|
Writer: Kohi
Date Sun Jan 3 13:58:08 2010
Writer: Kohi
Date Sun Jan 3 13:59:31 2010
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Tue Jan 5 13:15:58 2010
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Maraisal Austinian imm rp religion Scorn
Subject The Holy Father giveth...
Yet another night had come, and Ixi'kweez was again unable find sleep's
embrace. After pacing the grounds of his newly built home in Althainia for
the umpteenth time, he decided it was time to walk elsewhere. Anywhere but
home. Ixi'kweez walked out his front gate and headed north. He had been so
excited when the new house was completed. He immediately sent word to his
Sadora and his young son, Aneiron, informing them of the good news. But as
the weeks and months went bye, Ixi'kweez's excitement began to wane.
Ixi'kweez had not heard from either of them since. He was only now coming
to the realization that his perceived new family home was nothing more than
a reminder of what he had lost, not what he had gained. He had no desire to
enter that home again. It was nothing to him if he were to be alone in it.
His walk northward brought him into city of Shalonesti. The only home he
knew before moving with his family to Althainia. The home where he had
served as Senator for years. When he had moved to Althainia, he had every
intention of returning, once the dark kingdom of Abaddon was dealt with.
However, Ixi'kweez knew full well that the laws of Shalonesti would forbid
him to aid any of the Light, meaning dwarves. There was no way the the
Shalonesti would allow him to carry out the Holy Father's work in this
capacity. And to break this law in Shalonesti is treasonable. It seemed to
Ixi'kweez that returning to his home was out of his grasp, as was his
family.
Ixi'kweez continued through the city without stopping, finding himself in
the foothills to the west of Shalonesti. He sat down and craned his head
towards the sky.
"The Holy Father giveth, and the Holy Father taketh away."
Ixi'kweez continued to watch the clouds for several minutes, allowing
himself to clear his head. He accepted the fact that things do not always
work out as planned. It was time to concentrate on what he had at that
moment. He had his God. He had his Church. He had his health. And he had
a job to do. With that, Ixi'kweez dusted himself off and prepared himself
to collect items for his stores, a quiet prayer on his lips.
"Holy Father, I thank you for this glorious day. May we make the most of
it. In Your name, I pray."
Writer: Murdux
Date Tue Jan 5 14:38:25 2010
Writer: Murdux
Date Tue Jan 5 15:55:45 2010
Writer: Murdux
Date Tue Jan 5 17:17:15 2010
Writer: Bernadette
Date Tue Jan 5 22:04:22 2010
Writer: Bernadette
Date Tue Jan 5 22:37:46 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Jan 5 23:41:15 2010
Writer: Ernestus
Date Wed Jan 6 02:32:50 2010
Writer: Stromgard
Date Wed Jan 6 12:16:59 2010
To All Immortal RP Thaxanos Wargar Justice Knighthood
Subject The Fall of Hollow's Deep
The rumblings had been attributed to a disturbed nest of purple worms.
Foul things, constantly tunnelling beneath the surface of Algoron. When the
survey team broke through into their nesting chamber four had been lost
before anyone could even fall back and seal the hole. For weeks afterwards
they were overactive, the young worms moving out of the nest into the
surrounding tunnels long before they should have and their mother, an
ancient horror, actively seeking for those who had disturbed her nest. Or
so we thought.
When the rumblings began to feel stronger closer to Hollow's Deep the
elders called a council to consider the problem. There were voices on the
council who suggested that the rumblings were other than the worms but they
were not seriously considered. Hollow's Deep had stood for three
generations without a twitch, the work of master tunnelers, craftsmen, and
city-builders. How arrogant they were.
As the cavern roof broke free I looked on from my forge high along the
southern wall. Time seemed to stop as in almost one entire piece the roof
fell onto the city. The impact knocked me off my feet, and almost sent me
off the edge but I was spared by the grace of Nadrik. The forge anvil fell
off its stone base and landed on my arm. Half the ledge broke away and I
would have tumbled to my death if not for that. My scream of pain was lost
in the deafening noise of the destruction of Hollow's Deep.
That wasn't the end though, it got much worse. The impact caused a fissure
in the bedrock beneath the city. Something... Wrong... Came through.
Some sort of mist creature. It took awhile for hearing to return but those
who had survived so far on the cavern's floor could be heard screaming.
Between the screams a sick and horrible gibbering could be heard in the
darkness. Chasing them. Hunting them. Ferreting them out from beneath
piles of rock. Devouring them.
I tried to lift the anvil off my arm but it was impossible. I had no
leverage and the pain of trying to pull my arm out threatened to knock me
out. I looked around and found my forge-hammer within reach of my foot. It
took some effort and I think I did black out at one point but I managed to
finally pull the hammer close enough that I could grab it. Using the
shatterpoint I loosened and dug away the soil of the ledge along one side of
the anvil until it shifted enough for me to pull my arm free.
The screams from the cavern floor below had become more and more
infrequent, almost dropping off completely as they moved closer to the
southern wall. At the edge of my vision I could see the heat-form of a
gigantic cloud coming up the cavern wall towards me. I crawled backwards
into my forge-room trying to get away as it flowed steadily closer. It was
impossibly huge. It blocked the entrance completely and began to roll into
the room like a cloud of smoke. When it reached the anvil a brilliant flash
of white light exploded from the inset symbol of Nadrik and the creature was
pushed back over the ledge and into the cavern.
I ran. Eventually I came to the surface near Thaxanos whom we traded with
and through. I traveled into the mountain. My arm was tended to by priests
of Cliath and I sent a runner with word of the fall of Hollow's Deep. My
shield-brothers All but decimated, my clanhold in ruins, after two hundred
and sixty five years...
It is time to begin anew.
Writer: Xelin
Date Wed Jan 6 16:02:31 2010
Writer: Betha
Date Wed Jan 6 22:24:46 2010
Writer: Annemari
Date Thu Jan 7 00:49:06 2010
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom
Subject When dreamers awaken
"You killed our daughter." He accused, his voice harsh and low, sharp
with his anger. Annemari held herself carefully still as he pulled away
from her and took a few swift, silent steps to the door. She opened her
mouth to protest, to cry a denial at his retreating back, but though her
mouth worked, no sound came out. She felt herself unraveling.
"You're just like the rest. You couldn't bear to be judged." He continued
after a pause to take in her silence. He was also utterly still and his
shoulders were a barrier between them. He looked poised to flee or attack.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
There were tears forming in her eyes, which she suppressed out of long habit
- the barriers she normally maintained against everyone else rushing in
immediately to fill the void that his presence had once filled. She felt
betrayed, unable to grasp for a few moments the magnitude of his accusation.
She didn't want him to turn and see her tears. She wanted him to turn and
to see them. Would he read sorrow or guilt?
She had feared this reaction in the nights that followed their daugther's
death. Unable to find him, she fretted as she recovered. She had almost
not told him at all. Yet even seeing this possibility, she had no defense
against it. She had never in her life desired to be more wrong than on this
night. She felt a flash of anger. How could he?
She had wanted the child. Had loved her fiercely - All the more for who and
what her father was, and what the child could be. She had been terrified,
much too alone, but that had not stopped her from wanting and loving the
child.
"No-" she rasped quietly, the affectionate diminutive of his name on the tip
of her tongue before she clamped her lips shut on the sound. Guilt washed
over her in the wake of the confusion and the hurt. Was he not right, after
all? Was this death not the punishment for what she had done, for what she
had dared? If she had not fought for his heart, there would have been no
child. No death between them.
He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her voice. His lips pursed, as
if to say something, but at her continued silence, they twisted into a
bitter sneer. He snarled something, low and growling, under his breath.
Stooping, he caught hold of his boots before he pulled open the door with
more force than was necessary. It swung wide and he strode out, his heavy,
angry steps a discordant counter to the soft, sweet melody of the
nightingale floor beneath his feet.
The door to her room continued to swing on the momentum of its opening,
shutting at last with a loud click, blocking the sound of his exit.
Annemari let go the breath she had been holding and watched the door until
her eyes began to blur with the tears she could no longer hold back. They
fell freely, rolling down her cheeks as she accepted that he would not
return.
Annemari lay back on the bed, letting the sobs rack her body as she curled
onto her side and pulled a pillow into her embrace. Pressing her face into
the pillow, she muffled her cries. Misery and guilt lay heavy upon her.
Words of accusation, failure, and self-loathing thrummed in her head with
every throbbing beat of her heart.
There was a soft tap at the door, though Annemari did not hear it, before
the door swung silently open. Elly paused in the doorway no longer than the
few seconds it took for her eyes to sweep over Annemari's form, crumpled on
the bed. Leaving the door ajar, Elly approached the bedside quickly,
forsaking her usual grace.
"My little 'Marialana," she murmured quietly as she sat on the bed and
gathered the younger woman into her arms. She began to sing a soft lullaby,
her hand stroking rhythmically over Annemari's hair, as she had done nearly
every night since the child had come far, far too early. It had died before
it even had a chance at life. Annemari wordlessly abandoned the pillow and
clung to Elly, crying brokenly until she fell into an exhausted, fitful
sleep.
Writer: Xelin
Date Fri Jan 8 02:06:04 2010
Writer: Annemari
Date Fri Jan 8 10:01:45 2010
Writer: Annemari
Date Fri Jan 8 10:01:51 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sat Jan 9 19:12:12 2010
Writer: Xelin
Date Sat Jan 9 23:43:36 2010
Writer: Rochford
Date Sat Jan 9 23:56:24 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Lanival RP Necrucifer
Subject Romancing the Stone I
The Southern Square was riddled with the daily commerce that frequently
made it's way through the heart of the city, creating a breeding ground for
thieves, beggers, and thugs-- Rochford had fit in perfectly. He sat humbled
on the corner of Sabre Street and the Square wearing the worn dirty clothes
of a vagrant that reeked of old garbage and urine.
He watched every face that walked by from beneath his large stained hood,
studying them and looking for anyone out of the ordinary but more than that,
he was looking for her and he brooded over what he would do when he found
her. Would he walk up and tap her on the shoulder? Stab her in the back?
Would he lead her to a closed room where an ambush awaited? Or would he
bluntly tell her exactly why he had been sent. He toiled over and over on
these questions and it ate at him like a disease.
A wave of pain came over him and his head began to throb as it usually did
nearly every waking moment of his life but this was worse than usual, this
was one of those bad waves. He winced terribly and reached up to clutch at
the temples of his head and subconsciously rocked back and forth gently.
Rochford whispered under his breath as he rocked:
My life for you... My life for you... My life for you...
It was then when the Voice appeared again. He had returned.
I CHOOSE YOU.
FIND HER, FIND IT AND RETRIEVE IT. ANY MEANS NECESSARY. DO NOT FAIL ME.
The words echoed in his mind over and over again as he rocked back and
forth, clutching at his hooded head in immeasurable pain for a time that
seemed endless, broken only by the clank of a silver coin falling to the
donation bowl at the ground beside him. Like a switch in his h head, he
became enraged, using the pain to fuel him as it often did, to push him to
focus when it mattered most.
His large wiley eyes, hidden by the dark and soiled hood around them, began
to scan the streets once more.
I will find you.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sun Jan 10 00:11:38 2010
Writer: Annemari
Date Sun Jan 10 00:27:52 2010
Writer: Kaikias
Date Sun Jan 10 08:25:01 2010
Writer: Xelin
Date Sun Jan 10 23:17:03 2010
Writer: Sivaster
Date Mon Jan 11 12:45:13 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Liviya ( RP )
Subject Black Ice
Sounds drifted aimlessly. Some distant and others seeming to be within
reach.
Sivaster wondered how it was possible he remained alive. One moment he
was searching the frozen wastelands of Icewall and next he was trapped under
a sea of ice.
What seemed like years had passed in a blur of consciousness and
unconsciousness. Finally he had mustered the strength to give some
sign of his imprisonment. He closed his eyes, communing silently
with his Master. In one abrupt motion, Sivaster sent an arcing blast
of black holy flame shooting into the skies of Icewall in the shape of
Necrucifer's symbol.
And then the darkness of unconsciousness slipped over him again...
Writer: Annemari
Date Mon Jan 11 15:11:44 2010
Writer: Liviya
Date Mon Jan 11 17:35:19 2010
To Sivaster Shadow Verminasia Leandre Leonela All ( Necrucifer religion rp )
Subject Heart of Ice
The message came as Liviya was readying herself for her
daily devotionals at the Altar of Darkness, in the form
of a whisper on the wind from an adept- an intelligent
but timid young woman whose name escaped the Deacon- at
the Cathedral of Ice.
They had been on a retreat when they had seen the Master's
symbol in the sky and rushed to find its source, she had
said. They had found the priest there, entombed in ice and
floating, the strands of his hair freed from their usual
thong and stretching out to encircle his head with a black
halo.
'What shall we do with your husband, Deacon Taba?' the
adept inquired.
'I will arrange for his transport home. Do not attempt to
thaw him. I'd hate to see his internal organs come to harm.,'
she answered. She made quick, though not sloppy or half-
hearted, work of her devotions then returned, with the help
of a hellstone and a bloodless hound, to her home.
There, she called her servants to action. Halymirra would
take the girls out to New Thalos for the day. A bed would be
moved from the servants' quarters to the shrine, and a small
fire would be build there to provide gradual warmth. The
household physicians would have 'round-the-clock shifts to
see to his care.
These orders given, she traveled via gate to IceWall to
claim him. With the help of the adepts, she arranged him onto
a litter and moved him through another gate to her home,
where the servants set about placing him in the makeshift
infirmary.
Liviya descended the staircase. 'Leave us,' she commanded
the retinue of help, and they obliged without hesitation or
protest. She went first to the obsidian altar and placed a
black-flame candle upon it while speaking a prayer.
She went then to Sivaster's bedside and knelt there, taking
his frozen hand into her icy one. Then, giving it a gentle
squeeze, she said to him, 'If you live through this, my love,
you are indeed a dead man.'
Writer: Khamisin
Date Tue Jan 12 11:57:15 2010
Writer: Ayriel
Date Tue Jan 12 22:29:21 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Jan 12 23:11:29 2010
Writer: Halidais
Date Wed Jan 13 20:31:20 2010
Writer: Halidais
Date Wed Jan 13 21:03:00 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Thu Jan 14 15:15:15 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Fri Jan 15 10:00:33 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 14:49:33 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 14:53:12 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 14:56:15 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 15:00:49 2010
Writer: Blaithyn
Date Fri Jan 15 17:40:15 2010
Writer: Tzabo
Date Fri Jan 15 21:49:37 2010
To All Darkonin
Subject Second Husband, Gregar
Sitting amongst her horde of many goblins ons and suitors, Auntie Wort
growled and leered amongst her children and harem to stay quiet so she
could speak. Her knuckles were raw and red from leaning forward on
them, getting as close as she could to the gaggle of goblins so the
point would get across. Only when she brought out her trusty shears
did they slowly widdle to fearful silence.
Her shears have enjoyed as long as a term as Auntie Wort did. When Auntie
was looked down on, the shears would find a way to restore order. When
her treasures were being stolen, the shears reminded them All who held
the reins.
This time, Auntie had a different idea as to how to go about punishing
her men. And not just any goblin man, but her second husband Gregar.
Auntie Wort was notorious in the woods west of Althainia for killing
her sons and men who grew to be taller than her, returning them to rot.
Gregar was summoned before Auntie Wort to present to her the ring she
had asked for two days ago. A simple golden band for her ringfinger.
The goblin husband slinked out of his band of brothers and sons and
held out a shaking hand, revealing a simple silver band. A silver band.
This made Auntie's eyes glaze with fury..
"Gregar, Auntie asked for a gold band. Why are you bringing back this
less lustrous trinket?" asked Auntie Wort
"Found woman Auntie described. Not gold ring, silver ring. Auntie's
eyes going bad, huh." responded Gregar with almost empowered confidence
Auntie Wort stood at her full height and stared at Gregar intensely.
Compared to Auntie Wort, Gregar was a midget. He stood at three feet off
the ground compared to Auntie's four and a half. Her husband shivered
and took a step back, tripping over a root and falling to the ground
under her gaze.
But, a glint of gold..? A golden wedding band fell out of his pocket and
onto the ground for All to see. There were gasps and shrieks of terror
as the goblins slowly started piecing together what sort of crime Gregar
committed besides mouthing off to Auntie. He tried to steal the ring
Auntie had asked for.
"Not only do you insult Auntie, telling Auntie eye sight going bad, but
you steal? Auntie not wasting time with you anymore, Gregar. You fail
family." seethed Auntie Wort as she lunged a long and snaky arm out
and grabbed him by the throat and dragged him closer to her
Gregar squealed with terror as Auntie Wort's hand darted at his neck
and applied a little pressure as she pulled him towards her. He had not
expected a goblin Auntie who looked so sickly and old to have so much
strength. He began to thrash about wildly, clawing at her wrist and
forearm in an attempt to flee. This only heightened Auntie Wort's fury.
She wasn't punishing Gregar because she was completely angry with him
after all.
Auntie Wort lifted Gregar off the ground and smashed his head into a
nearby tree, not even moving from the patch of ground she stood up from.
She repeatedly clubbed him against the thick pine until she could no
longer hear his frantic pleas for forgiveness, and then lifted him
upside down to stare at him with her large, wide and glassy eyes.
His neck was broken, that much was for sure. His eyes were swollen and
his nose was almost indistinguishable from the rest of his face and
bloody cheekbones. Auntie hissed with fury and began to bite off each
of his fingers and toes one by one, relishing in each moan her former
husband made as she did so. She would not waste using her shears on
such a lowly example of a husband.
When she was done with Gregar's fingers and toes, she tossed him into
the group of sons and men and everyone watched in silence as Gregar
slowly died of bloodloss, with the only noise being Auntie's heavy
breathing and spitting noises as she spit out his digits.
(Cont.)
Writer: Tzabo
Date Fri Jan 15 21:50:46 2010
To All Darkonin
Subject Second Husbang, Gregar (Cont.)
"Remember Gregar, sons and suitors. Auntie shows no animosity to you,
Auntie did this to Gregar because Auntie loved him." said Auntie Wort
as she regained her composure
She sat down, reached into the crowd and picked up one of her youngest
sons and tapped his nose with the tips of each of her free hand's
digits and smiled gently.
"Auntie loves you, children. Remember that everything she does, she
does for you."
Writer: Tzabo
Date Fri Jan 15 21:59:39 2010
To All Darkonin
Subject Killing Small Animals
It was a serene and quiet moonlit night in the forests west of
the city of Althainia. No sound assaulted the chilled air aside
from the drip-drops of evening moisture colliding against leaves
and the delicate chirping of crickets.
Just below the canopy, a screeching owl broke the silence and
howled loudly until coming to a stop on a branch not far from
where it began causing the ruckus.
"Yes, yes. A few more creepings.." muttered Auntie Wort to herself
as she inched slowly towards the owl, descending from an above
branch with foot movements matching the water drops of nearby
leaves
She reached out a long and snaky arm above the owl's head just as
the owl turned it's head in a 180 degree spin to see Tzabo's large
and glassy green eyes staring at it. Fleeing would only make the
owl tired before it died, but it wasn't going to give up its life
that easily. It unfolded its wings just as Auntie Wort grabbed its
head and with one jerking motion, she rattled the owl's neck until
it was broken and limp.
"Perfect, most pleasing. Wonderful new decoration for Auntie's
talisman." she said in self-praise as she gouged its eyes out with
her claws and added the fresh owl head to the rest of the grizzly
trophies around her neck
Auntie Tzabo Agne Wormwort enjoyed hunting owls in the middle of
the night. It was maybe the most relaxing and romantic thing she
could think of doing in the middle of the night, killing small
animals under the soft glow of an eerie moon.
Owls have always fascinated Tzabo. The way their heads moved, how
frightened and eerie their eyes looked and how silently they could
snatch a small rodent from the forest floor. One could say that the
owl taught Auntie how to kill their own kind, but she didn't do it
just for fun. She believed wearing these bird's skulls gave her
power, and made her intimidating.
More importantly, her sons and suitors were scared of her partly
because of her owl skull charms. They made her seem fierce and scary,
but Auntie Tzabo chose men who could scare easily because they were
easy to keep a leash on. Less sons and suitors meant less treasures,
and Auntie Wort couldn't get enough of shiny metals and gems.
Tonight was a good night.
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 22:34:31 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 22:34:47 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 22:34:55 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Fri Jan 15 22:35:06 2010
Writer: Kraxul
Date Sat Jan 16 16:11:23 2010
To All Thaxanos ( Kyri Imm RP )
Subject Problems sleeping...
The melodious sound of a snoring dwarf echoes around the cavern walls,
when suddenly a sharp snort, followed by a heavy sigh, marks the end of the
beautiful nasal music. Kraxul groans, and says "Nah agin!" . Wide awake,
he gets out of bed and wanders out of his home, looking toward the surface.
Seeing only darkness, he mutters, "Ano'er sleepless night. Onlae been
asleep an hour er two. Nah sense fighten et now." Kraxul dresses, and
grabbing his pack full of pickaxes, he heads out to the mines. After
spending several hours in the hills south of Moria, Kraxul begins to slip
into a sort of a trance. This happens from time to time while mining, as
mining is so soothing to the soul of a dwarf, it slips the mind into a sort
of meditative state. After a while, his pickaxe came down on something
quite a bit harder than the adamant ore he had been mining. "Wot tha...
Wull this ain't Moria. I musta been wanderin about while I were minin.
Gods! I bae on a path ta certain death ef I donna get some sleep." Looking
around at his unfamiliar surroundings, Kraxul called upon Raije to send him
home to Thaxanos. Emptying his hoard of ore into his vault, he wondered
aloud, "Wha' will b'come o' mae ef I canna get a decent night's rest?" .
He was still wondering this as he lay down to try again for a few hours of
sleep.
Writer: Khamisin
Date Sat Jan 16 18:36:16 2010
Writer: Kraxul
Date Sat Jan 16 23:29:03 2010
To All Thaxanos ( Kyri Imm RP )
Subject To find a sleep remedy...
