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HowlingWoods

"And she heaved the forest upon her back"
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Hey there! This is my first time making a quest thread, so please bear with me here. This story is set in my own original universe, which you can read more about under the ‘lore’ section. You’re welcome to skip over the lore section if you like, but know that this story was intended for people who have read the lore beforehand, so you might be a bit confused if you don’t read it.

This story is likely to take some unexpected turns, as there are several different plotlines going on all at once. This first post will introduce one of the plotlines, but the main one likely won’t be introduced for a while still. The main plotline may not be to everyone’s tastes, but I hope most people can at least find something they like in this story.











To See the Stars






A Breaktaking Piano Piece by Jervy Hou

filler thing. ignore












  • It was a bright, sunny day when they buried my fiance. It was autumn, yet not a cloud remained in the sky. It was almost like the Divines themselves were mocking the ceremony with the bright, sunny smile of the sun shining down on so many tear-stained faces. Even so, my eyes were dry as I watched the groundskeepers shovel dirt onto the casket. I hadn't the strength to cry anymore - after all my father had taken from me, what would a few tears do?

    "That's the widower, I hear. He looks just like his father, doesn't he?"

    "Indeed. If not for the eyepatch I'd have mistaken him for Mikela Feal himself."


    I didn't even have the strength to hate myself, at that moment. All I could think about was Frida. Not my fiance being buried for a sin I committed, nor her grieving parents observing the burial with red, swollen eyes. My mind was on the other woman who had died that night, the woman nobody else would shed a tear over. She had undoubtedly died a gruesome, painful death, but there would be no justice for her, nor any other of her kind.

    A single tear rolled down my left cheek.

    "Excuse me, sir...if I may?"

    I glanced up at the feather-light touch to my shoulder, flinching away from the unexpected contact. Before me stood a man with hair as white as snow. The stranger took in my flinch with a keen awareness, a single pale blue eye watching me from behind a veil of wintery hair. The pale hand that had tapped my shoulder fell to the man's side, and I got the odd sense that I was speaking to someone of both great wisdom, and great failure. It was something in the man's eyes - which, I now realized, were not all blue. His right eye was the color of rich honey, the warmthness of the shade a stark contrast from his otherwise chilly appearance.

    The man seemed to see through to my very soul with those eyes, and I found myself thoroughly uncomfortable with the intelligence behind those eyes. "You..." The man began, his words slow and measured, "You aren't grieving for this woman here, are you?" He made a general gesture towards the casket, by now buried in a layer of soil six feet deep. I could almost feel all my secrets unraveling before this man. Secrets my fiance had died for. Secrets Frida had died for.

    "Who are you?" I asked, my voice the barest of breaths against the breeze. It occurred to me that this was a private ceremony, and I couldn’t imagine this man had any connection to the woman they’d just buried - he showed no signs of grief in the slightest. Even so, I was convinced this man had no ill intentions about him. It was an understanding that I could not explain, but an understanding nonetheless.

    The man observed me openly, making no efforts to hide his curiosity. It was almost refreshing, to not be buried neck-deep in manipulation and lies, if but for a moment. “You may call me Relinor.” Said the wintery man, offering the barest of smiles. No hand was extended for me to shake, and I could not help but wonder if this man had somehow known of my distaste for the traditional greeting. “I’m here to help you.”

    And that was how I, Juniper Feal, came to join the resistance.

    One Year Later
    “I want to help.”

    I was eager to finally see my first mission with the resistance. I’d been with them nearly a year now, training hard to overcome my disadvantages. And yet, it seemed my greatest disadvantage was something that no amount of training could help with.

    I’d confronted two of the resistance’s Elites just outside Relinor’s quarters, tired of sitting on the sidelines. I’d watched resistance members who’d joined months after me preparing to leave for their third and fourth missions, and yet I hadn’t been assigned one.

    “Oh, you want to help, do you?” The snark in Yuki’s voice was apparent even without the obvious disdain painted over her expression. “Go sit in the corner and stay out of our way, master.” Her jeering tone procured a few snickers from the nearby beast-born lounging around their tents, but Vyrn beside her remained stone-faced as ever.

    Yuki was one of the younger Elites, a panda-born with a mastery of poison unlike any other. As the Elite in charge of directing and training the resistance’s assassins, that was an important skill to have. Even so, she was better known within the resistance for her sharp tongue and an intense hatred of the Feal family in particular.

    I could hardly blame her for her anger - my species, nor my family, had hardly treated hers well. It was why I was here - to fight against slavery in Agea. It was why we were all here, and sometimes I wished that she could see that. There was no point in fighting amongst ourselves.

    Vyrn, the wolf-born Elite in charge of the resistance’s core army, spoke up then. “You’re not even a real elemental. What good do you think you can actually do?” His expression was, as always, unreadable, like trying to talk to a stone wall. I had never been able to tell if Vyrn liked me or not, but today I got the sense that perhaps it was the latter.

    1. Try to explain how you could be useful on an undercover mission.
    2. Protest Vyrn’s argument that you aren’t a real elemental.
    3. Emphasize your skill with a katana.
    4. Give up - there is no point in trying to convince these two.














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History



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♡design by howlingwoods, coded by uxie♡
 
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