The World's a Heavy Burden
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vermin hunting	Another run in with Avarice
Soldier, Poet, King	A familiar face resurfaces
Grandoise	Meets a pianist and teacher and accidentally feels things for the first time in many moons.
putting down the roses and picking up the sword	After the party in Odersten, he decides to take action, the first stop being to buy a disguise...
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The Last Voyage of the Demeter	Sailing off to investigate the disappearances in the north. Boarding the Kraken.
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Thread Title	Small Desription

will i update this more once i get home? that is the question

 
It was a dangerous habit, dwelling in the past. However, that had been his recent days in the present. Since the gathering he'd been forced to attend, his mind was a battleground. His thoughts waged war with one another: what used to be, what is now. Who he used to be, the stranger that he had become. It was the shadow that haunted the dark slits of his eyes, it was the slight crease of a frown that had made his face a home.

Would his siblings even recognize him anymore? His appearance hadn't changed remarkably over the years, but the skin was ill fitting of the monster he had become. A skinwalker, donned in the robes of Theodred, a nameless beast that puppeteers his skeleton. The conversation with the pianist, the memories she had stirred by nothing more than the innocent play of music, it had all brought him here to this very moment. He didn't know what kind of ruler his brother would have been. He didn't know what kind of lady his sister would have grown into. They had been taken before their lives even had a chance to flourish. He remembered the raspy, uneven breaths his brother had taken near the end. He had been chosen by whatever semblance of order they had possessed. He was to be turned as well, but death hadn't spit him out, not like it did for the bastard son. He knew the way Isabella had screamed.

But he knew they would be abhorred of him.
They would loathe this thing that he had become.

So that was why he stood here now, idly watching the wind rock the sign for the Toad & Thyme to and fro on its gentle current. Of course it wasn't the face of the general that currently held fixation on the adornment. It was a tawny, shorter man with angled features and longer, shaggy hair that softly curled around his face with some of it pulled back atop his head. It was not his normal disguise, but he certainly didn't want any to know of his visit here. Known or otherwise. The streets had eyes, the walls ears. The less any knew, the better for them. He couldn't exactly afford to openly fall out of the queen's good graces, at least for now.

So it was in a lighter, meeker tone that called out a soft "Hello?" As he pushed open the door to peer around the shelves. He'd heard great praise about the keeper of the business. A different manner of magic, they claimed. One he hoped would be of service to him. So that he could be of service to others - what he should have been doing for a very, very long time now.

 
Her attention turned back to the tea, drinking deeply from the cup. He would not press, his attention straying to the mare, his palm pressed to the warmth of her neck in idle thought. His gaze would linger once again upon the multitude of fresh flowers that wove like ivy through the jetty strands of her silken mane. “Oh dear.” The words accompanied the rattle of the packaging, once again reinforcing the thought that she did, quite certainly, have a sweet tooth. When Osmanthus next fled to her presence, he would have to laden him with such treats to pay his way to the spoiling that the delicate lady gave him. He only hoped that the feline wouldn't merely eat them himself.

Things were to progress avidly now. A fact that had invoked some manner of turmoil within himself on its own. While he was not often one for rest, he would find even less time for such a means if he was to continue down the path of his current plans. Tonight would be a cursory test, one he hoped would prove well. He hadn't expected to spend so much time here in the eaves of the shops, if he was to be honest. He had thought to be better prepared for the mess of things to transpire, but maybe it was for the best. It gave him more time to think, to plan out the trajectory of his scheme. He was not one to often visit Anderstel for a great many of reasons, but he was familiar enough with the area. Momentarily, his thumb would brush over the parchment that made up the enchanted 'pet' within his pocket. He hoped it would function as he wished, a small trial needed before he went on to larger feats. Though judging by what details he had witnessed already in the interaction with Avarice, he felt confident it would function as he deemed.

He should be able to use it to discern routes any patrols take, a silent report written upon its surface, along with anything the guards would speak. He knew a small holding cell nearby where those deemed unfit to till the fields were held for either sell or execution, it made an almost too perfect trial area before he would move this operation to something different. It was also rather lowly populated in his experience, so he held his hopes that should he be too debilitated or things went too horribly wrong, he would be able to make a good retreat to rethink his strategy. “I do not see why not,” her voice withdrew him from his musings. “But you needn’t do so if you do not wish it.” His crown would tilt faintly. "If I didn't wish it, I wouldn't have offered." He reassured.

