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Sydney Cain's Profile

Our Author's latest news and articles.

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Sydney Cain - Social Profile

- Noble Minion of Scribbling

For Next Level: 530xp of 2255xp complete.
530xp

Hall of Honour

1 HoH

Golden

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- RANDOM
Lifeforms | 120xp

Ghoul

Bound to serve, unable to leave, many go insane with the duty of a ghoul.

- RANDOM
Items | 100xp

Splinter

Sharp as a sword, light as a dagger, and easily concealable.

- RANDOM
Items | 115xp

Hammet's Guitar

An instrument that that transmits feelings.

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Guilds
“ Woodrats - In a fantasy realm of cooshee (elven dogs/cats) it is to be expected that there is some sort of elven vermin. These mercurial rats are lightning quick, and are capable of hiding in plain sight. Other than this, they have no special ability.”
Scrasamax
“ The Water-Rift is a massive crater in the center of the desert, in the center of which sits a large, unfathomable machine that produces water. Thusly, it is a veritable paradise in the center of the burning desert, and a unique culture exists there.”
CaptainPenguin
“ Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat. Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the 'Ash-Wind' comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.”
Murometz
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