Memory

In song remembered

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry
Shadows grew long afore the dimmed dawn
while men awoke to muted horns;
hearty men green-cloaked and ironclad.
Far they had ridden on well-trained steeds,
passing over river, mound and dale;
heavy hoofs broke ground well-traveled,
resting now on cold and dewy grass.
Still their fires burned and embers flew;
birds singing and crickets playing
in the misted morning, while the sun rose
behind mountains white-enclouded.

Memories

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Conceptual

“Boy!” shouted a voice, rousing the child from his nap. The warm sun and the creaking cart and the sounds of the horse had lulled him to sleep. It was a big day, for some reason, he couldn’t remember. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and stretched. He had left home with his father for something; waking up much earlier than normal.

A Little Dream of Who I Was

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Stitches finds himself younger, and on his knees within a cluster of trees. His hands are red. His knife is red. The corpse of a maimed doe paints the ground below. His breath is slow, he feels calm, and in a way, even happy. Footsteps behind him alert him to turn his head. Another adolescent approaches him, breathing shakily as she addresses him. Her hair is red like a sunset, and down to her lower back. Her skin pale and fair, offset with greatly wide and colorful green eyes.

A Song Hidden In Brandy

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Stitches slowly opens the door of The Prancing Pony, as though the task itself is difficult. Wincingly, he reaches his right hand to his left shoulder to the site of the new crater in his flesh, and tenderly rubs it to submission. After the throbbing subsides he ambles towards the bar, eyes meeting with whoever might be tending it this early in the morning. He flashes a gentle smile, but keeps his eyes down when he orders. Not his proudest moment, nor his most prideful order, to be honest.

"Callon nîn, melethron nîn."

What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: General screen

"Lay it down into the water and let the stream carry it Westwards."

With a face like stone, the red-clad lady accepts the paper lantern. The craftsman looks at her expectantly. His answer is an ice-cold glare: "Turn around. Go uh... go gather more wax or something. Scram!" He is dumbfounded, the poor sod. Not knowing how to react, he does as he is told and scurries down the pier. 

She turns around and kneels by the river. The mask slips.

"Ai, melethron nîn, Callon nîn... goheno nin..."*

A Mess(y Home)

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

The door to the quaint little hut swings open without care or concern, slamming against the hard wall on the left and shattering a few more splinters off of it. The door itself already has noticeable cracks in it, enough to see the inside from out and the outside from in. Stitches steps in after abusing the wooden panel, soaked in rainwater and carrying a bottle in one hand. He hiccups and closes the door the other way.

Not Just A Sparrow

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

"Just take another step. Sometimes, that's all you can do, my sunshine. Is to just keep stepping."

Brushing With Berarna

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

(OOC Author's note: It has been brought to my attention that this story might possibly seem pointed, and even possibly at more than one person. I would like to assure anyone and everyone who reads this, that it is simply a piece of Berarna's backstory, and her view on it. My story has no target.)

 

Scenes with Daegond

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

I do not know where to start. At the first glance Daegond might have been strange, crude and even mean to a person who did not know him, but he had more than meets the eye. Profound loyalty to those he protects. The reasons why he was behaving the way he did. A softer side which the Noldorin (or any) warrior tries so hard to hide under their shell of steel.

All I have in my mind are the scenes of meeting him.

Bittersweet Remembrance

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

​​​It was late morning and though the autumn nights had been quite cold, it was now pleasantly warm in Aldburg. At that moment, beneath a small cluster of trees, two young figures were lying side by side. Ash and Deor would do this often enough and would often be heard speaking to each other in gentle tones, meant only for the ears of each other. But this moment, they had simply been lying in a comfortable silence, merely basking in the closeness of the other. 

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