"Grawkle frap! Flurggabrok! Ixitard!" The insanely drunken miner
staggered from one wall to another before crashing into stack of empty kegs.
Too drunk to stand up, he simply lay there, contemplating his surroundings.
Kraxul stroked his beard as he tried in vain to construct a coherent
thought. He flailed around a bit, scattering kegs and pieces of kegs around
the room before deciding to change tactics. Finally, with one mighty heave,
he righted himself. Feeling the call of nature, or perhaps the call of used
ale wanting to be released from his body, he made his way to what he
considered to be a proper place to relieve himself. "Ahhh, tha frishin
feelsh betta", he managed to utter somewhat coherently before reaching to
re-fasten his pants. Kraxul was surprised to realize that his pants already
were fastened, and quite wet. "Ahhh, shonofanelf!" He muttered before
falling backwards and passing out.
He awoke with a start, a short time later. "Ahhh, Elf droppings!" He
cursed, while trying to stand up and failing due to his absurdly drunken
state. "ah nah even bae 'alf sober yet, anoder damn hour o' sleep! RAIJE!
I canna survive on such a pittance o' sleep mae lord! When I bae sober
anuff ta member who tole mae this'd werk ah'ma gonna wring 'is neck!"
Later that morning, a wearily sobering Kraxul stumbled into the hearth and
collapsed on a slab. He slept for an hour and a half, then woke for awhile,
grumbling about bad luck. Rubbing his weary eyes, he extracted from his
pocket a list of remedies he compiled while discussing his problem with
others of the mountain. For lack of a writing instrument, he used a
coal-crusted fingernail to cross off the first item on the list, which
simply read "Git tu smashed ta stand." Kraxul rolled over and stared at the
ceiling for nearly an hour before grabbing his pickaxes and heading for the
mines.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sun Jan 17 10:08:38 2010
Writer: Kallistos
Date Sun Jan 17 13:48:09 2010
To Crelius Shadow All
Subject Lesson
Your father will be proud of you. Now take the blade.
He had been training in the lobby for several hours. Sweat creased his brow
as he stared up at the older man above him. His face was set into granite.
He had faced eleven summers of this, and he detested it, but he chose not to
permit himself to speak.
'I, ' he began quietly. 'I do not wish to. '
What you want and what I want are two different things. Pick up your
weapon, welp.
Kallistos stared into the elder's eyes for a pause that was longer than a
minute. He turned and grasped the scimitar on the lobby desk, wrist
crushing it to his hand. The blade's hilt was silver with an intricate
design that implied great wealth. He turned his gaze slightly to face the
man. He could not see the man's eyes clearly. His own eyes were a pale hue
of malachite, and yet, they possessed the piercing, almost haunting quality
of his father.
'Now what. ' Cold.
Kill her.
'I won't. '
You will, if you're deserving of the Atennim name, of the generations that
came before you. You will if you want to earn that name. '
His face did not change. He gazed at the man with indifference. There was
no reply. He could not see the man's face underneath the hood. This
exercise would be fruitless. He dropped the scimitar abruptly before
turning and beginning to step out of the hotel lobby. The man came after
him, grabbing the boy by the arm and slamming his head against the wall. He
did this repeatedly, over and over, until Kallistos was bleeding. His hair
was wet with blood.
Now will you do it?
He gurgled slightly, spitting blood at the floor, not directing it at the
man for fear of being further beaten.
He gave no response.
The man seemed to nod approvingly, quietly. He watched the boy for an
eternity. Then he shifted his stance, walked slowly over to the woman, and
giving one last pause, cut the rope that bound her.
Passed your lesson. Never kill without motive. Forget the Fatalites,
bloody damned idiots.
Kallistos wiped the blood from his chin. He was not pleased with himself so
much as grudgingly accepting of the future that he would endure. He did not
reply, but turned and left the lobby. He stepped out into the starless
night, the wind biting at his injured face. He began the walk to his
estate, abandoned years ago by whoever had inhabited it before him. The man
did not chase after him. His lesson was done for the day. He would come
get him when it was time.
As he passed the pews of the church, heading northward on to the road, he
wondered briefly what the purpose of it was. But he did not question. Some
were fortunate to know who they were from the beginning. Since he was not,
he would wait.
Writer: Verenian
Date Sun Jan 17 18:48:06 2010
Writer: Verenian
Date Sun Jan 17 20:49:35 2010
Writer: Jonathen
Date Mon Jan 18 08:24:35 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Mon Jan 18 23:53:53 2010
Writer: Liviya
Date Tue Jan 19 03:40:32 2010
Writer: Pae'lan
Date Tue Jan 19 07:09:08 2010
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Tue Jan 19 07:30:58 2010
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Tue Jan 19 07:44:51 2010
Writer: Fhaeeus
Date Tue Jan 19 08:55:57 2010
To All Pettri Dostya
Subject Growing Pains - Gift Day (i)
The sun hadn't even risen and yet something, someone, was tugging at his fur.
'Wake up! Wake up!' the voices didn't sound terribly commanding and yet their
intention was clear. Fhaeeus slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Dostya and
Pettri tugging at him, their faces lit up with excitement. It occurred then, to
him, how strange it was that these children were not afraid of him. Fhaeeus was
a massive Yinn. Large amongst his own kin, he stood several lengths taller than
a grown human male and had a slightly broader, more muscular build.
The children weren't even half grown and so the disparity and height was only
multiplied and yet they showed no fear as they poked at the sleeping dragon as
it were. He didn't even have to use magic, with little effort he could end them.
And yet, Fhaeeus realized, that those thoughts never occurred to him. Even
when the children were being painfully tiresome, even when Fhaeeus would have
been pushed past his own high tolerance levels by others, such thoughts never
occurred to him when the children were the cause.
Fhaeeus sighed and closed his eyes again, this only brought about a more
frenzied reaction in their excitement. Someone, probably Dostya, began to tug
at his ears, 'Puppyman, wake up!'
Another someone began to push at his body as it lay there upon the floor mat.
Likely it was Pettri, who had some surprising strength for his size, but he
would make no progress in moving Fhaeeus. A low growl built in his throat, an
easy thing for him to do, a natural reaction of frustration and one that both
children had quickly learned to adhere to. The pushing, pulling, tugging and
exclaiming stopped.
Fhaeeus opened his eyes again and found himself looking directly into the wide-
eyed gaze of Dostya. She did not appear frightened, at least not as she should
have been, but there was a healthy respect for his power. Rolling over, Fhaeeus
caught a glimpse of Pettri, who turned to more fully face him. His expression
was much the same as that of his twin sister. Both of them remained silent.
'What is All of this about? ...and how did you get in my room?'
Neither child seemed to want to be the first one to speak, but eventually it
was Pettri who spoke first, perhaps driven by Fhaeeus' hard stare, 'It... it's
gift day, you didn't forget?'
Sighing and closing his eyes, Fhaeeus brought his paw up to the bridge between
his eyes and rubbed. He shook his head, 'No, I haven't forgotten. Give me a
minute please, not inside my room. I don't know how you managed to get in, but
I will find out and I will fix it.' When he opened his eyes again he noticed
that Dostya and Pettri were both scurrying to leave the room as requested, and
both bore expressions that contained faint traces of their earlier excitement.
The blanket was removed quickly, pushed off to the end of the mat as Fhaeeus
stood. He opened his mouth, exposing long rows of vicious teeth, and yawned.
His limbs worked themselves to reach in vague, distant directions as he
stretched. He had, in fact, prepared quite well for what would be his first
gift day celebration, but sleep had come and delightfully removed the stress of
preparing from his thoughts. Drawing a large pair of red robes, tailored just
for him, about his body, Fhaeeus took in a calming breath and descended the
stairs of his tower.
Writer: Fhaeeus
Date Tue Jan 19 08:57:08 2010
To All Pettri Dostya
Subject Growing Pains - Gift Day (ii)
In the corner of the floor-level room of the tower were stacked a large number
of gifts. Perhaps he was spoiling the children. A renowned transmuter, former
Wizard, he was quite wealthy and had forgone his usual conservativeness in
regards to that wealth. He had spent quite a bit, more than he should have. In
hindsight he told himself that he had been irrational and that it had cost him
much. But events like Gift Day weren't about rational thinking, were they?
Fhaeeus thought about it, and, in truth, such events focused on the emotional
as opposed to the rational.
Much of Fhaeeus' outlook in regards to the children had become emotional as
opposed to rational. It was beginning to bother him, for he was a creature of
reason. He was a creature of logic and systematic, objective thinking. Many of
his decisions in regards to Dostya and Pettri had been more akin to guesses and
abstract theory than to actual fact and solidity. And so it had been with Gift
Day. As he looked for gifts that might be fitting, he continued to buy them
until he realized that he had an overabundance of gifts that he thought both
children might like.
Finally prepared, Fhaeeus descended through the levels of the Tower to the
first floor. The quiet halls of the library were clear of any mess he had made
when, secretly, he had wrapped the children's gifts so that they might remain a
surprise until the time in which they were supposed to be open. Fhaeeus
struggled with tying the paper around the presents. He ripped it many times,
watched his knots come loose and became generally frustrated with the ordeal.
But, somehow or another, All the gifts had been wrapped and thus cleverly
disguised in a homogenous fashion.
Below the library was a lab of alchemical equipment. He currently had a project
ongoing involving the properties of a potion which was to make the imbiber into
alterable form for a short time. Various vials and flasks bubbled and frothed
away, being required to sit or settle for some number of hours (or days) before
moving on to the next step. For the most part, however, the lab was empty, he
had been busy preparing for gift day and the experiments had slowed down for a
time.
Finally Fhaeeus reached the bottom level, arriving to see Dostya kneeling in
front of the gifts, and Pettri sorting through them as they were labeled.
Though, as they had been instructed, neither of them had so much as made a tear
in the wrapping of a single gift. Fhaeeus moved over to a floating cushion and
sat down on it, nodding towards Dostya who had turned her attention to him as
he entered.
'Pettri!' she said and her brother looked up, spotting Fhaeeus.
'You may open your first gifts' Fhaeeus said simply, and with his usual,
indifferent tone of voice. However, Fhaeeus was All but indifferent to the
ensuing events. He was slightly anxious, wondering if the children would enjoy
his gifts. A part of him wanted the children to be happy, to be satisfied, even
if only for a little while.
Everything had been rough at first. Fhaeeus had thrust himself into the most
awkward of situations, unsure if he would be able to properly father two
children, two human children at that. But Pettri and Dostya weren't ordinary
human children. They were children of magic, future students of magic. Still,
there was something else that existed there as well, beyond the relationship a
mentor might have with his student. Fhaeeus felt an affection for the children,
and a regard that ran much deeper than anything he had known. He cared about
them more than he had cared about anything else in his life, magic included.
Writer: Maraisal
Date Tue Jan 19 10:04:04 2010
Writer: Halidais
Date Tue Jan 19 13:24:46 2010
Writer: Xuerin
Date Tue Jan 19 20:02:28 2010
Writer: Khemes
Date Tue Jan 19 22:24:51 2010
Writer: Verdemar
Date Thu Jan 21 01:35:35 2010
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Thu Jan 21 05:45:34 2010
Writer: Xuerin
Date Thu Jan 21 19:24:00 2010
Writer: Rochford
Date Thu Jan 21 19:51:38 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Lanival RP Imm Necrucifer
Subject Romancing the Stone II
He waited a short distance from the gates to her Estate, watching for any
sign of life that came to and from, including the great cathedral that rose
up not far to the north.
Rochford toiled as he watched with a thousand different thoughts racing
through his mind All at once. Was she inside? Was she even in the city
still? Was the intelligence he received accurate? These and many more like
them were the questions that kept him up day and night, searching through
large bloodshot eyes that were unsettling to even the most deranged.
His recent encounters with the Knights left him heavily bruised and wounded
but the fears of flesh and bone would not be enough to take him away from
the task at hand. It was far too important and when the Voice once again
returned, it responded to the bruises on his face simply and without
hesitation: "IT IS ONLY FLESH BUT YOUR SOUL BELONGS TO ME, THEY CANNOT HAVE
YOU. "
The words, ""DO NOT FAIL ME", repeated themselves over and over again in his
ear, like a whisper doomed to rest upon his shoulders and possess the weight
of a thousand souls whom came before and failed, urging him to press on, to
never give up, and reminding him of those three familiar words:
"ANY MEANS NECESSARY. "
The time of watching has come to an end. It was now time to act.
Writer: Rochford
Date Thu Jan 21 19:53:03 2010
Writer: Kotone
Date Fri Jan 22 06:54:47 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Fri Jan 22 11:12:05 2010
Writer: Arimar
Date Fri Jan 22 12:31:38 2010
Writer: Laebyn
Date Fri Jan 22 12:50:48 2010
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Fri Jan 22 12:52:52 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Fri Jan 22 14:36:56 2010
Writer: Jadess
Date Sat Jan 23 07:12:53 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sat Jan 23 11:39:27 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sat Jan 23 11:40:58 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sat Jan 23 20:36:57 2010
Writer: Rassilon
Date Sun Jan 24 03:34:47 2010
To All Knighthood Althainia Gray_Church Austinian Immortal (Storyline)
Subject |Lotus Reflection - Creation Day|
The history of the world was said to begin with the Divine Triad, the
Heavenly Emperor, the Great Librarian, and the Dark Damiyo. They and their
great Houses came together and brought Order to Chaos, form to formlessness,
and thus did Algoron and the Multiverse come into being. The ground and the
sky and the waters All took form, a world for the mortals to live in and
grow.
On this Creation Day, Rassilon Shiroken lit a single stick of incense before
the altar and intoned a prayer to Austinian for his role in the creation of
the world, thankful for the Gift of Algoron they All shared.
Then the Gods created their chosen races, and Kwainin and Zandreya gave form
to the Humans, whose short lives burned brightest in the darkness. Whose
skill lay in any field and profession. Whose prominence on Algoron was due
to tenacity and indomitable spirit.
On this Creation Day, Rassilon Shiroken lit a second stick of incense before
the altar and intoned a prayer to Kwainin, thankful for the existence of the
Human Race of which he was a member.
Centuries ago as mortals measured time, an order arose from the ancient
nation of Serpantol, a cadre of warriors dedicated to All things good and
true in this world. Though the ages had changed, one constant remained, a
beacon of hope and light, the Knighthood of Gareth's Keep. And the brave
men and women who made up its ranks.
On this Creation Day, Rassilon Shiroken lit a third stick of incense before
the altar and intoned a prayer to the Holy Trinity, thankful for the
Knighthood that guarded the helpless and innocent.
His hands clasped before him, he lowered his head in prayer as the three
sticks of incense continued to burn, filling the air with a warm, powerful
scent. A year had come and gone from the world of Algoron. Now was a time
of great beginnings. Two of his family had join him on the mainland. He
was making progress towards the rank of Lance Knight. The family shrine in
Arkane had been finished. And much more was still in the works or just
beginning. He intended to be ready.
"A New Year Awaits," he intoned solemnly, as the incense burned low.
Writer: Coriander
Date Sun Jan 24 23:10:55 2010
Writer: Pae'lan
Date Mon Jan 25 08:34:37 2010
Writer: Pae'lan
Date Mon Jan 25 08:36:55 2010
Writer: Frug
Date Tue Jan 26 08:16:19 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Jan 26 10:15:32 2010
Writer: Daygan
Date Tue Jan 26 10:24:15 2010
Writer: Huguette
Date Tue Jan 26 10:40:11 2010
Writer: Falef
Date Tue Jan 26 12:14:54 2010
Writer: Rao'nael
Date Tue Jan 26 16:55:33 2010
Writer: Maraisal
Date Tue Jan 26 20:20:38 2010
Writer: Maraisal
Date Tue Jan 26 20:25:14 2010
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Tue Jan 26 20:45:14 2010
Writer: Xuerin
Date Tue Jan 26 20:50:42 2010
Writer: Xuerin
Date Tue Jan 26 21:01:42 2010
Writer: Excellias
Date Tue Jan 26 21:03:01 2010
Writer: Cedany
Date Wed Jan 27 00:51:28 2010
Writer: Halidais
Date Wed Jan 27 01:15:46 2010
Writer: Halidais
Date Wed Jan 27 01:20:00 2010
Writer: Aenruyhn
Date Wed Jan 27 02:13:36 2010
Writer: Prrerenth
Date Wed Jan 27 08:58:29 2010
Writer: Prrerenth
Date Wed Jan 27 10:21:30 2010
Writer: Maraisal
Date Wed Jan 27 13:43:23 2010
Writer: Maraisal
Date Wed Jan 27 13:43:27 2010
Writer: Kotone
Date Wed Jan 27 13:46:49 2010
Writer: Maraisal
Date Wed Jan 27 16:07:48 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Wed Jan 27 21:54:47 2010
Writer: Sivaster
Date Wed Jan 27 23:19:05 2010
To Liviya All ( Necrucifer Religion Imm RP )
Subject Burning Desire
Sivaster lay unmoving on the bed placed in the shrine in his home. He stared at the ceiling
as attendants ran about, checking on him from time to time. The pain continued to course through
his body. In the late hours of the night, his screams filled the shrine as he tried in vain to move
from his bed. Attendants brought him news of the outside world. He longed to return to the churches
of the Master. It wasn't like him to sit idle. His patience was wearing thin.
There was little he could do in his state. So he prayed. Prayed day in and out. Even if he could
never walk again, he begged in his prayers to even have no feeling at all. As long as he could
return to the only work that mattered in his life. Time was running out and he would not allow
himself to sit and do nothing.
Writer: Jadess
Date Thu Jan 28 01:06:15 2010
Writer: Beydalar
Date Thu Jan 28 05:58:32 2010
Writer: Ytteri
Date Thu Jan 28 06:39:43 2010
Writer: Ytteri
Date Thu Jan 28 06:41:24 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Thu Jan 28 09:28:59 2010
Writer: Salainn
Date Thu Jan 28 15:58:22 2010
Writer: Salainn
Date Thu Jan 28 15:59:51 2010
Writer: Lanival
Date Thu Jan 28 20:04:05 2010
Writer: Arimar
Date Thu Jan 28 22:00:51 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Fri Jan 29 02:27:44 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Fri Jan 29 02:33:00 2010
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Fri Jan 29 08:28:18 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Fri Jan 29 10:16:02 2010
Writer: Aisiniath
Date Fri Jan 29 13:08:04 2010
Writer: Aisiniath
Date Fri Jan 29 13:08:08 2010
Writer: Aisiniath
Date Fri Jan 29 13:08:13 2010
Writer: Stefani
Date Fri Jan 29 16:50:16 2010
Writer: Halidais
Date Fri Jan 29 19:42:14 2010
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Fri Jan 29 23:07:19 2010
To All Althainia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Austinian Zandreya imm Scorn rp religion Gwynn
Subject Turned Away (pt. 1)
Ixi'kweez quietly opened the gate to his home in Althainia and trudged
into the house. Tossing his packs on the floor, he took a seat on the couch
in front of the hearth. One would think that he would have found a bit of
comfort getting home, considering the ordeal he had just been through.
He had been dreading this day for some time now. Many from the Vallens had
regularly asked him whether he would return and when. His answer was always
"Once the effort against Abaddon was concluded, I will then return home."
However, much has changed in the world since Ixi'kweez left the Vallens.
Repeated calls from messengers of the gods and even the gods themselves were
heard by Ixi'kweez the other priests of the Light. It was time for the
Light to unify, and that task could not be completed so long as there was
fighting from within. Ixi'kweez made it a point to aid anyone of the Light,
regardless of their race, dwarves included.
And this is what he said to Speaker Rao'nael. Ixi'kweez left the decision
up to him on what to do, for such actions, though respectable, are anathema
and treasonable in the Vallens.
The Speaker saw fit to cast out, or in the Speaker's words, set free,
Ixi'kweez from his home. His titles and nobility were stripped from him,
and with no better plan, he returned home.
Home. Home implies a family lives within. The reality was, he hadn't so
much as heard from his wife since before it was even commissioned. His son
Aneiron made an appearance once in a great while, and has in the meantime
grown up, and begun his own life.
Ixi'kweez stood up and took a stroll about this 'home' of his. This house
wasn't for him. It never was. The gate, the garden,, the hearth, the pond.
It meant nothing.
His face took on a purplish hue as a sudden welling up of anger took him.
In a flash of rage, he reached for the crowbar in his pack, and started
walking.
"This bed! *smashing* Means nothing! This couch! *wood snapping*
Useless!" Ixi'kweez was whipped into a total frenzy, seeing only red.
"What good has a home gotten me! *glass shattering* What good has any of
this gotten me!? Holy Father! I've done everything You told me too! Why
is this happening!?! *door smashing*"
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Fri Jan 29 23:47:56 2010
To All Althainia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Austinian Zandreya imm Scorn rp religion Gwynn
Subject Turned Away (pt 2)
Dragging what was left of his front door behind him, Ixi'kweez continued
his rampage as it spilled into the courtyard. Practically cleaving a bench
in two with the shattered stump, Ixi'kweez caught a glimpse of the garden in
front of him, and ran towards it, a frantic look upon his face.
"What have All my efforts gotten me? This place and my life are a momunent
to emptiness!" Ixi'kweez summoned a column of flame from the sky, setting
the entire garden ablaze. Black smoke began to fill the courtyard, as his
eyes began to tear up, only partly because of the fire. He continued to
smash and uproot his way around the garden, cutting and burning himself in
the process, though that did not register with Ixi'kweez at the time.
From the corner of his eye, Ixi'kweez could see that the fire had in fact
spread to the roof of his 'home'. Still, he continued his rampage. In a
matter of moments, the fire had completely encircled him, and only then did
Ixi'kweez cease his tirade and look at the destruction and flames All around
him, and sat down upon the ground.
"So be it." He said to himself, perfectly content with allowing the fire
to consume him and send him to oblivion.