Though her next words would take him slightly off-guard, making him feel a faint chill, “May I be frank with you, sir?” Once again, his head would incline, a silent affirmative for her to continue. He more than half expected for her to spin her farewell and depart, though instead, she would continue, “I think I was worried you would be cross with me regarding Osmanthus.” His teeth clicked together lightly, a thoughtful hum departing him. He was uncertain if he should speak to her of his own presence there, that he knew at least somewhat of the ordeal that she had gone through. He also knew Mithras's view on those he viewed as lowly worms to be crushed under his heel, so he could merely fill in the blanks of their interaction within the pass of his imagination. Perhaps the whole of his sharp tongue wouldn't have found her, as a means to not draw attention to himself more than necessary in the excursion. "Not at all. I knew Mithras had found Osmanthus. As I told you when I left him at your home, all you needed to do was ask him for me. I don't make a habit of prying into his business, but I can. Communicating with me through him truly is quite that simple."

“I quite enjoy his company as I do yours. While my mother doesn’t necessarily disapprove of them, I think she is more inclined to canines.” This, however, truly brought a slight mirthful chuckle from his lips. He had gathered as much, though it had been faded when he had stayed under her roof, there had been the tell-tale signs of lycanthropy clinging to the walls. He didn't want to seem rude, let alone offend her over her mother - or perhaps it had been her late father - but he certainly didn't prefer the company of mutts. “Of course, there is always a reason behind every action, I think.” "I understand," he spoke after a lingering pause of his own. "If it is ever an inconvenience for you for him to be present, you can always send him away." His weight would shift, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. "As for myself, I will not trouble you unless you call for me, because as you know, I'm more of a cat person myself."

 
The harbor was much more lively than he could scarcely recall. He assumed it was for the very self-same reason that he had darkened the wharf, to answer the notice that had recently plagued the city and beyond. Everywhere the Red Queen's malicious influence crept were the royal declarations claiming that as of late, ships were returning to harbor unmanned or the boats neglected to return at all.

And of course, it was the wrath of the northern sea.

Had it only been a small number, he and many more of the residents would have merely written the loss off as yet another victim of the angry tides. The weather was known to change, quickly, without mercy and the swells the pivot resulted in were nothing to be taken lightly by any means. Many large merchant vessels and naval fleets besides had been known to disappear beyond a wall of salty mist, their crews only to be cradled by the arms of the tempests. However, now, there was talk among those who had deigned to practically live upon the waters: curses, ghosts, monsters, a myriad of other tales. Among them as well were sirens, mermaids that drew the vulgar imaginations of the uncouth and young.

He, however, knew what lay at the far end of the unmapped region. Beyond the reach of the continent of Klewyth, lay an abandoned island, a forsaken land by both man and the gods they once worshipped. No whisper had yet graced his ears that any had discovered the ports of that old world, and he hoped that it remained that way as there were far worse that haunted those shores than the mere presence of parasites.

"Look, laddy, I've told ye, we're not leavin' our ropes 'til this matter's a settled." The captain would once again deflect, his arms crossed steadfastly across the open splay of his half-buttoned shirt. A soft hum reverberated through the mask that concealed his identity. A hand would reach within the shade of his large cloak, drawing forth a fat bag of gilded crescents, a commune in which he had found loosened most of even the hardest wills. Greed was always the downfall of man. "And as I've said, it is hard to investigate the cause when you cannot reach it." As expected, the curdled and grizzled fellow almost denied the payment, but hefted the sack instead with a disgruntled growl accenting the action. "If you lack men, I will help what crew of yours will brave the trip."

