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[from-dusk]

Loyalty. Bought from the highest bidder, granting to the winner a loyal soldier serving one key purpose. 

Reclamation.  No hesitation exists within, no conflict without, towards the proposed task, given it deals in a particular vein of bounty claiming.

Extraordinary debt. With eyes like the nightmares of the Legion’s victims and a tenacity for terror, the years spent bringing the demons of the Great Dark to the knees serve as a menacing toolkit for collecting owed wealth.

                                                    Hooks

Getting Paid is Her Forte - A mild obsession of wealth and power causes a prime desire to create as much income as possible. Illivia makes it her business to know where money changes hands and what high rollers will potentially be worth her while in the long run. [Merchant, Adventure]

When I Talk My Teeth Should Rot - Wandering hands pull strings in even the strongest of hearts. Temptation incarnate presents itself in the form of encounters among others, for amusement is often found simply in the finer things in life. Rarely is her Achilles heel exposed, for only those who appeal to her senses are suitable. [Romance, Slice-of-Life]

To The Hustlers, Killers, Murderers, Drug Dealers, Even the Strippers - Recently rising to a rather reputable status in the darker parts of society, Illivia maintains her credibility through brokering peace between the higher echelons and their qualms. Primarily known among her people for her acts, her attention has recently switched to larger schemes, across faction lines and within the Horde as well. [Political, Strategy, Military, Dark, Cross-Faction]

The More Money We Come Across, The More Problems We See - Gold is exchanged freely for contracts that are completed, woe to her target that dare try to flee. Illivia is available for hire, from trivial to the exceedingly complex of tasks that involve property and payment alike. [Action, Mercenary]

                                     Contact for a Contract

                Mun is 18+ - 5+ Years Exp - WoW OC -  Sometimes NSFW - Likes + Reblogs Appreciated!

[from-dusk]

[from-dusk]

Chill Touch

You create a ghostly, skeletal hand in the space of a creature within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the creature to assail it with the chill of the grave. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 necrotic damage, and it can’t regain hit points until the start of your next turn. Until then, the hand clings to the target.

As a spore druid all of Amanita’s spells has a certain look to them

[from-dusk]

@olivia-lovecraft:

Olivia held on gently at first, but as the speed picked up, she couldn’t help but hold on more tightly. It was exhilarating, and not entirely frightening, but it was an experience she wasn’t sure she had comparison for. She squinted against the stinging bits of snow and focused on the man’s words.

“A night’s shelter and security…”

This was precisely the price Olivia was prone to pay without question. Even more precisely, it was tempting for the very reason he identified.

“A bold effort. A builder of character.”

“Of course,” Olivia relied with a soft touch of amusement in her voice. “A fair price for secure passage, I would think. Besides, mine is a character that could always use a bit of building, I suspect.”

Her smile evolved from private amusement to genuine fondness. Perhaps it was too soon to be fond of her current companion, but she experienced fondness through him. There was a high likelihood that he would be the house’s first unrelated guest in close to a century.

It was with that waking dream that she nearly forgot her present position. With renewed focus, she watched as the forest moved by and kept herself actively engaged in staying aboard.

[ @from-dusk ]

     Though confident in his footing, gnarled, striated hooves slowed only upon rounding brush blanketed in snow, leading with a crane of the neck forward to peer into the flurries of flakes before continuing forward. Alert, and similarly, not entirely certain he had the right estate in mind, given there were a few dotting the landscape, his hesitation remained reserved, knowing the ordeal could be corrected at the cost of more travel. However, the weather was no less forgiving than when they stumbled upon each other, and worsening, as seaside storms had an unfortunate habit of doing.

     “I had hoped it sounded fair, and am pleased to hear you agree.” The baritone of a disembodied voice rose in a moment of amusement. “Do you often work on such things? Looking within? Changing? Expounding upon your existence within this world in hopes of exceeding it?” Jovial as the curiosity was, it was also as ephemeral as the horizon in brief wanes of the windswept snow, lost in a gust that caused soulless black eyes to squint protectively.