He sat there and looked about at his burning estate. Ixi'kweez noticed in
particular the reflection of the flames off the pond, causing a light show
amidst the backdrop of the surrounding cypress trees. He turned around and
gazed upon the statue of Austinian Ixi'kweez had erected in the middle of
the burning garden, its hands outstretched.
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Jan 30 00:17:11 2010
To All Althainia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Austinian Zandreya imm Scorn rp religion Gwynn
Subject Turned Away (pt 3)
The flames crept closer to Ixi'kweez, yet he could not bring himself to
take his gaze off of Austinian's statue. He inwardly fought with himself
for several minutes. Finally, Ixi'kweez stood up and screamed a desperate
wail of frustration. With that, he summoned a tornado, quickly
extinguishing the fires around him. Everything about him was charred and
covered in a fine black soot.
He walked up to the statue and stared upwards at it. He noticed that oddly
enough, the statue was still as white as it had ever been. It stood before
him as it always had, its arms outstretched in a compassionate manner.
For many moments, Ixi'kweez said nothing at all. There was really nothing
-to- say. Austinian was well aware of what goes on with His children. And
what good would saying it do now, anyway? There - was- no home. There
-was- no family. Now, there was just Ixi'kweez, and this statue, amidst a
world of char and ash. Finally, he did speak, as he gazed up dejectedly at
the statue of the Holy Father, which continued look down on him.
"My title is gone. My nobility is gone. My family is gone. This home is
gone. My dream of returning to the Vallens is gone." Ixi'kweez became
silent once again, as he gazed upon His Lord's likeness.
"You have my undivided attention."
Ixi'kweez slowly turned on his heel and made his way towards the gate. Just
as quickly, he turned around and addressed the statue once more.
"You have my undivided attention. But, this night. -This- night is mine!"
And with that, he stormed out and made his way back into the city.
Writer: Eva
Date Sat Jan 30 01:20:13 2010
Writer: Madilyn
Date Sat Jan 30 16:10:25 2010
To All Abaddon Sereb Fatale Immortal RP
Subject The Plot Thickens (Part I)
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
Madilyn's father had instilled this bit of wisdom into her long ago, but
when she'd become a Fatalite, the importance of His tenet "Death is patient,
as should his servants be" gave the words of wit a whole new meaning. It
was a phrase she repeated over and over to herself as she attempted to
quietly pad through the forest, eyes peeled for the plant she was searching
for.
Nearly four months pregnant, now, Madilyn's speed had fallen by the wayside
as her body compensated for its new guest. Her agility had taken a
startling hit, often making her feel clumsy and awkward when she was used to
precision and efficiency in her movements. Sereb had caught her off guard
by by sneaking up behind her to kiss her upon the cheek not too long ago,
then teased her that she was getting sloppy; usually it was something she'd
have sensed well in advance. Although his words implied no insult, she had
found herself irritated. It was more than disconcerting to be unable used
her skills as an assassin effectively, but more so because the changes were
upon her so quickly. She'd scarcely had the time to adjust to it.
Madilyn was, however, far from unprotected or incompetent. In fact, she
relished the chance at proving herself able to transcend limitations and
revenge itself was the perfect motivator to prove it. There was more than
one way to skin a cat, to use another turn of phrase, and she intended to
make use of whatever would get the job done.
First, she'd used the Caste, the guild most adept at gathering intelligence
for Abaddon, to pinpoint anyone that could definitively tell her what she
needed to know. Their search had pointed to a small village on Icewall,
herders and farmers mostly, quietly making a living on selling their wool
and meat to points of interest that would pay good coin for them.
The rest she'd coax out on her own. It would be impossibility for them to
have traded with so many folks in larger kingdoms and cities without taking
away some nugget of information she could use - even if they were as yet
unaware they'd gained it at all.
Plucking the last leaf from a nearby bush, Madilyn closed her herb pouch and
headed back toward Abaddon.
Writer: Madilyn
Date Sat Jan 30 16:19:51 2010
To All Abaddon Sereb Fatale Immortal RP
Subject The Plot Thickens (Part II)
Hours later, the Dark Elf rolled up her sleeves and then carefully
perched herself on a high chair in the morgue, setting her various bottles
and vials carefully within reach. A huge stone mortar and pestle sat before
her, its wide basin stained with proof of its use over the years. Carefully
applying a pair of gloves, she set to her task.
Madilyn began first with the rosary pea, carefully prying open the dark
brown pod to release the red berries inside. One should do it; the
poisonous oil was what she was looking for, and a single seed could easily
kill All but the most large and brawny of species. To be safe, she mashed
four, grinding and adding water enough to make the whole mess into a deadly
liquid.
When she was satisfied with the mixture, she carefully dipped in the end of
a piece of cheese and carefully laid it upon the floor near a crack in the
wall. She waited.
It didn't take long for one of the plentiful rats about Abaddon to scurry in
for a meal, nabbing the treat and dragging it under a table in the far
corner of the room. As its large rodent teeth began gnawing, moments later
the creature begin to gag and choke. Within less than two minutes total, it
had dropped dead with half the cheese still gripped in its claws and blood
pouring from its eyes, mouth and nose.
Perfect.
Madilyn portioned out the poison into vials before tucking them away into a
case specifically for the transportation of such things; designed to keep
the glass from breaking if jostled or dropped. With a wry smirk she softly
whistled as she began the process of cleaning up her mess and gathering her
equipment for a good scrubbing.
When she was doing getting the answer she sought, there would be no one to
tell the tale she'd been there at all.
Writer: Rawat
Date Sat Jan 30 17:26:52 2010
Writer: Glynnis
Date Sat Jan 30 19:11:23 2010
Writer: Glynnis
Date Sat Jan 30 19:13:19 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sat Jan 30 20:25:07 2010
Writer: Ceridwynn
Date Sat Jan 30 21:13:47 2010
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom ( Zandreya Imm Religion RP )
Subject Flowing Water
Her decision had been made hastily, and perhaps in mild anger. She had
almost forgotten to raise a single spell as she rushed from the clan hall.
Her steps were swift, taking her to Althainia as quickly as possible. The
trip was made without incident, but the closer she got to the old warehouse,
the more her heart pounded. The old man must have known the look in her
eyes. Without one word between them, it was done, and the magics of the
world placed her within Althainia's temple.
She stood, her heart pounding and her body slowly beginning to tremble as
mild panic swept in. It was done and there was no turning back from her
decision. She had left Shalonesti. She had no idea when she would return
to her homeland, if she ever would. Yet that seemed to matter little.
There was a much more important matter that she had to see to. One of faith
and of love.
The boat ride to Arkane was not swift enough for her liking, nor to the
comfort of her already unstable body. Her stomach churned and she ignored
it along with the swimming of her head and her vision which seemed to fade
in and out. The first moment she could leap from the ship, she did, her
pace almost a run as she headed toward Arkane. Toward the child of Zandreya
that needed her the most at that moment. To the heart she was so
desperately trying not to lose forever.
When she finally reached the temple of Arkane, he smiled at her wanly, a
sigh pouring past his lips. Her voice came out unsteadily, choked by the
lingering panic and the fear that yet again her words would mean nothing.
Fear that she would be unable to focus on what he truly needed, which was
one of Her priests, not a woman.
Somehow.. I will show you that not everyone in this world is against you,
Kaelowyth.
All too many are though. All too many.
His words came with the same wan smile, a light shake of his head, and the
increased pounding of her heart. She scolded herself firmly and swore she
would not cry. She was a priest, this was her duty to speak to All Her
children in their time of need. So she swallowed and ignored the
distraction of the temple, asking him to speak with her and allow her to
understand him.
He stood and together they moved to a quiet place to converse. His story
was familiar to her, and, she realized, filled with much misunderstanding.
Pride of some individuals, confusion from others, and still more refusing to
listen or to accept helpful criticism. Placement of self before Her and Her
will. She frowned while she listened, unable to honestly understand how
things had gone so badly. She ended up rising to pace, biting on her
thumbnail as she had done as a little girl when she needed to think
carefully.
I have been praying to Her each night... And I still can feel Her in all
that I do... But I worry, I worry that when it comes down to it, She will
withdraw from me.
Always have faith in Her, Kaelowyth, and She will stay with you. Her ways
are many, from elves to dwarves, kender to ogre. We are many and diverse,
and She loves each of us, so long as we do not forget that we are Her
children. Your path is strange to many and some strike out in anger that
comes from fear or the imaginings of betrayal, but I know what it is you are
doing.. You have my blessings, if not Her's personally.
As he walked away, retiring to his rest, she prayed fervently that she had
done the right thing. She prayed that Zandreya would go to Him, or give her
a message to help guide him along his path. She prayed that her family
would understand, that she, herself, might one day understand. All she knew
was that she had work to do and she was not going to get it done within the
groves of Shalonesti.
Like the great rivers in a spring flood, the damn she had built for herself
had finally been washed away and the cleansing waters were refreshing her
soul. She would be as that water, and she would flow from land to land,
spreading Her word.
Writer: Rawat
Date Sat Jan 30 23:07:02 2010
Writer: Liviya
Date Sun Jan 31 00:21:06 2010
To Verminasia Sivaster All ( especially Zayin ) ( imm RP religion Necrucifer )
Subject Verminasian Prison Blues
Liviya had never been a criminal before, unless one counted certain
exaggerated charges from Althainia, who failed to realize that beggars
were far more valuable for their individual parts than they were as
a whole.
She had certainly never been imprisoned, and she had initially been
determined to get the most from the experience. Thus far, she had
eaten a rat, yelled creative obscenities at the guard- most of which
she had learned in the Reapers-, and tried (unsuccessfully) to barter
her boot to her father for an extra piece of bread. She had briefly
considered using her eyebrow pencil and a holy flame to tattoo the
words 'Property of Fisty' onto her body, but it had seemed like
overkill, not to mention that she could not write properly on her own
backside and was not about to ask her father for assistance.
Once she had tired of enjoying the convict experience, she had instead
set about attempting to convert the heretics in the surrounding cells.
The one next door had raved at great length about Taliena until
Liviya had shown him that love was useless and happiness was dead,
along with All of his childhood heroes.
There were periodic voices in her head to break up the monotony, and
her request for parchment had been granted, so she took a fair amount
of time writing out sermon outlines as well as further avenues of
research in regards to a cure for Sivaster. But by the end of the
first week, even she had begun to become stir-crazy from spending
all of her time staring at the same four walls, with the exception
of the brief moments when she was taken into the isolation room to
be interrogated.
Something had to be done, and soon.
Writer: Jonathen
Date Sun Jan 31 09:03:36 2010
Writer: Elrei
Date Sun Jan 31 11:25:14 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sun Jan 31 13:30:01 2010
Writer: Beydalar
Date Sun Jan 31 14:23:32 2010
To Shadow Necrucifer All ( Imm Religion )
Subject One Drop
I stand in the sanctuary. The cool smoothness of the stone radiates out
to me. I open my mouth, nothing. The words of the prayer I had prepared
last night lost in a throat that has closed with wrenching emotion. I take
a step forwards. My leg is shaking. I take a deep breath, steady myself.
It is hard to breath, the walls are closing in, enveloping me. I have to
get out of here, I have to leave, I have to run away and escape into the sun
and then...
No. I take another step. Feel the drops of icy hot sweat form on my neck.
It is not too late, there are other options, I'm sure everyone would
understand. This isn't normal, this isn't what normal people do, dedicate
themselves to changing the world, I don't need to do this, there are others
who will hear the call. Everything will be All right...
No. I take another step. My hand is shaking I grasp the hilt of a dagger
to steady myself. That is what I tell my other hand. At any rate, is this
really necessary? Do I need to be this theatrical about it? Oaths are just
words, nothing more nothing less, no god would really care that much about
it better to forget All about it better to leave this place and find a nice
house a nice girl to settle down with raise some...
No. I take another step. I am at the foot of the steps up to the alter.
My knees give out. It's because I'm weak. I'll never be able to live up to
these standards, I'll just be a burden on everyone, no one wants me here
anyway. I should get out of the way let them get on with it the work will
get done it will get done faster sooner better if I just LEFT!!!
I spill a single drop of blood and my whole essence onto the step.
Clarity falls into my mind like a stone into a pond.
I am yours, God, to do with as you will.
Writer: Liviya
Date Sun Jan 31 21:04:30 2010
To Sivaster Bellyra Leandre Leonela Verminasia Shadow Necrucifer All ( imm RP religon )
Subject Venom (Part One)
It was infuriating, frankly, how inspirations were most often hiding in
plain sight. When her hand had cramped from writing on her parchment
and the people in the neighboring cells had stopped screaming, there
was nothing to do but wait out the night, or at least what she assumed
was the night, as there was no outside light apparent from the palace
dungeon.
Up in the dark corner of the room, a spider sat upon its web, waiting
for a fly or mosquito to be ensnared by its trap. Liviya had watched it
idly since the start of her imprisonment, seeing it wait in infinite
patience until a meal came along and, as part of its death throes,
destroyed the web the spider so diligently wove.
Yet in All of her watching, she had not actually seen the creature. She
had not let it stir up memories, being again a mere passive observer,
completely unaware that the associations her mind would make if she
would simply allow it to wander a bit could actually help her quite a
lot.
In her mind, she could remember the girl. Pretty, dark brown ringlets
were plastered to her forehead by the sudden surge of sweat. Her face
held the pallor of death while her lips and eyes were puffy with venom
as she laid rigid on the floor of the sleeping quarters. Her twin
sister was there, the same ringlets piled high in an up-do that
elongated her face All the more as she dropped her jaw and released
a blood-chilling scream. Liviya watched, detached, as spasms shot
through the girl's muscles.
It was an ugly and pitiful death, a sheer accident, soon forgotten amid
the surprisingly high number of murders and unexplained demises that
had riddled the finishing school that year.
There had been a lengthy lesson, in her days as a cleric, on the topic
of various venoms, their effects, and their cures. And there had also
been a quizzical footnote that she had filed away in her memory, never
to be used again, or so she thought.
She tore a corner from a tattered old parchment on which some Gunner at
some point had drawn his requisite map of the Nocturne, and dipping her
quill in ink by the faint light of the candles outside the cell, she
wrote a quick note to Sivaster.
I have an idea for a cure.
Writer: Verdemar
Date Sun Jan 31 21:12:58 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Arimar Suzanne ( Imms RP )
Subject Ithersea: History, Vol. 1 "A Beginning"
Arkania's grasslands had always been a point of dispute between farmers.
At first, some claimed it for themselves, and then others would come to
wrest it away from those men.
This was, of course, before civilized -- that is to say, open -- warfare
broke in Algoron. Before Arkane, or Verminasia. When men settled their
differences with cold steel in a mailed fist, or with poisoned blades in
dark bedrooms.
For several centuries, these grasslands remained disputed, fought over for
so long that no mortal man could remember who had first laid claim.
Out of these ragtag farmers, a coalition grew. They decided amongst
themselves (not entirely willingly) that the coalition would speak for them,
would be their Justice, so to speak.
When the first councils met, the men weren't entirely sure how to divvy up
the lands, so they decreed it thus:
"Each of you with a rightful claim is to start walking at sunrise. If and
when you fall over, or the sun has set, you will know the end to your lands.
"
And so, the current counties of Ithersea: Aruul, Dracan, Iavaz, and Vathaug.
Each month, these four counties would send a caravan of goods and monetary
value to Thrydfe -- the "capital" of Ithersea, to appease the coalition.
For several decades, there was peace.
During what became later known as the bloodiest event in Ithersea's history,
four hundred men and women, styling themselves the "Reavers" poured into the
lands claimed by these petty farmers. With no standing army to boast of,
the Reavers laid waste to the farmlands, slaughtering the men and women
living there.
They had plans. The Reavers set themselves up in Thrydfe, using coinage
from what had been the coalition's coffers.
The Reavers hired stonemasons, erecting a sinister, blackstone wall around
their city. They laid in wait, capping their new wall with the vestigial
remains of the citizens they had butchered.
This small band of Reavers was nomadic. They kept to their horses, and had
chosen Ithersea for its "Seas of Grass."
They were unmatched in equine husbandry. For nearly a century they bred
their horses from Thrydfe, using the black-walled city as a fortress. Once
a month, they rode out in search of a sacrifice -- blood to appease their
gods. The bodies of these sacrifices, they fed to their horses, for
strength. The heads they mounted on their wall.
On one such venture, five reavers stole into a developing city, snatched
children from the beds of high-walled manses throughout, and fled. When the
noblemen and women of Verminasia discovered the violation, they followed the
trail the reavers had left to their lands: Thrydfe.
The scouts of Verminasia did nothing on their own. They surveyed the city
calmly, coolly gathering information before returning with their grim first
report:
"We've found the location of these nighttime raiders. We've discovered the
reasons they desired the children. Every five feet of their unholy wall,
the head of a child has been staked as a gruesome display of affrontery to
the moral sense of our Gods. "
This, of course, meant war.
Writer: Verdemar
Date Sun Jan 31 21:23:34 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Arimar Suzanne ( Imms RP )
Subject Ithersea: History, Vol. 2 "War"
In the years since the Reavers had first taken hold of Thrydfe -- in
Vathaug -- they had spread, creating a mockery of civilization with their
horsehide yurts.
They created sprawling tent-cities of thousands as more and more of their
tribes made their way to the soft plains of Ithersea and settled there.
So it was Aruul. The Verminasians struck hard, sturdy Nordmaarian horses
running down the tent-complexes without trouble. They dragged the tents
behind them, leaving carnage in their wake.
When the Reavers were able to respond, it was already too late their horse
lines had been cut, and dogs had been set loose amongst them, scattering the
spooked steeds.
It happened this way for several of the Reaver "towns," and discontent began
to spread. Who is it, they wondered, who would invite this wrath down upon
us? When no answer could be discerned, they turned to their general.
Kalvos Rask'het was named for the War God of the Reavers, and was believed
to be an avatar of the very same. His men followed him blindly, offering
opinions where they were wanted, and fighting to the death when it wasn't.
He was a genius with a blade in his hand, a god on horseback. The legends
and mythos surrounding the Reaver general who conquered the Seas of Green
are without rival. Here, we will stick with what we know to be fact:
His first battle was at the age of twelve. He took twelve heads and was
hailed as a hero. His first love was at thirteen, and when he found his
lover in bed with another man, Kalvos slew him, swearing off men forever.
At the age of seventeen, he took a bride and sired an heir when he was
twenty-three, he took the ceremonial sword from his father, taking charge of
his tribe. When he was thirty, Kalvos took Ithersea, and was crowned
Warchief of the Reavers.
Kalvos called the Reavers from Dracan and Iavaz. He recalled them to
Vathaug, where they were ordered to harry and harangue the incoming
Verminasians until the men of Vathaug could decimate them. He intended to
allow one of every ten soldiers to survive the attack -- the better to
spread word of his dominion.
His plans couldn't have gone worse.
Where Kalvos had been expecting the Verminasians to continue their
lightning-strike techniques, they did not acquiesce.
Kalvos was one of the first to fall in that last battle. Boulders flew from
the sky, crushing the Reaver soldiers and scattering their encampment,
shattering the backbone of their fearsome army.
The nomadic Reavers fled, deserting Thrydfe to a man. Truth be told, no one
really knows WHAT became of these fearsome warriors. Some claim that their
remains formed the base of the Marauders army, whilst others claim that they
live on today, in abandoned pockets of wilderness throughout Algoron,
preying on unsuspecting travelers.
The Verminasians basked in the glory of a hard-won victory. Their
destruction of the Reavers had taken a decade, but their lands had become
prosperous. Steady need for supplies had driven prices up, and there was a
surplus of gold in the market. This war had been exactly what Verminasia
had needed. The country boomed, seeing an influx of citizens.
By and large, however, they ignored the bloodied lands they'd taken from the
Reavers, leaving it to rot and ruin for eighteen years before a man came to
the King with a request.
As he spoke, the man's attendants dumped two overfull sacks of gold upon the
stone floor. He was asked to continue.
The man asked to be granted the vacant lands of Ithersea, and a stable of a
dozen horses. He promised to make the lands thrive in service to
Verminasia, and with each of his requests, the attendants tossed down two
more sacks.
Musing was not this King's strong suit, and he was quick to jump at the
man's offer.
Time dims the names of heroes and villains long deceased, and so neither
this King nor his Court thought anything of granting lands to the newly
appointed Viscount Rask'het, the third of his name.
Writer: Verdemar
Date Sun Jan 31 21:26:14 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Arimar Suzanne ( Imms RP )
Subject Ithersea: History, Vol. 3 "Prosperity"
Under the Viscount Rask'het, Ithersea prospered.
This is the simplest way to put it. Their horses became the backbone of the
Verminasian Deathwatch's cavalry, while their ships -- not to mention their
seamen -- went unrivalled.
The new Viscount seemed to be putting things where they belonged. And with
a yearly... Donation to the King, His Grace didn't bother the Viscount at
all.
It was a time of peace for an oft-troubled land. Elsewhere in the world,
strange things were afoot. There were rumours of a Yinn army growing, and
whispers of Godwalks. Dangerous omens indeed.
Within Ithersea, however, the wrld was picturesque. In the fashion of
Thrydfe, the Viscount erected several black towers, and around them, towns
grew, thankful for the protection their garrisons provided.
Each tower was given a handful of troops -- enough to man the garrison as
well as train conscripts from the towns built around them.
The military might -- in terms of a standing army -- was small in Ithersea.
The Deathwatch, Verminasia's military force, protected Ithersea as well as
the rest of Verminasia.
The private security, however, reigned supreme. Everywhere, one could find
the gyrfalcon rampant, upon an argent diamond. The insignia of the Rask'het
family.
Viscount Rask'het had taken a bride (as well as anywhere from five to seven
consorts) and she now lay pregnant with child.
As the years passed, the Viscount Rask'het grew increasingly worried about
the prosperity of his tiny empire. He took pains to introduce new security
measures, and was extremely diligent in the procural of homeland security.
