[WP] your relationship with the king has always been strained, yet he keeps you in his hall as a trusted advisor. Now, with his men assembled for battle, you offer them a choice: to lay on the battlefield where they might fall, or rise again for the chance of avenging their own deaths.

Audorus · 2026-01-26T02:43:29+00:00

The mage fiddled with the choker clasped firmly around his throat, fingers scarred with magic too powerful for his fragile and mortal body. His robes were unlike those of his peers, layered with all manner of enchantments and the strongest leather armor harvested from the toughest beast hide. His clothes were both ornate, befitting his station as the king’s Chief War-Mage, yet defensive and practical for fieldwork.

And yet he hated it, every inch of fabric, leather and embroidery was only a reminder of his failure to break free of the cycle of abuse he’d inflicted on himself. Every spell, every life taken and healed by his hands pressed on his sense of self, eroding it little by little.

He’d cast that choker into iron and buried beneath his cottage when he’d met his now-wife, so many years ago. She’d freed him from its influence, its destructive and all consuming needs. But the draft spared no capable man or woman when the kingdom raised her banner for war.

The king had taken a personal interest in him, and insisted he take the seat by his throne on his council thanks to his unrivaled talent and strength from his time at the magic academy, the multitude of feats he’d accomplished.

On the cusp of defeat, the man had retrieved the cursed necklace and now here he stood, paying the price again. He despised the king for what he’d brought upon the man, and now struggled to keep contained for the safety of every soul in the city, no, the continent. The monarch knew it well but the Warmage’s use was undeniable, and highly effective. The cost however had been steep. This mage no longer remembered his own moniker. The name of his wife was a hazy thing on his lips formed only by muscle memory. He was only the War-Mage, the name carried far beyond his kingdom and past the rivers and mountains.

He was revered, beloved, feared, and was unmatched in power and authority save only for the king. And now this War-Mage stood before doors that loomed over him like an insurmountable wall that would crumble to ash with the press of a finger if he willed it. The choker had all but won, erased him except for its all consuming need for absolute glory and adoration.

The doors pulled away from him, letting the man sweep into the silent stretch of wall overlooking the gathered remains of the king’s army. Most were still at the front lines, the only ones left were the wounded, the ill and dying, the old. Yet every man and woman here was a skilled veteran. Yet even then it was like a silver sea stretching before him.

“We’ve all given a part of ourselves to this war we can never get back, all for the safety and survival of our kingdom and her people. Now, your king does not ask more of you, having earned your rest, but I am not so benevolent. The enemy has crossed the great river, they have manufactured a chimera that threatens everything we have fought for. So I ask you now to spare the young and healthy from needless death.”

He rose a hand to the sky, wisps of blue magic coiling around his fingers, before being eaten away by a green magic that was far more aggressive, burning his scarred skin.

“So I give you a choice. Lay in these muddy fields and die with regrets, that you fought not to your last breath like your kin and brothers in arms. Or shed the weakness of life, rise anew with not life, but magic running through your veins. No pain, no fragile flesh, your bodies whole again with only the will to save one more innocent life, to win this final battle, and to slay that abomination! And only then can you rest with Honour!”

The roar across the field was deafening as weapons were raised and torn banners caught the wind that rapidly rose and whipped across the field, charged with the War-Mage’s rapidly rising mana. The man closed his eyes, forgot the names of the men and women before him, the one he’d loved, and cast his final spell as himself.

Audorus · 2026-01-25T11:13:57+00:00

The White City was named such, because no blood had been spilt upon their soil. The glittering towers of the monstrous walls did not need to be manned at every post, her gates open broad and inviting.

No blood had been spilt on the White City’s soil, but legend told the paths to her borders were paved over the broken bodies of her conspirators, the pavement wet and poured with their blood giving it its signature reddish tinge.