No matter his hatred of it, the abhorrence which bloomed within his chest, he could not deny the darker parts of what he had become. While he was not secretive of his nature, of the creature he was, he did not indulge in it like many others of his ilk. He did not revel in the shedding of blood, of the visceral warmth that ebbed and flowed with it. No matter the silken delicacy - he loathed it. No matter the necessity and craven madness that came, he refused to be ruled by it once again. To lose himself to that primeval disregard. An incident that had happened all of once before, halted prior and immediately after his change by the cuffs of silver that had marred him. A particularly volatile time within his life, one of the last times as well. So it had been with measured disregard that he had walked the venues of the traveling merchants. His cold stare masking none of his distaste for their choice of temporary settlement and the unwanted attention and groups that had likewise come with the announcement. However, it did provide those within the encampment a worthwhile distraction besides seeing just how far they could press his patience. It was on this normal patrol that he came across another, a far enough distance that suspicion was given to the figure. Silver narrowed and watchful as the last shops began to pack up and depart for their caravans for the night. The others thinned, and soon the rebuilt streets were eerily quiet. Silence a thin veneer in days since order had been restored and those who would otherwise resist either captured or executed. A task he painstakingly committed himself to ensure those whos moments were ending were indeed given something akin to honor in their final breaths. But it was getting to him. All the blood was beginning to weigh on him. Distraction was sought as he began to clear the distance between he and the lingering wraith. One who had sought the salvage of the encroaching mists obscuring the burdened heavens. Through distance, there was no telling the identity, but the face remained unrecognized even at his approach. He was younger, and the telling signs of mortality had him tightening his jaw slightly as arms crossed. He remained quiet, his presence seemingly unnoticed as the young man toyed with the dagger in his hand before lifting the patch that he assumed had covered his face - an easily dismissed detail from this angle. His brow quirked as his attention hinged upon the jar and its contents. Bemusement slowly becoming clarion as he watched the lad raise his weapon, only to hold it there. Hesitance clear. "Well?" He inquired, and in some morbid, macabre sentiment, he had almost wanted to bear witness to the havoc that would undeniably ensue. However, after another glance over him, a slight semblance of recognition lit within his cerebrum - not of the person before him, but the craftmanship of his blade. Thoughtful hum abandoned him, a different perspective taken as he held into account the flaming locks that poured from that crown and an almost dreadful sigh fled him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess, another of Alexandria's?"

Jahi - imagine the eyes are silver pls until i get home to change them uwu

The city of the dead was rarely something that slept, during the day, the sheep corralled. They shopped and they conducted business, then as the sun died and wept its last rays of light across the horizon, the other denizens would awaken and function most the same. Then, there were those who didn't sleep, and Theodred would find himself as the later. His goods had since been packed, allowed to linger over the curve of his shoulder. The over sized hood and cloak suffocated his visage while the glyph carved mask awaited upon his hip in the interior.  However, something else had since drawn his attention while in the bustling streets of the market. Whispers and rumors were often abundant there, but one in particular had snared his intention. Someone was raising the dead, and to add insult to injury, having the remnants dig through the crypts. It was hinted that whoever it was searched for something, though none even seemed to have an inkling of idea as to what it could be. That had been the root of his intentions when he had set out towards the cemetary. It was nearing the hour of twilight, the very same that was rumored to be the beginning of the inncessant excavation. Thus far, his preliminary glimpse only revealed the presence of one other, though upon closer attention paid, he discovered it to be none other than the brat he'd aided in Dunmeath. A perfect chance to test his disguise, one he had invested in for such an event as traditional glamors could be detected, let alone be seen through. While had held doubts that the youth would be able to tell exactly what he was, he hoped that the mask and its enchantment would hide - faithfully - who he was.  Placing the covering over his countenance, he would approach, his gait a comfortable, leisurely pace. "Evening." He greeted, the sound of his voice even morphed as it filtered through the hum of the red carving.

Jahi

The invitation had been short, direct. For him to come to this secluded, albeit rather popular vineyard - alone. It was in the possession of a man he was briefly aware of. Another name and face in the tumultuous sea of those who supported and were there for used as pawns by the Red Queen. Émilienne certainly had no shortage of powerful allies, that was one certainty he had of the woman - should she really be called that. The thoughts that idly swirled within his mind were just as droning and slow moving as he felt the wheels of the carriage itself was. It probably would have been much fast had he simply taken his own horse, but with the recent meetings with his liege and others, he had grown quite tired of the saddle. A discovery he was astonished with, a shock reflected upon the features of the carriage driver as well when he had offered the commission. The road wound through the upper range of the mountains before beginning its descent, one he felt as though he could traverse now with his eyes closed. However, the wheels would roll over unfamiliar territory this time. Despite the attention he should have paid to the path, he couldn't bring himself to do so, finding his eyelids drawing closed in spite of opposition. It wasn't until the wagon rolled to a halt that he found himself rousing from the sluggish shackles of reprieve. He would straighten, fingers pulling down on the cuffs of his sleeves in habit to ensure the coverage of his arms. He emerged into the comforting cover of the Crue Efros's shroud as the door was opened for him by the driver. A man who would bow slightly as the step was taken onto the unfamiliar territory of another. Keen gaze wandered, observing the intricacies and extravagance of the area, no doubt one to become a hosting arena of some sort. Many, if not most or all, of the monarch's associates knew him to be a recluse. So much so that he had been the butt of several of their poor jokes of late with all of the.... scheming. He merely hoped this would not be a meeting of small talk, of words playfully concealing their meanings. He could only pray that this invitation would be one for a straight forward demand rather than more games of cloak and dagger. Devices he had no energy or patience to play. His path was guided by a presumed servant of his host, words briefly exchanged in greeting as the man guided him to where he assumed their meeting would take place. As the door was opened, he would step through the portal without reservation, the bleak reptilian pupils fixing easily onto the draconian within. The only other soul within, giving him hope that his small wish would be heeded. Though he didn't place high hopes into such whimsical sentiments. He would bow in greeting, "Mithras." A name he knew briefly from both military operations as well as the signature upon the letter received. "You wished a meeting?"

