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The World Of Outcasts

Meet The Characters

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Belladonna Half-Elf She could have been true finery, that inextricable union of coin and care, the pinnacle of the Northwest's abilities, but more’s the pity the care didn't come from within; she didn't wear the gowns so much as she permitted them to hang from her body. A shame, she could have been beautiful. A shame that she was beautiful even so. – An Interested Lady

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Kitty Castilla There was a grace to the Castilla people, no less a part of their being than the ears and tails of their aspect—a grace made for silence over shifting sands, for hunting beast and traitor alike, for dancing in the highest halls. A grace made wrong when adorned in a dress pulled from the rag bin. – an interested lady

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Robin Nestia They’d be fools, but the other beasts of Lord Mirri’s making might have tried to hide their beastly features, tired to pass for the hordes of humanity; a Nestia has no such temptation. No way to hide a body of feathers or taloned feet, likewise, there had been no way for him to hide his missing fingers, that had been, after all, the design of a thief’s mark.

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Wyvern Fensmirri The great tail confirmed what her colouring didn’t, yet the dogma alone would have been enough to name her Fensmirri. There was an awful elegance to the violence inherent in magic. Black flames and severed limbs claimed it even as the definition rejected their inclusion. If only she could see what lay in front of her.

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Lane Half-Elf/Dwarf Somebody put coin into this woman, coin, but not care. They must have wanted to create the illusion of a lady, in that, they’d only partially succeeded; those underclothes she so brazenly wore in the open carried it that far. Good forgeries, expensive forgeries, if only she were human, one might not notice the cracks. For all her adornments carried the cuts and silhouettes of a Maker’s Pass lady, they weren’t the work of any personal tailor. Structural stitches played off as embroidery, ruffles tacked on to hide flaws and the skirt’s uneven bottom edge– a sloppy artifact of alterations from its previous owner. If only she were human, such an aggressive change wouldn't have been needed, could have been better hidden, would have been; still, no tailor worth those ladies of the Central Capitol would’ve allowed such errors. There was finery in that coat; that alone was a thing of beauty amongst the fraud, made for nobility, but not, it would seem, made for her. Not unless a tailor enjoyed seeing their work bunched and wrinkled from how she’d rolled the sleeves. Flaws so obvious to a tailor or a lady, perhaps even painfully so to one of those she mimicked, a moot point; it wasn’t a disguise for a lady’s scrutiny, and doubly irrelevant to those she’d been ment to capture– none would remember a thing of her clothes once they glimpsed those too blue eyes.

Explore The World

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Lyrian Map
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Raylor Family Tree

Read The Book

Out now

Of Lofty Outcasts

Is there anything so cruel as a crowd?

Even in a kingdom so hateful as Lyria, you can find those trying for better. But like all lofty treasures, you’ll find you have to search.

 

Is there anything so foul as betrayal?

Far to the north and west, a freedom fighter navigates a razor thin balancing act between hunting for a traitor within her inner circle and the far more esoteric necessities of trust.

 

Is there anything so wicked as love?

Across the kingdom, a priest turned pickpocket bends to a desire she feels no right to follow and makes an altruist’s mission her own. 

 

Is there anything so callous as a cycle?

Beyond love and betrayal, a shadow grows behind two moons.

The cover of “Of Lofty Outcasts”

© 2025 by M.Goldsmith. Powered and secured by Wix

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