< atton revisited > The information page for Atton has been fully revised and updated with the new map!
< updated calendar > The Fortuna calendar has been updated in the "Other" lore section! This includes a document which displays the calendar for you to see, making it much easier to understand.
< moving map > The first functional map has been released in the News section! This map is also interactive, allowing you to drag and drop between points in order to determine distances. This is the first iteration, and there's more and better to come!
< first annual awards > The results for the First Annual Fortuna Year-End Awards have been posted! Go and take a look at who the finalists were, and who took home the big prizes!
< new default skin > Our new skin has passed the beta test, and is now the new Default for the forums! If you have any issues with this skin, send a PM or Discord to Mellie.
< human lore update > Humans have been updated with TWENTY-FIVE subraces/subcultures which add numerous options, and a little extra lore and flavour.
< magic lore update > Magical Lore has been enhanced with the addition of a post on Magical Education. From Beginner to Expert, this is how you learn the spells.
< a change to member groups > Member groups are now based on storyline! You can change your displayed storyline by editing the settings in your profile.
Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Young Meren looked back at his village from the distance, his head turning back as he walked away from it. His red mousey eyes, stained from tears, looked upon the abandoned houses once filled with life. The village market and the river were in view, as were the rolling farms that were the pride and joy of Songholm. The market in disrepair and disuse, the fishers no longer in their boats and the farm's crops now dead or dying. The few Mouselings Meren could see were...
"Don't look back Meren. It will just make it worse." Getrude spoke, her tailor-made armour clanking as she walked forward. Gertrude was the oldest, so that meant she was the leader of the siblings. She was the strongest warrior of the village, and their fathers armour was passed down to her. A blacksmith by trade, Gertude maintained her armour as well as she did her pelt. She was a giant among Mouselings, easily one of the largest in the history of the village.
"Come on Gertrude, you don't have to be so hard on him," Alfonse spoke, Alfonse, the second eldest. Typically he was a fisher, but his real talent lay in how he used his spear. He was careful, patient, waiting for the right time to strike. He was much lankier and shorter than his elder sister, He was the only one brave enough to tease their sister for her freakish size, which earned him a lot of glares from the older Mouseling. "He's just 12 for Jevan's sake."
"He needs to learn fast Al. Coddling him isn't going to help." Anna spoke, the fifth sister. Anna learned Evocation from the same traveling elf wizard that her older sister Kefta did, though she was better at the destruction aspect. A mouseling village didn't have much use for a pyromaniac wizard, so most of the time Anna was the village bum, aggressively lazy and mercurial in temperament. Merren never was as fond of her as his other siblings.
"Shouting at Al isn't going to help either Anna." Spoke Kefta, the village healer. She was perhaps the most successful of the family, with an apprenticeship to a mage under her belt. Unfortunately, Kivellous had left for quite some time before the plague began, so it wasn't like she could ask her old master for help. Still, her calm leadership was a model to them all. Her twin
Her twin Jerram, also spoke to calm the group down. "Listen to Kefta. We need to stay calm." He spoke, though immediately the skittish Mouseling swallowed his words as he saw the fire in Anna's eyes.
"Calm! You tailless rat! Everyone we know is dead! How are we supposed to be calm?!"
The discussion soon descended into a squabble as everyone argued about what they should be doing. Some voices said they should find Kivellous, some said that they should split up, others said that they were all doomed. Several months of tense pain was released as four of the siblings engaged in a screaming match. Meren could never remember who said what exactly, or for how long this went, but he always remembered what happened next.
"Everyone Quiet!" Barked Gertrude. Her steely eyes and commanding tone was instantly heeded by all the siblings. Cowed by their respected elder sister, Gertude paused and then spoke.
"Gods above our ancestors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you now. Idle squabble! From a Gesser!" She scoffed. "We are made of sterner, stronger stuff than that. We are descended from the white furs who held the Great Orc Horde at Falmir Pass! We are the defenders of the mousekin! We are the shield of Songholm! A Gesser does not panic! A Gesser does not quit! A Gesser does not abandon their family! The Gessers endure, Together!" She exclaimed, her voice a stern and level, yet possessing a loud volume. "We will get through this. We will keep Songholm in our hearts forever. We will not dishonour the memory of those we have lost." She put her fist forward. "Your pelt is your kin. Take care of both."
