#Orvine

[arytha]

[ID from ALT: A fullbody digital drawing of my OC, Orvine. She is an archangel, curled up in a twisted position with her legs bent towards her chest. Her body curls in on itself, one arm reaching under the other to clutch at her own shoulder. Her head is buried in her shoulder, eyes closed. Her other arm is overextended at the elbow and hanging loosely across both her front and her side. She has two pairs of small wings attached to her head, one set framing her face and the other stretched out. Behind her is her main set of wings, curled around herself to cushion her. She herself is bright white, her wings light grey, and her dress is a pale yellow. A halo circles above her head and her outline is glowing. End ID]

Severance

[magpies-gold]

Anything's An Instrument If You Try Hard Enough -- Orvin and his shovel guitar, lovingly crafted by him and Jacob from bits and bobs in Jacob's junkheap.

Personal headcanon: he's playing Teardrop. The José González version.

[mixamorphosis]

Blog post and linked up tracklist [HERE].

Kinder Scout - Interlude (Home Normal) Charles Bukowski - Go All The Way (Read by Tom O' Bedlam) David Cordero & Miguel Otero - Dolores (Archives) Slow Meadow - We Can Only Love Through Suffering (Hammock Music) Agnes Obel - Stretch Your Eyes (Ambient Acapella) (Late Night Tales) Endless Melancholy - Lost (Hidden Vibes) William Ryan Fritch - VII: In A Sense Of Ether (Lost Tribe Sound) Sven Laux & Daniela Orvin - A Moment Of Silence (Dronarivm) Luke Howard Trio - I Think It's Sinking In (Lukktone) Yumiko Morioka - Moon Road (Métron Records) Owl - Glimpse Of Decline (Silent Season) Steven Kemner - Sleep Well (Facture) Olga Wojciechowska - To Feel Much More Than Now (Self Released) Daniela Orvin - Sudden Farewell (Dronarivm) SiJ - Memories Lost In Time (Hidden Vibes) A Veil Of Water - Frailty (Hidden Vibes) Brambles - To Speak Of Solitude (Serein) Warmth - You're Not Here (Archives) Hania Rani - Today It Came (Gondwana Records) A Winged Victory For The Sullen - All Farewells Are Sudden (Erased Tapes) Walter D Wintle - State Of Mind (Read by Tom O' Bedlam) Adrian Lane - An Occasional Hushed Word (Preserved Sound)

Download available via [HEARTHIS].

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

Just found ur blog randomly and wanted to say that ur blog title is insanely funny to me lmao

HEAAHSHDJAHDJH LMAOOOO

listen sometimes you orv the world and sometimes the world orvs you

[jo2ukes]

logging in to see an update for bg3..... praying they patched the bugged quest in act 3 that i've been putting off bc i want to finish it a specific way sdlkfjsldjf

[zalandercalander]

Keeping myself occupied over the summer

[pirincho]

It's orvin time

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 7

Sinner

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: History

Word count: ~3.1k Warning: Mild NSFW, 18+, m!pleasure

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. (This is for the two kind souls who responded to my ask. It's not much but I tried y'all)

It’s a joke. Staring down at the closed door, Azriel reassured himself. 

Spying on his mate was never his intention. But Raya had stolen Ayla away before he could ask what she meant. If that wasn’t torment enough, he was invited into the bar only in the company of others. So now, like a lurker, he waited for hours on the rooftop of the inn across from Pharus. Azriel was beginning to truly hate the bartender. 

Ayla was his mate. It shouldn’t be a crime to want a moment alone with her, nor should he need to hide in the shadows afraid of her chaperones. From his family to Orvin to Raya, everyone seemed eager to decide his fate with her. Everyone except his mate, who was content playing oblivious to the bond between them.

Patrons walked in and out of Pharus without restriction and anger coiled in his gut. Until he saw her heading towards him—no, her home. She walked the long way back from the smithy, stopping at the warm-lit bakery and offering a pastry to the boy skipping up and down the street who in return handed her something that looked suspiciously like a pebble. 

Azriel knew it was the moment he had been waiting for. Yet, his body refused to move. Even his shadows that called for her day and night fell quiet and clung to his shoulders. Helpless, he watched Ayla round the brick building and disappear through the backdoor. 

