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3 yrs ago
Current Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Don't mind me. Just shilling a thread: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
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3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
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3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
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Bio

Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?

Stay awesome, people.

Most Recent Posts

@jdh97 You are good to go! Looking forward to having him onboard.
@jdh97 Overall, I like him and he works. Your prose is as evocative as ever and he holds some nice nuance. A few little nitpicks below:

1) There's no 'K' in the transliteration of yasoi to the Avincian alphabet.

2) Have a look at some of the yasoi names in discoveries on the discord for some idea of the sound of them and maybe try to carry these through to the cognomen and surname. Triple consonants are rare except when necessary to make at least two different sounds that could not be made a simpler way.

3) Just be a bit wary of how you frame Vyshta. She's not so much a war goddess as one of fortune: luck, essentially.

4) Anything else about how he uses the Gift? And favoured moves, proclivities, or quirks? Feelings toward it?



@Suicharte I believe that we covered everything in Discord. Welcome aboard with either or both characters once you've looked a those couple of little things.
7-12-22 Updates

Hey all! Dropping some big and long overdue updates today. Please find a list of them below, by OOC Section.

Overall: All Lore section posts are now linked in the opening post for quicker access.

General Magic Lore: Added An In-Depth Guide to RAS Levels; Sensing, Drawing, and Casting Range; Animals and Magic.

World Lore: Additions to 'The Yasoi' and 'Fauna of Sipenta', added Sentient and Near-Sentient Species of Sipenta, Past and Present.

The Nations of Sipenta: Miatto added.

School Lore: All Arch Zeno profiles have been added to Eminent Figures,

Visuals, Maps, and Graphics: Section finally added.


Location: The Crows' Nest // Date: February 25, 2057 // Time: 8:55 // Interactions: Vincent, Akaia, Poppy, Indigo



Lysandra had been surprised to be among those chosen to leave the Crows' Nest. Strictly speaking, it made little sense given that she could be of far more use at her work table than out in the field. She'd be out there again, though, doing something new, seeing a new place and people she hadn't met before.

By the time that the alarm went off, Lys was already heading out the door. She had assumed and made an ass of 'u' and 'me'. She had equipment to prep, things to pack, the mistle to check, and projects to tuck safely away. The sound only made her hurry even more. Scrubbing speed with her gloved palms, she pulled up to her door, opened it, and raced inside. In seconds, her headset was on and Guardian's controller was in her lap. The drone burst out of its cubby on the rooftop and then its cameras were her eyes.

Below, Vincent had burst through a window for reasons unknown. Idiot, Lys thought. Akaia popped her head out and... then right back in. Poppy appeared.

Standing in front of the Crows' Nest was a tall, shaggy vagrant who... was not a Lost, at least. They had people like this come by from time to time, either begging for blood beads or trying to steal them. If this one was a thief then he - or she? Lys wondered - was not a very good one. She kept her fingers light on the controller and kept Guardian moving, well away from any structures, the drone's weapons systems aimed and ready. You never knew what kind of abilities Revenants might have and this one had somehow made it past the outer layer of sensors undetected. Vincent was already asking questions, so she decided not to. "What he said: your name and your business here," she demanded into her headset's mic. Guardian's speakers repeated it. "I'm glad this thing can't smell."


@jdh97

3) Just wanted to have everything on the table and, if it's something that you went into with full knowledge of how it might play out, we're cool! I'm hoping we can maintain an authentic voice on this and have it be an intriguing, fulfilling, and thought--provoking character plot or subplot.

6) Yoburu, Bangui, Lohasi, Semenjo, Jahar, Abumi, Zimbasu, Mazenga, Ozumbo, Imangya.
@jdh97 Okay, sorry for taking so long with this. Life has kept me plenty busy. Below are some questions, suggestions, and ideas regarding your character sheet.

1) Nice prose and evocative imagery. I appreciate the way that you pose questions, rhetorical or otherwise.

2) Revidian as opposed to Rividian.

3) Be aware that, in Quentic Constantian society, there is room for quite a bit in terms of hetero/homosexuality and even polygamy in some interpretations. However, a gender binary nonetheless exists and is strongly normative, as reflected in each of the gods having two aspects: male and female. A character who doesn't clearly fit either acknowledged gender may either simply have their gender and sex assumed or, in some cases, be a point of scrutiny. Overall, we're not dealing with modern western or indigenous conceptions of gender here and I want these interactions to be played out authentically or not at all.