There was a hesitation, then without exception, as their parents had taught them and their parents had taught them, the Gesser family put their hands on the fist and repeated the oath. Merren had done the same and had felt a swelling pride as he did so. He looked up to each of his siblings, in turn, his brothers, his sisters and smiled. Then they stepped back.
Gertrude smiled at this. Then she was reminded of something. "Oh. Merren." She spoke, then fished an object from her pack. "This is dad's lucky flintlock. He wanted you to have it."
Merren took the pistol, looking it over carefully. It was well kept, as was everything in the Gesser Family, but also had details and flourishes which weren't common to their lineage. Gessers were more plain and humble aesthetically typically.
He admired the craftmanship. Then Getrude gave him some power and some bullets. Then, the Gesser Family left, of to escape the village that had claimed their parents lives.
Little did they know what that escape would cost them.
"Mister Gesser." Janus spoke. Meren imediatly snapped out of his memory and surveyed his surroundigns. He seemed to be in a tavern booth of some kind, a mug of the special Maple Alcohol they served in this village in his hand. Maple Ale? Maple Beer? Meren hadn't paid attention, but it was nice enough. The Tavern itself was rustic enough, though Meren found it's quaint nature somewhat off putting. He was perhaps too used to the trappings of the large towns and cities, with seedy Taverns.
"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention." He remarked bluntly.
"That's quiet all right. You've had long travels. You're bound to be tired." Janus spoke back. The dark haired human gave a small smile framed by a trimmed beard.
"To be honest. I haven't heard much to peak my interest." Spoke the Mouseling bluntly, though without malice or ill intent. "You haven't told me what I will be doing other than vague mentions of "bounty hunting" and you haven't even mentioned how much you're paying us."
"Well, I'd prefer if you were all here at the same time to hear that information, after all we still have others coming."
Meren frowned slightly. His cautious nature giving him a slight warning. "Others? What others?"
[attr="class","gurkheader"]Evening on the 5th of the Empty Lantern In the Frosted Bear Tavern of Tasark
[attr="class","gurkpost"] Finding a way into Tanad wasn't easy. Gurk had been trying for almost a year, and everytime she had gotten close, something had stopped her. She simply wasn't "criminal" enough for that lot, and they were suspicious of anyone who came bearing the kind of equipment Gurk was wearing. Pickaxe on the belt. Giant rucksack slung over her back. Though, it was likely the bronze metallic arm that was sticking out of said sack that was suspicious. She didn't attack anyone with it - but it was threat enough for someone they knew nothing about. Even a weird gnome could have easily turned out to be a cop in disguise, they must have figured.
She had abandoned hopes of getting into the city - for a while, anyways. She traveled back to the main holds of Aissic, and took a carriage back down south to the more bearable temperatures of Submiere. She had been hoping to run into her pirate friend there, hoping to get to someone who might be able to access Tanad... But instead, she found herself running into some travelling gent in the wilds. 'Running into' quite literally, actually, and knocking him down cold with the mere weight that all of her equipment offered her. The rock he landed on probably didn't help.
She didn't really want to stick around to deal with his anger when he awoke, but also didn't want to leave him for the nepradiles or any other horrid beast that might be stalking about... So she decided to clear him of his weapons, and make him a safer angry person to be around. While clearing his pockets however, she found the note. The invitation.
A golden ticket to Tanad.
It was intended for him, obviously. But that didn't mean Gurk couldn't take it. After all, she had bested him in battle. Sort of. She had crashed into him, and he had fallen over (a full-sized mortal!) and she had remained standing. That meant something, didn't it? Did bounty-hunters have some kind of code like that? Beat me in battle, and you're now a bounty-hunter? Whatever. She could do it. She liked money. She needed money, in fact. And she also needed into Tanad.
"Sorry bucko," She had whispered, patting his cheek and turning right back around for Aissic... That string of events was what lead her here, the Frosted Bear Tavern in Tasark. She had been there a time or two, enjoyed a couple of warm drinks, and so it hadn't been hard to find (well, once she had re-found Tasark). A little bit harder, was finding who she was supposed to be there for. She assumed that the people who got the invitations likely had an idea of what to look for. She would instead look confused. She didn't even know the name of the man she had knocked cold (she hoped he'd woken up eventually), which meant she couldn't tell anyone he'd asked her to come... No. She'd figure it out.