Jahi - imagine the eyes are silver pls until i get home to change them uwu

 
He'd been away for a long while. Days perhaps, the curious feline had been absent his side. The little beast had never been a fan of bloodshed, an ill fitting position in office he held. The savagery of Dunmeath had begun the final stages of suppression. The dogs driven from their lands or dealt with accordingly. Mortals toiled in the fields, rebuilding the damages wrought by the war, or they were delivered to the other settlements. Their tasks were unclear, though he need not have an imagination to know what became or what would become of them.

He would keep the order of the newly claimed land with an iron fist - a necessary evil to avoid further casualty. However, such a cold mind set did not apply to Osmanthus, and his mentality was probably the better for it, he would decide. Using the bond between them, he would track his movements, following his surroundings to judge where it was the little imp was traveling to. Only when it became clear he had no intent on turning back in a timely manner had the warden finally settled upon the option of fetching him.

So it was that his footsteps had brought him to the edge of a small town, one nestled within the evergreens and far from the borders of the civilized world. A true discovery that left a bittersweet nuance within his mouth. A secret he would keep for the time being, having no true motive to expose the small slice of sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. Darkness had long since fallen upon his arrival, and the few faces still out were unapologetically bewildered at his sudden appearance. 'Simply looking for my cat,' he would assure the unease, his reasoning only seeming to stir further unrest. 'A pallid girl, small, delicate looking, with pink eyes. Could you tell me where to find her?' Many were disinclined to submit to his requests, but eventually, one would point him in the direction. Apparently her family was well to do in the community, and it was easy enough to gather the bearings based off the terse directions given.

His approach was announced by the subtle creak of leather and the rattle of Nef's bridle as he dismounted from the steed at the end of the drive leading to the estate. From there, he would pace by foot, finding the windows to be dark and empty, void of movement. It wasn't until he looked through Os's eyes again that he found them, and with a sigh he would round the corner, his vocals low so as to.avoid stirring a commotion. "Forgive me for showing up unannounced - and so late - I was simply looking for Osmanthus." His intonation belied his hint of annoyance, though he would bend into a polite bow of greeting. "I hope you've been keeping well."

Despite the cover and protection of the large shroud that engulfed the continent of Crue Efros, many deigned the light that did manage to slip through abhorrent. Not unbearable, but becoming spoiled in their comforts. So it was that in this time of quiet that he often traveled, unwilling to deal with the attention of those who would gawk and gather - question his motives or where it was he was going. While in truth his movements were not born of anything suspicious, wed to his work, his duty upholding. His superiors had long accepted his distant behavior and had grown to even trust and depend in his aloof cold shoulder. So it was this day that he rode out to check how the situation was continuing in Dunmeath. To ensure there was no building rebellion, and if there was.

He was to crush it.

There would be no flames left to fan the ambitions of freedom. The grasp of the Red Queen would be that of a steel vice - an iron fist that would one day come to encompass the entirety of this world. Perhaps when her victory here was assured they would expand their goals. Maybe he would even gain the chance to set eyes upon his homeland once again. A place that seemed worlds away, like a dream that he could only remember the faintest of impressions of. His mortal life was much the same, before he was stripped of the shuffling coil without choice. A strength he had been confident he could conquer. That he could outlast. That he had failed to quell in the end. Another monster. Before that immoral, carnal thirst his steel edged will and determination had wilted to the softness of a decaying weed.