4) "That doesn’t mean the downward spiral doesn’t lie in wait for Vieri elsewhere, it’s just so hard to tell where the ice is thin." - Love the way that you put this.

5) An 8.0 even is boring. We already have a few who are right on the number, too. Maybe an 8.12 or an 8.07, or something along those lines?

6) Avince is the capital of the old empire (think analogous to Rome), so that might be cool to play around with. It's also the seat of the Optimate, head of the Quentic faith: a place where piety, power, and desire meet, intermingle, and clash.

6) lo (place name) type names would very much mark one out as common as opposed to being among the merchant or noble classes and would close some doors. This is something that your character and their parents would be aware of, having grown up in this world.
@Suicharte Just finished reading this CS in its entirety and it was a really good read. Overall, your self-criticism, though perhaps motivating, is entirely unwarranted. Dietrich is an awesome character. Feel free to play him. Below, are some observations, suggestions, and ideas that I came up with as I read.

1) "He began to see the Quentic faith as not a guiding light for those lost as he once did as a child, but as a controlling, overbearing arm of the Parrench which would one day pick up his peoples kingdoms and shovel it into the mouth of their ever expanding domain." - I love this image!

2) In general, I love his mindset and the nuance of his character. He defies reductive classification and reads as very 'noble'.

3) "They sought an apt educator, and looked to the north in Parrench, who had access to the knowledge of old." - Small matter: he demonym is Parrench but the country is Parrence.

4) Written convention in Sipenta is for the Gift to always be capitalized.

5) Drudgunze is the region, Drudgunzean would be the demonym.

6) "Casts spells in Avincean rather than his mother tongue. Is also his preferred language, believes it to be more fitting of high society." - I like this detail!

7) "His home duchy is known for its often chaotic weather, hence the name of Sturmfeld." - Appreciated this detail as well. Also, maybe somewhere coastal, then?

8) Given the day and age and what a cane would've symbolized to people of the early medieval ages, I wonder if there isn't a better item that could be used to reflect his noble decadence, act as a focus, and not make him seem to be elderly or infirm.

Overall, I'm thrilled to have Dietrich aboard. If you were still going to make a second character sheet - for an Eskandr-aligned yasoi, iirc - feel free to do so and I'll review that as well. What you have here is excellent as well, though.
Act One: The Defense of Relouse____ __ _ _

Chapter Four: Linchpin of the Hinge_________ __ __ _ _




The Witch Wood_________ __ __ _ _

The shockwaves of Horik's final explosion tore across the Witch Wood, burning and toppling trees, consuming the slow and the wounded, blinding and deafening others. As fire rolled into smoke and smoke cleared, they stumbled around dully in the aftermath, skin peeling, ears ringing, eyes bleary. Among them were three yasoi: Otios, Talit, and Lyen, who knelt towards the edge of the scorched ground, healing themselves with the blood magic of the Gift. Still, lay the forest around them: still and oddly silent. A persistent rain fell and thunder rumbled in the clouds, but the sounds of open combat had fallen precipitously away.

In the trees and on the patches of dry ground, the yasoi allies of Parrence and elements of that new nation's Grand Armee exulted in their triumph. That the latter had overcommitted to the battle north of the town was perhaps clear, but they had achieved what they'd set out to do, or so they believed...




Kol, Death's Hand_________ __ __ _ _

Sometimes, the Gods demanded sacrifice before one passed through the great doors of Gronhalle, and they had demanded much of the Eskandr who had ventured into the Witch Wood. That they had been decimated was a certainty, now. The Parrench and their yasoi allies were even now gloating and glorying in their apparent victory. Yet the first of the raid's two purposes had been served. An inordinate number of Parrench forces had committed themselves north of the city and, by doing so, left the beach that much less defended.

With what forces they had left, Kol and Vali, who had yet survived everything that yasoi and Parrench alike had thrown at them, now abandoned conventional tactical wisdom and raced across the open fields towards the Northwest Gate. On the way, they passed burning windmills and ruined farmsteads. The former whirling madly in the wind, their arms smoldering, phantasmal, against the dark sky, leaving sparks and black smoke to swirl away in the wind.