"Can I get you anything?" One of the tavern girls asked, her voice and bawdy appearance pulling a light blush from Gurk. She adjusted the yellow-shaded glasses and forced herself to look straight up meet the woman's eyes (no, don't drift over those parts, Gurk, she'll know you're looking and that's just plain rude no matter how cute she is or how low cut that top is, so stop it right this second), giving a toothy smile. "Warm maple cider would do it, many thanks m'lady!" She pulled out a couple of coins, counting them briefly before handing them over, ensuring that there was a coin extra for the tavern girl, who smiled pleasantly and left to get the drink.
With that handled, Gurk climbed onto a stool (it was a little difficult being so short, particularly when you carried so many heavy things that made climbing difficult), taking a few tries before it would steady, and used the extra height to give a look around. There were a few likely suspects. A group of bawdy, exuberant men (she assumed most bounty-hunters were men, though she had no experience with them); a more mixed group of tough looking tallies (she didn't notice their badges); and then there were two men. Sort of. A mouseling who was actually shorter than Gurk (That doesn't happen often!) and a bearded mortal man. She had to admit it seemed the most likely. What other reason would that man have to hang with a mouseling? Well, other than slavery, I guess.
She hopped off the stool, her rucksack catching a bit as she did and bringing the stool with her. A few people looked, and Gurk needed an excuse. What to do? What to do-- Ah! She pretended to be drunk, stumbling a bit, faking a hiccup and laughing. A few people shook their heads and laughed, others just turned back to what they were doing. Gurk reached to the strap of the rucksack and pulled a small lever, bringing the hand to life to lift up the chair. With everything in place, she made her way over to the table with the mouseling and the human, not realizing the tavern girl had come back and was now looking for the tiny Gurk.
"Well howdy boys," She offered, hopping into the booth without and invitation and crashing a little into the mouseling with her heavy bag -- but she decided bounty hunters didn't apologize. They also pretended like they belonged, and so that's what she would do: "Been waiting long?"
[attr="class","gurkfooter"]Notes. Hope it's alright that I set a date! Let me know if you don't like the date I chose and I can totally change it! Also if there's anything in here that doesn't strike your fancy. ☺
The timing of the greeting from the gnome and Meren asking about the others was perfect, the two events happening almost right after each other. Janus gave a bemused smile while Meren tried to avoid jumping and pulling out the pistol hidden in his coat. The mouseling had learned to hate surprises and sometimes reacted violently to things which others wouldn't. Like doorbells and cats. He hated cats.
"Who's this?" Meren asked. Calming himself down.
"I have no idea," Janus replied, earning a slight frown from Meren.
"You have no idea? What kind of operation is this?"
"Mister Gesser, all I meant to say is that it would be unwise to look a gift horse in the mouth."
He then turned to Gurk.
"My apologies for Mister Gesser's rudeness. He prefers things to... make sense. He detests surprises." Janus spoke, then added. "It is one of his more useful and admirable qualities. Part of the reason why he received an invitation."
Meren sighed, frowning. He was not quite sure what to make of all this to be honest. He thought this would be a nice simple job, but it seemed like this Janus character liked to keep his cards close to his chest. Either that or he was just clueless.
Meren sighed, supposing he had been a little rude. Kefta would be appalled. "So what's your name stranger?"
[attr="class","gurkpost"] She was right! Score one for the ol' logical reasoning tactic, she thought as the two had an exchange. She might have worried for a moment as the human, who looked like he was in charge -- which wasn't her being racist against mouse people (she really couldn't be, she was just as small as them, right?!), but the human was a tallie and the mouseling seemed to defer to him -- told the mouseling (Mister Gesser, sounded fancy) he had no idea who Gurk was. It was a fair statement of course, since Gurk hadn't really been invited. It was also fair, since Gurk in general didn't have any kind of reputation to speak of.
The mouseling was ruffled by Gurk's presence, and in return for the attitude, Gurk nestled into the booth more, pushing into him. Sure, she would want to make friends - but she also needed to come across as a very tough, very intimidating bounty hunter. As Meren asked her name, she wondered for a moment if she should tell the truth. She could easily make up another name (gift horse in the mouth was already percolating in her brain for a potential name resource), keep herself a secret. She could act like an incredible, rich bounty hunter who was known only by reputation! ...But, they'd probably catch on. The truth wouldn't hurt.