His son grew, under the too-ever-watchful eye of his father, to be a
ruthless little boy. However, he did not retain any of the qualities that
endeared the father to his people.
He was brutal, cruel, cunning, savage, and selfish.
Writer: Eva
Date Sun Jan 31 22:00:58 2010
Writer: Aothien
Date Sun Jan 31 22:31:50 2010
Writer: Aothien
Date Sun Jan 31 22:38:59 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Sun Jan 31 22:51:57 2010
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Mon Feb 1 00:30:53 2010
To All Sadora Aneiron Maraisal Gwendalen Mercerion Althainia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Zandreya Austinian imm Scorn religion roleplay
Subject Turned Away (epilogue)
Ixi'kweez stood inside the gate to his home for quite some time,
surverying the damage his rampage had caused. It was as bad as he had
expected. The garden and All around it was completely charred, save for the
statues of Taliena and Austinian, which were unharmed. The houses to each
side of the courtyard had sustained substantial damage from the inferno he
had cast down upon the estate.
Ixi'kweez had thought that returning here would bring on some upwelling of
emotion... Anger, regret, hope. But after several moments, he realized
that returning here seemed to cause him no reaction whatsoever. The plain
truth was, he was here for two reasons only. Ixi'kweez gathered himself up
and began to make the painstaking repairs it take to restore the estate to
its original condition. Ixi'kweez spent the coming days building new roofs,
replacing broken windows, rebuilding and repairing furniture, buying and
replacing soiled linens.
Once the houses were restored to his satisfaction, Ixi'kweez turned his
focus to the courtyard. He cleared the land and retilled it, leaving
nothing but the two statues. He then travelled to the Avendale estate in
the Vallens, and took dozens of grafts of the prized Avendale heirloom
roses. These, he planted about the statues. Ixi'kweez finished by building
a pair of benches so once again, people could congregate outside and relax.
It was as pristine as it was the day it was completed.
The first of Ixi'kweez's self-imposed tasks completed, Ixi'kweez walked back
into his house and took one last look at it. He then sat down and the table
he had just built. A very ornate peice carved from fresh hickory, each leg
ending in a lion's foot. He took a piece of parchment from his pack and
began writing.
Sadora,
If you read this, I hope you are well. It is growing clearer by the year to
me that you have no plans to return. Long have I held on to hope that you
would come back to me. To enjoy our home. To be there to support me when I
am troubled, and to allow me to do the same. Such a time has just passed
for me, leaving me an outcast in the Vallens, due to my work for Austinian.
I am a broken man, Sadora. Young Aneiron is well on his way to a fine
career. I have but one purpose left to fulfill in life, and if I cannot do
it with a steady hand by my side to support me, then I must do it alone. I
truly wish this would have ended happily, and I truly hope that you are
happy wherever you are. -Ixi'kweez.
Ixi'kweez removed his ring, rolled the scroll tightly, and fished the ring
though it. He left them on their bed, one that was never used. He quietly
closed the door behind him, walked through the newly planted courtyard to
the gate, then on towards the city, never once looking back.
Writer: Liviya
Date Mon Feb 1 02:20:23 2010
To Sivaster Kaiyan Leandre Leonela Verminasia Shadow Necrucifer All ( imm RP religion )
Subject Venom (Part Two)
Liviya considered the spider held captive in a spare decanter. It was not
going to like what she had to do to it. She frowned, hesitant. She had
assured the former Queen that no harm would come to her beloved pet, and
she was loath to break a promise to a Devionite who kept a menagerie of
deadly spiders for fun.
Unfortunately, her library held no book entitled 'How to Extract Spider
Venom for Fun and Profit'. Her best guess involved the point of a straight
pin, a magnifying device, and exceedingly careful use of tweezers, but
she had the feeling that such a procedure would both anger the spider and
violate that pesky vow to do it no harm.
To this day, the woman regretted her decision not to have a laboratory
built into her home. Typically, when she had need of such, she moved
appropriate materials into the shrine and worked from there, but with
Sivaster lying there an invalid, she could not work uninterrupted by his
ghastly screams.
Ultimately, she ordered a mortar and pestle from her servants and then
shooed them from the kitchen and set it and the bottle on the counter.
'Stay, Shmee,' she said warningly to the spider before opening the cloth
pouch that held a supply of white moths, removing the stopper of the
decanter, and inverting the pouch, causing several of the moths to
flutter to presumed freedom only to find themselves entangled in the web
of the black widow.
A tainted sample would have to do. The spider hurried from moth to moth,
injecting each with lethal venom. Liviya watched the process with a hint
of reverence for the swiftness with which the creature could paralyze and
then kill her prey. Then, as Shmee feasted on a moth, Liviya opened the
ornate treasure box she had received as a wedding gift and withdrew a
slender pair of chopsticks. Adeptly, she reached down to pluck the dying
moths from the web in the decanter and drop them into the mortar. She
took a total of eight moths from the bottle and left the rest, a treat to
reward the spider for her compliance, and capped the decanter once more.
With the pestle, she ground the moths into a thick, greyish goo, which she
squeezed through a cheesecloth into a small, unused potion vial. The liquid
that resulted looked not unlike a murkier sample of pond water, and she
frowned to herself as she secured a glass stopper into the top of the vial.
She carried the decanter and the vial with her to the library, leaving the
mess for the kitchen servants to clean, and wrote a note in her thin,
elegant cursive on a piece of black parchment. With narrowed eyes, she
passed the vial and note to her courier.
'See to it that this finds High Mystic Kaiyan Lin.'
Writer: Pae'lan
Date Mon Feb 1 10:21:12 2010
Writer: Argeta
Date Mon Feb 1 12:39:49 2010
Writer: Nelli
Date Mon Feb 1 18:21:41 2010
Writer: Gwendalen
Date Tue Feb 2 01:38:13 2010
Writer: Jonathen
Date Tue Feb 2 08:00:16 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Feb 2 16:06:06 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Feb 2 16:22:19 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Feb 2 17:04:17 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Feb 2 17:05:18 2010
To All Knighthood
Subject Fw: The Call
| -----Original Message-----
| From: Datai
| To: Datai
| Subject: The Call
| Date: Tue Feb 2 16:06:06 2010
The Call. We've talked about this before, right? You know, that strange
feeling a knight feels. It will be deep in your bones, flowing through your
heart, thudding in your head like a horrific hangover induced migraine
telling you that you need to go. Somewhere, somehow, your god calls you,
and you've got no choice to answer it. Because they'll keep bugging you
about it. You know, like that person who always is inviting you over, but
you can't really stand their cooking, so you keep trying to find polite
excuses for avoiding the visit.
Because I happen to be friends with some of the most pious paladins I've
ever met, I know a lot of good knights who have been called thus (not like
what I get called). It is easy to recognize when they get the Call.
They'll All of the sudden sit up and look interested, and you think for a
moment that "oh hey, I've finally said something worthwhile they like."
However, instead they then get this far away look in their eyes, and say
they have to go. And it ain't just for a little trip to the paladin room.
But just like a trip there, they'll tell you you can't follow.
And then they are gone. Usually forever. Or at least as far as you know.
Sometimes people will claim they came back for like five minutes the other
day or something, but you won't see them again. A lot of my best friends
have been called this way, including Sir Varner Pferdritter. Who or what
needs a lawyer in platemail more than me, I don't know. I'm always saying
condemning things, and I really need someone to protect me from my own
mouth.
So thus, the smartest paladin who ever walked the Keep was called, and I got
a call of my own. I was broke, and somehow lost everything I owned due to
the gods warring. I guess they needed a lute and blue tights for their war
effort. I'm not one to question the Gods, so I figure it must have been
important, and I reckon Nadrik would look good in blue tights. It really
would show off his virtue.
But back to my call: Varner's older brother Hengst is a rich first son of a
baron with huge tracks of land, so I really needed to find PferdeHeim, and
bug him for money. And tall, blond, handsome men with polearms and sexy
accents. I needed a squad of those as well.
Hey, I am a Captain after all, right?
Now, you may know, I've looked for this place before, and in retrospect, I
probably should have gone looking for Deepwater, or Sir Aenarion's house on
Arkanina and just hung out there instead, drink All his booze, and gone
right back home. Unfortunately, I was dead set on finding PferdeHeim, and
came up with a fool proof plan to find it this time.
As we All know, or you should, those Pferdritters like their schnapps.
Thusly, it stands to reason schnapps either comes from PferdeHeim, or it is
shipped there regularly in large quantities. All I had to do was visit
every establishment that sold schnapps, and from there track down the supply
chain. Eventually, it would lead back or to PferdeHeim. Now this was the
sort of officer thinking they don't pay me squat for in the Knighthood. Or
so I thought.
Unfortunately there was a catch. I love schnapps too. It comes in a lot of
various flavors. I figured I needed to test them all, everywhere, to come
up with a map of where they came from. When drunk, my sense of direction is
pretty questionable. That, and I think it was Sir Levin who warned me to
never trust an officer with a map. Which was exactly what I had become.
Continued...
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Feb 2 17:05:24 2010
To All Knighthood
Subject Fw: The Call 2
| -----Original Message-----
| From: Datai
| To: Datai
| Subject: The Call 2
| Date: Tue Feb 2 16:22:19 2010
Siccara only knows where and how many establishments I visited. She,
thankfully, isn't the type to rat me out, either. Needless to say, a lost
weekend became a lost week, a lost month, a lost year, yeah I was pretty
much lost. I'd say my lowest point ever, which is pretty impressive,
because as you All know, I've had some pretty low points. In fact, the
beauty of my low points, is that it pretty much makes the rest of my life
seem amazingly wonderful.
So while in a bar, probably too drunk to buy schnapps any more, well, I was
broke when I started, so too drunk to sing 99 beers on the wall anymore for
free beer, or schnapps, I got the Call. The real thing, the echo deep in my
bones, flowing through my heart, thudding horrifically in my head.
Actually, I think I may have fallen off a bar stool, cracked my head on the
bar, and was tossed out in to a gutter to die of alcohol poisoning.
Luckily, when you are poisoned, no one can keep you slept, so unable to
sleep, I did the only thing I could do. That was to follow the Call home.
So I cast word of recall.
And I have no idea where it sent me. Some giant rock in the crossroads in
the middle of nowhere instead of safe in the temple at Althainia. Still,
the pressing migraine, and the 190 proof blood in my veins called me to drag
my sorry self back to Gareth Keep. Like how a pathetic wounded animal drags
itself back to its den to die. Somehow, in the middle of the night, I was
there, Gareth. Staring stupidly at some statuary that looked vaguely
familiar.
It seemed appropriate to my befuddled mind that I report to someone. It
being obscenely late, most decent knights were asleep. Which left the only
person up and about to be the Lord Knight, in the war room. Which seemed
like as reasonable a thing to report to as anything.
So I dragged my carcass upstairs, to meet whatever doom the latest Lord
Knight would have in store for a drunken bard of the Shield Knights, and
discovered something very odd about this Lord Knight.
It was Sir Gwaine d'Aggravaine.
Now, I think this is a point where we should probably back up and give a
little history lesson since I don't think most the readers here remember my
previous stories. In case you do, you'll find this as hilarious and messed
up as I did. But to catch everyone else up on the inside joke: this guy is
the assassin I jilted in favor for Sir Eyrk so many years ago I can't count.
I also, swear up and down to Siccara, thought he was dead. Or at least
missing and presumed dead. That was what I'd last heard anyhow.
Anyhow, any thought of proper protocol had pretty much escaped my schnapps
hazed mind. Whatever had happened, I was thrilled to see he wasn't dead or
something stupid, and delighted to see someone, anyone, I knew. So I hugged
him.
At which point a suspicion that something stupid, strange and queer most
certainly had happened to my old friend crept into my completely unsober
mind.
He was crunchy, like a paladin.
The sensation of hugging a paladin is certainly unique. They have that hard
exterior which is tough to get past, but are All warm and glowy on the
inside. They tend to have some skill at avoiding being hugged as well, holy
shields and what not I suppose. Most certainly that was the sensation I got
from that hug. Crunchy.
Continued...
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Feb 2 17:05:29 2010
To All Knighthood
Subject Fw: The Call 3
| -----Original Message-----
| From: Datai
| To: Datai
| Subject: The Call 3
| Date: Tue Feb 2 17:04:17 2010
Clearly, a lot had transpired since I'd left the keep looking for
PferdeHeim. With my friend Gwaine now a paladin and not dead, it seemed
that was just the tip of the iceberg of weirdness that had occurred about
the Keep since my absence. Gwaine attempted to catch me up on a few things.
Of major concern seemed to be that we managed to loose Nadrik. It seems
that the gods of evil noticed how we run our raids and fights down here, and
it dawned on them that if they'd just group together, have one guy run after
Nadrik while the rest of them follow along trying to murder him, they'd be
able to beat the snot out of the God of Honor.
There is a very rude colloquial term for what happened to Nadrik. I know
you are thinking of it right now, yes Nadrik got .....
Anyhow, now in the hands of His arch nemesis, Devion, Nadrik seemed in dire
need of someone experienced in rescuing handsome men. This seemed vaguely
up my alley, but, really, I wasn't so sure I'd really been called back to
the Keep to do that. Or anything else but crawling to a secluded corner of
the stables and puking my guts out. However, Sir Gwaine seemed fairly
insistent that I aught stay and get myself back together.
Now, as I said, I have a long and glorious history of blowing this guy off.
And that was just what I intended to do when I passed out on a pew after
chatting with him that night. Just sleep it off, then get up, and go find
PferdeHeim again in the morning, because, after all, the Pferdritters are
rich, and if anyone could buy the shard to save Nadrik back, it would be
them. However, somehow after All these years, Sir Gwaine had finally
discovered my secret, okay not so secret, weakness.
I cannot say no to a paladin.
For no good reason I can fathom, I showed up for duty right when he told me
to the next day. I suppose it is a good thing. After all, it seems there
are a lot of things out of order here at Gareth Keep.
First off, the whole Nadrik being abducted thing. Secondly, an ex-assassin,
ex-suitor of mine is the Lord Knight. Thirdly, no one ever found the Lute
that got looted. Fourthly, they still haven't gotten those nice yellow
draperies I suggested All those years ago. Fifthly, they got a yinn. Now,
I always wanted to keep the puppies I rescued, but noooo always, "take them
back to the high priest." Well, they go and get a yinn, and now it's the
Lance General, probably because they failed to be calm assertive pack
leaders, and thus now the yinn thinks he's the leader of the pack.
And they want me to sober up? Are they completely crazy mad? I'll tell you
exactly what I need to do here: I need another drink.
Fin.
Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Tue Feb 2 20:43:29 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Wed Feb 3 07:16:31 2010
Writer: Maerliya
Date Wed Feb 3 13:14:34 2010
Writer: Maerliya
Date Wed Feb 3 14:06:16 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Wed Feb 3 14:54:34 2010
Writer: Ainin
Date Wed Feb 3 20:47:15 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Wed Feb 3 21:01:10 2010
Writer: Aelavara
Date Wed Feb 3 23:46:10 2010
To All ( Sebatis Kantilles Immortal Religion RP )
Subject (The Path)
Once a simple mage, then an illusionist. She had enjoyed the magics that
allowed her to amuse the children of Althainia and play harmless pranks upon
her friends. She could remember the freedom to observe as she blended
perfectly into her surroundings of Althainia's market. She had learned so
much of people and even how business was conducted. She had learned
meditative stillness in the wake of turmoil, for any sudden movement would
have revealed her.
Then, a storm had come. Not one created by Turpa, for She had still been
alive then, but one summoned by the unstable magics of her body. In her
loss, she had sought solitude, lightning dancing in a darkened sky and great
winds flaring out, originating from her own form. Years had passed and the
pain had dulled. She had learned a semblance of control once more despite
the pain she had lived in for many years.
Drifting, without a purpose, her skills had weakened and she had become a
simple mage once more. She'd had no ties to nothing - friend, family.. Nor
even faith. For a while, she sought the Gray Church, doing what deeds her
weaker magics would allow. Then she had delved into her studies again,
seeking out the White Robed students and teachers of the Conclave. Yet
they, too, had been in turmoil, bickering amongst themselves and the other
two Towers as they sought leadership and stability. Again she wandered.
It was in the land of Dojia that she had met the man who saved her. Yinn,
rather. Okom had guided her out of the darkness of her heart, speaking to
her of the Neutral gods and the path of enlightenment. He had taught her
that she could still do good in the world. He had shown her that her magic
was still strong and that it could help so many. She had liked that idea -
she had wanted to help those who needed it just as she had been helped so
often in her life. So she had given up the White Moon, instead finding
herself an Enchantress of the Red Moon. First an Initiate, then a Magus..
Until she finally lead the Azure Tower as its Wizardess. Dark or Light or
Twilight, she had welcomed All eager students of magic. Some hadn't even
belonged to any god of magic.
It had done her good to see so many eager students applying themselves,
learning their crafts and developing into proud magi. In the end, she
stepped aside, giving the title of Wizard to someone who she knew would lead
the Tower on to greater things.
During All of this she had lost and found new love, and she had learned of a
family she had never known. Her life had been filled with blessings, and
yet a hole remained.
She remembered her mentor, Bunglewort and his happy devotion to Kantilles.
She thought of the Silver, Kaikias, the Lady Priestess Gwendalen. Through
her mind she saw her granddaughter Aoko, her brother Rithor, Emperor
Mercerion, her beloved Damerus, and many, many more faces she cherished. So
many bathed in the Light that meant so much to her. So much she wanted to
do, yet she was trapped with one foot in the shadows and one in the light,
neither one nor the other.
Finally, she understood. She had made a mistake and her path had grown
thick with thorns and bramble, both before and behind. With Gwendalen's
help, and the unconditional love of those around her, she placed quill to
parchment and wrote the words that were long overdue. Behind her, she heard
cracking and breaking. Behind her, toward the path of Light, an opening in
the thick brush appeared.
As she sat in the Amphitheater of White Magick, her feet dangling off the
edge of her floating carpet, her eyes upon the statue of Kantilles, she
smiled softly. This was right. The hole in her heart was starting to ache
a little less with just the one action.
"In time, " she thought. "In time, the path will clear and I will see the
white light again. "
Writer: Enduriel
Date Thu Feb 4 00:11:35 2010
Writer: Eiry
Date Thu Feb 4 04:09:09 2010
Writer: Gwendalen
Date Thu Feb 4 07:48:39 2010
Writer: Beydalar
Date Thu Feb 4 08:52:53 2010
To All Shadow ( Necrucifer Imm Religion )
Subject Street Preacher
A good round of poker, money bag feels a healthy and full. It is a nice
night, I dissolve myself into the mileu of mortals moving about the
marketplace. Smells and odors of probably hundreds of spices, meats,
fruits, medicinals.
Grilled fish stand set up, I've earned a bit of smoked trout I think. The
cook is old, bent into his stall like it was built around him. Can't even
tell if he can see or if he works solely by memory.
It's very subtle, the kid is good. If I weren't expecting this, I probably
wouldn't have noticed. He senses me tense as I turn to grab him, starts to
move away. He's smart and fast, I'm fast too. I catch his arm, pull him
into an alley.
"Well, coinfishin, are we?"
"Sir got no reason to hurt me sir."
"Oh, I do. See this?" I tap on the symbol of the Keep embroidered into my
cloak.
"You know what this means? Who I'm with? Think we go easy on thieves, hm?
Or maybe we're too dumb and slow to notice?"
His eyes get big. He hadn't seen it, but he sure knows what it means. Kid
looks like he's about to break down.
"S'alright kid. I know what it's like." His eyes get even bigger. He's
not buyin it. I repeat what I just said in the slang of the street. He
looks like he might believe me now. Man, looking at him brings back
memories. Cold nights, empty stomachs, getting beaten for pinching a loaf.
I think I can talk to this kid.
"What's your name, kid?" "Kiro, mista." "Wanna know how I got out?" He
nods a little, not sure where I'm going with that. I give him one of those
"appraising looks."
"Kiro, have you ever heard the Word of God?"
"That offal 'bout The Balance? Yeah done heard All that, lotta good it did,
I still here."
"That's right. So it can't be right. But if you heard something, and
followed it, and it did help you, then how about that?" The kid perks up a
little. I think he's figured I'm not going to kill him.
"You see, Kiro, there's really only One God whom we should honor, glorify,
and worship. Only the Master. Only he can bring peace to this world, and
Kiro, only he can take trash like you and me find a use for it."
"Well, mista, whaddai gotta do ta be geddin on dis?"
I smile and tell him All he wants to know.
Writer: Rublos
Date Thu Feb 4 12:43:05 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Fri Feb 5 00:16:28 2010
To All Knighthood
Subject Carry Me Home, a song of Sir Trellor Almstead
Carry Me Home
Of Sir Trellor Almstead, Lord Lance, let it be known,
He was a fair knight, and steady as stone,
Skill at arms and bravery second to none,
But singing his praises I'm not yet done,
Kind and at service to the ladies, you see,
This quiet knight was an omnipresent bodyguard to me,
Over field and vale, near and far we'd roam,
After patrol I could be sure he'd carry me home.
No matter how far or inane my request,
He'd always ride along at my behest,
To the New Thalos ball I went with Aedon, Knight,
A vampire appeared there and we started a fight,
After the dust had settled from the hate and foam,
It was Sir Trellor who arrived to carry me home.
When wretched white dragons tried to put me on ice,
This sort of thing happened more than twice,
Cold, lost, blind and in dire need,
I'd soon hear the galloping hooves of crusader's steed,
Daring to try to whisk me away All on his own,
Heroic Sir Trellor would carry me home.
Now, in altar room, when not out on patrol,
He'd listen to me chatter on matters of the soul,
And though normally quite content at his place,
One eve I did see a rather melancholy look on his face,
For every evil from demon to cruel gnome,
None would come out, even to face him alone.
"Sir, the night is young," I cheerily said,
"We should go patrol the Bouncing Bugbear instead."
