the grand forest home to the tree-cities of the elves to the northwest, and the neighboring country which was slowly becoming an empire to the southeast. The fairly small, quiet town had a market square, a residential district, and several surrounding farms. The market had cobblestone pathways, with the rest of the town connected by well-trodden dirt roads.
A few of the wandering Dolls doing chores around the brothel bid Callawyn a good afternoon as he tumbled by, lazily waving in return as he clutched his head and made his way to the Madame's room. Still not as magically fortified as the old brothel, it took him very little time to find it. "Lorna," he called, knocking softly. "It's Cal. I'm up."
@WitchesRayvyn
The place was becoming increasingly familiar, but it would be a long time before he became as intimate with the passageways of the building as he was with the one that burned with the rest of Santos. The trauma of the Lich War and the Razing of Santos was still fresh in the minds of all who had witnessed it, though it had been nearly two decades since. Everything in the city was now ash and rubble; from the homes of the rich to the merchant stalls and Madame Vixen's old brothel, in which the shade-cursed thief found the closest thing to a home he had known since he had become a shadeshifter.
Lorna and Callawyn had fled here together, along with as many of Lorna's Dolls as they could save, and Felix, the doorman. It was a tri-bordered city, on the outskirts of the Ivory Inquisition's territory, the grand forest home to the tree-cities of the elves to the northwest, and the neighboring country which was slowly becoming an empire to the southeast. The fairly small, quiet town had a market square, a residential district, and several surrounding farms. The market had cobblestone pathways, with the rest of the town connected by well-trodden dirt roads.
A few of the wandering Dolls doing chores around the brothel bid Callawyn a good afternoon as he tumbled by, lazily waving in return as he clutched his head and made his way to the Madame's room. Still not as magically fortified as the old brothel, it took him very little time to find it. "Lorna," he called, knocking softly. "It's Cal. I'm up."
@WitchesRayvyn
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