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Chapter 8.79 

Word count: 37590
Released on: April 13, 2022, 1:44 a.m.
Last edited: March 16, 2023, 6:26 p.m.
Book: Unreleased (0)
Most mentioned character
179 mentions
Most mentioned class
27 mentions
Most mentioned skill
1 mentions
Most mentioned spell
2 mentions
Most mentioned location
48 mentions

Mentions

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The Gnolls of Izril stood in judgment around a little white Gnoll, arguing, barely restrained from fighting. In defense, condemnation. Hatred and terror. Pointing at a child’s white fur as a mark of who she was. Trying to remember the right words.
Doombringer.
Doombearer.
They had forgotten even why she existed, but the Tribes of Izril knew her now. Mrsha, who had been of the Stone Spears tribe. A child who looked up at the hostile faces, wondering if she truly were to blame for it all.
They had forgotten even why she existed, but the Tribes of Izril knew her now. Mrsha, who had been of the Stone Spears tribe. A child who looked up at the hostile faces, wondering if she truly were to blame for it all.
But Mrsha had not committed them.
Erin Solstice was crying.
Erin thought of her friend, that silly, serious, old and young half-Elf, Ceria Springwalker. Who ate bugs and cast ice magic and was brave, a person in her own right, often gluttonous—and wise too. Sixty years old, so young for half-Elves. Her hair often untidy, but still.
Erin thought of her friend, that silly, serious, old and young half-Elf, Ceria Springwalker. Who ate bugs and cast ice magic and was brave, a person in her own right, often gluttonous—and wise too. Sixty years old, so young for half-Elves. Her hair often untidy, but still.
Half-immortal. Half of something that refused to change. A nature that did not, could not be erased. But only half. To look at her or Falene—any of their kind—on first glance was to see a striving till forever. Something that Earth had nothing like.
She was blonde. Ceria, Falene, many half-Elves had inherited parts of her characteristics. Fair skin, pale hair like hers, but only fragments. Her hair was blonde like the light fell on daffodils on a hot summer’s day.
She was blonde. Ceria, Falene, many half-Elves had inherited parts of her characteristics. Fair skin, pale hair like hers, but only fragments. Her hair was blonde like the light fell on daffodils on a hot summer’s day.
Barefoot. She wore clothes that looked like they had never known stitching or thread or…cloth. As if someone had simply scooped up branches and leaves and they had obliged her with clothing. If Erin had met her in the forest, she would have asked to sit and talk and wondered if Ryoka knew her.
Barefoot. She wore clothes that looked like they had never known stitching or thread or…cloth. As if someone had simply scooped up branches and leaves and they had obliged her with clothing. If Erin had met her in the forest, she would have asked to sit and talk and wondered if Ryoka knew her.
Erin was crying for her without knowing why. Not yet, but as that Elf rose amidst the Dragons flying from Baleros, she understood more than even the other ghosts.
Erin was crying for her without knowing why. Not yet, but as that Elf rose amidst the Dragons flying from Baleros, she understood more than even the other ghosts.
More than the [Witches], who were silent, hats raised in respect. More than Giants, who gazed upon a being so old they had not been born when she died. Even Xarkouth, the Dragon, bowed.
More than the [Witches], who were silent, hats raised in respect. More than Giants, who gazed upon a being so old they had not been born when she died. Even Xarkouth, the Dragon, bowed.
[Heroes], [Kings] and [Queens], [Legends], [Adventurers], [Sages] and [Archmages]—all looked at the first story. When they had made their names in history—she had long been gone. All they had known were half-Elves.
[Heroes], [Kings] and [Queens], [Legends], [Adventurers], [Sages] and [Archmages]—all looked at the first story. When they had made their names in history—she had long been gone. All they had known were half-Elves.
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