To this my friend hmmed and hawed politely,
But to my request he consented in manner most knightly,
And so off to the Madaur's second home,
I set about breaking Sir Trellor's visage of stone.
Round after round, I forget how many we had,
Well into the late hour, we were both quite glad,
"Here's a demon for you to slay," I said with a smile,
And I slid him a shot of demon bile.
Eager to take on All challenges alone,
Sir Trellor downed the shot, and made a horrible groan.
With a mighty armored crash he hit the floor,
At which point I knew my friend could take no more,
"Alas," I sighed, "they say turnabout is fair play."
And I slowly gathered him up, and dragged him away,
So now to All it is known,
Of the time I carried Sir Trellor home!
- Dame Datai Amberillo, Captain of the Shield
Writer: Kaiyan
Date Fri Feb 5 06:19:37 2010
To Shadow Verminasia All (Necrucifer Imm RP )
Subject Venomous Relief from the Fire (I)
He led a small group of lightly-armored Knights marching in single file
through the narrow alley. Dressed in his well-worn gray robes once more, he
found it easier then the others to navigate through the crowd of people. It
was holiday season and the Moon Festival was on, the worst time to conduct
business or any serious tasks. The occasional lantern lit the barely
visible path and it was a while before they were able to round the corner
and reach a small store with a beaded door. The pungent odor that clearly
came from the entrance created a small barrier from the people passing by.
He entered the well-lit store and two girls, dressed in dull-colored kimonos
bowed and greeted in unison before returning to their duties. Observing the
girls, he watched as they packaged the various ingredients after cutting and
weighing each part. Among the small drawers that lined the surrounding
walls he spotted a small bamboo door. As he was about to enter he heard a
small gasp and turned around. One of the girls was about to speak to him
before the other tugged the dress of the first and whispered something
before bowing to Kaiyan. The first girl covered her mouth with a blackened
hand, smearing her face unknowingly.
The smell that prevented many from entering the store grew stronger, to the
point where he could almost taste it. Leathered hands were visible due to a
faint glow from the greenish paste that was formed by a pestle in a stone
bowl. The squishing noise followed by small burst of noise accompanied the
muffled ramblings of a old lady who had a thin scarf wrapped around her
wizened face. Kaiyan made his presence known and the words stopped, the old
lady looking up at him with an annoyed face.
'You are the one selling the maragi mixture. '
'I also sell an agi pill for a fraction of the price... I do not like being
disturbed by people that are not wel... ' croaked the old lady.
Kaiyan interrupted her, 'I require thirty doses, separated and sealed in
this box. ' He placed a small translucent wooden box that had two lettered
engravings on it.
'As I was saying, I do not like people that are not welcome but you are not
one of them', in a barely composed tone that could not hide her anger.
'There are dangers to maragi that is not worth the price... '
Bowing his head slightly, Kaiyan continued, 'I also require fubyne incense,
which as you know will dull... '
The lady spoke slowly and clearly as she looked at Kaiyan with glistening
eyes and a calculating face, 'Yes, yes. So the price increases'.
***************************************************************************
Outside the room the two girls continued to work but they did so very close
to the small bamboo door, listening in on the screaming and shrieking of
Mother Chu as she negotiated with the man who remained calm throughout the
bargaining process. The girls could hear the occasional sentences about
thirteen men dying, harpy saliva, flower spider tears and blood that were
used to form the maragi. They giggled as this was the part where Mother Chu
always tripled her prices.
Kaiyan exited the store an hour later with his goods while the old lady
emerged soon after holding a small velvet purse. 'That man drove a hard
bargin but I won... I think' she told the girls and she began to calculate
her profit.
'Of course, Mother Chu' said one of the girls, 'That was the emissary of
Dojia from Shadow. '
A scowl replaced the smirk on Mother Chu's face 'I should have charged
double! How far has he gone? Where is that thief?! '
***************************************************************************
He watched as the knights behind him spread out into their customary
formation as they stepped onto Blue Dragon Way. Make sure the preparations
are finished. I have been told to relay some words from the Dark Lord so
they will be assured of their safety and well-being these holidays. '
Writer: Rublos
Date Fri Feb 5 20:03:33 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sat Feb 6 01:56:18 2010
Writer: Cedany
Date Sat Feb 6 13:43:32 2010
Writer: Amarlech
Date Sat Feb 6 17:50:22 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sat Feb 6 18:21:15 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Sat Feb 6 22:37:02 2010
Writer: Aesuadhi
Date Sun Feb 7 13:05:30 2010
Writer: Aesuadhi
Date Sun Feb 7 13:28:23 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Sun Feb 7 13:38:44 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Sun Feb 7 22:20:12 2010
Writer: Calaeni
Date Mon Feb 8 14:35:47 2010
To Verminasia Zayin All ( Imm Rp )
Subject A Drowning Sorrow
Long lashes lay spiked with a glistening wetness that refused to be
contained as hot tears welled and spilled forth upon her face, marking her
unusually paled cheeks with a ruddy hue as they burned a trail down along
her smooth skin before falling away unchecked.
Her initial reaction had been one of silent shock, falling swiftly away to
angry denial as the words poured over her, heard but not willing to admit.
Now, hours later and alone, her emerald gaze appeared overly bright as it
wavered with tears, unseeing as she stared forth, the read parchment that
put it All back before her in earth shattering reality held loosely in one
hand as she became lost in her own numbing grief.
The days prior had been hectic, busy and somewhat strained as they made
their final preparations for the shard, their time together limited as they
each worked on gaining more funds for their cause. It was only in the quiet
sanctity of his private quarters that they found some time alone, much later
after each was spent from exhaustion did he turn to her with a seriousness
that she found troubling.
"Beloved, I depart tomorrow to try and secure more funds. I will be back as
soon as I am able."
Only through her soft sigh and the dropping of her head did it signify her
response and in turn, his fingers pressed against her chin, applying light
pressure to ease her gaze upward, so it again met his.
"You know that I need to. It is what I am charged with on All levels. Soon
though and I will be back within your arms and we will let everyone know.
That was the last time that she saw him. In the early hours of dawn, she
had felt him slip from her arms while she dozed in and out of sleep, the
small press of his lips against her forehead and then he was gone, boarding
the ship that would take him across the seas for faith, kingdom and duty for
a purpose that they both knew was vital.
The whisper word of rumor had come several days ago and in its wake, a wave
of emotion that was borderline psychotic. And still it washed over her, her
chin nothing more than a constant tremble as she stood transfixed with both
sorrow and grief and with it, her minds agonizing torture as the nevers
began to formalize. To never again see his smile or hear his voice, never
to discuss matters of importance or just to sit together in comfortable
silence, to never have another kiss stolen in private or to hear him whisper
her name with that look that told her of All the unspoken promises of later.
The cool fingers that reached out to gently touch her arm drew forth a
startled gasp and with it, she half expected to see him as she whirled
around to see who disturbed her. The face of the man before her was one she
knew All too well though not the one that longed for, disappointment welling
to mingle with the pain that was already consuming. Though in the black
eyes that clashed against her own emerald ones, was a shared grief that
finally broke her, drawing forth All the agony and the emptiness that
remained trapped within. With a strangled cry, she fell forward as the raw
pain began to spiral out of control and take over, her shoulders heaving as
wracking sobs took over, only Zayin's awkward pat upon her shoulder in
condolence as she cried for a love lost.
Writer: Huguette
Date Mon Feb 8 14:59:47 2010
Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Feb 8 18:28:31 2010
To All Zandreya Conclave Arkane ( IMM RP )
Subject What's in a name? (Part I)
It was done with little fanfare, the elf's belongings stored in two large
chests currently carried by a summoned create of the earth, its stony bulk
standing impassively behind him. The pair stood at the edge of the city for
a long moment, the elf's intense green eyes raking over his former home's
vista for what could be the last time in his life. Heaving a soft sigh, the
elf turns his back on the city and begins to walk southward, the stone
creature following silently behind, dutifully serving the elf.
Kaelowyth knew the kind of missives that would seek him out afterwards, the
angry ones with accusations of treason and threats of death, the sad ones
asking why he had chosen to leave, and the ones that wished him well - the
latter being the rarest. How could he properly explain the emotions and
thoughts that ate away at him, day and night? How could he accuse one who
supposedly represented All he had cherished these many years, was consumed
by zealotry and was no longer fit to lead? How could he tell those who had
called themselves his friends, that they were straying from what the Blessed
Mother had taught and imparted to Her children? How could he accuse the
very ones who had taught him? No... Naught taught, for they never once
deigned to teach, they guided and let him stumble blindly.
As the elf sojourned, making his way to the docks on the eastern side of the
continent, these were the thoughts that flitted through his head. And as if
divinely inspired, his thoughts became reality, with a great deal of his
former kin seeking him out and asking All manner of uncomfortable questions,
each one turning their back on him. Save for two. Both priestesses in
their own right, one represented what he hoped Shalonesti would grow into,
the other representing what he had cherished about his former home. It was
their voices that did not make him pine for what he sacrificed, but instead
drove him on towards his new goal. When the ship finally arrived, Kaelowyth
dismissed the last tie to the land of his kin, the stone lord's form
dissolving into the ground, leaving only his twin chests behind. The elf
whistled for a cabin-boy and was soon aboard, making his way towards the
prow of the ship.
With his arms resting against the railing of the ship that would carry him
towards his temporary home, the outcast elf could not help but smile.
Despite the losses he had incurred, he could feel the divine presence still,
a sign that while he may have lost favor in the realm of mortals, the one
whos favor he truly cared about, still cared for him. He knew that his
plans were clear to Her as well, and that nothing could stop him from
continuing forth, beginning anew, much like a newborn child. Though this
time, he would know live his life as a servant, supplicating and demeaning
himself for political gain, no. This time he would be a teacher, a mentor,
a shaper. They could take away his name, but they could never take away his
voice.
(To be continued)
Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Feb 8 19:05:57 2010
To All Zandreya Arkane Conclave ( IMM RP )
Subject What's in a name? (Part II)
The trip was not a long one, and before long, Kaelowyth stood on the
Arkanian docks, his gaze falling to the east towards the sprawling city.
For the first time, he simply examined his surroundings, noting the trees so
very different from his own beloved Vallens, the earth much rockier and
hard-packed. He did not pine for home however, and with a mere thought,
began channeling the land's power, summoning a large tree from the nearby
forests. The creature automatically bent its boughs to lift the elf's
belongings, and without a word, the two set off.
Kaelowyth knew more then a few persons within the walls of Arkane, but it
was not their lodgings he sought, instead it was an unfamiliar face - one
who would not know of him, or his past. He found this person in Lord
Xeltryx. With a brief conversation and no announcement made, the elf was
made a citizen of the kingdom and quickly set about figuring out how to
proceed. He knew that he would need to keep in contact with the wizards of
the Conclave, having only told Ambrosse of his plans to leave, and his
desire to pursue a life he had always pined for. Seeking out the master of
the conclave, Kaelowyth proceeded to lay bare his plans, telling the dwarf
of his intent to bring a new power to the Towers, to share the knowledge he
had learned during his studies in the Sha'enlas, and to learn as well. The
offer seemed to be well-recieved, and soon Kaelowyth only had to manage his
day-to-day activities, his long-term goals firmly established.
During his stay in the city, he had met several interesting people, some of
whom he might never have associated with during his tenure in the vallens,
the thought of the prejudice with which they behaved turning his stomach
sour nearly instantly. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the elf
wondered if he'd made the right choice even as his feet carried him towards
the Azure Tower, the final piece of his most recent puzzle. Making his way
to its apex, the elf was greeted by the tower's wizard, a being of good
repute, Sqwib. The two talked for the better part of an afternoon, the
wizard wondering why an elf who no longer drew his powers from the three
moons or their associated deities would seek entrance into the tower.
Kaelowyth told him of his unique nature, the obsession with the moons and
their power, his refusal to follow the paths that so many of his peers had
chosen, and his former life as an enchantor. With that settled, the elf was
welcomed.
In the weeks that followed, Kaelowyth found himself at ease, talking
regularly with both clergy and magi, the fear of reprisal from the Goddess
he had served his entire life, slowly replaced with optimism. And as he
wrote report after report, not once did he betray the secrets he had learned
all those years ago, instead, teaching the Mother's lessons and how they
applied to the realm of magic. He did not dislike the work, the thrill of
being useful once again, of sharing knowledge with those who earnestly
sought it, rather then simply seeking a way to use it to their own ends. He
knew he would never miss that part, and each day he would scribe in his
journal new ways and methods to teach effectively, how to give selflessly,
and how to apply the teachings of the earth to all.
Yet despite these happy times, the threats still came, the cold looks from
those kin that did pass him in the streets. They would never forgive him,
for he was an Oathbreaker, and should his goal ever come to fruition, they
would hunt him. They would not, no, could not, understand that he was
different. He would not back down, for while they wielded the powers of the
stars and the sun, both were eclipsed by the power of the moon.
(To be continued)
Writer: Enduriel
Date Mon Feb 8 22:50:31 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Tue Feb 9 02:23:16 2010
Writer: Kristof
Date Tue Feb 9 21:31:10 2010
Writer: Kaiyan
Date Wed Feb 10 01:45:36 2010
To Shadow Verminasia All (Necrucifer Imm RP )
Subject Venomous Relief from the Fire (II)
The imposing black outline of Storm Keep, rising from the golden sands
became clearer through the waves of heat and dust as the group of Knights
rode towards it. The thick black marble walls of the battlements looked
like they reached the sky, were covered with a thin layer of sand that grew
denser as they touched the sand below. When they reached the gatehouse the
travel-worn group found a messenger, predominately in royal purple in
conversation with a Knight on duty.
'The High Mystic is away on a expedition and, ' the knight stopped suddenly
as he looked up Kaiyan, 'And he has returned. '
Saluting his returning comrades, the knight quickly began to open the giant
iron gates, ushering both the messenger and Kaiyan in first. Whispering as
Kaiyan rode by. 'High Mystic, for some reason he seemed reluctant to part
with what he had to give you. '
***************************************************************************
Following Kaiyan to the stables managed by Rawley Daniel, the messenger
began to explain his reason for coming to home of the Shadow Knights. 'On
behalf of Admiral Liviya Madaur Taba, I have a package that is accompanied
by a letter'.
Dismounting from the unholy steed and passing the reins of the nightmare to
a brave stablehand, Kaiyan turned his attention to the messenger and began
to walk down into the inner Keep. 'I will take both of them now. Here is
something in return, treat it as you would with what you have given me. '
A small chest appeared before them, carried by petitioners with carefully
and laid down with the softest of touches. Kaiyan opened the chest to check
the contents and the messenger saw two wooden boxes and a sealed letter.
After the messenger gave him a small vial and the letter, Kaiyan closed the
small chest and bowed his head slightly. 'Thank the Deacon and advise her I
shall have what she seeks in the coming week. I am afraid that what I will
give the Priest will have to suffice for now. '
***************************************************************************
The chestnut colored desk, normally cluttered with objects and books was
cleared onto the floor as he worked beneath a bright small globe hanging off
a sticky piece of string. The contents of the vial were separated into two
vials and a third was in the process of being made to put on the rack. He
had wondered how many people died in extracting the venom or whether Liviya
had a method which required no loss of life. He had to purify the contents
to limit the results to desired ones and was just about to finish the
extraction process. A curious powder was being collected in the small clay
bowl of impurities.
A knock on the door and a Supplicant of the Gray Robes stepped in, High
Mystic, All Gray Robe Esquires in Storm Keep have been told to go to the
Library. ' The wide-eyed Supplicant watched as a drop of liquid escaped the
pipet, burning a small crater-like hole in the table.
***************************************************************************
'You have two days to complete the task and send the result immediately to
their Estate. This is reasonable? ' Kaiyan looked at Aothien who nodded
back with confidence. The Esquire had not dissapointed Kaiyan so far and
Aothien's robed figure did not change at All when Kaiyan told him of the
background of the task he was set. If he passed this task, Kaiyan thought
he would have a third potential to consider, a pleasing turn of events. But
if the Priest died... It would be one less.
Writer: Annemari
Date Wed Feb 10 11:05:36 2010
Writer: Alistriona
Date Wed Feb 10 11:58:07 2010
Writer: Amarra
Date Wed Feb 10 20:03:32 2010
To Verminasia Abaddon Darkonin All Imm rp
Subject Leaving for Verminasia
The Icewall estates created an interesting life for young Amarra
Schwartz. Half menagerie of poisonous plants, venomous spiders, and deadly
snakes, half gambling hall where losers found themselves relieved of their
appendages rather than their purses, the estates were the personal
playground of Queen Harlee and her whims. Amarra was raised as much a pet
as the snakes and spiders, lavishly tended, with the sole function of
entertaining her mother. Like any good pet, she aimed to please, much to
the woe of those who suspected young ladies wouldn't cheat at cards.
It was thus very shocking for Amarra to see her father, King Itamar
Schwartz, appear in what was normally her mother's domain. Even more
surprising than Itamar's appearance, however, was what he said. "Pack your
things, Amarra. You are coming to Verminasia. And bring everything you
might need, as you will not be returning anytime soon. "
The news filled Amarra with an excitement perhaps limited to youth. She
immediately ordered the servants to pack her things. She meticulously
oversaw their actions, ensuring that All of her favorite dresses, jewelry,
baubles, and a month's worth of her favorite sweets were carefully tucked
away. In her secluded state, Verminasia had taken on exotic qualities akin
to the exciting and dangerous places in the tales she was told as a child.
The idea of finally being able to see the Dark city filled her with giddy
delight, manifested in a series of fantasies where her possessions were the
main props.
Later that night, however, peering into a chest holding her toiletries, she
realized there was little within it that was necessary for the life she must
lead in Verminasia. Her chests were full of Icewall, where she had done
little to nothing of import. She remembered Arimar and Arinora leaving the
estates with similar pomp, their chests following them to the docks, and the
news that followed shortly after; her brother, dead, the dangers of duty
having done him in. What he had brought with him, everything necessary for
life in Icewall, hadn't been enough to protect him in Verminasia. Would the
same happen to her? She bit the corner of her lip, reflecting, the feeling
of naive excitement melting like the snow before a fire; as it dripped down,
she became aware of her real responsibilities. The world outside wasn't
Icewall; if she treated it as such, she might meet the same end as Arimar.
Amarra eyed one of the smaller trunks across the room. She marched over to
it and flipped it on its side, dumping its contents hastily across her
bedroom floor. She rummaged through each of her sacks, packing only the
most necessary and precious items. The trunk was soon full. Amarra peered
inside. With a small, self-satisfied grin, she placed a small package of
cookies inside. The trunk closed tight with a loud crash.
Tomorrow she would leave for Verminasia.
Writer: Ramias
Date Wed Feb 10 22:42:29 2010
To Althainia Knighthood Norasa All Kantilles Nadrik
Subject Laid to Rest
"Goobye, my love."
Tears welled in Ramias' eyes as he stood before the marble headstone he had
made for his wife. It forever gleamed with the sheen of freshly polished
stone, protected from the forces of nature by the Arcane. A lone grave, it
stood atop the cliffs of Dragonspire Peak overlooking the ocean, where the
two had first grown close. The radiant beauty of the setting sun's glow
reflected off the ocean in glimmers of orange and gold and sparkled against
the headstone's face. In his mind, her beauty was rivaled only by this
view, which they had shared so many times in her life. And so, this was to
be her resting place.
Devoid of a body, Ramias had burnt his tome of invocation and buried the
ashes in a symbolic gesture. Even now, he felt the tremendous power he had
once commanded begin to wane. The winds of Icewall were still in this
moment, though even had they lashed at him full force, it was likely the
mage would pay them no mind. He was lost in his memories, the recollections
of which caused his tears to well over and stream down his scarred cheeks.
Choking and swallowing back further ones to come, he wiped his eyes and bent
over to kiss the frigid stone before using the last of his draining reserves
to teleport himself back home.
Ramias spent hours staring at his father's old armor, worn and scarred from
battle, but kept in good condition long after its wearer had fallen victim
to illness and old age. When his father passed, Norasa consoled Ramias, and
he consoled his mother. When his mother perished not a year later, Norasa
again comforted her husband. Now that Norasa was gone too, he had no one.
Though he suspected her death for months, it was only after his final and
official farewell that a deep and grieving sadness struck him.
The arcane had always come before God. This was the way of the Conclave.
On the morrow, he would depart for Gareth's Keep, where God came before all
else. The concept was new, but liberating. Is this what Mercerion felt?
What All priests, paladins, and servants of religion were comforted by?
Eventually, after long contemplation, his eyes rose from his father's
breastplate to meet the helmet's noble visage. Ramias was on a path of
redemption, but now he realized that in order to make good on the promises
made to the dead and immortal, he would have to commit more than his body
and heart. He would have to commit his soul.
Writer: Jonathen
Date Thu Feb 11 08:38:11 2010
Writer: Irinanyalta
Date Thu Feb 11 20:36:34 2010
Writer: Irinanyalta
Date Fri Feb 12 08:19:41 2010
Writer: Gildred
Date Fri Feb 12 11:03:50 2010
Writer: Ghyt
Date Fri Feb 12 14:31:43 2010
Writer: Hevron
Date Sat Feb 13 00:15:22 2010
To All Imm Immortal (RP Roleplay)
Subject An Unexpected Visitor
Waves gently break as they reach the shore and a light breeze from the
ocean brushes past the wemic's hairy cheek.
The wemic stares intently at the water. Motionless.
Without warning, the wemic grunts and launches a sharp spear with a powerful
throw. It slices through the air before plunging into an unremarkable spot
on the water. Instead of sinking, it seems to stand straight up, then
thrash about as if suddenly alive.
Nodding slightly, the wemic reaches down and picks up the coil of rope by
his forelegs. Widening his stance, he begins to haul the spear back in.
Minutes later, the carcass of a large shark is now on the rocky beach.
Wasting no time, the wemic quickly trims the fins, tail and head, and begins
to skilfully skin the shark.