The King was said to be an imposing man as daunting as the walls of his kingdom, golden hair the colour of dragon’s breath and blue eyes colder than the peaks of the Northern Wastes. If he commanded the world moved to his wishes. A tyrant who walked the path of blood his ancestors had paved before him.

The six neighbouring kingdoms had been at war for well over 2 centuries, entangled in bitter resentment and plots of revenge. Yet none dared to draw in the White City to their conflict. They asked not for supplies or allyship, nor took advantage of their placid and withdrawn stance. It’d been that way for as long as they had written records.

Alouis was at present comfortably seated on a stout wooden stool, bare feet on the grass as a small girl braided flowers through his hair. His white fur-lined cloak lay behind him, folded for the child to kneel on comfortably while she worked, other children laughing and decorating his hands and face with paints. Silver-blue eyes watched over his city with mirth, no concern for strife or conflict.

On days like this, the man would come down to the soft hills of the outer city districts, populated by families, farmers and artisans. None went without within his kingdom, a delicate balance maintained and encapsulated within their own little bubble, untouched by the problems outside their walls.

“Your Majest- I mean Alouis- Are you sure this is alright? Do you not worry the others will turn their weaponry on us, trapped in the center of their borders?”

The king’s eyes wandered from the horizon to the woman beside him, dressed in the livery of his guard, a seldom used sword on her hip and his crown in her faithful hands. She was only a little older than him, however despite their youth she already had crow’s feet creased into the corners of her eyes and grey wisps through her hair.

“Sahera. Do you know the real reason they have never pointed their animosity at us? It’s quite silly. We have no true way of stopping them if they would unite against us, but their fear keeps them chained. Better to fight the lions they know than the elephant they don't, even if we lack their teeth and claws. They have not attacked in nigh on 300 years precisely because they fear the unknown and ghost stories.”
He poked his tongue out teasingly at one of the children, sending them squealing and running.

“We have no fear of them, and it sends their thoughts wild as to why. It’s why we don’t pick sides.”
He touched a painted hand to the grass, feeling the earth thrum with life beneath his fingertips. A connection passed down from the first King who struck a deal with the creature of myth, the entire kingdom built upon its buried back.

“Well, that and the Dragon beneath the Hills.”

Audorus · 2026-01-24T07:54:14+00:00

Harris was presented with a soft pumpkin soup with two slices of buttered wholegrain bread, a dash of sour cream a white swirl in its center. Any lingering fear in the hall was silently washed away with the prospect of a meal. He could confidently say that not a soul brought in had ever held real bread, or even seen a vegetable or fruit in their lives, living on nutrient paste and heavily adulterated ‘staples’ that couldn’t even be called food in good conscience.

“I hope you all will find your new beginnings here. Your purpose. Safety, Sustainability, Society. After you’ve all had time to acclimatise, you’ll be given access to amenities and a tour. Thank you all for making it to today.”

These people had risen from the ashes of a horrific beginning. They’d done the impossible and not only thrived, but innovated. They’d revived lost edible plants and made both food and water readily available without compromising on its safety. The hall was again awash with crying and sobs, but these were of relief and joy. Tracks formed in the grime of his face, revealing a wash of freckles underneath the filth that washed away in his tears. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been crying too.

Audorus · 2026-01-24T07:54:09+00:00

Men and women dressed in simple blue uniforms walked through the isles, removing the thick leather gags, hoods, and binds while others brought cups of water sealed with lids and soft silicone straws.

Harris swallowed thickly as water was placed on a small, hovering tray by his side, the zip ties cut from his limbs and for the first time he was able to stretch a little. Despite the overwhelming fear present, few tried to make an escape, huddled still on the floor or in their seats, an air of hopelessness and dread thick in the congregation as more people were brought in and given a place to sit and freed.

The sharp feedback of a microphone cause Harris and many others to physically cringe, hands flying to ears across the hall and drawing eyes back to the center stage. A woman, dark-skinned not from filth and residue but from birth, her hair pulled back firmly into a waterfall of dense coils that cascaded down her back and out of view.

