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28/01/2019 - With a new theme and new colours, Starwave will soon be running leadership searches for the three clans. We also have worked out a few little bugs too. The joining incentive is going to run from now until the end of February, so instead of bringing one character to copper level, you can still bring two, and their companion as well! You are welcome to break this up as well. So, come join us, and let's see what goes on! With more people, hopefully, we intend to run events and make the site more PvE. Clan leadership will be opened soon too, hopefully!

26/11/2018 - Starwave is ready to go! There are still pieces to flatten, to make better, but its time to open and see how it all goes. Tis exciting to do so! Please feel free to advertise, tell people, etc and let's go. Once a few have joined, the first event will happen which is going to be finding clan leaders! Subforums in those areas are open for claiming too if you'd like them! Excited! Let's have some fun!

23/11/2018 - Much is done! Lands, guidebook is finished, profiles (save for the --> I can't work out what displaying that its driving me insane!) But I'm happy with everything and the progess of whats happening. I have some subforums to add to the clan lands, and then it will be almost ready to go for an opening and a beginning. There will be a SWP very early after opening too!

11/11/2018 - Starwave is underway. This is the first OOC news entry!

28/01/2019 - Starwave has seen quite a few new arrivals, and the clans are stirring. More arrive every day - and some of the Inherent and skeptical, some welcoming and others flat out angry and upset. However, they are accepting and soon, they will be seeking clan leaders - who will they be?

26/11/2018 - The time has come. Starwave's portals are open; the world is pulling newcomers to the shores. What will happen now?

Open there's nothing on either end
Gold level
30 years

2 Posts


Tell me your bad dreams and I will build you a man.

Tell me the things you love and hate and I will build you a man.

Tell me how all this, and everything else, matters very little when you are screaming at the void so hard your lungs pop and deflate like so many balloons on so many birthdays.

Paint him in like a thing out of a time, like a thing with a heavy head.
Paint him in like a falling star.

Paint him back out so you can forget his name and his bad smile, his too-big and too-clean teeth and how they stained your jaw. Try to remember what it was. Try to forget what it was. None of it matters when you're screaming at the void.

He is the falling star, a thing out of time, an angel cast from heaven. Mordecai is not conscious or at least not lucid. He has not been--conscious or lucid--since before... well, before. This does not change just because the crust of some other strange planet is rushing up to take him, to kiss his bones into dust and answer all of his impossibly morbid questions about death and dying with one clear, clangorous sentence: it is going to hurt.

He wakes just before and just after the broken bones, tumbling and aching and he can't pinpoint what direction up is, just knows he has to find it. All the animal instinct Mordecai has left is begging him to live, live, live, here at the end. It does not need to yell for long.

There is the distinct sensation of suction, the loud crack of thunder as the air around him is suddenly pushed out of place. And then: light and color and silence.

He wakes from one bad dream into another, ten yards off the coastline at low tide, surrounded by the stink of seawater. He is so tired. He is so sore. It takes all the strength he has in him to lurch to shore. Mordecai's chest heaves. Mordecai's heart pounds. Mordecai's legs feel as if they are made of chalk but twice as fragile.

Not everything in the wilderness is unfamiliar. Paint me a man and I paint his family, the ties that bind and the hounding teeth that he can never seem to escape. Mordecai manages, somehow, to limp through the wet rock and debris, and that's when he turns to see the crowd, small as it is, and uninterested as it is. For now, he's too tired to care.

But-- "Salem?" as if Mordecai knows. As if Mordecai wants to remember. He uses his last ounce of energy to dedicate the thought, I am too tired for this shit. The pegasus kneels, grimacing.

"You have got to be kidding me.""


@Salem but anyone is welcome to join ;)
N/A level
26 years

7 Posts


Salem never really missed Liridon, even in the beginning. That place haunted his memories like monsters in the night, creeping into each nightmare he desperately tried to shake. Each time he thought of Ilir he couldn’t see its wide vast fields, only the darkness and what had hidden in those shadows. He thinks of Respane, or what he imagines Respane to look like, dripping fangs and wild eyes. He thinks of Cyrus, Cyrus as he had been with his mischievous grin. Lucian’s grin – laughing the way Entia laughed. Not laughing anymore.