Some time later, the work is done. The meat has been cut and stored in
large oiled leather sacks. The skins have been cleaned and tied together in
a tight bundle. The head, fins and other odd pieces are kept as well, for
future use in the brewing of potions or performance of various rituals.
While cleaning his skinning knife, the wemic is alerted to the presence of
an outsider by the faint sound of footsteps on the rocky path.
Growling slightly, he flared his nostrils to taste the air. Goblin
"Lo dere! " called out a sqeaky voice, VERY close by.
Startled, the wemic looked down to see a short, but oddly well dressed,
goblin standing there with a huge grin on his face. "Mez just popped in for
a visit! " The wemic paused for a moment, thinking of the stories he had
heard of the mysterous crystal which saved old Gregor from a painful death,
at the hands of a dark magi. A crystal, later to be named ferrite, which
absorbed magic.
"This crystal, in the hands of of a spellcrafter learned in All manner of
gem lore, can be infused into a weapon. It is rumoured that the spirit of
the crystal will draw out the mystic energy of any victim the weapon
strikes, and feed it back to the wielder".
The wemic grunted "This wemic would seek to acquire this gem. "
Ghyt hopped from one foot to the other "You find de gemmer, mez give da
shiny! ".
With that, Ghyt unstrapped the satchel and tossed it to the wemic.
"This wemic will seek out the priestess of Srrahm'dreer, the eternal magi.
The Nordmaarian Gwendalen has the skill to work with this precious crystal.
"
The wemic tucked the satchel into one of his large leather travel bags, and
nodded once at Ghyt.
"This wemic will seek out the priestess. He will send word to you,
Arkanian, and we will see what it can do".
The wemic uttered a brief prayer to Merah'Drr for transportation. With a
flash of light, he vanished! ;
Writer: Vinalden
Date Sat Feb 13 05:34:35 2010
Writer: Cedany
Date Sat Feb 13 20:44:54 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sat Feb 13 20:49:54 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sat Feb 13 21:26:10 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sun Feb 14 16:40:23 2010
Writer: Kestian
Date Sun Feb 14 16:42:05 2010
Writer: Iulh
Date Sun Feb 14 17:39:34 2010
Writer: Gildred
Date Mon Feb 15 07:52:35 2010
Writer: Rao'nael
Date Mon Feb 15 20:18:12 2010
Writer: Daalegoth
Date Tue Feb 16 02:17:09 2010
Writer: Antoinette
Date Tue Feb 16 02:31:50 2010
To Daalegoth Mercerion Jadess Althainia All Imm RP
Subject Trapped
Antoinette sat with her head slumped against her chest. The iron
shackles that were ever present since being captured had formed callouses
around her wrists and ankles. The skin that had not grown unusually tough
was cracked and bleeding. She had tended her wounds carefully, healed them
properly each day for what must have been months, but now she had come to
terms with the fact that there would be no escape, no rescue. She hardly
recognized the numb, hopeless creature she had become. Her captors were
efficient. She was never left untended. They never broke from routine.
There was simply no opportunity given to make any sort of escape.
A portly female goblin pushed back the tattered and dirty flap of the tent.
Antoinette breathed a sigh of relief to see it was not the hostile male. On
the day she had been captured she was brought blindfolded here to their
small encampment. They were obviously aware she had led some of the troops
against their people when Althainia had overtaken Dolund'ir. It earned her
several scowls and what must have been a bucket of acidic spit over the
months, but for most of them it was a detached hatred, Why ever they had
done this, it was for other reasons.
One Goblin however took personal offense to her. No matter how she tried to
appease him he would find any excuse to kick and beat her. She didn't stand
quickly enough, she didn't sit quickly enough, She didn't answer as fully as
he would like. It didn't really matter the reason. Without exception he
did everything he could to degrade, humiliate, and abuse her. She was sure
their must be a permanent impression of his boot on her back and sides.
Worse than the beatings was the genuine fear that roiled up in her belly at
the sight of him. It used to make her sick to her stomach to admit that..
The female Goblin set down a try of food. Antoinette was starving. They
only fed her once a day. She looked forward to that meal now, even though
it usually still crawled. Her chains clinked as she sat forward on her
heels, using her hands to dig in to what passed for stew. As she sucked
down the rubbery chunks smothered in a revolting sauce she amused herself
with the notion that Urgg's Grotto really did served excellent food by
Goblin standards.
Suddenly the tent flap whipped to the side and doom reared its ugly face,
twisted in a half grin. The last bite turned to dust in her mouth. She
choked it down and instinctively moved into the corner. Huddling to make
herself the smallest possible target. "How es meh darlang?" Came the harsh
voice. Antoinette squeezed her eyes shut and wished herself away. "I 'ave
gud news for youz kit'ten. Shall I tell youz wut et es?" Antoinette
flinched at his approach, trying to shield her face. "Wull, gud news an'
bad news really.. Which do youz wan' tuh hear firs'?" Antoinette wrapped
her arms fully around her head, her fingers clawing frantically into her
scalp as shook her head vigorously. A mournful howl escaped from her lips.
Low and frantic to be left alone. Like a thunderclap the Goblins' face
suddenly darkened and in a rage he kicked the half eaten plate of food at
her trembling form.
[CONT.]
Writer: Antoinette
Date Tue Feb 16 02:40:46 2010
To Daalegoth Mercerion Jadess Althainia All Imm RP
Subject Trapped [2]
"Youz make me seck! Youz quivering make me ill! Youz could at least ACT
like you has a spine. Not dis dribbling mess dat could'nuh strike fear into
da heart of an arteh'choke! SECK!" He bellowed as his boot came down onto
her.
"SECK! SECK! SECK! SECK! SECK!!" He bellowed as his boot stomped into
her side, shoulder, and head. Punctuating each word with violence.
Antoinette wailed and sobbed as she tried to take the assault in stride.
Trying to move so that he didn't break her arm or ribs. The female Goblin
that had served her food cuffed him in the back of the head several times
until he whirled on her, panting and enraged. She arched her wooly little
brow, daring him to make good on his threatening look. With a grunt he
turned his attention back to Antoinette, a truly disgusted sneer on his face
as he watched her shiver and sob. "Da gud news es youz husban' has sent out
a reques' fer information about youz wearabouts. And I es goin' to let youz
answer." Antoinette wept harder. The fog of her upset wouldn't allow her
to make sense of the implications but she knew they wouldn't be in her
favor. "Youz should be ovuh-joyed! Somehow youz manage tuh keep from youz
husban' da fact youz a spineless welp. He still wants ya!" The Goblin's
harsh laughter filled the tent. She slid her hand down her throbbing arm,
giving herself the assurance that it was indeed not broken. "Da bad news es
day es goin' tah take youz away frum me."
She blinked several times, now listening, clinging to every word. "Yes,
dayz find a buyer for youz. Dat make two people dat wants you, You wull
serve a differen' master soon. After we has bonded so completely I do not
know how I am going tuh be able tuh let youz go." Another round of ructious
laughter and he pulled Antoinette's wedding ring from his pocket. She
seemed to live again at the sight of it. "We send dis along to youz
husband, wif a carefully worded letter. An I wull even let you write et but
youz mus' promise me one ting. Youz mus' promise to enclude in et da reason
for youz capture. Youz explain to youz husban' dat youz killed many many
Gobluns, and tha' youz must gain redemshun for what you has done. An tell
him youz being shipped off before he gets da letter, an' that youz won't be
seeing him again. Lucky for youz he wull never know how pathetic da woman
he married really wuz."
His lips curled slightly in an amused grin before he exited the tent.
Writer: Temu'jin
Date Tue Feb 16 06:08:54 2010
Writer: Aesuadhi
Date Tue Feb 16 14:15:03 2010
Writer: Aesuadhi
Date Tue Feb 16 14:15:49 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Feb 16 15:55:57 2010
Writer: Reyga
Date Wed Feb 17 03:59:01 2010
To All Conclave Justice Rp Imm
Subject (Homecoming) Letter to Linhi
A pixie with slickback flaming red hair sat in the darkness that consumes
the Hall of Revenge, but he was not alone. Keeping him company is a piece
of curled parchment and a lit wax candle. He could easily conjure a ball
to provide illumination, but magic loses its novelty if used to solve All
of life's problems.
Reyga put down his quill after finishing up his letter and he read it over
to make sure he was satisfied with his wording..
Linhi,
We shouldn't waste any more time. Soon, I'll be going back 'home' for
reasons you can probably guess. If you have the courage in you, you
should do the same. Meet me at Tropica's docks tomorrow morning.
Reyga Mirassou
Even the pixie's handwriting and phrasing carried his distinct "charm".
He nodded once with a satisfied grunt, ripped open a small nexus the same
way one might rip open an envelope with a finger and slid it into the hole
illuminated by the soft green of Althainia's southeastern forests.
Reyga leaned back and folded his arms behind his head as he contemplated
his decision to include Linhi in on this skirmish. He was never able to
tolerate her company for long before he either vanished from her sight
or made her angry enough to storm off, but he felt that it is her right
to also seek vengeance for the deaths of her people and their homes.
The pixie man stared into the small gateway as it slowly closed. Behind
the delicate earthtones of the forests surrounding Althainia stood a
tall white structure.
The White Tower of the Conclave.
Writer: Morli
Date Wed Feb 17 18:02:33 2010
To All Thaxanos ( Kyri Imm RP Religion Austinian Cliath )
Subject A spiritual crisis...
From the diary of Morli's personal servant, who shall remain anonymous:
5th of the month of Ancient Darkness
Today, more of the usual, and a little of the unusual. I woke deep in
the night, shortly after the master succumbed to his ale and passed out
on the floor. I collected several empty steins from the floor, and one
half empty. This disturbs me\; my master never used to leave a stein
with ale in it. It has been happening more and more lately, and this
worries me. I shall not mention it to him, of course, as I am fairly
well acquanted with my own head and wish to stay that way. As I set
about my cleaning, I also found half a turkey leg and a whole dwarvish
sausage left to rot. Frowning, I turned and looked at my dozing master.
His clothes indeed looked slightly loose on them, or moreso than I
believed they had been. I hope he isn't taking ill. Even moreso, I
hope it isn't contagious.
Writer: Morli
Date Wed Feb 17 19:25:05 2010
To All Thaxanos ( Kyri Imm RP Religion Austinian Cliath )
Subject A spiritual crisis...
From the diary of Morli's personal servant, who shall remain anonymous:
8th of the month of Ancient Darkness
I was beginning to think my master was feeling better. He was drinking
more ale, and even some whiskey these last two nights but tonight when
I woke, Morli was still up, quite sober, and staring at himself in the
mirror, muttering something unintelligible. He had a holy text dangling
loosely from one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other. He didn't seem
to notice the bottle was empty. Finally, he saw me standing there and
threw the text at the mirror, which cracked. He turned and grinned at
me, pulled the bottle to his lips, and asked "Iss nah a purty sight, ta
see a man lose 'is faith, es et, lad?". When he attempted to take a
drink from his bottle, he only looked confused, then in a move that
would've been comical in other circumstances, he held the bottle up over
his head and peered into it, as if attempting to divine what had
happened to his whiskey. He then growled and threw the empty at the
mirror, finishing the job. I was out the door before the last of the
shards hit the floor, but he still managed to wing me with something
hard and fluttery. I looked down and saw a book with the symbol of
Austinian on the cover. I left the premises immediately, and I'm
quite afraid to return tonight.
Writer: Morli
Date Wed Feb 17 19:31:15 2010
To All Thaxanos ( Kyri Imm RP Religion Austinian Cliath )
Subject A spiritual crisis...
From the diary of Morli's personal servant, who shall remain anonymous:
10th the month of Ancient Darkness
I returned to work tonight and found the house empty. Morli had left me
a note declaring he would be spending the night in prayer at his place
of worship, and instructing me that he has disposed of the broken glass
but I would have my work cut out for me with everything else, after
missing a day. I believe this is as close a thing I can expect to an
actual apology. And the post-script declared "Ya bae a coward fer nah
comin in ta work las' night." Well, diary, I must say he's right. I am
feeling rather cowardly, as relieved as I was that I wouldn't have to
face him tonight. Among the steins and empty whiskey bottles (two of
which were shattered), as a broken keg and perhaps two gallons of ale
that spilled out whenever he broke the keg. I didn't leave his home
until almost noon, and when I walked past the temple on my way to my
home, I heard shouting coming from inside.
(to be continued)
Writer: Linhi
Date Wed Feb 17 20:13:40 2010
To All Conclave Justice RP Imm
Subject (Homecoming) Letter to Reyga
Linhi sat cross-legged on the table in her tower's library and turned the
missive over twice in her hands. Reyga was one of the last people on
Algoron she had expected correspondence from - they had never been friends,
and only briefly allies. I guess some ties run more deeply than that, she
mused, then shook her head as if to clear the wistful thought away.
It would be best to ignore it, wouldn't it? She had a new home now - the
ruins and camps on Tropica were part of the past, now, and not a very good
past at that. Why revisit that? Why go back home when home didn't exist
anymore?
She suspected she knew the answer.
With a slightly unsure hand, Linhi took a fresh sheet of parchment and
smoothed it out onto the table in front of her. This place wasn't home,
either. She'd tried to scratch out a place for herself, but she couldn't do
it; she couldn't understand the Conclave's motivations, couldn't convince
herself to think like they did. And if she didn't belong in a tower of
mages, where else could she possibly go?
Back home, apparently. What was there to lose?
She dipped the tip of the quill into the ink reservoir and scribbled in a
tiny, slanted script, doing her best not to smudge the letters:
Reyga,
See you there.
Linhi
The pixie stared at the parchment as the letters dried, then rolled it up
and tied it with a gray ribbon, sending it on to Reyga. With a frown, she
hoped she hadn't just made a mistake -- or, if nothing else, that it would
be an interesting one.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Thu Feb 18 00:14:50 2010
Writer: Reyga
Date Thu Feb 18 01:05:25 2010
To All Conclave Justice Rp Imm
Subject (Homecoming) Into the Jungle
It was not sure to Reyga how his people came to be or for what reason. Hell,
or even which God could ever claim responsibility. When his people were alive,
the pixies in his village attributed their existance to the Dark Enchantress.
Speculations. That was All those were. Reyga loved his people when they were
still numerous, but sometimes they came up with the stupidest theories.
He reflected on this as he sat on top of a large crate of exports. The dark
skinned dockworkers were walking around in a hurry to get crates both on and
off the Explorer's Treasure, many of them grunting and cursing the sun under
their breath despite being there willingly.
The pixie man ignored them and stared into the hot and humid mainland and
into the tumbling tropical mountains where his people made their colonies.
He heard and felt someone knock into his crate and Reyga looked over his
shoulder to glare at the worker who had jarred him from his thoughts.
He was wrong. It was Linhi, but she didn't look happy to see him. Reyga could
top that. He was never happy to see anyone.
"What happens now that we're both here?" asked Linhi expectantly.
She didn't bother to change into someone less formal and stood there in the
white robes given to her by the White Tower of the Conclave. The tropical sun
along with her white robe captured her form in a white radiance. Reyga bit
his tongue.
"Well, I could start casting cones randomly into the mountains until I hit
the Dark Army's camp.." Reyga responded in a drone.
"That's not what I meant," said Linhi with a tired sigh "What I meant was
what do you have in mind to get our homes back?"
Reyga wasn't serious about coning the entire Tropica territory and had said it
for the sake of dry humor. That'd be unrealistic in two ways. Firstly, despite
his cold front Reyga had a heart. Razing the countryside would make him no
different than the Dark Army, killing plants, animals and making All places
uninhabitable. Secondly, if Reyga had ever felt the itch to "kill" Tropica he
wouldn't be able to do it because he wasn't made of mana. Despite how talented
pixies were with magic, even they had their limits.
Linhi folded her arms and looked suspiciously like Reyga, an impatient scowl
looming on the usual softness of her features.
"We'll need a guide," said Reyga
"For what?" asked Linhi incredulously. "You and I know this continent better
than most."
"To act as meat."
"..What?"
Reyga was getting impatient too at this point, "I'd like a guide so that when
and if we get caught we can use the guide as a shield. Or use as a hostage."
"Well," Linhi narrowed her eyes at him and continued, "you should ask for a
decoy instead of a guide then."
Dry humor. Reyga loved it. He shrugged a shoulder, a silent surrender to the
argument presented by Linhi.
"If we're going to clean the Dark Army out of our homes we'd better get moving,"
said Reyga as he hovered off the crate with Linhi trailing close behind him.
Some of the dockworkers stopped working to watch the rare sight. Two pixies,
long thought to have been wiped out by Malachive, were returning home.
Writer: Verenian
Date Fri Feb 19 20:30:55 2010
Writer: Verenian
Date Fri Feb 19 20:48:39 2010
Writer: Dominagilis
Date Sat Feb 20 06:18:11 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Sun Feb 21 00:10:07 2010
To All knighthood immortal
Subject A very serious song proposal to the Bard Guild
A very serious song proposal to the Bard Guild.
99 bottles of beer on the wall,
I sing to Knights till the numbers are small,
Zapped with wooden wand to bless,
A drink to which paladins say yes!
But times are a changing as you well know,
Our ranks swell with Samurai from Shokono,
Tenryu, Shiroken, Mamoritai in our hall,
I can't keep track of how to pronounce them all,
Heavenly Shoguns, serpentine dragons,
Kanji letters demand rice wine in flagons,
Now, I'll drink anything as history will show,
So I'm more than happy to give rice wine a go,
With the care of Knights I stand tall,
To ensure Siccara's medicine reaches them all,
So my proposal, dear Bard Guild Leader,
Is for a song that sings sake by the liter,
My Morale Officer duties are serious you know,
From now on the song I'm singing will go:
99 bottles of sake on the wall, 99 bottles of sake.
Take one down and pass it around, 98 bottles of sake on the wall!
- Dame Datai Amberillo, Captain of the Shield
Writer: Tief
Date Sun Feb 21 01:26:52 2010
Writer: Villnius
Date Sun Feb 21 13:16:02 2010
Writer: Iulh
Date Sun Feb 21 19:53:00 2010
Writer: Verenian
Date Sun Feb 21 23:57:08 2010
Writer: Reyga
Date Mon Feb 22 00:25:15 2010
To All Conclave Justice Rp Imm
Subject (Homecoming) Between Brawn and Brains, pt1
The boiling Tropica sun beamed brightly down on the forest floor below the two
pixies as they fluttered across the canopies above, disturbing a few tropical
birds and some monkeys every now and then.
Tropica hadn't changed much since he was driven out. It was hot, humid and the
heat made the air aromatic with the scents of All of the plantlife native to the
region. Not that he expected it to change, but Reyga had gotten used to the
comfort of the cool Arkanian climate. Either way, it was a beautiful day to
fight..
Linhi, however, made it a point to attack Reyga with questions before the fight
for their home even began.
"How does Justice Operate? Do you guys just frighting everything that moves? Why
did you go there instead of Slayers? You hate dragons too. Do you think Justice
would ever agree to peace?" rambled Linhi
"Shut up," said Reyga quietly.
"Answer me and I'll consider it," Linhi retorted.
The pixie man sighed and said through his teeth, "None of your business, no, they
are weak and probably never. Now stop talking or you'll regret it."
Linhi stopped in midair and frowned at him. Reyga let a few feet grow between
them before he stopped to look at her.
"I don't doubt that you'd try to kill me if I gave you a good reason, but don't
think I'll just roll over and let you," said Linhi with a frown. Her fists began
to clench and unclench as a subtle collection of mana formed around them.
Reyga folded his arms. This isn't about us you stupid woman, he thought to himself
as Linhi continued to lecture him on how she wasn't some little kid that he could
push around whenever he was in a bad mood. He grimaced and rolled his eyes.
"Uh oh.." Reyga muttered.
"Uh oh? Uh oh what?" asked Linhi, her features showing concern.
Reyga darted forward, pulled Linhi behind him as he flew by and slammed her back
against the trunk of a large tree where she hit her head on its trunk. She yelped
a little, but Reyga pressed a hand over her mouth before she had time to let out a
loud scream.
The pixie woman had a mind to disjunction Reyga to hell and back. Her eyes became
narrow and she began to focus the mana into her hands, but Reyga shook his head
and pressed a finger to his lips as he took his other hand off Linhi's lips.
"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Linhi in a harsh whisper as she relaxed
and the mana dissipated from her hands.
The pixie man pointed over Linhi's right shoulder. After shoving Reyga away from
her personal bubble she peeked from behind the tree and looked around for anything
unusual. It didn't take long before she spotted a man dressed in dark leather
slinking along the forest floor. Linhi gasped a little and turned to face Reyga.
She didn't think they were that close to one of the army's camps, and neither
did Reyga apparently for his eyes were fixed on the tops of his shoes.
"What do we do?" asked Linhi quietly.
"I know what to do," Reyga replied coolly as if this wasn't a real question.
Flames began to flicker and dart between his hands as he glared at the human scout
crawling and slinking on the forest floor, as if willing them to burst into flames
before he had a chance to waste valuable mana. Linhi stomped on his foot and the
flames vanished instantly. She expected an exclamation in pain, but instead got the
fiercest look she had ever received from him. His lips were curled in an angry
grimace and his eyes were narrow and challenging. Like the pixie woman cared.
"Don't you think we should use him for something else other than compost?" said
Linhi in a harsh whisper.
"If you ever do that ag-..." seethed Reyga in an escalating tone.
Linhi cut his threat short and continued, "Like maybe pump him for information?"
The pixie man gave up arguing with her. He folded his arms and turned around so
that his back faced her, "Do whatever you want."
Writer: Reyga
Date Mon Feb 22 00:26:52 2010
To All Conclave Justice Rp Imm
Subject (Homecoming) Between Brawn and Brains, pt2
Linhi fluttered down until she was directly above the scout. She muttered the words
for a charm spell under her breath and pointed at the unsuspecting human in a
commanding fashion. The scout stopped abruptly, turned around and looked up at the
white-robed pixie, as if expecting her to finish an unspoken sentence.
