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About Varied / Hobbyist ManasiFemale/United States Groups :iconregnumdivinus-new: RegnumDivinus-New
For all things Regnum Divinus
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Every now and again I post random stuff lol



Thumb by burnyourflag

First of all, I think we all say 'awww' to this picture ^^ This is a great shot, and the detail is wonderful. Those tiny claws are just...

liquid snake by Misanthropics

This is beautiful. I love how the water spirals around, and the woman's face has a bit of surprise, wonder and curiosity on it. I also ...


It was a crisp autumn morning, the rule of Hrika, God of the Skies, when Adkiv opened her eyes. The other children in the abbey were still sound asleep, but she had woken up a few minutes earlier, eager to see her brother again. She was eight, still growing like a normal human girl, though that would end soon. The other girls didn't stir as she got up and put on her grey tunic, Adkiv was use to being silent in the abbey by now.
It was easy enough to sneak by the passing monks, passing slowly through the halls with incense, and praying. She went to a window and sat there for several minutes before she could make out the banner of the Order coming closer. Opening the door to the abbey, wasn't so silent, and in her haste, she left it cracked open, letting the chilly air inside.
She made a crunching sound as her feet hit the fallen leaves as she ran. The brigade had been gone for almost a week, and as she got closer, she could recognize a few others that she had gotten to know better. Among them was sure to be Vinn, he went with them to quell a small group of Heretics to the North six days ago. She only slowed down when the air around the group seemed to be gloomy, as no one paid much attention to her being out and so poorly dressed for the season. A wagon was being pulled by a couple horses, on it were two bodies, covered by their half robes. Her first thought, was Vinn. She immediately pushed the thought away, refusing to believe it, but as they passed by slowly, she couldn't see her brother.
Her fear grew with each passing member, but she was put at ease when his voice came through.
"Adkiv?" The girl whipped her head around to find Vinn, though arm wrapped up, alive and walking his horse near the back. She ran up to him and hugged his torso. "What are you doing out here? You should be freezing! Come here." he picked her up and quickly positioned her with up with his better arm. He led another man on his horse, more injured than he, but Adkiv could see a spot of blood soaked through the bandages.
"You got hurt." She frowned. Vinn just smiled and shook his head. "Just an arrow, didn't come too close to catching in my arm." He replied, trying to reassure her he was alright. She put her head down on his shoulder as he walked, and when they got closer, she moved and he let her down, now simply holding his hand.
A nun had found the door open, and had gone outside to see if there was anyone there. She noticed the others return and went back inside to signal someone for help.
Once a few monks had come, they hurried to the injured. Adkiv was soon spotted and picked up by a nun, who then proceeded to scold the child as she went inside to get her warmer. The cold didn't bother Adkiv very much, but she eventually apologized to the woman after a blanket was wrapped around her. She wouldn't forget that day, when she had begin to think that something had happened to him. It left her afraid, something she wasn't all use to. Her Beast had always been there for her, but who besides the other members were there for Vinn? They were mortal, who could only tap into a small amount of magik.
It was that day that Adkiv decided, she would join. The Gods would have another faithful, she would be helping the land and her people. And her brother could be safer with her there.
OoN Memories: Adkiv and Vinn
More something I typed up for a writer's group, cause otherwise, I wouldn't have anything lol...
The time long before the Great War, there was the age of slavery. Though one would think that the Elven races of both Deaur and Sahirla, would know what may happen over centuries, it happened slowly. Even for such long lived races.
A man by the name of Yarm(last name forgotten), was the most powerful and influential man of the known world. It also didn't hurt that he was a King. Just one of the three Kings whose descendants are the royal family of Severak, the North land. Yarm, after settling down in Severak and his reign as a King secured, he made his to Deaur, whose King at the time was one of somewhat indifference to other races, and soon became a friend. His charm was subtle, and he knew how to bide his time. Though Severak was quite powerful at the time, Deaur had magik, and powerful mages that had learned various skills from a few Elven races.
Yarm eventually traveled back home, but not before seeing the sights in Deaur, a lush country with resources and variety of both food and ore. Yarm became intrigued by magik and spells, so when he went home, he told his brothers about it. They hardly believed him, so he went to Sahirla, hearing that's where some people came from with magik. Those with pointed ears and long lives, those they called themselves, 'Ferlore', or Elves. The first name they had taken from the Ethers, the oldest being that is said to simply be that of pure energy. Sahirla wasn't easy to survive in. Yarm was use to the cold of his homeland, and the deserts were extremely hot.
He traveled them anyway, hiring what was called Aniorl, or Sun Elf. He was seven feet tall, golden eyes and pale skin with a thin build. He had long fingers and frayed edges on his ears, and white hair. At that time, a strange description, though a typical Sun Elf.
Also at this time in history, the Aniorl weren't completely closed off from humans and other races, though this would change soon, to their long lives. Yarm and the Elf got along well enough at first, the Sun Elves curious about humans, though had rarely gone out into the cities. Yarm had brought both coin and furs from Severak, but found none wanted those. Not the Sun Elves. They prized knowledge, so Yarm taught the Elf on their journey, how to make weapons out of ore. Up until then, Elves had used wood and bone, often thought to be savages in Deaur, those that they called the 'Wild Elves', were Wood Elves that rode the wild horses. Metal, had been seen, but no record of being used by their kind.
This would be the undoing of Yarm. The more he learned about magik, the more he learned that he had little talent for it. Soon he was frustrated and though the Sun Elf tried to coax him, Yarm had very little patience for the time it took to study the art. Instead, he befriended the Elf enough to work for him, showing him the sights and after spending years to and from his home and Sahirla, the Elf and Yarm became close.
Though history had depicted him as a man of great size, he was in truth, a mere fifteen years old. The youngest of his brothers. Guards accompanied him wherever he went, and by the time Yarm was twenty, the Elf had full trust in him. Since he couldn't pronounce Elven names well, he called his friend Lor.
In truth, his full name, remembered by his descendants was 'Loial File' (loy-ell Fee-lay).