He forces that thought far from his mind. Ghosts were nothing but the fleeting thoughts of the people the dead left behind, and Salem would not cater to the ghosts of his past right now. Cyrus did not need to be front and center in his mind. He needed to concentrate on…wherever this was.

Salem had stayed on the beach – not because of any real fondness for the sandy shores, or because they reminded him of Ilir’s cliffs, but because there was comfort in the familiarities of the coastline. It was the first thing he had seen upon waking on Starwave and for some reason that brings him a certain amount of security. Everyone else here was (most likely) as new as him – they would be less likely to take advantage.

God he wished Tam was here – the small white bird had been a staple part of Salem’s life since his departure from his birth land. He felt naked without the steady reassurance of his friend. Salem heaves a sigh, turning his head from the sea and looking down the beach.

There is a movement, a shape – and it interrupts his musing. It struggles from the ocean with none of the grace that Mizumi, staggering to the shore like driftwood. Salem's eyes narrow, familiar - how can something - someone - be familiar in a place like this. But it was. He was.

He picks his way across the rocky, sandy shore, passing other newcomers and other strangers, until he is close enough to recognize the creature in front of him. His name, croaked from the mans lips. Unbelievable. Somewhere Pyrrus was laughing at him, or maybe Ardon - perhaps Abaddon - they had been tricky gods to deal with, always fond of their pranks. "Mordecai,"  brother, although they had not really known one another. Mordecai had been in Dalmat, and born of strange circumstances. But brother none the less, the blood that ran through Salem's veins also ran through Mordecai's (Mordecai had a lot more of it - he was the son of many kings and many creatures - Salem is the son of one king and his mad bestfriend). "The gods do like playing their jokes don't they," he muses, as his brother drops. Salem takes a moment to glance either side, but no one seemed to interested in them yet.

This strange sudden surge of...protectiveness (no, maybe - Mordecai is a familiar face in a strange face and although Salem has never been one to put family above all else he wants something familiar to cling to himself) unsettles him immensely but he pushes it aside.  "Its been a while." 

- s a l e m -
of no where; with no one
into the ashes of no return

Copper level
34 years

4 Posts

From world one to another, it was bloody well dizzy and disorienting, but one way or another, Entia had survived. As he always did, in some way, staggering around like a drunk (and not the fun kind) with a head-splitting pain ringing in his ears. Yet now, and here, he was nothing alike. He’d woken feeling like he’d had one too many, almost drowned in the water but it had been the companion at his side again, the utahraptor’s presence, who had drawn him from the sleep he’d longed to sink himself into. And at least now, as he made his way back just to check he hadn’t actually left anything behind, he’d performed probably the most amazing double take that would be done by an equine. He had looked, seeing a Pegasus and a red and black man standing together, but then his head had swung so damn hard he swore he felt one of his vertebrae crack under the pressure.

Not to mention, his entire body spun and he almost ended up nose first into the wet sand, all undignified. And both his eyes were as wide as they could he. Seze had snarled and danced sideways to he out of his way as he almost went ass over tits, but he’d managed to recover before he did lose anymore pride.

And without any further hesitation, he was sauntering over to the pair with a spring in his step unlike any other he’d had in a while. He couldn’t help but give a wicked, wide grin as he approached the pair, and he heard the tail end of his own son’s speech as well.

“But haven’t you learned yet, there are no gods here,” he says, “and about bloody time. Damn ‘higher beings’,” he grumbled under his breath, but he turned his eyes to the chestnut pegasus as well, the figure he knew and remembered as clearly as daylight.

“Well look what the cat dragged in. Quite literally, by the looks of you,” he says with a brash grin and a chuckle in his throat. “Where have you both been?”

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