"Which one?" She asked in a dark tone, a serious face replacing her smile as she looked over her tinted glasses at the mouseling. It was strange to look down on someone, but she felt it likely made her a tad more imposing. After a beat, she laughed and waved him off, moving her other hand to the strap of her bag to have the mechanical hand coming out of it do the same thing. "I have lots, 'ts the only reason I ask," She offered her hand to Meren, and position the mechanical hand towards Janus as she took a deep breath and made her introduction: "Gurqarinnell Scallywaggy Vodergarda Pockitt Ephilrinne Tinkenblaster of the Family Toimacher, sort of... You boys can just call me Gurk, it saves a lotta breath, and a lotta time."
Taking her hands back, she pointed at Meren, "You must be Mister Gesser (she hoped they'd forget Janus had already said his name), and you would beeee..." Her mouth moved in lots of shapes, ready to say his name at the same time he did, ready to copy his name and make it seem like she absolutely, definitely, completely knew what all of this was - and yes, of couse she had received an invitation.
Meren frowned as he was shoved further into the booth. He was used to people invading his personal space for a variety of reasons, most of them accidental. He'd usually let people get away with it for the most part, a lot of the time people didn't account for the fact that he was so small. But this time it annoyed Meren a tad, seeing as it seemed to be an intentional attempt to annoy him. Meren liked to think he didn't hold grudges, but he noted that he couldn't let this gnome push him around much longer, lest she get used to it. For now, however, he let this slide without protest.
Then she proceeded to look down on him. Meren held her gaze, raising an eyebrow at her. She then seemed to laugh it off. Meren noticed the mechanical hand at this point with some interest.
She then proceeded to list off a litany of names. She seemed to list them off too fast for Meren to catch them all, leaving him confused. But then she told them that they could just call her Gurk.
"Well, that would be much more convenient to say than... the other names." Meren replied. "And please don't call me Mister Gesser. My name is Meren."
"And I am Janus, Miss Gurk." Spoke the human, with his businesslike smile on his face. "And I wouldn't expect you to know my name. I'm merely a representative of an interested party." He smiled. "In fact, I would appreciate it if you two told me more about yourselves. Your background, your skills and so forth."
Meren turned to Gurk. "Ladies first." He casually spoke, gesturing to the gnome.
[attr="class","gurkpost"] "Janus," She matched along with his mouth, only a half-second behind him. Of course, then he had to go and say she ought not know him and she felt like an idiot, but attempted as well as she could to just play it cooooooooool and pretend as though she was just so awesome she did know him. She was a really cool bounty hunter who did her research.
"Hm," She sounded. Yeah. So cool. She nodded (all cool-like) along as he spoke, and turned to Meren so that he could talk first. He'd talk, she'd get the idea, and she'd talk better. Maybe.
"Ladies first," said the Mouseling and Gurk felt personally attacked. How dare he! How rude! How... She continued nodding as she was before, the kinetic motion helping her brain work faster as she turned back to Janus and pushed her tinted glasses up her nose to buy a few more seconds. "I like to play things close to the chest... Don't often go flapping my gums about my particular--" She looked at the two pointedly, conspiratorial, "Skills." This got little response except for an expectant look, and she realized she'd have to get talking.
"Been in the biz for a while," She lied, leaning back into the booth and wishing she had a drink to fiddle with - where was the tavern girl? - "Not like... Elf or dwarf long, but long for folk like us. I uh... Tend towards more covert uh-- operations. Set stuff up when no one's watchin, then uh, just leave it to them to activate and-- Boom." She made the universal symbol for "boom" with her hands, ending the word with a 'kchhhhhahhhhh khhh' kind of sound to emphasize the whole exploding thing. "You feel? I mean, you can trap em too. I can do traps. Great traps. Really, just, awesome traps... But, some jobs require more... Kchhaahhh khhh. Just gotta... Treat each job like a woman, am I right Gessie!" She laughed, rutting her elbow into Meren in an attempt to get him in on the joke, and keeping it up longer than usual in the hopes someone would join in. This was how bounty hunting men would talk. It seemed right, anyways.