     “It is a request that may require fulfilling at an unexpected time.” He added, thoughtfully, and with scant turn of his attention over his spine towards her. The sallow flames flickering above him began to offer an aura of light about them, in the thickening haze of snow and heaving storm clouds above. “Just as this was an unexpected encounter.”

And So She Goes

[from-dusk]

I need a ghost writer.

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Theme Aesthetic: Dark Forest

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Фигурка “Лесной царь”

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Immortal Guardian by Anna Astrid

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Brennus was followed by a burro. It was a fact, there was no way around it, the forestpath was as empty as if washed free by the rain that had fallen just a hour ago and the jenny that walked behind him would always be there when he would look over his shoulder. If the man would stop, so would the Burro, wiggling her long fluffy ears curiously and if he would continue his way so would the burro, happily humming a few friendly "Ewahs" as if she was jolly talking to Brennus. @halforc-mercenary

    At a scant break in the forest, where the trees thinned from looming pines and fanning ferns to aggressive brush and thorn patches burrowed out by rabbits for safe shelter, he halted abruptly. It had been a long enough walk, one spent not at all alone, and the curiosity had drove him to the edge at least ten minutes ago. He kept it in check, only peering over to the small burro now and again, but finally, he wanted to know more.  Quick steps spun him around and his heels dug into the ruddy dirt amid a squat so he could level his stare with his newfound accomplice.

     Resting his arms on his knees, he smiled, giving a nod of greeting to the jenny and then he fished out a ration of dried fruit from his satchel with one hand.

     “You’ve been with me for quite a moment. I’m hungry and thirsty, so you must be too. Would you like some fruit, my friend? My patrol is long yet, and the day is still early. We both must stay in good shape if we are to continue.” He spoke pointedly, a glimmer of emerald ringing his throat and pulsing with every word. While he was not deeply versed in communicating with nature, he knew enough to at least express his intentions towards creatures, to soothe, or ease how he could. He knew not all would understand entirely, but he hoped, most especially with a domesticated animal, that his desires were clear. It was a simple magic, one he could summon without effort or thought, keeping his focus on the conversation at hand, and his offering.

     An open palm offered it out at arm’s length slowly, keen to not be intimidating, as he sometimes was. “Then, of course, we will find where you are meant to go. Unless you plan to do this following  me around more often.”

@halforc-mercenary

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@olivia-lovecraft​:

     He listened, with his head craned in a way to make it clear he was doing precisely that and nothing more, wide eyes roving away from her as she spoke. As she carried on, pleased as he was to be entertained by the lilt of her voice, he knew within bones what the sky promised to soon deliver.

     Leather soles again retreated to the hard press of hooves in his passage beyond her side once more, fur from trophies receding into his own, replacing tawny, black-rooted strands with blazing sunset reds, deepening to purple hues beneath. Once fully transitioned, large hooves trampled snow in response to her, finally, rising antlers flickering alight above a skull that managed no true display of emotions. Large, for a stag, he disturbed nothing but the snow he stood upon, the gnarled and reaching branches of the forest just beyond his frame.

     “Some things last longer than others, as you have been taught, I am sure, and this snow is not a brief passing,” his neck craned in an arch to turn dim-lit sockets her way, his voice a distant thundering on the horizon as much as it was right beside her.  Gold-tipped fangs clicked and chattered, seeping amusement from a hollow head.

     “You speak firmly, in the face of a stranger, in increment weather. I like that.” Rounding completely to near her, knees fell to the snow and sallow flames waned to small peaks above his bone-stained crown. “I will take you home, if you agree on something in return, from your estate, long reigning as you make clear of it to be. Do you accept?”

Olivia’s hand finally slipped out of her pocket as she turned to watch him transform. She left the translocation stone dormant in her pocket, though her fingers itched to caress it again. When he had mentioned riding, she still had not imagined he meant to help her. Now, though, she allowed herself that luxury.

To an effect.

“You want something from the estate? I don’t…usually agree blindly to such things…but…yes. I accept.”