Skipping politics and a few skirmishes between those of Severak and Sahirla, Yarm had brought magik to his land, in the form of entertainment and fortune telling. It was slowly taking place, but after many decades, Elves became the talk of the cities, and magik was becoming more popular. Spells at weddings, feasts and parties were just the start. After years of trying, Yarm was able to perform a few spells himself. Lor often helping him of course. What Lor did not notice, was that through the years, Yarm was keeping track, practicing alone. Often taking his most trusted guards to his secret room, he slowly drained them, through darker means. To Yarm, magik was magik. There was no right or wrong, simply power.
It is said that the more one is around magik, the longer they live, the more strength they feel.
This may be true of Yarm, exposed to such magik at a young age, by the time he was about seventy, he looked and felt much younger, perhaps as much as forty. Lor was in his personal council, and was most always by his side. His two older brothers for a time were impressed at his ability to earn the Elves' trust and keep it.
In time though, Yarm had been slowly filling people's minds with thoughts on Elves, that they were here to merely make a show. He disregarded their true power, and after his ninetieth birthday, he would know it firsthand.

Not a day after his party, Yarm told Lor he was going to retire early, and the Elf bid him a good sleep. Lor, without Yarm knowing, had been slipping his old friend a potion for years, made from a rare plant only found in his home, Sahirla. To keep him filled with vigor and healthy, he didn't think Yarm would like it, but he had seen the quick decline of his friend for years, and wanted him to stay longer. Lor perhaps had been selfish, but if not for him, Yarm would have passed away years ago.
That very night, Yarm opened his eyes, got out of bed, and snuck down to his secret room, where he began to perform incantations to a spell he had been working on for years. When Lor came to drip the potion into his friend's cup near his bed early, he found he was gone.
Lor searched everywhere for Yarm, and was attracted to an odd glow from behind a thick wooden door. As more of Severak's public were practicing spells, it wasn't completely off, but the kind of feeling Lor got from it made him shiver, and not from the cold. Guards had been place in front of the door, ever vigilant, but with a powder, Lor put them all to sleep, catching them as they fell, so they wouldn't make a sound.
After trying for a few minutes to get the door open, he was both shocked and horrified to find Yarm in the arms of a Demon. Fearing that his friend was about to be killed by the creature, Lor used all his might in trying to separate the two. Yarm, already infused with power, cried out at the separation and struck Lor to the ground. Still thinking that his friend was in the claws of the Demon, and didn't know what he was doing, Lor attacked the Demon, trying various spells to cast it away.
Yarm however was the one that cast him out, shouting at the Demon to be gone. Now that He had power that of beyond a simple human King, he turned to Lor. At first his friend looked relieved, but soon found in Yarm's eyes that he was no longer the same. Yarm knelt down to Lor and told him that he didn't need Lor anymore, and he was excused from duty. Not fully understanding, Lor pleaded with his friend to forsake whatever the Demon had offered him, but the old man did not listen. Yarm then waved his hand, opened the door and cast Lor out.
Loyalty, to his kind knew no bounds. The way that Yarm had shoved him down and out hurt him deeply. But in the shock, he did not notice what Yarm had done. Yarm slowly made Elves his servants, entertainment, and other lower class positions.
The Elves, not knowing the cruelty that humans can offer, did nothing but happily serve them, believing they were the same. Lor went back home to find that many of his kind had been, not embraced, but put to work in mines and homes of the Nobles of Sahirla and Deaur. The further he investigated this, the more rage filled his heart. Yarm had done nothing but degrade them into slaves! They gave room and food to his kind, but it was often the end of it.