The house remained in the dark though a silhouette floated beyond the white veil framing the balcony. It grew darker and darker. . .and collapsed onto the bed. 

A soft chuckle escaped him.

Then, he came around—tanned skin and stark hair and all muscles. Had he entered through the front, he was merely a regular to the bar. But faelight flickered to life upstairs. One silhouette met with the other and they shuffled around together. When they almost merged into one, Azriel turned away. He slumped to the floor and watched the sun slowly descend behind the mountains, then, the sky turn a deep red to violet to black.

Five hours later, the male left in the dead of the night, as tidy and proper as when he had walked in. But it was his satisfied grin that irked Azriel.

.

Though he stayed away from Pharus and the inn and the alley, his shadows didn’t. Until they sought Ayla on their own, he hadn’t known they could split away from him. They had always been a part of him—an extension. Most nights, they returned shortly with a faint buzz and whispered Alone in his ears. On other nights, they stayed with her longer. When they reappeared, they skittered in a corner refusing to come near him, and they were quiet—eerily quiet.

‘Angry with me again?’ he would ask.

The shadows would freeze in the air, tendrils poised high and darkness rippling, enough to send a chill down his spine as if the void glared at him.

‘I warned you,’ he would tease, though deep down, their silence sliced through his heart.

Usually, this ended with them smothering him or abandoning him as he lay awake in bed, wondering if Ayla was truly with someone else.

That night, when his shadows left him again, Azriel pulled a bottle out of the dresser beside his bed. Pale linen squares peeked from under his folded leathers and he slammed the drawer shut. Enclosed within the sachets was a blend of herbs and spices that smelled close to the scent lingering around Ayla. 

Knowing he had traversed the lands and collected each one himself only made him feel pathetic and desperate. Even Rhys didn’t know the reasons for the delay in his last missions.

Azriel took a sip straight from the bottle and let his senses accustom to the horrid taste. 

Since his banning, Uri supplied him with their brew every two weeks, although he wouldn’t admit to guilting the poor male. None of their customers preferred it and the server was thrilled to please the only one who appreciated his craft. It still tasted wretched. But the familiar fragrance took Azriel back to that evening and the memories it held were sweeter.

A glass thumped on the lonely book on top of the dresser, a subtle reminder he wasn’t truly alone. Wariness crawled up his spine. He knew better than anyone what it felt to be watched. Unlike his brothers and Mor, he never preferred the house’s magic. And with its recent sentience, its presence overwhelmed him. It saw everything, it heard everything.

His skin still prickled but the book pulled his attention, its binding simple and unsuspecting. Azriel was very aware of its content. Yet, he picked it up and settled into the bed. As he flipped through the pages, a sigh escaped him.

What started as indulging Nesta to ease her into their circle turned into a monthly ritual. A romance written by a female couldn’t be worse than the drag Cassian cherished. 

But Azriel realised his mistake the day he joined Nesta in the library. While he read her favourite book, her fiery eyes flicked to him at every page turn. Even his shadows sheathing him to cool his skin wasn’t enough to tame his breaths, and Nesta snickered, ‘Having trouble reading?’

Oh, these women had better restraint than him. Thankfully, his friend delighted in these readings alone with her Valkriyes, and his discomfort was not a public spectacle.

However, when he admitted to enjoying the book, her eyes lit up, and her smiles came easy. Thus began their private tradition—Nesta picked a book for them, and once he finished, he listened to her talk about her favourite bits.

Lately, he had been missing more of these conversations, and he hated it. Azriel was failing as a mate; he would, at the least, secure his standing as a good friend.

Crisp air breezed through the windows carrying omens of changing seasons. And with it, crept in his ‘companions’ as Ayla called them. They wavered by the window as if waiting for a sign to leave again.

Despite the dying flames in the fireplace and the cold air, his skin began to warm. Azriel removed his shirt and tossed it across the room. His wings stretched and folded over once as he rolled his shoulders. Bringing his focus back to the book, he leaned against the headboard.

Darkness twitched in the corner of his eyes. Azriel merely took another sip, and they guttered out.

Were his shadows with her again? Would they go too far without him and expose themselves? Would she know, and if she did, would she blame him? Sometimes, he wished he lacked conscience like them. He would seek Ayla without guilt too, no matter what she did, who she did. 

