Lord Vergence
Creator of Nessapia
Last seen 12 hours ago
United States
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Aug 21, 18

You will be missed, Stefán Karl Stefánsson. Thank you for your work.
We Are Number One Remix but by The Living Tombstone (Lazytown)
July 2018
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jul 20, 18

Have some non-canon fun with a story about a blood whore!

The End

I breathe out softly as I soberly walk towards the Founder’s bridge, named after the revolutionaries who carved out this nation. My footsteps echo back at me, producing a confident sound not shared by the rest of me. Even now, with a firm mind and light thoughts, even now I lack the will to fully believe in myself.
The streets are alive around me, I’m on one of the many market streets in midday. Out of the corner of my eye I can see a merchant gesturing towards me, trying to get me to look at his jewelry, hoping to hook me in for a quick sell.
I inwardly cringe. Even just thinking about a quick sell disturbs my already restless thoughts. I may be a month out of servitude, no, enslavement, but my body and head won’t be so quick to forget. I carry those scars with me. From the dashes down my arms to the gorges in my brain. No. Just no. I can’t let myself go there. I need featherly thoughts, I need my head full of fluff so I can do this. Dwelling means the monsters win. I can’t let the monsters win.
I have to squint against the sun, the harsh light distracts me and I run into a squat, older man with graying temples.
“Ay. Watch where you’re going. This here’s too busy to dally.” He barks out, before continuing with his brisk and impatient stride.
He probably thinks me a whore. I don’t confront him though. My only physical response is to tighten my cloak even further. I’m sure I must look like a thief, a poor one, for wandering in broad day, but it’s the only way I can even feel a modicum of safety. It’s already painfully tight, I’m still too thin from being “discouraged” to eat to maintain my figure. My ribs must stick out, even through the all the layers I wear. And I wear a lot of layers. If anyone tries to take me again, they’ll have to work for it.
The bridge readily approaches me. I’ve been mindlessly working my way to it for the better part of an hour now. I keep having dissenting thoughts that stop me. The bridge looks so intimidating and unwelcoming up close. It’s not even that tall, it was made for width, to allow carts to travel to the industrial district. But the structure is imposing when so near, an eerie creaking is given off, noticeable only feet from it. Goading me to step up and step off, into the waiting maw below, to swallow me. To freeze me. But that maw is my abyss, my release from cruel machinations.
I banish the indecision. This is what I am to do. I march onto the bridge, the wooden planks shuddering under my demanding strides. As I walk, my back straightens, infused with false courage and I can see a man leaning against a support to my left. He notices my glance and I see him wink outlandishly in an exaggerated gesture.
I shoot him a cold stare that I don’t share internally and all he does is wave in response. He probably hopes he’ll see me later in bed. That won’t happen, I think, with a warm sense of satisfaction. Never again will I be subjected to that. Never. I keep up my even gait, speeding up, even. I want this to be over with. No more worries, that, that, sounds good.
I smile, a quick and fleeting thing, no more lasting smiles for me. For whatever reason, I spare a quick look over my shoulder, the man is still watching me. His look almost seems..concerned? A shame for him. He won’t meet me in bed. Not now, not ever. I flash him a chilling smile as I finally approach the metal railing. It was built with carts and carriages in mind, to prevent them from running off the bridge. Thick supports nailed into the sides of the bridge, with a thin strip running horizontal. It’s barely two feet off the ground, if that. I’m able to easily hoist myself up with little effort.
I don’t bother to stand, it’s not worth the effort. My feet dangle over the edge, kicking back and forth in the wind, my cloak billowing out behind me. The people walking across the bridge don’t seem to notice or care. They most likely assume I’m just a thrill seeker sitting here, basking in the endless blue expanse above me with a smattering of wispy clouds here and there.