Years afterward, Yarm had told his people that Elves could no longer be depended on in any position. This announcement confused the Elves, and led to a small uprising of but ten of their kind against the King. They were the first there to recognize their position in the human's society, not equals, but no higher than those that washed the floors and clothing of their human masters. Elven kind had become weak in his eyes, weak enough to take over. Yarm had come to find he both admired, and despised magik, coming to believe it weak. Compared to the battle style of his people, magik looked like the easy way out.
It didn't take long for his army to suppress the Elves, and lock them away. Yarm, now almost one hundred years old, was at last attacked by a large army of Elves, wielding not just magik, but blades as well. Elves are a quick study, and it was them, for the first time known or recorded, that steel and spell were combined.
First they attacked the docks, then moved in to Severak, splitting up into smaller groups over the lands, including Deaur, who had taken to Elven slavery quickly, whose King by now was older, the son of the indifferent King. Severak plunged into war along with Deaur, more of the Elves rising up against their Masters. Yarm, who was now truly threatened, fought back right away, but when he began losing, he went to his brothers for help. He had in years past, insulted them and boated that he had more power than both of them combined, which had infuriated the eldest. Though the middle tried to keep peace, they had split up, each receiving a part of the land, and in the previous five years, Yarm had forcefully taken more than his share, away from his brothers.
So when he came to them for help, they turned him away.
Not much is known about the details of the war, but it only lasted a few short months. Eventually, Yarm and Lor met and fought each other. Yarm had spread lies about Lor and betraying him, while Lor, after grieving the betrayal of Yarm, had grown bitter, and forbid any and all of the Sun Elves to even speak to a human. He rose up through the years, becoming their leader and general.
Their Elven kind decimated the human warriors, and after finally pinning Yarm down after circling around the battlefield, Yarm just smiled. Lor, his past friend and advisor, had been so engulfed in his anger, that he had failed to see what Yarm had been doing. A large rune was underneath them both. A suicide tactic, that Yarm had been perfecting for so many decades.
Lor never had enough time to move out of the circle before Yarm activated it.

It is said that The old King had gone senile, in his pursuit of magik. The flames of the rune killed Yarm off almost instantly, while Lor... Loial suffered the most.
The human armies soon fell, and the Elves returned to their respective lands. Both hurt and torn apart by war, Yarm's bloodline was hunted down and killed by the last of the Elves that were in Severak. All the records say that none of them survived.
The last two brothers had little choice but to hunt down any Elves still there, and the two races had began their long mistrust of each other. Deaur, not spared by the battles in case of the slavery, also suffered from the lack of the presence of the Elven teachers. It in turn weakened the whole country, which made way for the time of the bloodiest piece of Orthana's recorded history.

Long before the Great War, was the Blood Era. in which one man, again, held great power in the palm of his hands. Only he did not reject any race from his rule. He was a natural in magik, despite the lack of teachers, he rose up and created an Empire with blood and fear. The most infamous Necromancer to ever walk Orthana.
This was Bain Farwell's Reign.
7 Seals Lore: Elven Slavery
UG finally done with this thing! :dummy:
I've been watching Lore of Skyrim and now want to do my own from ideas I've had.
Lord of the Plague and Disease, he is one of the most kind Divinus, despite having such a cruel power to mortals. Puss, mucus, and rashes are all what one could expect from the Deity, but unlike what people think usually, he gives and can take afflictions away. His temples are always open to the sick and deformed, and to steal or harm those under duress, may suffer the wrath of the Divinus. Though he is kind, he is quite vengeful as well, and often marks those that have earned his wrath by blinding mortals, a scar forever by rats constantly around them, a sure sign to others to never give those any pity or time of the day.

