This journal will be the talking point for the Final Fantasy D&D game. Here, we will be posting information pertaining to the game, namely world information, races, and miscellaneous odds-and-ends. As well, players are free to add in their own thoughts on what could be implemented, as well as their characters and anything else they think may be handy or useful. Don't be shy!
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- Music:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kT0i_8xZX
0o
In my muddled and mad dreams, I debate setting the sun aflame, and quenching the stars in darkness.
Of fears and pleasures, both are too sublime a pit to indulge in.
I am dead to the world.
The last of my kind, a mongrel fueled by malice and powered by phlegmatic bile. There is nothing for me but the horrible vengeance that is to be wrought.
Hallowed be my hellish intent.
The last of my kind, a mongrel fueled by malice and powered by phlegmatic bile. There is nothing for me but the horrible vengeance that is to be wrought.
Hallowed be my hellish intent.
A city. Forlorn and gray, the sky streaked with clouds and a single malevolent sun barely pressing through--orange and red, more a single eye than a celestial body.
The streets are filled with the wispy tendrils of a fog that never lifts, from which shapes can be seen but not made out. Of the buildings, their style and shape seem basic, but at the same time wrong; they sit at odd angles, tilting inwards, looming as an ever-present reminder that visitors are not welcome.
Chains are a common motif here. Though not everywhere, they crop up seemingly at random--dangling from windowsills, draped over furniture, or hanging from streetlights. They glint with the sheen of black steel, never rusting, ominous and oddly threatening.
The streets are filled with the wispy tendrils of a fog that never lifts, from which shapes can be seen but not made out. Of the buildings, their style and shape seem basic, but at the same time wrong; they sit at odd angles, tilting inwards, looming as an ever-present reminder that visitors are not welcome.
Chains are a common motif here. Though not everywhere, they crop up seemingly at random--dangling from windowsills, draped over furniture, or hanging from streetlights. They glint with the sheen of black steel, never rusting, ominous and oddly threatening.
I HAVE UPDATED MY JOURNAL.