"Nadat Avatar Roku overleed was de verbindende factor tussen de vier naties verdwenen. Al snel liepen de spanningen op. Vooral water en vuur, van oudsher elkaars tegenpolen, konden steeds minder van elkaar hebben. Het begon klein: Anti-water propaganda in de vuurnatie, een ban op bezoeken van vuurmeesters op de noordpool..."

Welkom op Untold Tales, een Nederlandstalige open-world RPG gebaseerd op de bekende Avatar: The Last Airbender serie. Dit forum speelt zich af in de tijd vlak voor de honderd jarige oorlog, en opent zo een mogelijkheid voor een geheel eigen plot en ontwikkeling van de wereld en diens karakters. Creëer je eigen karakter, sluit je aan bij een van de naties en ontdek deze net iets andere versie van de welbekende, nostalgische wereld van Avatar.



Na wat er zich heeft afgespeeld tussen de Water Tribes en de Fire Nation heeft er een korte periode kalmte geheerst tussen de vier naties. Echter beginnen er zich langzaamaan her en der roddels te verspreiden over een spanning tussen de twee volken. Na wat er zich tussen hen heeft afgespeeld zou dat ook geen verrassing zijn. Toch hadden vele gehoopt dat na deze dramatische gebeurtenissen er een periode zou komen van vrede. Er zijn immers genoeg slachtoffers gevallen tijdens de heerschappij van de vorige Firelord.

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Bericht van Ylva Nephelae op ma apr 23, 2018 8:43 pm

It was endless. The room looked like a mirror house, where the mess -mainly consisting of crumpled up paper and remains of a lunch she had earlier, okay maybe a few more meals- seemed infinitely reflected. Only there were no mirrors and this was Y.A. Nephelae’s writing room. This was where the magic was supposed to happen. Supposed to… Accompanied by the sound of her own sigh, Ylva had looked up from her handwriting for the first time in a few hours. Not because she’d completely lost herself in the story she was creating, but because the creating part of it had stagnated just a little bit. She dropped her pen, cracked about all the joints in her body, and afterwards let her head rest on the tabletop, her red hair spreading out on it like a handheld fan by doing so. The author knew it was pointless to be frustrated at her slow progress; it wouldn’t solve anything, it wouldn’t turn back time or buy her more of it. Besides, how many years had she already put up with herself? She knew her creative process wasn’t something that let itself be forced or tamed in any way. There could be an incredibly fertile day, prior to a week of what felt like hundreds of hours of hard work and zero words on her paper. ‘Quality over quantity’ was something she couldn’t stand to hear. At some point, the fact of the matter was, words had to appear. Turning her face to the side, her eyes came to meet the skin of her hand. See-through, almost. She had to ransack her mind in an attempt to remember when she had last left the house and that skin of hers absorbed some sun. Oh well. It didn’t matter because tonight, she had to. Not that she saw her meetings with Ling Ye as something she ’had to do’, but it made a nice excuse to try and get a vague sense of what the outside felt like again.

The good part about living above the clouds, some would say, was the lack of rain and the ever present, bright sun. However, it was in Ylva’s nature to disapprove of about anything her residence approved of, and the other way around. Her fair skin thought alike and with the least of exposure, a terribly itchy rash appeared all over her arms and neck. Armed with the appliance of her homemade sunscreen -a mixture of shea butter, coconut oil and various herbs- and her fiery hair tied into a loose braid, Ylva took a deep breath, inhaling the thin, mountain air. Her feet made their way over the rocky road, wobbly at first, but slowly more steadily. Until they carried her all the way to where she had agreed to meet up with Ling; at the first bend of the road, near the Temple, but not directly in their sight. It felt more private that way. And a little privacy was needed if you were publically using what was considered ‘violent language’ on this mountain. They were just trying to avoid traumatising innocent passengers. How noble of them. Her lips bent into a grin when she spotted Mr. Zheng himself already waiting for her. They had met through storytelling and hadn’t stopped ever since. Ylva had learnt Ling to write stories and Ling had shown her how to write more neatly and, above all, quickly. She probably wasn’t ready for a job like his, but she appreciated it that her ever buzzing thoughts could now be written down before she lost them again. The two quickly found they had more in common than writing words onto pieces paper: their political point of view. Ling Ye wasn’t your typical, happy-go-lucky Air Nomad, and Ylva took a liking to that. Once more, she found herself in a mirror house when she was with him, but this time for all the right reasons. He was a reflection of her and she had someone she could be herself around. To some extent of course, because the day she would trust someone enough to unleash herself completely, would be the same day she’d set foot anywhere near an air bison: Never in a Million Years. She was stealthy approaching Ling Ye from behind. Ylva knew he had a second gift of hypersensitivity, so she had to stop a few feet away from him if she wanted to surprise him. Her grin widening, she lifted her arms and felt the force of the air connect to the palms of her hands. She then put her foot forward and her arms shot forward, creating a little vortex of air, about half her own size. Her little, signature whirlwind quietly swished around him, and she bent her hands to let it float in front of him. Cue Ylva. ’Miss me?’ she informed with her slightly sinister grin and her hands placed on her hips.

&Ling Ye Zheng

~ Ylva Nephelae ~
nubivagant adjective
Wandering in the clouds; moving through the air.
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Character sheet
Age: 34
Occupation: Author - Nurse
Residence: Northern Air Temple

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