“Hey!” A voice calls out behind me, I look quickly. It’s the man from before. Some do-gooder, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. He’s too far behind to stop me.
I give him a sly wave. It’s honestly unlike me. I don’t know what compelled me to be coy. But alas, I don’t have time to consider it. If I stall for too long, he’ll get me.
So I push.
Off the ledge.
Into the maw.
Down I go.
Those seconds seem to stretch out as I descend from my lofty perch and my mind turns to all that I’ve done and seen, all that I’ve been subjected to in my short life. The loving embrace of my mother, whose face I can barely remember. The sturdy hands of my father, who I’ve forgotten. The raids that stole me away, like a thief in the night. The men that took me, repeated. The knife I brought upon myself. The vials and vials and vials of precious red fluid drained from me.
Then the water hits. It’s an abrupt feeling. One moment, nothing but air, but the next there’s liquid everywhere, I can’t escape it.
And as I sink.
As I float down into the water, my mind turns desperate as I exhale the last of my air. My chest is fighting me, demanding air that I can’t deliver. This won’t be a carefree passing.
As my body turns against me, cursing me to a brutal death, just under the clear water sparkling down on me. Then I hear a muted splash ripple through the disturbed waters as a body hurdles down, next to me.
I don’t dwell on it, my vision is growing murky and I can hardly think. My eyes shutter, starting to close when I’m violently grabbed from behind. I try to fight, swirling my arms around in what I think to be a maelstrom of action but is most likely a feeble attempt. I’m being tugged upward at an angle. I don’t want to go up. I want to go down. I need to stall. I’m so close. I can feel it.
I think the body knows too. They speed up, I can feel water being pushed against my legs from them kicking.
I manage a final thought before my head breaks the surface.
My mind forces my lungs to take in air, against my better judgement. My hair plastered to my face, concealing most of my blackened vision.
“Dammit, girl. Are you trying to die?” It’s a masculine voice that I barely hear, tinged with worry and sorrow.
“Justt..tt..let...me, die.” I choke out, my teeth chattering from the cold water. I think my body’s starting to shut down. Hopefully that’ll get me. Shore is so close and he knows this.
“Nice try. That won’t happen if I can help it.”
I try to respond but my tongue goes limp and my body follows, I’m dead in the water. Barely operating. Panicked breaths going in and out as my mind frantically commands my body to keep fighting.
My clothes are heavy around me and I feel like a wet twig in the grips of a superhuman being.
“Hold on. Shore is near.” The man grits out, he’s expending a lot of energy too. I hope I don’t kill him from my actions. Maybe that would be for the best though. He’s probably hoping to fuck me. Get me indebted to him.
Then we hit the shore, I didn’t see it as I was turned away in his arms and I could catch a quick glimpse of ice blue eyes meeting my half-closed ones in a worried look. He practically pushes me into the rough sand of the beach. It hurts but I can hardly feel it I’m so cold.
He lightly slaps my wet cheek. It sounds funny. Like a plop. It makes me giggle a little. I probably sound hysterical. I try to turn my cheek away from him but I lack the strength.
“Stay with me. Don’t close the eyes. Don’t give in. Fight it.” He practically hisses those words out at me. So aggressive. He seems like a dominant sort. Wonder what he’ll do with my body when I leave it.
I manage a weak smile, it’s more like a grimace and he flinches, “Just leave me. It’s all I want.” I force out from my clammy lips and my vision finally fades completely.
“Just go.”
The sight goes as I see his eyes widen and he shouts out, “Victor, over here!”
I wonder who that is.
Oh well. I shrug inside. It doesn’t matter.
Oh, uh, language warning. I forgot that Naera likes to cuss, a lot.
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jul 11, 18

