Name:
Nevrians
Home Planet:
Verusian, a planet located in the Andromeda galaxy in another instance of reality. HUMO classifies this instance as Andromeda D-753.
Verusian Atmosphere:
Mostly Argon.
Verusian to Earth years ratio:
1:3
Verusian Distance from Its Sun:
2.08 AU
Typical Lifespan:
100 to 150 Verusian years.
300 to 450 Earth years.
Type of Reproduction:
Sexual
Gestation and Other Notes of Interest:
The Nevrian females give live birth. They gestate for a period of 5 Verusian months (1.25 earth years—Power don’t touch these girls please). They may have 1 to 2 offspring per pregnancy.
Their chordata (similar to elect
Across the multiverse, or rather through it, there is a factor that rarely changes despite the liquid status of every “absolute” intellectual life is recording. Philosophers wager it has to do with a bottom-cap for moral distinction. Humans call this “humanity” but 98 percent of species wouldn't know what a human was if it jumped up and threatened to eat detergent in front of them; so their opinion doesn't really matter, does it? Sociologists hypothesize the constant exists as a base form of institutional organization. Certain groups feel this is the most likely truth, but their agreeable sentiments stem from socio
Walking on Eggshells Pt. 3 by Sasha-Briarwood, literature
Literature
Walking on Eggshells Pt. 3
“Fate is Betwixt the Lines”
Merlin's Tavern wasn't the best up-kept bar in Milling, that was for sure. The weathered sign above the bar's entrance bore down on the three of us as we ventured towards the fantastically mundane building. It was a placard of stars, crescent moons, and ambitious calligraphy originally intended to portray a sense of refined class and mysticism (like it wanted to pretend that there was something more to this place other than rowdiness and a watering-hole fit to sufficiently drown one's troubles) but nowadays customers were left with the rancid taste of lost decadence stifling urbanization all too w
Coming to a conclusion after a silence so profound as the one I have found myself wrapped in all this time is something many would call an "epiphany." They would be completely correct in labeling it such; I hold little dispute in that regard. One could only assume that a man lost in his own thoughts for a period of three years would emerge with such shocking self-reflection it would shake the very nature of his being beyond the core, down to the very fiber of the fabric his entirety is woven from. Surely a man living in a state of meditation for one-thousand-ninety-five days could only escape with secrets truly unknown to the rest of mank