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current_events [2025/01/30 14:10]
titania 		current_events [2025/02/18 15:37] (current)
titania
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 +**2/15/2025**\\
 +A violent scuffle erupted just east of Tharis—three members of House Black clashed against… something. But the whispers in the streets fail to capture exactly what they faced. Then, without warning, reality itself fractured. Three buildings—erased. Not destroyed, not burned, not reduced to rubble—just... gone. As if they had never existed at all. No explosion. No sound. No lingering scent of fire or decay. Nothing. And yet, the aftermath was undeniable. The once-mighty members of House Black lay scattered across the pavement like bloodied ragdolls, their bodies battered, their presence reduced to a mere afterthought in the face of something far greater. And there, amidst the devastation, lay the corpse of a woman. Who was she? What happened here? There’s only one way to find out… but some truths are better left buried.
 +
 +**2/13/2025**\\
 +Along the cost near Torm, a villa was attacked and destroyed by faithful of Jarmila and Lysara. The entire structure was razed to the ground and clergy were seen sanctifying the ground.
 +
 +**2/04/2025**\\
 +A small fleet left Tharis and vanished into a cloud of mist... Only to be seen again several days later on a return journey from some place... What could have happened? Where could they have gone? Either way, the small fleet had docked once more at Tharis.
 +
 +**1/30/2025**\\
 +The void that once enveloped the Violet’s room flickers—a brief shimmer in the fabric of existence—before vanishing entirely. But the room does not return. It's left a perfect spherical carving of where the room should've been.
 +
 **1/29/2025**\\ **1/29/2025**\\
 In the dead of night, something unspeakably grotesque transpired in the foyer of the Sceptre of Knowledge. A woman arrived under the cloak of darkness. Bronze-skinned, brown-eyed, clad in layered shades of crimson, and—for some reason—turtle sheaths strapped to her. She carried a shipment. There was no record of any such delivery. Yet, she insisted. And with a deliberate, echoing slap upon the crate, it unmade itself—collapsing into pieces, revealing something horrific. A man stood frozen in place. Rigid. Unmoving. His expression locked in a silent delight, eyes unfocused, yet filled with ecstasy. A paintbrush rested in his grip, mid-stroke, as though time had abandoned him. And then, the true horror. His blood coursed through the canvas, draining from his body, swirling into streaks of crimson before surging back into his veins—an unholy cycle of life and death, artistry and suffering. An eternal loop of creation fueled by his own essence. The room fell into a stunned, breathless silence. Then—a sudden gasp. The artist still lived. Everyone was ordered to step back. No one dared interfere. The authorities had yet to decide what to do with this grotesque shrine of flesh and torment. And the woman who delivered this perverse masterpiece? She has a name. Tatianna. Deputy of River. Employed by the Extravagant Boars Mercenary Company. She walked in. Left her nightmare behind. And vanished into the night. In the dead of night, something unspeakably grotesque transpired in the foyer of the Sceptre of Knowledge. A woman arrived under the cloak of darkness. Bronze-skinned, brown-eyed, clad in layered shades of crimson, and—for some reason—turtle sheaths strapped to her. She carried a shipment. There was no record of any such delivery. Yet, she insisted. And with a deliberate, echoing slap upon the crate, it unmade itself—collapsing into pieces, revealing something horrific. A man stood frozen in place. Rigid. Unmoving. His expression locked in a silent delight, eyes unfocused, yet filled with ecstasy. A paintbrush rested in his grip, mid-stroke, as though time had abandoned him. And then, the true horror. His blood coursed through the canvas, draining from his body, swirling into streaks of crimson before surging back into his veins—an unholy cycle of life and death, artistry and suffering. An eternal loop of creation fueled by his own essence. The room fell into a stunned, breathless silence. Then—a sudden gasp. The artist still lived. Everyone was ordered to step back. No one dared interfere. The authorities had yet to decide what to do with this grotesque shrine of flesh and torment. And the woman who delivered this perverse masterpiece? She has a name. Tatianna. Deputy of River. Employed by the Extravagant Boars Mercenary Company. She walked in. Left her nightmare behind. And vanished into the night.
current_events.1738246235.txt.gz · Last modified: 2025/01/30 14:10 by titania

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