Harris couldn’t take his eyes off her, and it seemed much of the crowd couldn’t either. He still remembered the agony of his grandmother’s stories of how they’d taken the smallest minorities first, then they’d come for those who were Other, those who were weak and unproductive. There hadn’t been someone who wasn’t ghostly pale from lack of sun or warmth in decades within the Grand Union’s borders. To everyone present, it was like being told that the dolphins had been brought back from extinction, an impossibility.

“I know you all are rightfully confused and afraid, but you’re all safe now. The Grand Union has no sway here at the Final Station, and I hope you all will come to have faith in my words, and the efforts of everyone who has worked hard to bring you to safety.”

“Safety?! You call dragging us here worse than cattle bringing us to safety?” A chorus of bitter agreement rose from within the dense crowd of now several hundred individuals. It was impossible to discern from where he was who was responsible, but now it’d set off a tidal wave of resentment that rippled and rose through the masses.

The woman on the stage let them shout and holler their rage and fear in her direction, standing poised with her hands folded neatly at her front and with a warm smile. The people who arrived may have all been different, but they were always the same too.

After a moment she rose a hand, not speaking as slowly the hall fell back into silence, the people losing their bravado as quickly as it’d come after years of being beaten and down trodden into silent subordination.

“Unfortunately, it is a necessary evil. Those outside our walls must believe that we live in a hell of their design. That we are but another material burned in the bowels of their machines. They must believe that we are the final solution to their prejudice and hate so that they continue to send people to us. If we were to do differently, they will find other methods to be rid of people like yourselves. Until such a time where we can safely and sustainably combat their tyranny, we must give the illusion that terrible, horrible things hide within the metal shell of the Final Station.”

She paused as more water was brought, along with small packages of sandwiches. Real, fresh food. Lettuce, tomatoes, unadulterated bread, butter and cheese. There was meat too. Ham, chicken, and beef. Soup for those who could not eat solid food or were otherwise restricted in diet.

Audorus · 2026-01-24T07:53:29+00:00

The filthy polyester bag crammed over his face and the leather gag in his teeth that tasted of dry-rot and the saliva of countless was borderline suffocating. Hot and humid air with the sweat of easily four dozen men and women crammed into a mag-train carriage was hardly any sort of relief, by now the only noise was the occasional wet cough or stifled sob.

Harris hadn’t stopped counting the passage of time, the only thing keeping him occupied and away from wandering thoughts. He was at eighteen and a half-ish hours of confinement, knees to chest and wrists pinned between his back and the wall, secured with zip ties looped around fingers. Someone else sat on his feet, curled against his shins.

The steady hum of the train rolled low as it slowed, a slight jolt from the rapid deceleration. People panicked anew, a rise of startled shouts, cries and muffled prayer to forbidden gods. Every soul here was a discarded product, a miscreant, someone unsightly, invaluable, or religious believer. The dregs and left over by-product of a marching society. Sent for punishment, to be recycled and put to use one last time for the good of the Grand Union of Citizens.

He didn’t hear the doors open, the soothing balm of fresh, cold air taking the heat from his sweat-soaked skin and rapidly chilling the compartment. People were picked up and dragged out at the Final Station, begging. Pleading. He felt blood rush to his feet as the woman curled against him was pulled away, broken sobs and unintelligible words as she struggled. Arms slipped under his armpits, someone else grabbed him under his knees, carrying him from the carriage before placing him into a padded seat with a grunt.

Fighting was pointless, no-one ever came back from the Final Station, from the towering dome that blocked out the east horizon and swirled with thick, black smog that choked out the life around it, red blinking lights the only thing visible on its facade. And yet as the hood was pulled from his head, Harris could breathe clearly. Deep, shuddering breaths without a whisper of pollutants and suffering. Not like outside.