The brave warriors of this much-reduced force had seen the massive beam of red light that had leapt into the sky and heeded it. All of their forces were ashore, but the king of kings had judged that an absolute victory was now in doubt and that the bold plan they had conceived of the week before was to be put into action. It fell to them to go straight at the less-defended gate and hammer it hard enough to make the Parrench panic. Meanwhile, Sweyn would strike with his lightning at the cathedral where many civilians would be sheltering, Thorunn would make for the Parrench camps, via trickery if needed, and set them alight. Hrothgar would gather the troops into a wedge to break through at all costs.

The Nashorn would be used.

Many were those who shuddered to think of that. The truth, however, was that, should this attack fail, the offensive itself would fail and the Eskandr might yet be hurled back into the sea. So it was that Kol, Vali, and the elite warriors and rangers remaining from the force that had scaled the cliffs and assaulted the Witch Wood had a purpose now, part of a larger plan: assault the gate, force the enemy to panic, force them to withdraw to the city so that the Eskandr might yet win the day.



Under the Walls_________ __ __ _ _

Every Eskandr who was going to land had landed. Now it was simply a case of army against army, champion against champion. There were none greater than the two kings themselves, or so history would later record. Arcel the Blessed of Parrence and Hrothgar the Black of Eskand stood under the walls of Relouse and sized each other up.

Arcel stood for but a moment, Sanguinaire incandescent in his left hand, steam hissing and rising off of it from the violent clash of heat and water. "Get your filthy hide off of Parrench soil, heathen. Your foul tricks are as nothing before the power of Shune's Light!" He pointed the legendary sword at Hrothgar, the air around him crackling with arcane energy, and advanced. "Fight me!" he bellowed.

Hrothgar's glare fixed upon the young king and his lips formed a thin line. Wordlessly, he drew a dozen longships to splinters and stalked forward, the very fabric of reality seeming to roil and warp as he moved.

So focused was Arcel on his adversary that he did not notice the blur that hurtled at him from the side until there was no time left to dodge it. Something plowed into Arcel with unbelievable force, so much so that there was flash and it continued unimpeded in the slightest.

Hrothgar's energy instead went into a massive red beam that pierced the very clouds far above, visible for many miles distant. Then, the Parrench king was behind him, materializing as if out of thin air. Sanguinaire slashed for his head and only a massive, rapid drawing of Force from it was able to stall the murderous swing enough for the Eskandr to dodge.

Meanwhile, the blur that had looked to have hammered Arcel from existence moments ago spent its energy instead on the shield wall of his soldiers, resolving itself into an unusually large and heavily-armoured man as it smashed through. Only, it was... not so much a man as an animal in the shape of one.

The giant let loose an inarticulate howl and everyone with even the slightest notion of The Gift could feel a massive intake of Force energy. His colossal, rounded helm with its great, sharpened horn, his massive pauldrons, hulking breastplate, and brutal greaves, boots, and gauntlets clanked and groaned with the sheer power of it.

Arcel paid him little heed. Hrothgar was trying to hit him with lightning but, once again, the Parrench king simply disappeared and reappeared quite far away. A wide, flat beam of brilliant blue-white light leapt from Sanguinaire, slicing at an angle through his adversary and the ground behind him.

With a grin, Hrothgar dematerialized and appeared some ways to the left, unleashing a pummeling burst of Force magic that pounded into Arcel and caused him to stagger back even as he absorbed most of it.

The giant Eskandr who had intruded on their battle was not finished, however. Putting the energy he'd gathered to use, he plowed back through the battle lines, decimating further Parrench fighters in addition to a few from his own side who were slow to remove themselves from his path. He came to a stop, smashing down a tree that had sprouted on the beach mere hours ago and shaking his head as if to clear it. The brute raised his arms, broken chains dangling from the manacles about his wrists, and continued to run rampant about the battlefield at extreme speed, plowing into people and objects alike, seemingly at random.

The brave men and women of Parrence surged forward to try to plug the gap in their lines, but the Eskandr formed themselves into an enormous human arrowpoint and rushed through. So busy was Arcel fighting against Hrothgar that there was little he could do. The elder king found himself hard-pressed to ward off his younger adversary's rapid-fire attacks.

The defenders of Relouse had also met with success, closing their lines, but a group of their enemies had already mushroomed through the opening. Instead of trying to attack them from behind, however, some of these gathered their Force energy and leapt, in a tightly packed group, onto the battlements near the Harbour Gate, aiming to wreak havoc. Others continued on, making a break for the Grand Armee's camp and the infirmary.