She looked perplexed still as she moved forward, tentatively reaching out to take hesitant hold and climb aboard if there was no further concern on his part. She was light, almost too thin beneath her layers, so when she adjusted herself toward his shoulders, she was able to do so delicately. It was a very different thing to ride without reins, so for an awkward breath, she was patting his shoulders and neck before speaking up again.

“Am I going to hurt you?”

[ @from-dusk ]

     His brow rose, an ethereal flickering fire glow that waned with the loss of expression, eventually again depicting him a simple buck, even as, unabashed and distinctively wide-eyed, he surveyed features as she considered his trade. With her agreement, he turned his attention away, then back again, in time to watch her with a swivel of his head and disjointed laugh. 

     “I am sturdy. You need not worry. I could burden someone twice your size.” An element of kindness came into play in that, instead of promptly taking off, he moved slowly, hooves advancing at a snail’s pace for a few moments to allow her acclimation. His afforded moment ended abruptly, however, and in his sudden shift of speed, he continued to speak, to elucidate and alleviate her concerns over his request. A strong frame left nothing to hide of muscles at work as he carried her through gaining snow drifts.

     “It is easy to imagine that your estate’s established value gives you some amount of security here. Your family, your people, they must have some power. A night’s shelter and security, in the future, far or near, is what I seek. I suspect it will be a useful tool in the future.” His amusement, far from curbed as he continued, echoed in a chuckle while cresting a hill and heading away from the thickets of the forest.

     “Just think, you’ll be blindly agreeing to a blind situation. A bold effort. A builder of character.”

And So She Goes

[from-dusk]

.

[from-dusk]

@freddy-hughes​:

The eyeless visage of the ursine mask watches Brenn curiously, head canted to the side. He watches as he goes to the bloom, admires it, and his head rolls slowly from being canted to the left, and now to the right. “Oh, oh yes I know,” He answers lightly, “I can wander, and wander, and wander, and never find my way out. Perhaps I’ve always done that. Maybe that’s whats kept me here.” The blooms that have erupted from the vines slowly begin to wither, but as they die, new ones spring anew. Freddy reaches up to pluck one, and set it behind the ear of the mask. 

“It is good to see others this deep in the woods. Yes. Yes. Not many come this far within. Not many care. Many are afraid of what lies deep in the woods…and perhaps they are wise….but…it is good to see someone.”

Slowly, Freddy began to stand. With a great amount of effort, like he had been partially buried in the ground, he makes it to his feet. Grass, leaves, dirt, debris, and the flora that had sprouted around him, fell off his legs in a heap around him. Freddy was massive, almost unnaturally so. Girthy, and tall. He tilted his head, scratched at an untamed blond beard, and looked to Brenn curiously. 

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, “Sometimes I lose track. Perhaps it was an age, or a month, or a year, or maybe even two minutes? I cannot say. I have been sitting, though, in this spot…for some time. Perhaps it wasn’t so much fate after all, to meet you here.” 

Freddy then reaches into his little belt pouch, and pulls out a shiny silver button. He looks at it, inspects it, and then offers it to Benn with the barest hint of a smile beneath the wooden mask. “A gift,” He explains, “I was told, once, by the trees, that gifts are given for good will. I have good will, I think. Do you?” He doesn’t ask in an accusatory way, in fact it’s almost as though he innocently doesn’t realize the vague threat he’s given. His body language is relaxed, curious, massive hand still outstretched with the button. 

( @from-dusk​ ) 

     Sure steps pulled him from rest and kept him steady in the circle that rounded the ascending speaker, fox fur and leather grazing brush and wild grass just below hands kept at his sides. As curious and amused as a crow finding a new toy to investigate, and just as wide-eyed, his head stayed in a tilt, needing the angle to take in the sight.

     “You lose track, so let me guess for you.” The soft soles of worn leather boots sink into disturbed soil and come to a halt, near enough to take the gift once it is offered to him with an impish smile of glee, no less corvid with something shiny between black-clad fingers that work over it ceaselessly in a circular pattern around the button’s edge.

