The Ink - Revision history

Leathy Kocktail: /* Names */

2020-07-25T12:19:56Z

‎Names

Leathy Kocktail: /* Long-Hood */

2020-07-25T12:18:41Z

‎Long-Hood

Leathy Kocktail at 13:22, 18 July 2020

2020-07-18T13:22:01Z

Leathy Kocktail at 20:36, 15 July 2020

2020-07-15T20:36:54Z

Leathy Kocktail: /* Books */

2020-07-15T14:23:31Z

‎Books

Leathy Kocktail: /* Books */

2020-07-15T14:22:28Z

‎Books

Leathy Kocktail: /* Books */

2020-07-15T13:46:02Z

‎Books

Leathy Kocktail: /* Books */

2020-07-15T13:05:47Z

‎Books

Leathy Kocktail: /* Servants */

2020-07-15T13:04:17Z

‎Servants

Leathy Kocktail: /* Long */

2020-07-15T13:03:36Z

‎Long

@@ Line 85: / Line 85: @@
 * '''The Editorius''' - {{Aspect|Moth}} {{Aspect|Edge}} - Upon wings of parchment, the Editorius rises with the thinest of blades to cut down the darlings of the writer. They are viscious. They are unforgiving. They are one of the judges that which all those who wish to enter the Ink's service must appease before they are graced.
 <br>
-* '''Disembodied Voice of Pedantic But Technically True Corrections''' - {{Aspect|Winter}} {{Aspect|Moth}} What? How did this get here? Why won't they shut up? Why won't they '''leave me alone!'''
+* '''Disembodied Voice of Pedantic But Technically True Corrections''' - {{Aspect|Winter}} {{Aspect|Heart}} What? How did this get here? Why won't they shut up? Why won't they '''leave me alone!'''
 ====Long====

@@ Line 44: / Line 44: @@
 ===Long-Hood===
 <br>
-There was a Long that, to the frustration of his peers, was rather difficult to qualify, at least in term of the nature of his immortality. He was mute as the Winter, yet constantly followed by the sound of his never ending, fervent writing as endemic of the Heart (And yet, a truly lamentable dancer, according to some accounts).  He was flighty and his interest was naturally of the Moth, yet his writing could at times cut with a merciless unkindness, and his publications were in a constant state of ever-changing limbo. Some doubt even that publications under his many pseudonyms were even the same author, contemporary Know arguing constantly over most infinitesimal similarities and differences in the the styling, cadence, language.
+There was a Long that, to the frustration of his peers, was rather difficult to qualify, at least in term of the nature of his immortality. He was mute as the Winter, yet constantly followed by the sound of his never ending, fervent writing as endemic of the Heart (And yet, a truly lamentable dancer, according to some accounts).  He was flighty and his interest was naturally of the Moth, yet his writing could at times cut with a merciless unkindness, and his publications were in a constant state of ever-changing limbo as he chased his insatiable desire. Some doubt even that publications under his many pseudonyms were even the same author, contemporary Know of the Co-writer's Covenant arguing constantly over most infinitesimal similarities and differences in the the styling, cadence, language.
 <br>
 <br>
-The one thing that cannot be denied is the author's longevity and prolificness of their writing. Between the many texts, letters, novels, essays, (and any other written form under the sun), It is easy to say this particular long has easily lived for around two thousand years.
+The one thing that cannot be denied is the author's longevity and proliferance of their writing. Between the many texts, letters, novels, essays, (and any other written form under the sun), It is easy to say this particular long has easily lived for around two thousand years.
 <br>
-And yet
+It is said as well that the Long could not decide what he wanted, how he wanted to spend his immortality. <br>
 ===Ascension===
 FNORD

@@ Line 15: / Line 15: @@
 ==Description==
 ===Appearance===
-The Ink appears as a man with permanently ink-stained arms and legs. He has no mouth, but his eyes are an ever shifting pool of Aspect Pigmentation, that shifts constantly. He has a seemingly infinite number of arms, and a seemingly infinite number of quills and papers in the folds of his cloak with which he is constantly writing. He has been seen with no fewer than a half dozen arms and no more than a hundred thousand.
+The Ink appears in some interpretations as a man with permanently ink-stained arms and legs. He has no mouth, but his eyes are an ever shifting pool of Aspect Pigmentation, that shifts constantly. He has a seemingly infinite number of arms, and a seemingly infinite number of quills and papers in the folds of his cloak with which he is constantly writing. He has been seen with no fewer than a half dozen arms and no more than a hundred thousand.
 <br>
 <br>

@@ Line 47: / Line 47: @@
 <br>
 <br>
-The one thing that cannot be denied is the author's longevity and prolificness of writing. Between the many texts, letters, novels, essays, (and any other written form under the sun), It is easy to say this particular long has easily lived for around two thousand years.
+The one thing that cannot be denied is the author's longevity and prolificness of their writing. Between the many texts, letters, novels, essays, (and any other written form under the sun), It is easy to say this particular long has easily lived for around two thousand years.
 <br>
 ===Ascension===
 FNORD

@@ Line 104: / Line 104: @@
 ** End Text: ''"The Author's servants know the Pen's mind. It is said you need a bright a big enough disarray and a big enough opening to tempt them out of their homes."''
 ** Gives: The Rite of the Secretarian's Sorting, {{Aspect|Lantern}} '''Lore 6'''
+<br>
 *''' What to Do with Paper '''
 *'''The Tragicall Hiftorie of One Scholar & One Soldier'''
 ===Rites===

@@ Line 101: / Line 101: @@
 * '''The Pen, Indelible'''
 ** Description: Locke's surprisingly brazen account of the history of his chosen Hour barely escaped censorship by claiming it is completely fantastical. Those in the Know know better.
-** Start Text: He speaks of a aspiring god who built a grand structure of paper, the servants he uplifted to upkeep it, and how to glean truths from a trove of fictions.
+** Start Text: He speaks of a king who folded a grand structure of paper, the bipedal pets he kept to maintain it, and how to glean truths from a trove of fictions.
 ** End Text: ''"The Author's servants know the Pen's mind. It is said you need a bright a big enough disarray and a big enough opening to tempt them out of their homes."''
 ** Gives: The Rite of the Secretarian's Sorting, {{Aspect|Lantern}} '''Lore 6'''

@@ Line 85: / Line 85: @@
 ====Long====
-* '''Dubedat Locke''' - {{Aspect|SecretHistories}} {{Aspect|Knock}} - Once a distractable and eccentric playwright of ambition, his writings tell of far off places and fantastical journeys, horrid beasts and a terrifying Wood. Be careful about his publications, lest you fall in.  Newly Long, he is eager to speak of his many imagined paths with anyone who would listen.
+* '''Dubedat Locke''' - {{Aspect|Secret Histories}} {{Aspect|Knock}} - Once a distractable and eccentric playwright of ambition, his writings tell of far off places and fantastical journeys, horrid beasts and a terrifying Wood. Be careful about his publications, lest you fall in.  Newly Long, he is eager to speak of his many imagined paths with anyone who would listen.
 * '''"Jos."''' - {{Aspect|Heart}} {{Aspect|Grail}} - Somewhere in the marked halls of the Scriptorium is a woman who built and destroyed lives with her correspondences. Her poetry and prose wets the appetites of even the strongest mortals, and many are lost in her eternal letters of longing. If you catch her attention correctly, she may send you such a letter.