Thorunn Silverhair_________ __ __ _ _

Near the head of this group, by design, was Thorunn Silverhair, Princess of Hegelich and third among the Æresvaktr. Still, despite her healing, her side burned with discomfort where that Laughing Knight had speared her with his lance of light. Still, despite how easily she had killed many Parrench, she could hear his mockery: his hooting, hollering laughter. She had a job to do, though. She had targets. The battle would hinge on this and it would be good to have something to take her anger out upon. She made for the camp and the infirmary, already drawing all of the energy that she could and racing ahead of the others.

Up ahead lay a small river and a series of tents beyond it. Thorunn did not bother with the bridges, where she might be easily intercepted. Spending a small portion of Force energy, she pushed off and leapt clear to the other side. The fox is among the hens now, she thought, with a wicked grin. Soldiers were closing on her already. She breathed fire at their faces and watched them writhe and scream like human torches. Stalking through the camp, she drew so great an amount of energy it was as if the rain itself was not even falling around where she stood. Then, with a gleeful and girlish laugh, she unleashed, and things began to burn.


The Nashorn and the Laughing Knight_________ __ __ _ _

The great beast of a man who had smashed the Parrench lines was known as The Nashorn, and this human rhinoceros was far from finished in his work. He charged about the battlefield, glorying in his strength and brutalizing all who tried to stand up to him. Lightning, he outran, Force and Arcane, he absorbed. Chemical only seemed to increase his fury. Nobody could get a fix on him for any sort of Blood drawing.

Then, a knight in colourful armour appeared to his side and, by the time that the Nashorn had committed to swatting him out of the way, he was at the giant's other side and... all around him... laughing. "Too slow, big guy!" he taunted, "too stupid!" The Eskandr responded with a shockwave that left a crater in the ground around him, but the Laughing Knight absorbed the portion of the unfocused attack which would've harmed him and thrust a stiletto into the armour gap under the Nashorn's armpit.

For his efforts, he was flung away like so much scrap, but he rolled and landed in a crouch, his massive opponent barreling after him. A blinding flash of light made the beast stumble, and then the laughing knight was gone. "Hoohoohoo!" echoed his voice. "Hahaha! So weak!" he taunted, "so predictable!"

The Nashorn continued to charge after him, being drawn ever further from the battle, for as long as Sir Rodric Danneman of Lindermetz could occupy him.


Sweyn Thunderspear_________ __ __ _ _

Yet, while some shifted away from the battle, others moved towards it. The Parrench found their northwest gates under attack and their camp burning as Thorunn Silverhair and a handful of her elite warriors of Hegelich moved through it. On the beach, their forces were still trying to recover the ground they'd had to give in order to plug the gap in their lines. Their backs were now against the river as forces came trickling in from the direction of the Witch Wood to reinforce them. These, however, had to fight their way through the Eskandr first and, for all the attempts of the knights to rally them to charge as one, they continued to crash, piecemeal, against the Eskandr shield walls and be spent. If Arcel had Hrothgar personally on the back foot, the Eskandr king of kings seeming to be in a desperate fight for his life, one sensed that it was only a ploy to lure the younger man into a dastardly trap.

All throughout the battle, as the weather had turned foul and a storm raged, Eskandr shamans, warlocks, and druids had been drawing from its power, unleashing massive lightning attacks that blasted, burned, and spidered across the forces and fortifications of their enemies. Unbeknownst to most of the Parrench, however, was that the majority of this fury from the sky had come by the hands of one man, first among the Æresvaktr: Sweyn Thunderspear.

Levitating through the air, it snapped and hummed about him as he neared the walled town from his hiding place along the cliffs. With a resigned sense of duty, he felt the energies of the thousands who dwelt within and, before long, had seized upon a large cluster that could only be a thousand or more souls huddled in one of those Quentic temples. Mother, forgive me, thought the aged warlock, but then he drew from the storm, hardened his heart, and continued to draw until he swelled with such power that it demanded to be released. He closed his eyes for a moment, felt for the structure containing those energies, and let loose.


