The Darkest Oceans System

Ugh we are such a mess right now. It’s been two weeks and a few days since we put in our refill for our ADHD meds, but the first order got cancelled abruptly with no warning last Monday, and when we put it back in the same day, it’s been stuck on ‘out of stock’ since.

We are spacy as fuck, our time sense is beyond shot, we’re fatigued all the time, and frankly we’re dreading trying to ‘try something new’ just so we can be kind of medicated. Adderall worked, mostly, but it became unavailable for long spans at a time a few months back for us.

Focalin has been… not nearly as effective as Adderall, but at least it was available. And now we’re starting to run into longer and longer waits for it, just like Adderall.

And to top it off, our psych is out of the office until the 27th. @_@;;

O..oh. I may have let myself go a little with that one. Oops. I just got so into the headspace, that I remembered what it was like when someone brought harm to our doorstep. Oh well.

I'm okay. Nothing is wrong, and I replied to that for fun. Ehehe. It was fun, but I got serious partway through it.

Hmmn. In my case specifically, the player would have had to made enemies of the Three Great Kobold Clans (Breezewalker, Steamspeaker, and Flamedancer), likely by doing harm to the gemstone horned creatures, and have made their way to the Temple of Greatmother Tiamat located in Mount Myrrine, home of the Breezewalker Clan.

Having made enemies with the factions of Toralican Kobolds, I would have evacuated the caverns and tunnels leading to the temple as soon as I smelled the danger; there is no massacre awaiting my people.

The candles lining the temple walls are lit, casting a gentle twilight glow with a faint purple hue across the myriad cushions, stones, and benches lining the main hall, facing the altar. A thick haze of rich magenta incense fills the room with the scent of petrichor, tinged with something that leaves the faintest hint of a metallic tang on the tongue.

I await, before the altar, dressed in a deep, dusky purple robe that falls from my shoulders to my ankles. I ask the player why they made enemies of my people. Why did they have to bring harm to creatures who wanted nothing more than to be left alone?

Regardless of the answer, a short prayer in High Draconic follows, and a deep, dark, iridescent ichor begins to seep from my scales as I unleash my twilight flame. Reality begins to sunder around the edges, shards of temple floor cracking and splitting apart, and before long, there's nothing but void, illuminated by distant motes of starlight, and my roaring twilight flame, which has by this point burnt my robes away, revealing a suit of dragonscale mail clad in all the colors of the rainbow, rippling in time with the emanation of my flame.

I'll allow a moment for weapons to be readied, before pulling my flail to my hand, letting the great amethyst-studded sphere of what looks like sapphire come to rest in my palm effortlessly. Instead of metal chains, the ball is connected to the haft by chains of twilight fire, the very fabric of my own soul.

There's no mercy to be had for those who have willfully brought harm upon my people, after all.