It reminded her, in a way, of the nights of her youth filled with strong drinks and mysterious men (perhaps not so long ago, now that she thought about it – hadn’t there been one of those rather recently?), but it was fulfilling in a different way, a deeper way.
That voice in her that reminded her of her mother liked to tell her Ichabod’s influence was bad for her... but she liked it. A little too much.
And so here she was, responding to some kind of summons and running an errand for her halfway-husband.
In damned Aissic, the freezing tundra.
And she’d gotten a fucking cold, too.
Speaking of this cryptic note; the elf unfolded the parchment again, scanning for some sign she’d missed before; an organization name, a individual name, any sort of clue about what this sordid ‘Get Rich Quick’ scheme actually was.
In any case, the loopy writing was quite classy.
When the seedy tavern named in the note came into view (past the swirling of the goddamned snow on the wind), the succubus hopped off of her tall horse, tying it to some half-buried post and shouldering into the dim pub as quickly as the harsh wind allowed.
Luckily, for a dim pub, it was quite warm.
She shook off her hood, blinking to accustom steel eyes to the firelight inside, brushing damp tendrils off of her arm.
The elf was bedecked in unusually modest clothing to those who knew her; her dark leggings covered her entire leg, and her turtleneck, though revealingly tight, betrayed no seductive expanse of bare skin.
She thought she’d perhaps located her culprits, but gilded eyes halted on a gnome, painfully obvious, bantering something about treating each job like a woman.
Stars above.
Luckily (or perhaps not at all), there were only two other solitary types posted up at the bar, and so the elf approached, skeptical, one brow lifted in reserved judgment aimed for the gnome.
Despite being plagued by a nasty bug, the elf managed, naturally, to look sufficiently sultry, even with the ash of sickness clinging to her cheeks; in fact, the slash of dark under her eyes almost added some kind of shadowy underline to her dark lashes.
The sniffles, though, could not be construed as sexy in any way.
Solana gripped the rumpled parchment in two apathetic fingers, eyes lidded, hip cocked.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she shot, dryly, “any of you seen the meeting for experienced bounty hunters?”
Meren frowned, annoyed that Gurk was adding elbowing to her invasion of his personal space. He merely frowned slightly. "Don't call me Gessie. My name is Meren, Gesser if you insist on formality, but don't butcher the name of my family for some cheap nickname." He replied, there being a little hint of actual anger there. One of the things he was proud of was his family name, and disrespecting it was one of the few ways to get to him. He was all that was left of the Gesser Clan, and he felt a need to defend that name.
He sighed. Taking another sip of his drink. "Anyway, I wouldn't know much about how you would treat a woman. I don't meet many Mousling women on my jobs, and most of the females of other races prefer not to have to bend down to see their mates." He replied honestly, partly to lighten the mood somewhat with his brand of deadpan humour. "Your trapping skills may be helpful in combination with my particular skillset." He explained. "I'm a marksman and a scout. I'm a good shot with a firearm and I know how to hide and sneak around."
As he finished explaining, his red eyes noticed Solana. He had little doubt that she was looking to be part of this growing band of renegades, though he found himself wondering how eclectic the gang would be. When she asked her question, that earned a small smile of amusement from Meren. He didn't trust anyone at this table, but perhaps this would go somewhat more smoothly with someone taking themselves a little more seriously.
Janus turned to give his trademarked diplomatic smile. "Why yes. Sans one last expected member, the hunters are almost assembled." He replied, either not noticing the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. Meren couldn't tell which to be honest, and that was a cause for concern. He now noticed how little he could really read Janus, and how little he knew about the man. "You're just in time Miss Heiralei. We were just discussing our skills. Miss Gurk has told us she's good with explosives and Mister Meren claims to be a sharpshooter. Would you mind introducing yourself?"
[attr="class","gurkpost"] The mouseling was getting miffed! Gurk had to grin at the way his whiskers seemed to ruffle, and while she wasn't one to hurt anyone's feelings, it was still fun to wheedle a little bit. She opened her mouth to give a quick retort before settling into referring to him precisely the way he chose (she wouldn't make an enemy after all, that would be downright dumb of her, and Gurk was far, far, far, far, far, far, far from dumb), but she was interrupted by melting chocolate, and warm honey, and milk with tea, and satin, and that voice saying, "Sorry to interrupt."