Eleanor de Perpignan_________ __ __ _ _


Eleanor had felt it: dozens of lives snuffed out in an instant, within yards of each other, and she knew that a great wickedness was afoot. Battered and exhausted from a hundred fights - many of which had not been her own - the Queen of the Parrench hefted her shield and hammer and made for where she had felt the impossible surge of energy from. "Echeran empower me," she murmured aloud, "Oraphe keep me," she breathed, stalking forward, drawing on the Force of the rain to propel her body faster, and faster still. "Dami guide me."

The Eskandr were on all sides of Relouse now, wreaking havoc, and it came to her clearly that they could be hurled back into the sea no longer. They city could be spared, though. It could yet stand if all committed themselves to its defense. That included her. That included facing down whatever Thunder-wielding monster was hurling lighting bolts into the roofs and walls where her people waited and prayed. The city could not fall. She would not let it. So help her, Pentad, she would fight to her dying breath and after, were it possible, to protect them.

There, hovering above an open field between two windmills, she came upon him: the legendary warlock known as Sweyn Thunderspear and she was, once again, a twelve-year-old girl along with her father's embassy, watching a demonstration of his unfathomable power. Eleanor took a deep breath, counseling herself that fear would do her no service here, and casting about hopefully for the allies who would give her yet a chance of surviving this encounter. "Sweyn!" she roared, in Avincian that she knew he understood, "This is madness! They are innocents! Have you truly fallen so far!?"

With a tilt of his head, the Thunderspear turned to face her.


Talit'yrash'osmax_________ __ __ _ _


Tali heard them faintly, at first, then ever louder: the horns, three blasts. Then, again, a few seconds later. It was General de Montblaise. He was... calling a retreat to the city. She'd been struggling to keep up with the others on this treacherous ground, enhancing herself regularly with Force energy as the tips of her crutches sunk into the mud.

That sound, however, brought the one-legged woman to a stop. She reached out with her senses, turning on the spot, and she could feel it: Eskandr at the Northwest Gate. They had broken from the Witch Wood and run, using the haze of ambient energy from Horik's final detonation to cover their energies. They were exchanging fire with the defenders, harrying them, and it occurred to her that it was further diversion. It was part of their plan: give the impression of grater numbers and penetration than you actually had. It was not an Eskandr trick, in truth, but a yasoi one. Great-grandfather had taught her and her brother about how it had been used by their people many times throughout history. Talit fidgeted in place for a moment, taking a half-step one way and then casting about. "Those Eskandr!" she shouted, "they're at the gates! They're trying to trick us, make us retreat! We need to get rid of them!" She could not wait to see who came with her and who did not, however. The triple horn blast had already signaled a retreat to the fortified town, and hundreds of yasoi and Parrench would be pouring towards that gate. Her realization had come a minute too late. It was futile. These canny savages had extricated themselves from the nearly closed jaws of defeat and were perhaps headed even for a costly victory: a feat that she was all too familiar with.

Waves of anxiety washed up and down the yasoi's body and she began to run, feeling the wind whoosh past her ears, her hair flutter behind her, lashing at her neck and shoulders. Tali began to gather energy, to prepare herself to fight again. Yet, when she had drawn closer and reached out to sense the Eskandr, she could not find them. It was if they had run, blended in with her allies in some sort of ruse, or simply disappeared...












Ahn-Dami Took the Reins For This One, Sorry


Oh, hello there, mortals. It is I: Ahn-Dami. Yes, I'm speaking with you directly. Listen: I have heard your mewling little cries and, in my infinite wisdom and mercy, have decided to answer them. You've packed yourselves onto a pair of rickety constructs made of dead tree and are currently floating on the water towards either your possible doom or that of those who have subjectively been labeled as your enemies. There are moments when I heartily regret allowing sentients their free will.

It has been a long and trying journey. Members of your group have saved and taken life. Some have entered the embrace of my sister, Ahn-Eshiran. You've encountered a cast of colourful characters along the way to make allies or enemies of and now, in this moment, as rousing speeches and brilliant plans come together, you stand poised at the precipice of... well, being over it, really, don't you? There's only so much combat, intrigue, and danger that the human or yasoi mind can take. It is love, laughter, and camaraderie that fills your cup as well. It is discovery, knowledge, and exploration! One needs Ipte and Shune to thrive more so than Eshiran.

And so, we shall seize the hands of time, dear humans and yasoi, and move them quickly in the direction that you know best, for such is the power of a goddess of the Pentad. As an aside, I shall expect your finest offerings at some later juncture.