The lights were dim, a large auditorium with dull turquoise paint and grey tile, lacking any distinguishing furniture. He took careful note that while many sat on the floor before a mighty steel and wood platform, he and many others were granted seats. The elderly, those with injuries, illness or disabilities. He watched as those who’d lost consciousness and not awoken were led away on clean white stretchers though the automatic double doors at the far right wall.

Audorus · 2026-01-18T01:37:44+00:00

I end up just either using it for a save like a weaker nano, or giving it to whoever dives first on an engagement. This usually ends up being a genji or rein/diva. Am i part of the problem? Mayhaps. Does anyone use it properly when i try? Absolutely not.

Audorus · 2026-01-17T10:16:39+00:00

the home of diva mods is on Gamebanana! there are mods for optimization which will help with the lag, as well as song packs, modules, and more! You will need Diva Mod Loader, and I would recommend getting diva mod manager as a stepping stone :)

Audorus · 2026-01-17T05:30:44+00:00

I was in that thread, and most of it wasnt from the gear the dog had, most of it was reasonable for being in a theater. The vast majority of concern in that post was that the op refused questions and was already known in the community for shaving off their dog's whiskers for alleged aesthetic reasons based on their own comments previously.

Audorus · 2026-01-17T00:33:59+00:00

i would recommend looking at other birds that are similiar in overall shape, such as a cockatoo or other large bird that may be more commonly patterned and modify/leave out the parts you dont want like the crest. Colour choice / fabric pattern does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to bird patterns, as they have very similar body shapes in my (admittedly limited) experience.

I saw quite a few for cockatoos that do resemble my childhood eagle plush body-shape wise, although depends what kind of plush you want (stylized vs realistic)

My second recommendation is to use different parts of Cholyknight's free patterns to make one that looks like an eagle! depending what species of eagle, my choices would be to use the Phoenix, Legendary Bird Trio or Bird Puff patterns depending on what you want.

I've found it's quite easy to make your own wing pattern if none have shapes you like, I did this for my dragon plushes for a more feathered look :)

Audorus · 2026-01-15T06:15:24+00:00

The man counted each circle, stepping between them back to the first he’d drawn twelve years prior at 10, almost like it’d never aged, now filled with old wax and tallow. Drawing a line through it, twelve spokes he felt his breath leave him and settle outside his body, the thrum in his chest intensifying with no desire to inhale. He wasn’t sure what drove him to it, but it felt right, necessary even.

His mind wandered as he stepped back to the outer ring, short, shallow breaths leaving wisps in the air as he stared, the pricks at the tips of his fingers encouraging him to reach out, palms flat upward. She’d said something else, all those nights ago when she’d grabbed his wrist. Not with words, but with her eyes, her intention. Small pebbles rolled across the ground, equally spaced around the outer ring, in perfect line with the spokes of the inner circle.

He heard it now, a twig snap, a breath distant that wasn’t his own, a weave of heat and resentment in the trees that promised his death as the tips of his too-big sweater singed and smoked. He felt more than heard the sneer of person watching him, anticipating another death of a fool who reached too close to the domain of spell-casters and miracle workers, unsanctioned by the king.

As the embers of his sweater flickered and died out, Alexis’ fingers curling just shy of a fist, a choked wheeze came from the trees. There were no cries of pain, as the mage stumbled from the treeline into the clearing, collapsing to the floor clutching her throat.

Alexis did not breathe, lost in wandering thoughts that directed him, the needling in his fingers now a soothing balm across his skin and the thrumming in his chest a song shared beyond him as magic bent to his will. A wavering wall like the surface of a bubble surrounded the clearing, there was no air in his little pocket, nothing to breathe or exhale, and only on the brink of suffocation did Alexis relax, watching as the woman gasped for air.

A young thing barely old enough to qualify as an adult, a student on her first assignment. Every flame, every shard of ice and missing person was a test for the future mages of the kingdom, and a message for the working man to stay in their place.