A movement from the corner of his eyes drew his attention, and he would straighten from where he had knelt near the stream. His mount still continued to drink deeply from the cold, babbling brook. However, Osmanthus's attention had been captured by something. The feline was quick on his feet as he departed the saddle and leapt through the dense underbrush. He followed after, his gait much slower as he allowed the horse to continue its rest. After all, it was best to keep him well maintained on such a long journey in the event that he was needed. His hood remained drawn, a fluctuation of magic allowing him to peer through the inquisitive beryl eyes of the cat as he spied upon the only other trespasser nearby. One he came upon before realizing as his companion turned to peer at him himself. He blinked. Once. Twice. Clearing away the remnants of the connection as the familiar rubbed along his leg. "Greetings."

The power is on, the guillotine hums 
My back's to the wall, go on, let it fall

No matter his hatred of it, the abhorrence which bloomed within his chest, he could not deny the darker parts of what he had become. While he was not secretive of his nature, of the creature he was, he did not indulge in it like many others of his ilk. He did not revel in the shedding of blood, of the visceral warmth that ebbed and flowed with it. No matter the silken delicacy - he loathed it. No matter the necessity and craven madness that came, he refused to be ruled by it once again. To lose himself to that primeval disregard. An incident that had happened all of once before, halted prior and immediately after his change by the cuffs of silver that had marred him. A particularly volatile time within his life, one of the last times as well.

So it had been with measured disregard that he had walked the venues of the traveling merchants. His cold stare masking none of his distaste for their choice of temporary settlement and the unwanted attention and groups that had likewise come with the announcement. However, it did provide those within the encampment a worthwhile distraction besides seeing just how far they could press his patience.

It was on this normal patrol that he came across another, a far enough distance that suspicion was given to the figure. Silver narrowed and watchful as the last shops began to pack up and depart for their caravans for the night. The others thinned, and soon the rebuilt streets were eerily quiet. Silence a thin veneer in days since order had been restored and those who would otherwise resist either captured or executed. A task he painstakingly committed himself to ensure those whos moments were ending were indeed given something akin to honor in their final breaths.

But it was getting to him.
All the blood was beginning to weigh on him.

Distraction was sought as he began to clear the distance between he and the lingering wraith. One who had sought the salvage of the encroaching mists obscuring the burdened heavens. Through distance, there was no telling the identity, but the face remained unrecognized even at his approach. He was younger, and the telling signs of mortality had him tightening his jaw slightly as arms crossed. He remained quiet, his presence seemingly unnoticed as the young man toyed with the dagger in his hand before lifting the patch that he assumed had covered his face - an easily dismissed detail from this angle.

His brow quirked as his attention hinged upon the jar and its contents. Bemusement slowly becoming clarion as he watched the lad raise his weapon, only to hold it there. Hesitance clear. "Well?" He inquired, and in some morbid, macabre sentiment, he had almost wanted to bear witness to the havoc that would undeniably ensue. However, after another glance over him, a slight semblance of recognition lit within his cerebrum - not of the person before him, but the craftmanship of his blade. Thoughtful hum abandoned him, a different perspective taken as he held into account the flaming locks that poured from that crown and an almost dreadful sigh fled him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess, another of Alexandria's?"

The Executioner's Within Me and He Comes Blindfold Ready 
Sword in Hand and Arms So Steady

theodred

No matter his hatred of it, the abhorrence which bloomed within his chest, he could not deny the darker parts of what he had become. While he was not secretive of his nature, of the creature he was, he did not indulge in it like many others of his ilk. He did not revel in the shedding of blood, of the visceral warmth that ebbed and flowed with it. No matter the silken delicacy - he loathed it. No matter the necessity and craven madness that came, he refused to be ruled by it once again. To lose himself to that primeval disregard. An incident that had happened all of once before, halted prior and immediately after his change by the cuffs of silver that had marred him. A particularly volatile time within his life, one of the last times as well.

So it had been with measured disregard that he had walked the venues of the traveling merchants. His cold stare masking none of his distaste for their choice of temporary settlement and the unwanted attention and groups that had likewise come with the announcement. However, it did provide those within the encampment a worthwhile distraction besides seeing just how far they could press his patience.

It was on this normal patrol that he came across another, a far enough distance that suspicion was given to the figure. Silver narrowed and watchful as the last shops began to pack up and depart for their caravans for the night. The others thinned, and soon the rebuilt streets were eerily quiet. Silence a thin veneer in days since order had been restored and those who would otherwise resist either captured or executed. A task he painstakingly committed himself to ensure those whos moments were ending were indeed given something akin to honor in their final breaths.