Reyga looked over his back and looked down to see the scout looking up at him
with Linhi sitting on one of the man's slender shoulders.
"I've got an idea," said Linhi while patting the man's shoulder
It feels good to be the one wearing the pants, Linhi thought
Writer: Enduriel
Date Mon Feb 22 01:49:11 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Mon Feb 22 02:00:03 2010
Writer: Cairhien
Date Mon Feb 22 09:32:52 2010
To Knighthood Nordmaar Gwaine All Nadrik ( Immortal RP )
Subject Journal Entry I: Why We Serve
It was late and the once bustling library filled with pages and knights
alike was now silent, save for the crackling of candle flames. The dimly
lit room was covered on three sides from floor to ceiling by tall bookcases,
their shelves virtually overflowing with ancient tomes, scripture and
assorted literature. At the library's heart sat a round table, surrounded
by carved wooden chairs. All the chairs stood vacant, save for one.
Hunched over the mahogany table sat a slender man, asleep in his ornate
seat.
"Aets not ah bloodae skirt!" The Highlander exclaimed in his slumber. The
sudden force of his exclamation jerked him awake, leaving the knight
disoriented and bleary-eyed. Grumbling and cursing softly under his breath,
Cairhien MacLeod slapped himself into wakefulness.
The Knight had exchanged his customary mismatched chainmail armor for a
comfortable woolen tunic and as always, around his waist was the ever
present MacLeod clan kilt. Reaching for his quill, Cairhien dipped it in an
ink bottle and began writing.
"4:30 am, Day of the Moon, 7th the Month of the Frost Giant..."
As he wrote, his mind drifted to his earlier years, years spent in the
highlands of Nordmaar. At the time, young Cairhien had just turned twenty
and had served in the Royal Nordmaarian Army for the last two years. He had
recently made Private First Class, and was an infantryman in Major Frazen
Bruce's battalion.
Though Cairhien did not know the Major personally, he grew to idolise the
aging paladin. He was a stern but fair commander and was the epitome of
what an officer should be. Sir Bruce would always lead the way, not just on
the easy missions, but on the tough ones too. He was living proof that the
knightly virtues of Gareth's Keep could indeed be embodied in the mortal
coil of a single man.
Sir Frazen Bruce, Paladin of Nadrik, Major of the Nordmaarian Army. He was
the reason that led Cairhien on his path toward knighthood. Now, ten years
on, a seasoned lancer and crusader of Nadrik, Cairhien still felt his
accomplishments dwarfed by that of his Hero.
"Ah'll catch up t' yae yet Major...Just yae wait..."
Writer: Gildred
Date Mon Feb 22 10:12:58 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Mon Feb 22 12:36:35 2010
Writer: Eiry
Date Mon Feb 22 12:51:06 2010
Writer: Makiro
Date Mon Feb 22 12:54:46 2010
To Knighthood All Nadrik ( Immortal RP )
Subject Meditation Session within the Temple of Nadrik.
It is 2:30 am, Day of the Sun, 20th the Month of the Frost Giant. DSL
started up at Fri Feb 19 23:57:47 2010
The system time is Mon Feb 22 11:23:14 2010
Her head bowed in reverence, her breath slow and calm. Kneeling beside the
Alabaster knight before the statue of her Lord Nadrik, she utters a few
words of prayer, some of which included her strong desire to free Him of his
unholy captives. Upon rising, she turned, taking a few steps towards the
Altar of red oak. She cast her gaze upon the open book upon the sturdy
wooden frame and began to read, slowly and very gently, she leafed through
the pages. She had done this before, as a page and as a squire. Now, she
was doing so as a Knight of the Blessed Order of Siccara.
Makiro Tenryu exhaled slowly as she closed the heavy book, deep in thought.
She turned towards the pews and gingerly sat down, facing the statue of Lord
Nadrik.
"One of the primary roles of a Knight is to mentor and shape the next
generation of Knights" - Gwaine d'Aggravaine, The Lord Crown.
These words reverberated in her thoughts as she pondered. To her, the Lord
Crown was quite cryptic him. Yet this time, he was surprisingly
straightforward.
She allowed herself to think back to her initial days within the keep - How
impressionable she was, how much she learnt, how much her mentor had taught
her, how the Knights of the Keep had influenced her ideals and code of
conduct, and most of All how it All culminated into who she was this very
day. The smiling visages of her mentor along with many other knights
flashed before her eyes and she realized she had much to be thankful for.
She turned her gaze towards the eyes of Nadrik's Statue and smiled, "Thank
You, for All these people, My Lord, My God. "
Makiro hopped off her seat excitedly, snapped her fingers and exclaimed,
"Time to get myself a squire to nurture. " She was almost out of the Temple
of Nadrik and into the hallway but she halted in her tracks, evidently
forgetting something, she hurried back towards the Altar. "One should
return the book back to its original state. " she said to herself as she
re-opened the book. Makiro turned and started southwards, towards the exit,
glad that her meditation in the Temple was fruitful.
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Mon Feb 22 15:38:27 2010
Writer: Edalene
Date Mon Feb 22 19:35:56 2010
To All New_Thalos
Subject The Project (Part I)
Ever since a child, Edalene had loved the sand. While her siblings were
running around learning as much as they could, and yearning for some rare
treasures, the kender took her index finger and traced pictures out on the
baren lands. "Edalene, why are you so fascinated by this stuff?" "Edalene,
come play with us!"
These were the words she heard rumble through her ears often.
Her Mama and Papa soon discovered the work that she had masterpieced on the
golden canvas. "Edalene, darling, you have a gift!" Soon, All of the land
that already didn't know got to learn about Edalene's gift, and soon the
Sultan wanted a painting of a key chained in treasure on a pleasant Oasis.
----
Edalene ran, holding a parchment, a quill with dancing beads covering it,
and an ink bottle to the Palace of the Sultan and Sultana. Out of breath,
she nodded at the Sultan very surely. "I am positive that I want to do this
painting for you, sir! But, what is in it for me?" The Sultan rubbed in
chin, in deep deep thought. It was a wonder how the kender was so patient.
"Lady Edalene, I will allow your people to come and learn more about this
land. I could give you an education in the arts."
Edalene hopped up and down. "I'll take this job! I want more people to
know about my art, and maybe even come to see it for enjoyment! This will
be sooooo good! "
Edalene ran back to her home, and began on the project.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Mon Feb 22 21:04:41 2010
Writer: Aisiniath
Date Mon Feb 22 23:05:09 2010
Writer: Aisiniath
Date Mon Feb 22 23:05:16 2010
Writer: Aisiniath
Date Mon Feb 22 23:05:20 2010
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Tue Feb 23 11:36:48 2010
Writer: Eiry
Date Tue Feb 23 12:05:42 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Feb 23 13:00:46 2010
Writer: Madilyn
Date Tue Feb 23 13:11:56 2010
To All Immortal RP Sereb Jonathen
Subject Puppy Love
A warm breeze rustled through the curtains of the open door made of
intricate Elvish glass. Bright sun poured across Madilyn's snoozing figure
upon the bed, teasing with a promise of spring on its way. Tipping her wet,
tear-stained face toward the open portal, Madilyn stretched and tried to get
into a more comfortable position - something not easy when one's stomach was
as round and hard as a cannon ball.
She felt hung over. A dull ache had taken up residence behind her swollen
eyes quickly when she'd begun to cry, sapping her already limited energy.
She recalled her conversation with Jonathen and groaned slightly, sure she'd
made a fool of herself. Lovely. Unlike other women Madilyn knew, she was
not a pretty crier - she was sure her face had become puffy and splotchy
with tears and her nose bright red like a comical cherry. She'd probably
looked like a clown at a circus show.
She hadn't realized there was so much pent up worry and stress over the
matter they'd discussed until it had come All pouring out in a blubbering
mess. Alas, there was nothing she could do about it, at this particular
moment.
Pulling a pillow more snuggly under her head, Madilyn paused. Something
outside the door gave a snort - a snuffling noise, really - that made her
tired eyes pop open and then narrow into slits. Dispite her advanced
pregnancy and her miserable state of mind, select portions of her training
as an assassin began pushing everything else out of her brain. Her hand was
tightly gripped around her favorite dagger as she slipped off the bed,
listening intently to the hard, rough breathing just outside.
Slowly as she could manage (with notably less grace than usual), Madilyn
crouched by the door and positioned herself to peer through at the garden
beyond, trying to assess how much danger was about to present itself. Her
heart rate climbed a bit, her breathing became shallow and concentrated.
Suddenly, with a loud yelp, Madilyn found herself flat on her back on the
floor - with a decently sized puppy scrambling to find purchase upon on her
chest.
For a split second, Madilyn was stunned into immobility.
Then she began to laugh, allowing herself the release for a few moments,
pushing the small dog's face away from her with several sputters of mirth.
It wasn't too large of a thing, probably no bigger than a medium sized cat
at this stage of growth, but its fur was warm and soft and colored mostly
black with white patches here and there.
'And where did YOU come from, ' Madilyn questioned, gathering up the mutt in
her arms and pulling herself (slowly and with struggle) into an upright
position. Warm amber eyes peered up at her momentarily before the bundle of
energy began to squirm. Puppy paws had barely hit the floor before he'd
zoomed to the end of the bed and begun to use an expensive-looking boot for
a chew toy. Sereb's best dress pair.
Madilyn winced and scooped up the tiny terror with a chuckle. Today was
going to be a long day.
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Tue Feb 23 14:38:23 2010
Writer: Eiry
Date Tue Feb 23 14:51:37 2010
To All Kamdyn Kaikias Gwendalen Branzol Roisheen Taevan Ambrosse Kantilles
Subject I'm ready.
Eiry strides across the translucent floor of the temple with a brisk,
undeviating gait. Her chin is elevated as she concludes another lap of
Kantilles' holy ground, punctuating the achievement by coming to a momentary
halt before the marble representation of the god of good magic.
'Mama, Papa, I want to become a legendary mage. '
Her words are unrivaled, solely for the reason that her only company is
arguably the miniature ball of light that revolves around Kantilles' statue.
Her shoulders are squared and her right foot occupies the space in front of
her left as she assesses the bend of her knees.
'I want to join the Tower. I want to become brave! '
The passionate words reverberate through the temple as she gifts the
accommodating statue with a half grin. Eiry's thumbs loop through the
golden scarf that serves her hips as a belt, dual coloured eyes brimming
with determination and excitement.
'I'm ready. '
Writer: Ma'ren
Date Tue Feb 23 23:48:40 2010
Writer: Eranyth
Date Wed Feb 24 15:42:28 2010
Writer: Gildred
Date Wed Feb 24 16:59:00 2010
Writer: Bernadette
Date Fri Feb 26 11:49:38 2010
Writer: Nymaya
Date Fri Feb 26 13:26:24 2010
To All RP Imm Necrucifer ( Anastormia Telthian Crelius )
Subject Discordant Echo
She became aware of a sound.
Faint, like the breathing of someone as they slept, or of a predator as it
stalked it prey.
Alert and awake now, she remained still in the black cushioned chair and
settled to simply listen. Nothing moved. There was no sense of life, just
the faint breath of sound - the awareness.
It grew in depth the longer she remained unmoving, became pronounced and
certain. Familiar even. So familiar that a deep dread began to rise beside
it. It was no physical manifestation. It was something she knew All too
well. She had known this sensation for centuries and its resulting whisper
for an eternity.
It wasn't calm and it wasn't comforting anymore.
It no longer reinforced any certainty in how she lived her life now, in the
decisions she made that had managed to help keep her alive. She couldn't
call on it to protect her, to guide her or even lend her much needed
reassurance.
"...what brings you peace from it, Lady Kayen?"
And abruptly, it was no longer a gentle if ominous sound. It was a
cacophony. Distorted and riding the precarious edge of agonizing. She knew
how easy it would be to slip into it, to allow it reign over her sanity.
She could understand how elves had fallen prey to madness in its wake.
Her hand blindly grasped for the hilt of the sword she knew she had propped
up against the side of the chair before she'd sat down to doze, intent on
grounding herself with its familiarity - but stopped abruptly when she
realized it was gone.
Her eyes snapped open only to find equally familiar brown eyes gazing down
at her. He'd lifted the scabbard in one hand while the other held to the
side of the chair, allowing him to loom over her. He was so close she could
see the detail in his iris's, feel his breath across her lips. But he was
dead...
'Don't let it rule you'
His mouth never moved but she heard his whisper.
'You were my purpose' She seemed to breathe the very words, All the while
wondering if she had already lost her mind to the discord.
'I have faith in you' Stalwart and as certain as ever.
'It is a part of me' And she could feel despair wisp through her.
'Then accept it, understand it - seek to overcome it' There was indomitable
strength there, a certainty that had carried her in the past. 'Live only to
serve Him in All ways. I taught you well - the choice has always been yours
how best to use it and to what purpose'
And then the feather light touch of his lips met hers gently after a breathless,
timeless pause.
---
She awoke slowly, aware of a deep and empty calm. The sort of peace she had
recently admitted to. Attempting to examine the feeling told her only that
it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before; she had come to an
acceptance in at least one aspect of her life.
She felt nothing more than certainty as she rose up from the self-same black
cushioned chair in her dream, the Kayen manor yawning mostly empty around
her, though she was beset with the haunting surety that she contained a
tainted discord at her core, where once reigned the pure fiery song of her
soul.
It was a disquieting realization but with a focused effort, she pushed it to
the background of her thoughts and left the darkened parlor without a glance
back.
Writer: Tief
Date Fri Feb 26 17:08:03 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Fri Feb 26 20:38:42 2010
Writer: Eranyth
Date Sat Feb 27 00:18:35 2010
Writer: Eranyth
Date Sat Feb 27 00:33:06 2010
Writer: Thrakhath
Date Sat Feb 27 06:55:47 2010
Writer: Thrakhath
Date Sat Feb 27 10:08:59 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sat Feb 27 22:52:57 2010
Writer: Corszana
Date Sun Feb 28 14:40:08 2010
Writer: Corszana
Date Sun Feb 28 15:20:08 2010
Writer: Gildred
Date Sun Feb 28 15:46:51 2010
To Wargar Thaxanos All Betha ( imm imms rp religion cliath )
Subject Questions to Chaos.
Gildred kneeled before the anvil created in Cliaths honor within
Thaxanos. His hands, placed upon the anvil, left red streaks from the
constant wear of him nervously twisting them against each other. He stood
briefly, and then kneeled once again.
"Cliath, guide yer spark te inspire those that sit idle as creation etself
is within breakin point. Manae ave come te mae seekin advice regardin de
comin ship battle. Manae ere within de mountain bae unsure of their
involvement. It bae my duty as yer priest te ease their nervous souls. Ae,
like them, grew more secluded within de mountain, nae carin what should
appen te those outside. Aye, ae was wrong. Et is clear now that without de
neutral patheons involvement, creation itself shall bae no more. Et is nae
ae matter o fighting evil with de light, bu protectin All that there bae.
Ae ask fer ye te help those with questions te seek mae out, assist with mae
words in easing their uncertaintae."
Gildred Boltbeard stood and wrapped the length of his robes around his body.
He bent and picked up his hammer that had been etched with the symbol of
Cliath. A soft blue hummed off the hammer as it had been blessed for
protection by the priest. As Gildred watched the dwarves of Thaxanos go
about their daily routines within the stone street, he nodded towards the
armsmaster of Thaxanos which he had spoken with earlier.
"Aye, ae hope te see manae o these lads n lasses when de sun rises tomorrow.
As the winds shift, the scent o Chaos spreads slowly even here in de
mountain. The effect has alreadae been seen within the tall towers of the
Conclave. How long till dwarves bae headin towards Malachives beacon?"
His grip tightened on his humming hammer. With great unease, he left the
anvil in Cliaths honor and returned to the temple to take rest with the rest
of the members to Wargar.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Sun Feb 28 19:41:29 2010
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Sun Feb 28 21:43:31 2010
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Mon Mar 1 01:57:08 2010
To All Althainia Mercerion Gwendalen Maraisal Parle imm Austinian Nadrik Scorn religion
Subject My own damn shard.
Ixi'kweez swore he was going to do it. He told himself that if the Light
lost yet another shard, he was going off and finding his own damn shard.
When the naval battle was officially over, and the Light had been defeated,
Ixi'kweez found himself in the Church of Light. He wasn't paying much
attention to what they All were saying. Some were pointing fingers. Some
were patting themselves on the back for 'doing their best'. Ixi'kweez,
however, was already planning his next move.
He had told Admiral Parle of his intention to leave for Shokono at once.
Surprisingly enough, Parle had insisted on accompanying him. Shortly
thereafter, Lady Gwendalen also informed him of her intention of going
along. Ixi'kweez sighed to himself. He had originally intended to do this
alone, but it seemed that was not going to happen.
Ixi'kweez slowly made his way to the docks and boarded the Koi, meeting up
with the Admiral. Gwendalen would meet them at the Spirit Gardens after
boarding a later ship. Slowly, the Koi was released from its moorings and
they set sail. Ixi'kweez noticed the longing gaze Parle maintained on his
homeland as it shrunk in the distance. Parle had told him there was little
for him there now. This was something he could relate to, as his own
homeland held nothing for him now. Only Parle could return to his home,
whereas Ixi'kweez did not have that luxury.
After what seemed an eternity, the two landed at Shokono Port. They
meticulously combed the entire coastline of the island, making their way
once again back to Shokono Port. Ixi'kweez suggested setting up camp at the
manor in the Spirit Gardens, and there they made their way. Upon arrival,
the two chose to rest and get a fresh start in the morning.
But there would be no rest for Ixi'kweez. He was full of anger and
frustration at the Light, and their inability to unify, despite the words of
the Gods. Ixi'kweez grabbed the shovel from his pack and sauntered outside
into the cherry orchard. This place would be good as any to begin his
search.
Several hours later, Ixi'kweez had found nothing, and created quite a number
of holes which now peppered the orchard. His anger only increased as he
reflected on the past events once again.
'They speak of unity and how important it is. ' *shovel hitting stone*
'They know not of unity! *shovel slicing through earth* 'How can they
speak of unity, when the elves and the dwarves quarrel endlessly! ' *shovel
breaking stone* 'How can they ever claim unity, while Gareth and the White
Robes bicker so? ' *shovel hitting tree* 'How can the Light claim unity, if
the metallics and the good Slayers endlessly wage war!? ' *shovel handle
snapping in twain* 'The Gods ask us for Unity? And -this- is what we give
them? This is an insult! '
Ixi'kweez regained his composure and looked about him. Holes littered the
orchard around him, and his shovel lay before him in pieces.
'Alright. It's not here. I'll try somewhere else tomorrow. ' With that,
he returned to his quarters and rested.
Writer: Gildred
Date Mon Mar 1 06:53:02 2010
To wargar thaxanos All betha ( imm imms rp religion RP cliath )
Subject Creating in Destruction.
Heaving a large bag nearly twice his size, Gildred Boltbeard struggled
before the anvil within Thaxanos. Setting the bag down, he slowly untied
the rope that bound the top closed and released what was inside. Large
pieces of metal, wood, leather, and cloth toppled out of the bag and before
the anvil of Cliath.
"Lord Cliath, et bae ae shame that another stop as been taken towards
engulfing creation in Chaos n slowly deteriorate it into nothingness. Ae
convinced manae te aide the ships o light te return balance n order within
tis world, but alas, et was not successful. This nae bae ae loss for ye, m
lord, bu an awakenin fer yer followers n others of de neutral patheons.
Sittin idly bae not the way fer balance in these times."
Gildred Boltbeard started to rummage through the large pieces of scrap. He
turned several pieces of wood and steel over a few times rubbing his hands
over them. After a few minutes, he fell to his knees and prayed.
"Ae take these scraps n remains o de fine vessels crafted bae mortal
creature te the Wargarian forge, lord Cliath. Ae shall melt n take hammer
te steel to create in what manae would see bu as mere destruction. Ae
shield shall bae made, te symbolize yer priest n his ever defense o yer
glorious creation o All dat we know. Shall et crack n fall, so will yer
priest, for et will stand te protection what ye ask as long as ae kin stand
maeself, lord Cliath."
Slowly, the mountain dwarf began to collect the remains left before the
anvil and placed them bag into the roughly sewn bag made from a sail with
the symbol of Althainia on it. Placing his hammer to his chest, he mutters
a prayer, and is quickly returned to his clan hall within the mountain.
Writer: Kallistos
Date Mon Mar 1 09:30:10 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Mon Mar 1 17:17:04 2010
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Mon Mar 1 17:36:16 2010
Writer: Eiry
Date Mon Mar 1 17:53:05 2010
To All Kamdyn Kaikias Roisheen Branzol Taevan Gwendalen Kantilles
Subject flying
Eiry completes the task of scaling the tall beige wall that hides the
Gray Church's snowy garden and secures her balance, her right foot fixed in
front of her left. Adrenaline feeds her numbing limbs, the abiding trickle
growing into hare footed white water rapids as she leans empirically
forward.
'Can't fly. ' A half grin parts her lips. She wets them as she rubs her
hands together to bait warmth that her slender legs have need of, goose
pimples thriving against the youthful skin. 'But the only way I'll learn
the spell is practice. '
She lids her eyes and launches herself from the wall to join the flurry of
falling snowflakes, the incantation replaying in sotto voice within her
mind. The permanency beneath Eiry's sandals is supplanted for her current
weightless condition, the buzz of euphoria, and devouring compulsion never
to be restrained by the ground again.
The tails of the golden scarf that encircles the circumference of her hips
flutter, flap, and beat the chilly air as she flies.
Her knees and palms slam harshly against the packed snow when she falls.
Breath is forced from the credulous Eiry as her cheek collides with the
snow. Her shoulder flares and throbs with pain as she rolls onto her back
and splays her arms to either side of her. Her knuckles ache from the force
of impact and her white strands are matted melting snow.
She laughs quietly to herself as she opens her dual coloured eyes.