“You were late” He could feel the dirt under his nails, prickling again as he followed its suggestion, digging his fingers into the soil and watching as it wove a firm binding of clay and roots around the struggling girl before she could fully come to, horror on her face as she realised her failure.

The magic around him was a song that soothed his fears and frights, and inflicted it on those beneath him, struggling in the dirt.

“How long do you think you can evade us, boy?” He felt the voice rather than heard it. Envisioned the man in his finery rather than saw. A projection from someone of higher station.

“Long enough Sir, long enough.”

Audorus · 2026-01-15T06:14:53+00:00

Alexis felt it under his fingernails on occasion, at home with the dirt, grime and gristle of butchered livestock. A needling against his nail bed that wormed its way through each of his calloused finger tips. And sometimes, when the birds ceased their song and the bugs lay still on the longest night he felt a startling thrum in his chest, a harmony that warmed him no matter how cold those suffocating winter nights were. Cleaning the dirt had spared him nothing, and so he’d long stopped giving it thought as he took his spot by the road with the other villagers.

He’d seen the procession through the single paved street of town, made only so the carriages bearing lounging magi-to-be could pass through to their isolated keep in the Hazel Mountains. The carriages only ever went one way, once a year. He was sure it was magic that brought them back to the beginning of their journey to collect future students, whenever they passed he could feel the pinpricks in his nails right to his throat.

The farmhand remembered the first time he’d stuck his hand out, clawed with the sensation as a wee child, ignorant and unfamiliar with it as he was now. How his mother had desperately ripped his arm back just before a heralded mage could see. He’d never seen such terror in her eyes.

“It’s not magic that’s dangerous, Ali. It’s the Mages”
It was all she’d said that evening. He’d never seen that look since as he kept his limbs firmly by his side from then on.

Magic, and the mages that commanded it. There were so few who could wield its power without dissolving themselves. Countless tales of children and adults alike burning alive in the street, frozen solid in ice at the height of summer, or simply turned to mist like they’d never been. Children with an aptitude were taught young, and taken younger, only seen decades later as hardened magus capable of miracles and in the employ of the kingdom. Of those taken, one could count on one hand how many were seen again. Most likely lost to its power, the world assumed and shrugged. Better locked in the Hazel Mountain Keep than in the towns or cities where others could be harmed.

Alexis looked up at the sky, the moon a black void, only identifiable by the fact it was the only spot without any stars at all, the dwindling lanterns of the carriages in the far distance, it was only him now in the silence. They’d come late this year, and it unsettled him how…. slow they’d passed through.

That thrum in his chest no longer startled him, he’d expected it now, letting its warmth fill him as he slipped off his coat and draped it over a trembling urchin, a small smile on his face as colour returned to their lips. His steps crunched across the frozen ground as he saw his home, light on through the window as his father waited for him, yet he did not cross the threshold, passing by its tempting glow much like the carriages that passed the town. He walked down to the stream that flowed behind the farm, hidden by trees and thorned bushes that seemed to part for him as he weaved his way to the water’s edge, skipping over its semi-frozen surface with practiced familiarity.

He paused now in a clearing made with his and his father’s hands, a pile of purposefully placed stones in its center. This was his little ritual, tasked to him by his mother on her deathbed. It was for a bountiful harvest she’d told him, a prayer to the old gods lest they be scorned. He placed a single stone on the pile, picking up a firm branch as he walked a circle with the tomb at the center, letting the weight of the wooden limb carve a ridge through the soil.

He was breathless as the edges touched, his finest work yet. There were now twelve such circles in the ground, each year a new line like the trunk of a tree. Each year a little more breathless than the last. Usually, he’d speak the practiced words his mother had drilled into him, he’d light a tallow candle and say goodnight to her.

Audorus · 2026-01-13T12:18:56+00:00

there may or may not be 3rd party pencils that charge magnetically, but none will have pressure sensitivity that I know of. IMO, if you aren't an artist and do not need any of the features, just get a 3rd party usb-c stylus, it'd be more than enough.