Because I had to.

(Credit to Twirl & original artist)
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jul 11, 18

Fancieria just got so much better:

High Lord Kayden myl l'Vergence vol Dumont fi Fancieria is a single name including titles.
June 2018
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jun 30, 18

I had a wonderful birthday a couple days ago, saw Ocean's 8 and ate out for dinner. 10/10 recommend Ocean's 8. I also received a lot of chocolate, it will serve me WELL.
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jun 18, 18

Did you guys know that the werewolves in Twilight aren't werewolves? I did!
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jun 2, 18 - edited

"Dawn always overtakes dusk."

- Solomon Lustris, Voice of Vaknera
The Union just sticks with hanging >.<. Though there was a case early on where a Minuteman soldier had assaulted a fellow female soldier, and after careful thought, Kathryn ordered his hands be cut off by axe, and him medically stabilised, so he could be hung shortly after alongside some captive raiders.
Depending on where you go, they'd probably hang. But this is Solomon's Cult. I mean, Solomon's Church. They've got a huge flair for the dramatic. Fancierians would send you into the dark caverns in exile. (What they did supposedly for Lord Lyx of Domora). It's basically sending you to your death with no supplies into the unexplored caves of Fancieria, not a fun time.
Also forgot to explain why that's the worst punishment in Fancierian culture. They're a very close society that's HIGHLY xenophobic (Foreigners are not allowed in the Fathercity. At. All). So to them, the worst punishment is to be forgotten. Sending you into the dark is their way of forgetting you and your deeds.
Now take that idea, and birth from it a society deep within the caverns, of survivors. A large, rough band of forgotten banished slowly sharpening their tools toward retribution
Could that happen? Yeah I wouldn't doubt it. Probably unlikely though, Fancieria was only possible because they lived aboveground before constructing the Fathercity (A fact they like to conveniently forget) and so the vital infrastructure needed for that would be very hard to get. I'm not doubting it and I bet some folks have managed to survive. The Fancierians have mapped out a significant portion of these caves after all.
One person or group gets kicked out, survives, sets up a camp, finds a new outcast straggler, invites them in. Strength in numbers. Over many years they continue to draw in various outcasts into their fold, killing the ones who cause too much trouble, strict leadership and harsh law. They are mostly criminals after all. over time they create a sort of tribal life for themselves and reproduce and many many years later they remain, bitter toward the "cruelty" of Fancieria. Hiding well from any official forces moving through the tunnels.
Damnit Kayden! You have enough problems running Fancieria already! Yeah I get what your saying. Logistically, it'd be significantly harder than anywhere else. Fancieria only has major infrastructure in the Fathercity and their food is grown hydroponically in House Urei areas. Basically, the things you need to survive or the basics to craft tools and such, are under Fancierian guard because Fancieria relies on these materials in bulk to sustain their underground life. I think the group would have much better success if they went aboveground and raided materials like that (assuming they can avoid the "unofficial" Fancierian presence aboveground.

Assuming they had significant numbers, equipment, etc, they could do some damage to the Fathercity because the bulk of Fancieria's defenses lay aboveground guarding their entrance with the majority of their troops. That and with how the Fathercity is designed, rebels could easily hold buildings in guerrilla warfare.
May 2018
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - May 18, 18

I got maps, who wants maps? This is Ondoa.
I love maps <3
I'd post another one but I can't do that in the comments section, rip. You'll have to content yourself knowing I have MORE maps.
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - May 6, 18

Because I know all of you care and because I haven't posted in forever, here's the styling of the current Fancierian monarch:

High Lord Kayden weh Vergence myl Fancieria, by the Power of Past of the Sovereignty of Fancieria, Holder of the Carved Throne
unlucky you have to deal with it
why are you here. i haven't seen you in forever
am I not allowed to be in here s m h
i'll allow it. this time.
March 2018
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Mar 18, 18

wow I haven't posted in like 16 days even I thought I died
February 2018
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Feb 19, 18

I found a nice game
Basically C3po, darth vader, and chewbacca hanging out in cloud city. Such a style choice has gotta be from the 90s ^o^
January 2018
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jan 30, 18

2 year anniversary of when Nessapia was started.

Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jan 28, 18

Astrology is some great stuff. #SexyTimeAquarius #MeAndCancer
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jan 19, 18

"Secondhand and used to the darkness. You'll never stand the light."
- Madame Selene
Lord Vergence

Shared publicly - Jan 15, 18

"My Kingdom collapsed, the land barren, and the people gone. I have endured and eventually, I shall strive. I will bring life to the withered, water to the thirsty, and settlers to the oasis. We. Shall. Prevail."

- Unknown, presumed to be from one of the Dead Continents
Also, first post of 2018. :)
I hate this emoji clipping tbh