But it was getting to him.
All the blood was beginning to weigh on him.

Distraction was sought as he began to clear the distance between he and the lingering wraith. One who had sought the salvage of the encroaching mists obscuring the burdened heavens. Through distance, there was no telling the identity, but the face remained unrecognized even at his approach. He was younger, and the telling signs of mortality had him tightening his jaw slightly as arms crossed. He remained quiet, his presence seemingly unnoticed as the young man toyed with the dagger in his hand before lifting the patch that he assumed had covered his face - an easily dismissed detail from this angle.

His brow quirked as his attention hinged upon the jar and its contents. Bemusement slowly becoming clarion as he watched the lad raise his weapon, only to hold it there. Hesitance clear. "Well?" He inquired, and in some morbid, macabre sentiment, he had almost wanted to bear witness to the havoc that would undeniably ensue. However, after another glance over him, a slight semblance of recognition lit within his cerebrum - not of the person before him, but the craftmanship of his blade. Thoughtful hum abandoned him, a different perspective taken as he held into account the flaming locks that poured from that crown and an almost dreadful sigh fled him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess, another of Alexandria's?"

i never thought i'd be a killer cause there's so much to lose
but if i can't drink the water, what else can i do

oraeguno

Theodred

and the zenith calls, i'm standing waiting The Last to Fall Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. In in sollicitudin lorem, id scelerisque enim. Curabitur condimentum accumsan nulla. Vivamus viverra rhoncus arcu eu viverra. Nunc id tellus in massa suscipit ullamcorper. Vestibulum gravida vestibulum ex, in cursus elit congue eu. Quisque malesuada pharetra leo, non pulvinar lectus convallis et. Integer non eleifend risus. Phasellus augue tellus, porttitor eu rhoncus sodales, pulvinar vel risus. Cras vulputate nulla orci, eu iaculis risus consequat ac. Morbi malesuada, dui non congue elementum, arcu purus pretium lorem, ut faucibus lorem ex ac ante. Sed tristique commodo tempor. Nunc aliquet ipsum sit amet libero aliquet, vel gravida metus malesuada. Vivamus nisl nibh, viverra vel turpis at, eleifend aliquam lectus. Maecenas non augue ut libero egestas aliquam. Donec lobortis enim ac mattis tincidunt. Nulla ut luctus elit. Suspendisse porta auctor lobortis. Duis laoreet ornare porta. Aliquam erat volutpat. Vivamus ac iaculis ex. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. In quis ligula in justo eleifend ornare. Vivamus sagittis dictum dictum. Nam tempus iaculis dui non ornare. Suspendisse arcu justo, scelerisque in volutpat vel, tempor id tortor. Donec ac tortor ultrices, convallis nisl sed, ultrices magna. Cras molestie, odio sed sollicitudin varius, nisi libero tempor orci, vel tristique elit massa sed nibh. Aenean ac neque massa. Suspendisse egestas hendrerit felis nec tempor. Ut at laoreet diam, at tincidunt elit. Nunc accumsan non leo eu interdum. Phasellus ut congue mauris. Vestibulum vitae elit vitae arcu vulputate euismod sed eget orci. Pellentesque urna dolor, facilisis ac fermentum eget, bibendum vitae ligula. Donec nunc ante, suscipit quis laoreet non, auctor id orci. Donec tristique vehicula purus nec pulvinar. Duis ullamcorper leo orci, tristique porttitor orci porttitor vitae. Vestibulum varius, metus id imperdiet bibendum, libero enim mattis mauris, ut congue magna lectus nec est. Cras eget justo id arcu tempor condimentum a aliquam nisl. Vivamus arcu nisi, consequat vel urna vitae, facilisis fringilla metus. Etiam consectetur magna nec risus iaculis facilisis. Proin finibus non nibh id rutrum. Aliquam consectetur dolor sed massa posuere, nec dignissim metus consectetur. Curabitur orci tortor, tempor finibus vestibulum ut, consequat sit amet justo. Nulla facilisi. Quisque finibus erat sed dignissim porta. Fusce blandit tincidunt sapien ac dictum. Sed eget condimentum turpis. Phasellus viverra mauris non tincidunt rutrum.

original table concept by tempy❤︎