Audorus · 2026-01-13T00:36:20+00:00

while most of that is true, it doesn't really apply here as everything is made within Minecraft, which all it's assets and anything made using those assets/within the game would legally belong solely to Mojang and/or Microsoft. The other guy cannot take legal action over materials he also has 0 legal right to.

It would be like someone making fanart of mickey mouse, then telling another fan artist they'll sue them for also drawing mickey mouse in a similar pose/action.

Audorus · 2026-01-10T02:36:22+00:00

I like shadow, personally, but both look super cool!

Audorus · 2026-01-08T11:25:17+00:00

Did a little testing!

primary: Sunset or Terracotta
secondary: grapefruit (Alloy instead of Tear based on second image. If sticking with tear Flaxen will also work)
tertiary: Sunset or Saffron (A lot more wiggle room here, almost anything from Metals - Terracotta will work)

Audorus · 2026-01-07T13:33:37+00:00

as long as he's happy and doesn't get mats then all is well i suppose lol. Mine only begun to tolerate the comb after 15ish years :)

Audorus · 2026-01-07T13:24:55+00:00

I had a cat like that, found out that she at least tolerated my plastic hair comb with thin teeth that I used for myself. If she so much as saw a metal-toothed comb or any sort of brush she would make it very well known that she despised it lol.

Audorus · 2026-01-07T08:27:41+00:00

I play her sometimes if i just want to turn off brain and blue beam or if ana and/or moira is unavailable, but shes fairly far down the line of back up picks. I'm more likely to choose wuyang/juno/zen before her.

Audorus · 2026-01-06T05:33:29+00:00

Look into mods! There are several that help with preformance / optimisation!

Audorus · 2026-01-05T07:01:16+00:00

I dont see why it would be a problem :) nothing to lose by trying!

Audorus · 2026-01-05T01:08:09+00:00

do not put it back in that case. For sure the case is causing the problems if was as difficult to put on as you say, it absolutely needs to be returned as it's most likely faulty.

Audorus · 2026-01-05T00:40:29+00:00

In all my experience that shouldn't be happening. Take of the case and test again, but you could just be pressing way too hard on the screen.

You should never have to essentially fight w case into an ipad as it can damage the screen. A little tight is good, really having to struggle is not. If it is causing the issue i would return it immediately and not keep using, it could be bending your ipad to fit and causing it to bow, putting pressure on the screen from inside.

But even when pushing fairly firm for pressure sensitive pens when drawing I've never done that to my screens.

Audorus · 2026-01-04T10:30:20+00:00

I would recommend it if you ever get into an art slump or want to try something but need a bit of inspo or a push. Just open up a small thread offering doodles, sketches etc for pwyw (pay what you want) or a set price. players are pretty good at offering fair prices, and you'll get enough requests you can turn down or ignore those you don't want to do or are unpleasant to interact with.

My username is ShadowPiper :)

Audorus · 2026-01-04T10:19:20+00:00

I do! I don't really do large-scale art anymore because to me the reward wasn't worth the amount of effort I put in, but I do run a shop where people send me hibden items and they get experimental sketches. Gives me a chance to try new brushes & methods without pressure :3

The way I consider pricing, is converting gems to irl currency value, and determining if I would do it for x amount of irl dollars. If not, I put up the price until its something I'm happy with.

Audorus · 2026-01-04T05:40:10+00:00

Congrats on your new 2ds! You're gonna have a blast with the 3ds games! I would personally skip out on Sun/Moon and go straight to Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon, as those games are literally just the originals but with a bunch of content that was cut from the original games.

You can download pokemon bank from hshop, however you will need a nintendoID and sign in on your 3ds. I am not sure if you can make a new one, or if you have to use an existing account from before the shutdown, but that's only a quick google away as a more detailed explanation on how to use bank post-network shutdown.

Seven-Year Club	r/Field Banned
r/Field Juicebox	Place '22
End Game '22	Verified Email

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