A groan left his lips. Thinking of her was the last thing Azriel wanted to do. Her eyes burning with challenge as she uttered those sinful words. Seven. Ayla was choosing to be with seven males before she accepted him.

Would she though—accept him, or would she discard him after a night’s company?

No. Azriel was her mate, and soon, she would realise it. And this, this was only a game. She was taunting him for leaving after their kiss. She was punishing him for the ones he touched instead of her.

But, Ayla had known about Mor. Maybe, she was punishing him for Mor.

Azriel exhaled deeply and reached for the drink again. The burn numbed his senses and the ache in his chest. He flipped the page, careful of his wandering thoughts as he read the detailed rendering of an. . .intimate exchange. A strange sensation bloomed in the pit of his stomach. 

His eyes were on the page, but his mind trudged behind. With every word, the vision grew clearer and clearer—a male, a female, a whole lot of naked—and he hated the faces he saw. 

Casting the book aside, he took a sharp breath. His fingers traced aimless circles over his heart and they stuck to his skin. Blood pounded in his ears.

A carnal need pulsed between his legs begging him for the one he yearned for. Gods, it was a mess. His mate was fucking another male and his body craved her.

It started as a speck in his chest, the urge, something he could suppress. With each beat of his heart, it rippled and flared through every nerve in his body, demanding to be felt, to be satiated, to be released. A moan escaped his lips, soft and low.

His hand trailed lower and Azriel pressed his fingers into his stomach. Even the pain of his nails clawing into him morphed into pleasure, dark and twisted, coaxing him to give in.

‘Please,’ the word uttered between broken breaths. ‘Not tonight.’ Not when he knew she was with someone else. Not when he knew she wouldn’t be thinking of him.

The gold string of the bond felt like a barbed wire around his heart. Azriel yielded. What was he but a mere man.

As his fingers smoothed over his crotch, his breath caught in his throat. The slightest graze of the fabric against him when he inched his pants low had his hips jerking. He closed his hand over the tip and a shudder coursed through him.

He intended to stop there.

His other hand remained on his chest, where the only connection to her in this world lay. His heart drummed under his fingers, steady and rhythmic, yet, he felt another racing beneath it—an illusion of his mind. Or perhaps the effects of the drink.

Azriel closed his eyes.

Her intense gaze peered back.

She stood at the foot of his bed. In the moonlight, he could see the smooth curves of her body under the shirt that caressed her bare legs as she walked over to his side. She sank beside him, nuzzling against him. A gentle smile curled her lips, as red and swollen as when they fell prey to his own. And her eyes hinted mischief.

There was no escape from the one who haunted him in life and dreams alike.

‘Were you thinking of me?’ She asked, her voice breaking into little laughs. 

Azriel hummed.

His grip tightened as the guilt did around his heart. Ayla was a gift from Mother herself. And he was sullying her existence, reducing her to one of his fantasies. He sucked in a breath.

‘Let me see you,’ she whispered as her eyes made a cautious descent down his body.

He let go with a hiss. ‘Do you see what you do to me?’

She blinked slowly and trailed her fingers down his bare arm, upto his wrist before making her way back up. ‘But isn’t this what you wanted?’ Her lips feathered against his cheek, ‘Touch yourself for me. Properly.’

Azriel obeyed. Pleasure shot through his veins ripping a gasp from his throat as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He rubbed himself slowly, teasing and torturing.

‘You know,’ her breaths echoed in his ear, ‘I dream of you too.’

He chuckled, ‘Liar.’

‘I do,’ she whined looking into his eyes. Moonlight flickered in hers and somehow it deepened her gaze. ‘Did you think I’d forget our kiss?’ She drew closer, stopping a breath away from his lips, ghosting her thumb over them. ‘I think of it every day,’ her voice lilted, ‘and night.’ 

When he leaned in, she turned away, instead nestling against his shoulder. ‘I wait for you, hoping you’d come for me.’

She did. She lingered in the bar often and worked until Raya and Uri took over. She was a masochist like him, longing to relive a moment so gone in the past.

‘And what would you do if I came for you?’ he croaked out. Her fingers moved to his torso carving a path onto his abdomen, so close to where he needed her. The cold breeze raked over his skin, but it was her nails that drew the shiver out of him.

