Writing Ryebread

VOTE SENSHI! VOTE SENSHI!

Senshi is love senshi is life! Senshi cares for his friends and nature! Senshi is humble and nurturing! Senshi is a great comic relief without losing depth of character!

Senshi is very caring and passionate about his love of culinary, nutrition, even the hierarchy of the dungeon itself. Senshi's well endowed shape can survive many winters. Senshi helps and teaches others regardless of reward. He is strong and capable of eliminating this year's Sexyman Victim! Senshi is foreveer

We've come so far already! We can do this! Vote Senshi!

you play as a new Prince set in a city that has recently been purged by the Second Inquisition so you now need to build it back from the ground up.

Such activities include

Apointing a Sheriff

Electing Primogen

Dealing with Masquerade breeches

The odd Werewolf attack

all the while trying to keep a low profile or else the SI come back to burn the city to the ground.

Reading through opinions responses (which I greatly appreciate!) and doodled a quick attempt at an older Lucanis to jump ahead in the timeline some more. Feat. an even more quick Rook. (Also I kept clothes really simple here because I do not have energy for actual outfit design rn)

Mystra is the Weave. She is magic, full stop. This is explicitly stated.

But when Gale held her, kissed her, there was nothing there to touch. Skin more like marble in its flawlessness. Eyes more like crystal in their luminance. She always smelled of sharp rosewater, always tasted of mild sweetness. Never a hint of sweat, of saliva, of any of the unclear oils and bacterias that infest the mortal form.

Somehow, I can't imagine Mystra ever laid with him as a man. Why would she bring herself low, to get in a human's actual bed? What would even be the point, when an ocean of cosmic perfection lay above?

Did it disgust him, then, to travel so high, lay with the very form of Magic, only to return to his meager human body? To be the owner of skin that smelled of sweat, skin that had scars and wrinkles and marks, skin that aged?

When Mystra cast his aside for his folly, did he long for the divine from the confines of his humanity? Did he hate the needs and limits of his body, the various hungers that cried out to be sated, when all his mind craved was that glittering perfection?

Mystra loved Gale's magic. Mystra loved him as a tiny expression of her own self.

Gale is his mind, certainly. His mind is where the magic is. His mind is remarkable. His mind is worthy of love. But this human thing, this temporary human thing that is a body, is not him in the same way. It's needy, and he wants so badly to escape from it into the divine.

And maybe that's what surprises him so much about being loved by a mortal. That someone would lay with him, Gale the man. Would bury their nose into his neck and breathe deeply the scent of him, would kiss the crows feet at his eyes and relish in the taste of his mouth.

Gave up on the legs and hands, if I try to pick away at it anymore It'll just end up worse I think.

Gave up on the legs and hands, if I try to pick away at it anymore It'll just end up worse I think.