B L A C K F L A G






The Maria Nera, black-sailed beauty that she was, was still a relatively mundane ship. That she had a complement of mages was a given, and these were reasonably skilled and innovative. They made the cardinal mistake of thinking that their adversaries would rely on magic to counter them and, unless they could count a tethered among their number, the battle would be fought at the edge of magic range or perhaps even closer. Instead, the students of Ersand'Enise relied on gunnery. Ismette held the Golden Sun perfectly still on the pitching waves, Trypano lined her up, and Ingrid and Desmond fired the gigantic 'fuck you' gun they had made with 'F E A R L E S S I N N O V A T I O N'. It missed.

As he had a penchant for, Benedetto decided to come to the rescue at that very moment, flying in like some sort of death god, right up to the Nera, and holding it steady. Captain Falzon grumbled something about seamanship and recoil and stupid weapons, but they fired the gun again, it struck home, and well... pirate ships just can't repel firepower of that magnitude. At least the mages on board could save everyone else from drowning. They surrendered to the snaggle-toothed old seadog who was Captain of the St. Elmo's Fyre, along with his chosen Queen, their reign of terror at an end.

The issue was that Xavier Falzon had been right about one thing: the Golden Sun sailed like a pig with the weight of a weapon like that mounted where it would have a decent field of fire, and the sheer recoil broke her back after a couple of rounds. Trypano worked hard to patch her up, but she'd taken in so much water by then that capsizing was inevitable. Desmond was able to save the flag, at least. Perhaps, in the future, some other - greater - ship will fly it.

It was the Flamant Royale that picked them up and rendezvoused with the Fyre and both of these ships returned to the hidden cove that the Nera had been operating out of. It was...eerily quiet as they hove to and docked. Stepping onto the sand, the group found themselves on high alert, all except for Benedetto. "Heh, looks like the idiots all fled," he joked. "Guess we're just that scary."

They spread out, after that: the crew of the Royale in one direction and a party from the Fyre - including Amelea - in the other. "I... don't like this," warned Penny, and Ismette nodded. Everything had been left exactly as the former had encountered it a few hours earlier, save some matters related to the ship casting off and the hasty packing of some ammunition and navigational maps, yet, she also notcied some odd... burn marks on some of the walls and... irregular globs of glass in the sand.

Eventually, both parties converged on the caves where much of the treasure had been stored and 'Amelea's' chamber was located. She wanted to go and investigate it. There was treasure to be distributed, and she desired to look for something incriminating on her uncle. On the other hand, there were the deeper reaches of the cave to explore. How much deeper they went seemed to be a matter of some dispute. Penny maintained that she'd reached the end of what was navigable earlier and there'd been nothing of note. Ismette reached out with her keen yasoi senses and she noticed something in the sand soil beneath them: it looked almost like something had been dragged or... perhaps undulated over here, but the tracks disappeared against the back of the stone cavern. She quietly shared that information with her trusted peers. As everyone talked, however, Benedetto, serious for once, tapped idly on the wall, until he heard something that sounded... hollow beyond it. Amelea beckoned them one way. Benedetto, with a complete lack of reverence, the other. Which would the group choose?




Hey Pir! Casii lives! I like her and I'm excited that someone finally made a yasoi character. I appreciate the amount of attention paid to their unique culture and lore and how you were able to play coy with their decline. Casii seems fun and complex and I see a good storyline ahead for her. Below are a few small amendments I'd like you to consider. Pending those, she's approved. Feel free to post her in the Characters tab and introduce her to the world.

1) "Should she find an interesting subject of fauna, she will take a few seeds and keep them with her." I think you're looking for 'flora'.

2) One of Great Gran's cognomens may need a touch of shortening. It's a bit of a mouthful.

3) Just a bit of a tonal thing, though I like her focuses: yasoi don't distinguish their magic as much between schools as they do between effects.

4) Yasoi aren't strictly arboreal. They just don't distinguish much between trees, hills, cliffs, etc. I love the image of them growing things right from the great branches of their trees, down the hillsides and cliffsides to the forest floor: all different sorts of plants that thrive in different light and watering conditions.

5) Might use a different descriptor than 'meaty' for human noses from their perspective. It's all in the bridge of the nose and humans have much less of a bridge than yasoi.

Ultimately, those are mostly nit-picky little things. Casii looks great and I look forward to seeing her in the story!
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