Ayla looked up at him. ‘What do you think?’ She shot a glance at his hand moving steadily along his hardness and smiled. ‘Definitely better than what you’re doing.’

Azriel laughed at her arrogance. Although, he suspected a mere touch from her would be his unravelling. ‘I’m holding back,’ he said, reaching for her face, ‘I want to keep you for a while.’

Her fingers crossed the threshold past his hips and caressed the back of his marred hand while her eyes distracted him from her vicious deeds.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she murmured as her hand closed over his, guiding him. She shifted close, her body pressing against his arm, her leg draping over his. ‘I dreamt of feeling you like this. In my hand, on my lips.’

Azriel pressed his fingers to her mouth, feeling their softness and warmth as they trembled. No, not her lips—delicate as a flower, they were only worthy of kisses and praises, he decided.

Her breaths grew heavy, chasing his own and drowning the crackling of fire. ‘Please.’

It’s she who chose other males over him.

‘You want this?’ Ayla nodded at once. ‘Then why are you with him now?’

A sound escaped her, like a whimper. ‘You know why.’

Azriel hummed. ‘Tell me,’ he taunted still, ‘Is he enough?’

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her words skittered over his skin as she spoke weakly, ‘You know I only want you.’

Even in his dreams, she dodged his questions. Azriel gripped her chin and coaxed her to look at him again. ‘But you’d fuck anyone who walks through your door.’

Ayla laughed, her hand slackening over his. ‘You’re the one allowing it.’

She pulled away. Her shirt no longer tugged against him deliciously, her toe no longer traced his leg, and he no longer felt her heat.

Azriel held a hand out, the one that caressed her face. ‘Come here.’

Ayla shook her head. 

‘I thought you wanted me.’

Her face crumbled and she lurched towards him, her body flush against his again. Azriel sighed. 

‘You know they wouldn’t be the one with me now if you’d just take me.’ Her eyes bore into his, almost pleading. She ripped his hand away and grasped his cock—her smooth, soft skin such contrast to his scarred one.

His head fell back as he gasped a silent moan.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, tearing his attention from the pleasure radiating through him. ‘One night, please,’ she fisted him, deliberate but firm—just enough to take him to the precipice, ‘Let me prove it to you.’

Her heart raced in tandem to his. Her cheeks flushed. Her hair swayed with their mingled breaths and stuck to his skin.

Ayla licked her lips and almost his too. Her eyes fluttered when she spoke, ‘Don’t you—don’t you want me?’

The way her voice cracked broke his heart. Azriel caressed her face and pulled her closer. ‘I do,’ he said, ‘more than anyone in my life. It hurts to be away from you.’

She drew in a quick breath. ‘Then why do you deny me?’ 

Ayla wasn’t twisted like him. She was pure for she touched his skin without perversion and kind for she didn’t judge him for what he’d done. She wouldn’t torment him if she knew the truth of who she was.

Then, why did he stay away?

Before he could find the answer himself, Ayla racked her nails along his length. Azriel sucked a breath through his teeth.

‘You’re a tease,’ she grinned as though she were innocent, ‘making a poor woman wait.’

When she punished him with her grip, he grunted, ‘I’m sure it’s hard for you,’ earning a laugh from her.

Ayla kissed his cheek once, twice, thrice, trailing lower each time. She licked the corner of his lips, ‘You taste good.’ She did it again and under his jaw. ‘You taste this good everywhere?’

‘Gods.’ Azriel laughed, and then groaned as her mouth made its descent down his chest. He pulled her face back to his. ‘I can’t let you do that.’

Guilt flooded him at the sight of her lust-stained face, a travesty of his sinister dreams, dragging him from the pleasure that threatened to consume him.

‘I need you,’ her voice wavered. Azriel shivered. ‘How shall I prove it to you?’

‘No,’ he rasped, brushing his thumb over her cheek. He had even perverted her thoughts. ‘You never have to prove anything to me. When this is over, I’ll make you mine.’

Her movements ceased and her eyes hooded. A sigh left her lips, then a series of whispered yeses. His cock throbbed and she took charge again, stroking him faster and determined. 

‘Let me have this,’ she said, ‘Let me feel you tonight.’

Her hands drove him to the edge but it was her words that destroyed him. Shocks of pleasure went through him, one after the other. 