     “I think the trees speak to the patient, and you are so, and thus, you must have been here at least a week.” Words spill without guidance, a keen eye investigating the gift still, until he considers where best to place it. Finding his satchel, he pried at the threading that holds the flap in place, but attention remained on Freddy with great delight.

     “As for my will, it is no more decisive than a rain storm, and no less. One may be grateful for the rain, another may shun the lightning, and another, hate the thunder. I try not to think too much of how others may see it.” The button, now secured onto his satchel, is again admired.

     “Thank you for this gift. Are you hungry?” Questioning with a glance, his smile  turned wry.

[from-dusk]

[ Just playing this safe, because we all know Tumblr is unreliable. After catching up on notifications and triple-checking everything, I’m just making sure I did not miss anything from anyone while I was out of state dealing with a loss. As far as I am aware, I still have open threads with

- @olivia-lovecraft - @freddy-hughes Of which I appreciate you both. And one anon. I think I followed everyone back that is either a multi-muse, IC, Mun’s OOC or OOC/IC blog primarily within Brenn’s universe. If I missed anything please tell me! I will be accepting confessions, professions and processions right here on Tumblr or Discord, just DM.]

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David Foster Wallace | Infinite Jest | 1996

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“Forest Titan” by bakashin: http://bit.ly/2NGW7Ni   

A mix of man and nature, the Forest Titan guards the woods with powerful and wild fae magic.  

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olivia-lovecraft‌:

A shudder involuntarily raced through Olivia, her body misbehaving and betraying her thoughts. Death was not on the agenda, but it seemed always to be her shadow. Would there truly be no cheating the specter of its prize?

“I have a friend who says all things are temporary, so I suppose that must be the case. However, the Lovecraft estate has stood for at least 250 years by my research. The Lovecraft line is a long, peculiar one,” Olivia replied with a smirk before addressing the question he bumped ahead of the others. “As for riding, I am a fairly strong rider. I was raised with horses and have learned to ride gryphons and hippgryphs with passable skill. I am assuming that is what you are referencing. Are you suggesting you have a mount of some sort wandering in your wake?”

She glanced by him and searched the woods, frowning as she realized the snow that collected on his person was truly falling faster than she realized.

“As for what I have done for the forest, to address that consideration as well, I am working with my cousin, Shea, to best live in harmony. I require some modern comforts within the house, but the grounds need only stay clear for a cart wide trail from stables to road. I have agreed to let the rest grow wild short of the cultivated surrounding the buildings. I have taken no trees that have not already fallen, and I have evicted no creatures from anyplace other than the rooms meant for humans. Not even the noisy raccoons in the attic,” she remarked as she looked back to him. “I will admit I am a touch ignorant on the matter, but Shea has lived all his life in the wilds. He connected to the land the house stands on.”

[ @from-dusk | Mentions : @druidsanddrust - Olivia’s cousin ]

     He listened, with his head craned in a way to make it clear he was doing precisely that and nothing more, wide eyes roving away from her as she spoke. As she carried on, pleased as he was to be entertained by the lilt of her voice, he knew within bones what the sky promised to soon deliver.

     Leather soles again retreated to the hard press of hooves in his passage beyond her side once more, fur from trophies receding into his own, replacing tawny, black-rooted strands with blazing sunset reds, deepening to purple hues beneath. Once fully transitioned, large hooves trampled snow in response to her, finally, rising antlers flickering alight above a skull that managed no true display of emotions. Large, for a stag, he disturbed nothing but the snow he stood upon, the gnarled and reaching branches of the forest just beyond his frame.

     “Some things last longer than others, as you have been taught, I am sure, and this snow is not a brief passing,” his neck craned in an arch to turn dim-lit sockets her way, his voice a distant thundering on the horizon as much as it was right beside her.  Gold-tipped fangs clicked and chattered, seeping amusement from a hollow head.

     “You speak firmly, in the face of a stranger, in increment weather. I like that.” Rounding completely to near her, knees fell to the snow and sallow flames waned to small peaks above his bone-stained crown. “I will take you home, if you agree on something in return, from your estate, long reigning as you make clear of it to be. Do you accept?”

And So She Goes