RP APPRECIATION

[Oberon]

viewtopic.php?f=15&t=3700#p61897

When two writing beasts meet. FANTASTIC.

[Ohana]

viewtopic.php?f=15&t=3700#p61897

When two writing beasts meet. FANTASTIC.

I truly can't agree more. the world building. the lore. I live for the lore. beyond that, just the writing skill on display as well. It's so very, very good. Below, my immediate highlights:

"RavenBlack was different in that there was no One Belief held True by its denizens, and so we had no real need to overtake it. This civilisation, this city, it fights itself. We saw an opportunity here, in this Convergence. My father believed it would be in our best interest to try and herd all of you—us—into the City."

The man on the screen looks like an older version of Robert, a much angrier version, his eyes rheumy but still crackling with power and potency. Even rage. Robert's mouth becomes a thin line.

"To keep you busy," Robert says. "To observe you. To control you. To understand the source of the Convergence and see if we could harness that power for ourselves. And, if worst came to worst, take RavenBlack City off the map. Off all the maps, in all the timelines, in all the branches of reality."

All of this was a giant reminder that although these groups act as if they are in opposition, they are all dancing their part to a bigger choreography. The irony that they were speaking of the Empire and the Church is a building that was filled to the teeth with Masonic imagery as the Church pretends to be opposed to them. But perhaps that was the way to keep belief going—you have to believe in your opposition to go against them, after all.

He leads her up the stairs to the study. The walls are lined with oil paintings of their ancestors, katechons of their epochs distinguishable by the signet rings on their thumbs and the Hellenistic symbols they are portrayed holding: the kerykeion in his right hand, the kithara tucked under his left arm, the petasos never far from his grasp and the himation, the cloak, over his shoulders, always in shades of deep indigo, the colour of secrets and their power.

It's always a man. It's a man in every painting.

One of the biggest ironies is that someone can be doing exactly what they think is right and just for their own people, but end up being the vehicle of ruin for others.

they devoured, I fear.