With their breaths still echoing in his ears, Ayla brought her hand to his chin. Her wet fingers, drenched in his essence, grazed under his lip. ‘Come to me, Az. Isn’t it your turn now?’

Azriel opened his eyes. Pages rustled in the breeze. His shirt lay rumpled on the floor beside the fireplace, with only the embers to hint at the fire long dead. Moonlight bathed his empty room.

His messy hand rested below his chest, where the desire and rush ebbed away, slowly baring him as shame began to corrode him. Once his heart settled, he tried to cleanse the filth residing in him with a cold shower. He knew it wasn’t enough.

Shadows danced outside the window when Azriel returned. He placed the culprit back on the dresser and folded his discarded shirt over the armchair. He picked up the bottle and liquor sloshed at its bottom as he strolled over to the window. He needed to visit Uri soon.

Velaris was a beauty to behold at night. From the mountains, it was more so. Lights glittered in every corner of the city like stars on land—each one a promise of life and future. Right in the middle of it was her house, a smidge somewhere in the vibrant square alive with music and laughter. 

Water dripped down his back, yet heat lingered under his skin. 

A tendril curled over his ear. Alone, it sang while another added, Asleep. Azriel heaved a sigh. Ayla was safe. Satisfied, his shadows draped over his shoulders returning to their home.

He took a sip and a smirk pulled at his lips. ‘Kiss her for me.’

There was stillness for a moment, then, the invisible weight lifted.

What harm could one more sin bring to a sinner?

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

The Vampire | Orvin Yoes | 1960

[twowink]

i loved it when kim dokja said its orvin time and orved all over the place

[arytha]

ok ok i have it i think. i can move to the next step (obssessively making all of these shapes into parts. somehow)

[magpies-gold]

Happy Canada Day from (a decent chunk of) my cast of Space Canucks. We're going to pretend for a hot minute that they actually get along well enough and have a chance to enjoy the best part of the day: explosions!

[dreamingmagi]

While I'm working on Orvin's design, here Yaki for now.

[jo2ukes]

i have to get back into drawing again bc if i don't have art for my bg3 OCs i will DIEEEE

[penguwastaken]

On ‘Danganronpa Togami’ also, I would be of the viewpoint that most of what happened in the present in terms of actual events not merely spoken of was real (unlike the interpretation of certain others) and that the way Borges worked was essentially like a more advanced versions of the vision filters from ‘Black Mirror’, replacing what was seen/heard by Blue Ink with regards to the identities of (some of) the people who were being encountered then being obscured/replaced with others if they seemed to contradict what Blue Ink’s reality (as Byakuya’s biographer) was supposed to be, and what words they were saying. That what can be guaranteed to have been real 100% would be those scenes Borges wouldn’t have had the right context to in order to properly filter it off into something else, like most of the Ultimate Despair encounters, Byakuya calling Junko, the brief Mukuro encounter, Toko showing up and Genocide Jill going into action, etc., as well as any information given by characters in the games (like there being 15 to 108 Togami siblings). One particular fan theory building on this concept that I like being that the real Shinobu who died was the actual decapitator in the island flashbacks, Borges having switched around the identities of the major players in terms of what they did in presenting a facsimile of the past for her to look back upon. And that while the Ultimate Imposter may very well have been one of the many Togami siblings, it didn’t matter anymore to his present goals with Ultimate Despair, the ‘Kazuya’ Orvin made that way basically to see how his original plan might have gone if he hadn’t met Junko. It was a trilogy that seemed to assume one had played the other games/read the other novels, that its readership would understand what certain things would be referring to, even if not explicitly spelled out.

What would be your thoughts on the trilogy?

Ignore everything below, my mind has completely changed (lol). Read my updated review instead.

If you want a very short description of my opinion of Danganronpa Togami, it's basically this image.

I can't help but think that maybe if i read the Kagami Family Saga novels or if there were just better full translations, maybe i would have liked Danganronpa Togami more. But the truth is, I REALLY don't like Danganronpa Togami. It's honestly one of the worst media experiences I've ever had 😭

My biggest gripe is that i hate that any flaw with its storytelling can be exempt by just saying "well actually it was all fake and you don't know what's real and what isn't" because that just makes it worth nothing, if the bad stuff can be exempt then so can the good stuff. And it is HEAVILY implied that a majority of the novel is fake, the themes rely on it, it's the main point of the novel. And if they were real, that would make it actual dogshit and also just noncanon because it would contradict Danganronpa 3 and Zero.