Gurk turned to face the voice, wondering if perhaps the woman it was coming from was going to sound so smooth and sweet -- and of course she was. Bronze skin that looked soft and shiny and utterly flawless and made Gurk think of both a perfectly smooth ball of copper and also that her skin was sort of paler and also wasn't flawless (the pimple or two at her hairline itched at the thought for the single sake of reminding her)... The lips that were forming into words that Gurk honestly couldn't hear right now were thick and plump and would be extremely good at kissing - and probably good at talking if Gurk could manage to make her heart stop beating in her ears and-- and... And her sweater was too tight.
The gnome pressed her yellow-tinted glasses into her face to ensure that her saucer-sized eyes were hidden behind their cover, and tried her best not to stare. Staring was rude. Staring was something that children did, and while Gurk was the embarrassing size of a child she was certainly not a child, and she certainly did not want this woman to think of her as a child. She was a proud gnome. A smart gnome. Gah! Smart gnomes would say something witty. Smart gnomes would do something clever, and would win the respect of those around them, because everyone liked smart witty comments. Especially beautiful women with soft-looking lips and tight sweaters.
She figured out words, some great words, the best words in fact. She would make a clever comment about tall women and drinking, it would be adorable. It would be relateable. She'd smile. Gurk fitted a smirk to her face and leaned forward on the table, elbows sliding across the wood -- and then the woman sniffled. She sniffled, and it was one of the most amazingly adorable, cutest, sexiest, most amazing things she'd ever seen a beautiful woman do. And so instead of her clever comment, instead, Gurk simply said: "Tall drink, huh?" And mentally threw herself into the garbage. She was trash. Horrible embarrassing trash.
She pulled herself back from the leaning position quickly and plopped back down into the booth, pretending to be more concerned with the wood lines on the table than anything else. Especially not the little sniffles. Who knew that beautiful people also got sniffles?! Ugh.
"Why yes. Sans one last expected member, the hunters are almost assembled."
A mouseling and a gnome.
“Lovely.” She deadpanned.
The speaker seemed passable, a human with a mysterious air, which she lauded as a compliment. Most humans sat somewhere on the scale of pathetic to pretentious; the former a meal and the latter a victim. He seemed neither, and so she offered him a form of tentative respect; at least enough to give him time time of day, slide into the dark booth next to him; though she immediately regretted that decision, as that meant she was facing the rodent and the small bawdy creature.
Who, it seemed, was gawking quite noticeably at her from behind what she clearly presumed to be the safety of yellow goggles.
And then the woman sidled – or put in a valiant attempt to – across the table, once-wide eyes lidded with suggestion.
Solana was sure she must be dreaming or wildly congested, because it almost seemed as if this gnome woman were about to drop a line.
"Tall drink, huh?"
The moment stretched on for a full minute, Solana sure that this woman was attempting to see how far up her brows could arch, the gnome now more occupied with the grooves on the table.
Again came the drawl, as flat as granite eyes.
“I’m good.”
Luckily, the human man beside her saw fit to interject at that moment; a blessing for no one other than himself, because Solana nearly saw fit to walk her phlegmy ass right out of this circus.
"You're just in time Miss Heiralei. We were just discussing our skills. Miss Gurk has told us she's good with explosives and Mister Meren claims to be a sharpshooter. Would you mind introducing yourself?"
Solana cleared her throat loudly and without hesitation; a gesture that could be interpreted as a play for conversational power, or a motion for table-wide attention, but was, in reality, a desperate attempt to clear her throat of insufferable, ineradicable sticky muck.
It didn’t work.
“I would, but I already find myself at an unfortunate disadvantage. You apparently know my name,” she lifted the note again, “and where to find me, but I don’t know a thing about you.”
The amateurs on stage left may have fed this mystery man their life story, but she was no rookie.
Information was power, and she was not about to give hers up so lightly.
W O R D S 412
T A G @meren
N O T E S Pls excuse the sass
TEETH
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0
Last Edit: Feb 15, 2017 19:39:48 GMT -7 by Deleted
The skin OTHERWORLD was made by JAWN of WICKED WONDERLAND.
FORTUNA-RPG was created by MELLIE. Images belong to their respective artists. All codes and scripts belong to their respective coders. Please DO NOT take anything without the owners' permission.