[Mask of Affliction]- An old, dirty cowl made from the rotting bark of a tree that grows only in Veikindi's realm, this artifact can only be put on by either blessing or curse of the Deity. The means to remove it however, are vague. When on, this mask grants the wearer a power to both receive pity and sympathy in a way that can hide him or her from the wrath of anyone. Any mortal mind will leave them utterly alone, and while this may seem like the curse from un-favor, it is far from it. Veikindi allows the wearer to be ignored. So much so, that others would not notice their presence, and could hear things that may be kept tightly under oaths or vows. This is probably why thieves and beggars worship him as their patron Deity. The mask also protects them from any illness that would fall upon them, which is also why the mask is greatly sought after. Although, if the mortal is unlucky enough to steal this mask, they would be subject to suffer slowly, but painfully of the effects of any and all diseases that Veikindi has created. At least until either they learn their lesson, gain his favor enough, or a high Priest removes it.
Unlike Shyama, the Lord of Mountains shares the visions of his power in good and pleasant  dreams for mortals. Giridhar is sometimes pictured as an older man, with blank eyes, in that he is so wise, he does not 'see' like mortals do, therefore has no need for real sight as people know it. It is also said that the Sphere was made from his own body, either told as he took out one of his own eyes, or as a child, he swallowed a star, then later coughed it up.

[Sphere of Visions]- The size of a large marble, the Sphere is a soft purple with moving mist inside. This small, but powerful item has been passed down to his high Priests from every age. it does not stay in one place for long however, but moves from one man to the next, often leading the new holder to one of Giridhar's temples. It is said that when a younger man shows up in possession of this Sphere, he will be the Deity's new high Priest. In the right hands, the Sphere grants insight into people's dreams, and hidden ideas and agendas. This may be the reason that the Deity's followers have prevented many disasters, such as landslides, and to even great evil acts of mortals. On the other hand, if it is ever taken without the Lord's permission, it will grant insight, but on much higher levels. The dreams, though not completely unpleasant, will carry the mortal away into a constant dream like state, and will eventually wither away from not eating or sleeping.
I think I just figured out something. I'd rather be hit physically than emotionally, because if I defend myself, that's believable. But if I try to defend myself the only way I know how to, I'm the bad person. That's how I see it, and that's how it feels to me.

I ain't saying sorry, it doesn't do anything to me. Not anymore. that, and I've said it so many time when I wasn't the one really at fault. I hate that word... Just like I hate certain other words cause they make me feel small, stupid, and a brat.
I might need to learn to be more assertive in some cases, unfortunately, the only way I know how to try and defend myself, is to yell or just plug my ears.

I know people have it worse off than me, I know I should probably feel more grateful. I really do try, but when there's somebody going through crap, it seems all I can do is either stand there, or stay out of their way cause they usually lash out at me. It makes me afraid. Makes me feel like I'm younger again, being screamed at by an older person because they're right and I'm wrong. it feels as if I can't breathe and I'm drowning in all this negativity and I have NO effing idea, how to swim.

If I try to defend myself, I'M the bitch. It's my fault. I feel alone too, even if I'm not, to try and defend myself. There's no one around me physically to speak for me, and I'm still trying to learn how to do it myself.
And yes, I expect to be berated by people. Because they always have to be right and justified.
  • Mood: Frustrated
  • Listening to: Youtube
  • Watching: The Flash
  • Playing: Skyrim
  • Eating: Iron pills/vitamins
  • Drinking: Water


Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
I love video games, drawing, music, and reptiles :)
I hate haters, idiots, scammers, and people who judge :(
I don't like being too serious, and am kind of tense around serious people. I can put my arm behind my head, and not like you think :o

BTW: Check out my new comic: Voice Of Reason :D (Links to other pages in my comments)

Current Residence: Ashutar
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Medium
Favourite genre of music: Gothic metal(NightWish!!)/Epica, J-pop
Operating System: My brain XD
Wallpaper of choice: ...Purple? Or anything of Mr. Slithers
Skin of choice: Mine XD
Favourite cartoon character: Moogle/Chocobo
Personal Quote: What's the point in life if there's nothing to fight for?

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Add a Comment:
creative1978 Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2016
Thanks for the fav :)
MadMother88 Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Welcome, such a cute couple :lol:
Asashoumikugi Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
are you still living in UT? I just moved back about 2 months ago
MadMother88 Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
No, in OR now
luv2icesk8 Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello!Come With Me 
MadMother88 Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hi! :D
luv2icesk8 Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
how are you?
MadMother88 Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm ok, how about you?
(1 Reply)
creative1978 Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2015
Thanks for the fav :)
MadMother88 Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Welcome ^^
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