I genuinely can't tell if I really like the twist or if I really hate it because it makes so much sense in retrospect but getting to that point was an actual pain to read, and the implications of it are also so baffling.

There's so much god awful stuff in this book like Kazuya and Suzuhiko, the weird recurring incest stuff, Byakuya's really bad and flanderized characterization, and all the absurd stuff that happens like Sakura projecting herself or the despair novel but it's all dismissed by the "it was all made up" thing which is so awesome but so stupid at the same time. If that twist was in literally any other novel I might like it but it's handled so poorly that I end up despising it.

Basically, I don't like this novel. And while parts of it matter, for the most part it can be easily dismissed because most of it was canonically made up.

I shouldn't have to read a completely separate book series to enjoy this. There was no need for all of the gross and poorly handled incest and sexual abuse stuff. Byakuya's characterization just makes him insufferable and his entire motive and actions is kind of gross. And to top it all off, NONE of it mattered. It's not like V3 where the events had an effect on the people involved or changed something, the book literally just describes it as another weekend in Byakuya's life and it's all forgotten and most of it didn't even happen. I sat through all of that for none of it to even matter. Basically what it results is self nullifying nonsense that means literally nothing as none of the events happened.

I'm sorry if you like this trilogy, I just can't find many positives. I went in thinking that maybe the hate for it was unfounded, I wanted to like it. I mean, I think Danganronpa 3 is great, I found redeeming qualities in Danganronpa S and Ultra Despair Girls. So if anyone can find something to like in an unpopular piece of Danganronpa media, it would be me. And honestly volume 1 wasn't even that bad, I remember thinking that it was kinda dumb but harmless. But my experience with Danganronpa Togami can best be described as a decent into madness. I have a lot of issues with it, but that's just my opinion.

[mamomare]

* TW: This post contains mention of characters who died during pregnancy/childbirth and suicide.

The dawn of a new century brought with it the winds of change. Alfred and his new bride, Anna, forsook the silk trade to move to Henford-on-Bagley to pursue nectar making. The move did not bring the family luck and on her 20th birthday, Anna lost the battle to typhoid and passed. Alone, and on an abandoned farm with almost no funds, Alfred had to work hard to rebuild his home and his family. Eventually, he met the humble Celestina, who was able to give him two heirs before, in 1409, he too was taken from this life. Going into the 1410s, our two main households - the Brookers and the Cliffords- must fight to keep their legacy alive, as there are very few eligble heirs remaining to pass on the family name. Meanwhile, the new families of Shaw and Bigod are blessed with a number of children to carry on the family name. Come 1420, will we still be able to call this the Brooker legacy?

Marriages [4] 1401 - Alfred and Celestina Brooker 1405 - Walter and Colette Clifford 1406 - Philip and Mary Brooker 1409 - Humphrey and Eva Beaufort

Births [10] 1401 - Adelaide Bigod 1403 - Petra Shaw, Leif Brooker 1406 - Adrian Bennet, Jeremiah Bigod, Dorothy Shaw, Marigold Brooker, Wymand Clifford 1407 - Sigrid Clifford 1408 - Wilkin Shaw Deaths [15] 1400 - Edmund Brooker (Dysentery), Fulke Brooker (Influenza), Anne Brooker (Typhoid) 1401 - Emil Bennet (Pneumonia), Solomon Bigod (Dysentery) 1404 - Theobald Brooker (Malaria) 1406 - Fray Bennet (Typhoid), Ricard Shaw (Hypothermia) 1407 - Walter Clifford (Stroke), Marion Brooker (Drowned), Malota Bennet (Diptheria) 1408 - Malyna Clifford (Heart attack), Philip Brooker (Suicide), Mary Brooker (Childbirth) 1409 - Alfred Brooker (Horse injury) * Babies that never were [9]: Aline Brooker, Erika Bennet, Florian Bennet, Edme Bigod, Osric Shaw, Pascal Shaw, Euphemia Brooker, Lothar Brooker, Orvin Brooker Family Tree at 1410

Gameplay

The Brooker Estate (1410)

(Still a work in progress!)