'I wanna go again. '
Writer: Iulh
Date Mon Mar 1 20:20:21 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Mon Mar 1 20:39:25 2010
Writer: Beydalar
Date Mon Mar 1 20:56:18 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Mon Mar 1 21:32:19 2010
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Mon Mar 1 21:37:44 2010
To All Austinian Immortal RP
Subject Seek and you shall find
While earning coin for the Church, Y'tarra felt a brush within her mind.
The question posed to her mentioned her situation but that her soul belonged
to Austinian and did she seek him? It gave her hope that Austinian had not
completely turned away. Tears welled in her eyes and she was happy that she
was alone. Replying in the affirmative, the conversation began. He
questioned how she came to be in this state to which she replied honestly,
yet kept her reply short. If he was someone of importance, she did not want
to monopolize anyone's time. She admitted her weakness and wickness that
followed with the end resulted in Austinian's turning from her. With that
she learned the one who contacted her was Thrakhath, His Champion and a
Knight. He offered insight, simply to live the tenents true and well and
perhaps with that she might have His grace again. For which, Y'tarra
thanked him.
Since the time it happened, Y'tarra had also felt the urge to seek out His
clergy and knew only of Deacon Ixi'kweez who resided in Althainia. Upon her
contact, they agreed to meet in the Temple of Light. She felt more than a
little apprehensive, how would she be seen? When the Deacon arrived, his
voice though sad, voiced what she had known All along. The past was in the
past and cannot be changed. To live as an extension of faith and to be the
example for others to follow. All the goals she set for herself were
affirmed by those that know Him best. Immediately she offered thanks to the
Lord of Light for the strength of his followers. She remembered the
Champions description. Wrathful and magnanimous.
Y'tarra had seen enough of Austinian's wrathful side, as much as she ever
wanted to be on the receiving end of.. Now she would work to earn his love.
Writer: Rublos
Date Mon Mar 1 22:38:29 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Mar 2 01:33:19 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Mar 2 02:22:18 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Mar 2 02:34:40 2010
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Mar 2 02:42:47 2010
To All Knighthood
Subject Fw: The Sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain
| -----Original Message-----
| From: Datai
| To: Datai
| Subject: The Sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain
| Date: Tue Mar 2 02:22:18 2010
The Sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain
First, I clearly remember his long auburn hair,
As I read the scrolls I wonder if history was fair,
To a man who so loved honor and our knighthood,
A love unrequited and oft misunderstood,
Saddled with a Keep destined to tear itself in twain,
I will recount my memories of Lord Rheidyr Glain.
How the Lord Shield and I would come to meet,
Would be on Althainia's city street,
My friend Ayanami Rei already joined with the Keep,
In the Great Red's way she was magicked asleep.
Lord Rheidyr rode forth, and to his surprise,
He was not the only one to answer Ayanami's cries,
This Aspirant loner bard inbound he saw,
Without much ado punched the Red in the jaw,
With paladin bravely engaged in the terrible fray,
I took the opportunity to drag Ayanami away.
When All was settled, he smiled and praised my bravery,
Though I suspected he'd never before seen such idiocy.
I remember the bemused smile that arose,
When finally I was welcomed among the pew rows.
Oh so joyful a time, happy and plain,
So far away from the sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain.
To the Keep, time eventually came,
When the great Lord Seal wished to end his reign,
A choice between two generals arose,
Lord Xybian Madaur with fury and blood for his foes,
And piously tempered Lord Rheidyr Glain of the Shield,
So decided wisdom was the greatest weapon to wield,
Upon that the great general did depart for elvenhome,
But the schism between war and mercy had already grown.
In short time it was before Rheidyr, Lord Crown, I kneeled,
And then arose a Knight of his beloved Shield,
Eager to serve as a Dame, I bid him for a command,
He smiled gently as he issued his demand,
"Sit in this pew, bring cheer, and raise morale."
So I have done since, as time does allow,
Though I sang of joy and did entertain,
The seed of sorrow was already born for Lord Rheidyr Glain.
With Dame Ayanami and I loyal Knights of the Shield,
Lord Rheidyr ensured we were not unarmed in the field,
To us was distributed a small pamphlet,
Which he and High Justice Lordon had put to print,
Of the virtues a Knight aught to espouse,
Chivalry, and even knightly advice on getting a spouse.
Thus armed we attempted to temper the mighty Lance,
Though applauded for our piety,
To All our demands, Lord Rheidyr would not see,
"Mark my words," Clerist Ayanami Rei would tell,
"These blood thirsty knights will drag us All down into Hell."
The frustration of All none could disguise,
Though with Lord Circe at the Lance, we had a brief reprise,
Still the sorrowful schism of war and mercy would remain,
Young verses the old, humble born versus the noble name,
Continued.
Writer: Datai
Date Tue Mar 2 02:42:52 2010
To All Knighthood
Subject Fw: The Sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain, page 2
| -----Original Message-----
| From: Datai
| To: Datai
| Subject: The Sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain, page 2
| Date: Tue Mar 2 02:34:40 2010
Continued from previous page.
Every issue a chance to reopen the old wound,
And Lord Rheidyr tried to guide us from this doom.
When rumor of Shalonesti falling to undead,
Few in the Keep would have a cool head,
To wage war against our noble allies of old,
Was a thought that set our blood cold,
Yet some knights readied sword with delight,
To drink the blood of alleged blood drinkers of night,
Still gentle, merciful, and steady our Lord would remain,
For the sins of a single tree, he would not put a forest to flame.
To this young bard, All seemed another excuse to debate,
So I'd sit on my pew, sing and patiently wait,
Till I'd see Lord Rheidyr start to bless,
(Which I liked to watch, I confess,)
He'd smile and beckon me to his side,
And into battle we would ride.
With he and I there were no debates on who or why,
Together we only sought the most vile things in the sky,
Not petty criminals or the latest political mire,
Our hearts and souls ablaze with dragon fire.
Tempered by lightning, flame, and frost,
We'd stand firm even if All was lost,
As we were when we first met,
As high as a paladin and his bard could get,
With Lord Gwaine or someone else we might patrol along,
But no one else quite shared our dragon slaying song,
I cannot recall a single time my Lord and I won,
But our hearts and souls were pure after the hunt was done,
Sorrow dispelled by dragon's flame,
We'd return to a keep tearing itself in twain.
One by one, the fury of angry knights felt,
To Lord Rheidyr wounds from All sides were dealt,
Alone on a middle path grown cold,
Lord Rheidyr lacked Lord Seal's tongue of gold.
No compromise or great vision,
Seemed to heal the growing division,
Then one fateful day, alas,
The High Clerist's prophecy came to pass,
When to hate and anger Alistian finally fell,
The anti-paladin dragged many a knight down into Hell,
But no fall that day so hard to watch and see,
Lord Rheidyr alone in such sorrow and fury,
We All guilty in one way or another I could name,
Ultimately the Lord Crown would shoulder the blame,
To Lord Leumas Circe he passed the unforgiving task,
What sadness my friend paladin did bravely mask,
I sat upon my pew, sang and did patiently wait,
But as he blessed, with sorrow to me he did state,
"To restore my honor, I hunt the anti-paladins alone."
And away I watched him ride from our broken home,
Never again would I see Lord Rheidyr Glain,
But always with me will his memory and song remain.
Oh so joyful a time, happy and plain,
So far away from the sorrow of Lord Rheidyr Glain.
The end.
Writer: Gildred
Date Tue Mar 2 07:23:51 2010
To Wargar Thaxanos All ( imm imms RP religion cliath )
Subject An Ogre?
Gildred Boltbeard turned from the anvil and, BOOM, there sat a gigantic
ogre in the street, watching him. More and more often Gildren had found
himself in just this place in prayer. The ogre sat there, blank in the eye
and slumped at the shoulder, long nappy dreadlocks, large black platemail
armor with spikes, and a very large hammer at its side. Gildred didnt
believe that this silent beast appearance was purely random, but had a
reason.
"I had a dream. Awful dream. Screamed."
Gildred startled. How long has it been since an ogre, ANY ogre, spoke like
this? He turned to the ogre again and stared. It had a bad dream? The
ogre? He tried to remember any such occurrence as this in his life and had
no luck.
"You what?" Asked Gildred.
"Screamed. Ju no hear mez?"
Gildred replied, No. He began to wonder if the ogre was kidding him. Ogres
were not joking creatures though.
Screamed words. Not ogre voice. Heard self, make self stop. Land n water
up in smoke. Ogre find no food, starving. Many tribe dead, ogre sick. Big
armies turn to ogre n no need anymore. Toss ogre to meat eaters. This is
coming?
Sighing, Gildred now understood the concern upon the ogres face. How many
of those that he would never consider to possibly aide in the defense of
Cliaths creation gone unnoticed? Aye, things had changed. Long ago were
the days that Gildred cared little for what happened outside the mountains
of Thaxanos. How long had it been since the lord creator himself had given
him this quest... This... Task with only one possible result or else all
will be lost?
He approached the ogre slowly, with his hands extended. The ogre wept.
Writer: Arravis
Date Tue Mar 2 09:57:47 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Tue Mar 2 10:22:15 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Tue Mar 2 15:04:20 2010
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Tue Mar 2 16:48:20 2010
To All Austinian RP Immortals
Subject Hope rekindled
The Gray Church had grown empty and with her chores completed, Y'tarra
went to the Althainian Temple to earn a bit of coin for the upkeep of the
church. While waiting for her turn, she was surprised to see black wings
upon an angel nearly twice her height. The sight alone created a mixture of
awe and reverence within her heart. She thought he was beautiful and became
just a bit fearful when she spied the symbol of Nadrik upon his forehead.
Of All the people to whom she had told her story, when Karael asked her why
she was shunned, she felt her shame choking her throat. It would have been
rude not to answer so she told him. She had wronged her God and lost
herself.
The questions continued, and while his tone never seemed to change, Y'tarra
felt the profound loss more in speaking with this being, that she had truly
tossed herself away in those moments within Argg's grasp. Karael affirmed
what she had begun to believe, that it was she who first turned from her
God. That Argg and Zayin's actions were to suit them. She had allowed
herself to despair and be used. She did not kill that servant and he may
have died then or another time by Argg's hand. That she should always know
herself and keep that always.
There was a time during the conversation, when she mentioned what she meant
to do regarding the shard when she thought the Angel might take exception
and perhaps change his tone. He did not. She almost wanted him to until he
stated he would pray for her and that she find the path again. She almost
wanted him to be angry with her and realized right after that thought that
she was angry enough with herself. She alone had to walk the path back,
that her choices must be to believe with her entire being in the Light,
Austinian's will and then have the strength to reach out to the people of
Algoron and share it with them. To truly serve.
When Karael wished her well, she offered her thanks to Austinian, silently
she also offered her thanks to Nadrik. If she had hope that the Light might
yet save the God of Honor, she knew she also carried hope within that she
would find success no matter the time it took. And it was time to share
that hope with others.
Writer: Artaikus
Date Tue Mar 2 21:44:37 2010
Writer: Enduriel
Date Tue Mar 2 22:09:02 2010
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Wed Mar 3 06:28:55 2010
To All Austinian Immortal RP
Subject To cleanse the soul
From the time she was a little child in the Vallenwood, Y'tarra had been
taught that whenever she faultered to begin again with the basics, to
rebuild. Clearing her chores early one morning, she went to a basic prayer
chamber within the Gray Church and prepared to partake of an old customer.
A ritual fast.
For a period of one night and one day, she would consume no food or water.
She gathered candles and incense and lit them about the room, leaving a
second and third supply to the side for the duration of the ritual. The
ritual itself could be viewed several ways. The usual and the most popular
belief was that this was a way to purify the body, mind and soul, to
acknowledge that during a time where her body was in need, faith would
prevail. Before All that had occurred, Y'tarra believed this explaination
more than the others. Other views believed it a way to remember how it is
go without the basic necessities and to be generous to those that are in
need. It had also been described ass the act of a supplicant to show their
devotion to their God and bring themselves closer to their deities will by
removing worldly desires and indulgences.
As she prayed and meditated through this period, Y'tarra found that all
three carried truth. Each interpretation carried a lesson of it's own.
Putting purity before want, clarity before how the body feels lazy when it's
full and the focus of the soul on Light and Hope. Into her prayers, Y'tarra
pledged to help every person in need. That when Light and Hope combined
with Charity can life those out of desparation and despair. She beseeched
the Holy Father for mercy for those in need and thanked Him for All the
blessings He gives to Algoron.
Finally, as she continued into the night, Y'tarra felt cleansed, offered her
soul to Austinian and repledged her devotion to spread His word and uphold
the faith once again. The candles had long expired however the scent of wax
and incense lingered. Birds faintly chirped outside in their own effort to
herald in the dawn. Moving slowly to the door, she found herself looking
out upon the sky, watching the clouds lighten as if from a painters
pallette. The inky veil of night being slowly lightened by the encroaching
orb, hues first of black and dark blue changing to azure and gray before
inviting tones of rose pink followed by a pale yellow and fiery orange. She
held her breath slightly at the beauty, tears streaming down her cheeks at
something to simple and yet profound. While watching the apex of the sun
pushed up to the horizon offering up the first golden rays of the day.
"Thank you, for a glorious morning, Great Father. May your bounty be
remembered by All those that service and bring hope to those that need it
most."
Quickly she partook of some bread and fruit, breaking her fast, before
returning to her daily duties.
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 13:20:58 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 13:36:28 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 13:37:34 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 13:37:38 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 13:38:56 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 13:39:00 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 15:29:49 2010
Writer: Deavryn
Date Wed Mar 3 15:29:53 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Wed Mar 3 18:33:56 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Wed Mar 3 18:37:42 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Wed Mar 3 18:38:14 2010
Writer: Maisie
Date Wed Mar 3 18:38:23 2010
Writer: Iulh
Date Wed Mar 3 19:10:48 2010
Writer: Teirnan
Date Wed Mar 3 20:55:16 2010
Writer: Hevron
Date Wed Mar 3 23:54:25 2010
To All Imm Immortal RP (Nadrik / Merrah'Drr)
Subject A vision and a path
He wemic growled as he tightened the makeshift bandages around his
midsection. Those bastard trolls unleashed upon Althainia by the unmaker,
Malachive, had landed several painful blows to his torso.
His eyes rolled back slightly as he fought to stay conscious. "The fight
did not go well" he thought to himself.
Fighting through escalating waves of pain which threatened to knock him out
cold, Hevron rummaged through his satchel for a few medicinal herbs. He
uttered a guttural prayer to Sreerch, the goddess of healing, and carefully
tucked them inside the bandages, so the herbs were directly on the wound.
"Ahhhhhhhh" he sighed, feeling the fiery burning quickly turning to numbess
as the poultice began to work.
The worst of the pain now eased, he began to let his mind wander back over
the feverish battle which had been waged in the center of Althainia's market
square.
Once, this wemic would have had little difficulty fighting for Merah'drr,
and would have dispatched the beasts quicky
But he had set down his blades and arcanium studded leathers in favour of
animal skins and mystic totems. His new path was one of listening to the
voice of his ancestors, and seeking to do the work of the Heavenly Pride;
Ahuhr'rahm, the Great Sire. Father of Good Dreah'l'erm, the Good Mother,
and his mate.
Their sons;
Srrahm'dreer, the Magi of White. Merrah'Drr, the Champion and lord of
Honour.
And their daughters;
Sreerch, She of the Healing Touch Srrahd'rerk, the fallen goddess of Peace
and Tranquility.
Hevron looked down at his right arm, at the flaming spear held by a strong
hand, symbol of Merah'Drr.
Once this wemic was well trained in All manner of direct combat, and fought
for the glory of his patron God. Hevron had been so dedicated, he had put
aside his metal armours and bladed weapons, and walked the path of a shaman.
Listening for instructions from a god who had fallen silent lately. Perhaps
by choice, perhaps not.
He lay there, feeling the cold burn of the poultice digging deeper into the
wounds, and thought of his poor performance in the brutal melee with the
trolls.
As he did, the image of the flaming spear appeared to rise up off of his
arm. The flames burned brighter and brighter, and then suddenly flared. A
moment later, they reverted to their original strength, and the spear was
now a mighty sword.
Hevron widened his eyes at this vision, then understanding dawned on him.
He glanced over to the adjoining room, where gleaming suits of arcanium
platemail were on display.
"This wemic has seen, and he understands the new path before him.... " he
whispered, before his head rolled back and he fell into a deep, healing
sleep.
Writer: Gildred
Date Thu Mar 4 07:20:00 2010
To Wargar Thaxanos Betha All ( imm imms RP religion Cliath )
Subject Underworld, even in Chaos, the lord does create.
Gildred watched as the dark waters quickly went by him as he steered the
ship. Quickly, back and forth he ran working the sail, anchor, and the
wheel of the old vessel. The wood planks creaked as it plunged through wave
after wave as he headed south along the Underworld. Only darkness, black as
the deepest holes of the mountain, lay ahead. Is this the way the lads had
told him to go? Gildreds dwarven instincts within this place were the only
thing keeping him from going insane and keeping direction.
WHAP!! The vessel collided with another rock. The ship groaned like an old
man getting out of a warm pond.
Peering with great intent over the wheel, Gildred tried to make out what
seemed to be a dock up ahead. Without warning, an icy grip was on his
shoulder, sending bolts of pain throughout his body. Faltering in stance,
he turned to see a fleshless skeleton. As the little torchlight there was
on the ship illuminated its whiteness, several others were made out behind
it, crawling up the sides with great agility.
What the....
They quickly advanced on the priest and tossed him to the icy waters below.
Still stunned with such a quick change, Gildred quickly got himself together
and began to swim towards what he believed was a dock. With the lord
Cliaths blessing in recovery, he was barely able to complete the distance.
Breathing heavy and shivering, Gildred pulled himself onto the rotten dock
and spit the salty waters from his face.
"Lord, head mae prayers. Even en times o' great peril te de land, ye
inspire All o' Algoron wit such wonders as 'tis. There bae unexplored
worlds yet in Algoron, places that nae ae mortal knew existed. Such curious
splendors bae what those o' de neutral n' dark patheons need te behold te
yet understand what is n' danger wit the comin' tide o' destruction n'
Chaoss. Let mae time here aide mae in what ye ask. Aye, be the beckon in
the darkness. Nae fer mae, bu' fer All o' Algoron m' lord."
With three taps with his hammer to the silver anvil that GIldred crafted in
honor and remembrance to Cliath, it began to shine with a soft blue
throughout the Underworld. He could hear the lads of Wargar to the
southwest finally. He picked himself up and followed their voices.
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Thu Mar 4 10:48:34 2010
To All Austinian Immortals
Subject Ritual of Sacrifice
From the beginning, as children we are taunt to honor and love the Gods
as an extention of our being. Through them we touch the divine and to take
in All they inspire to share among our fellow mortals. To bring ourselves
closer to our deities a ritual of sacrifice is offered to cleanse our
impurities and to show devotion.
With that in mind, Y'tarra used the same small room she had for fasting.
She brought a few small pillows on which to sit, candles and incense.
Candles would be in a circle around her and would represent the light and
the incense would represent the purity of truth.
Simply dressed in a linen tunic and pants, she closed the door and had it
locked from the outside. As her torture in Verminasia had been for nearly a
day, Y'tarra intended to face them in that time. She had consulted those of
strong mind on how best to face her challenges and defeat them. Her stomach
clenched tightly upon hearing the lock but she whispered to herself that it
would be worth the effort in the end.
She began with only one candle lit. It symbolized faith and the Light of
the Father. A humble prayer was offered. Weakness was inexcusable when
faith alone was needed. Although just an elf, there are time when it is
expected to reach beyond. Her sacrifice would be to endure and understand
her first weakness that lead to her fall from faith.
Although the flame danced upon the candle and it was more than she was
afforded while in Verminasia, it did not take half an hour for the jitters
to turn into shakes and the walls to begin moving. Y'tarra hugged her knees
into her chest and circled her arms around them to find her center.
Something must have started this a while ago that she did not recall. It
had to have been strong enough that she subconsciously never put herself in
that position.
Gazing at the candle it took extreme effort to block the multiplied fears
whispering in her head due to the walls feeling ever so close around her.
Reaching deeply within her soul she asked herself why? Delved deep into her
memory for what might have caused such pain.
Time unfolded presenting her with a few options, but they did not feel quite
right. Around her the walls began to wail, threatening enough to give her
momentary pause and panic. Did she really want to know? Was it necessary?
She could just leave it alone.
Y'tarra used everything she could muster to put her fears aside, her
exhaustion driven now by faith that she would see it through. Peeling away
the protective layers, she remembered being out with her cousins, sneaking
out after bedtime as the young sometimes do to play under the stars. In
human years, she would be in transition to adolescense. Her slightly older
cousins revelled in disobeying their parents and only agreed to bring
Y'tarra along for fear that she would tattle.
Night fascinated her. The song of the leaves under the stars was different
than during the day, whistful to the point of mournful and yet vigilant to
await the dawn. Animal sounds also differed and she found herself happy to
experience nature's gifts. But her cousins did not care to remain in one
spot and let her reflect, earlier in the day they discovered a cave and
wanted to explore. None had thought to bring torches or other lights so
they stayed close to the front. Playing different games soon had them in
the cave and deeper than intended, Y'tarra followed them in, not wanting to
be separated, yet soon found herself lost and could not see or hear the
others due to the pitch black interior.
(tbc)
Writer: Y'tarra
Date Thu Mar 4 10:55:53 2010
To All Austinian Immortal
Subject Ritual of Sacrifice 2
Almost the same amount of time had passed as when she had been in
Verminasia, a night and a day, she was found just as night fell and much
farther from the entrance than she thought. Y'tarra had felt small and
insignificant when she had been trapped in the cave, having sung softly to
herself which reverberated off the close walls. Although she attempted to
walk around and find a way out, without a light of some kind it only
contributed to her walking around in circles. She cried much of the time
she had been alone and once rescued had prayed every day for a month to
Austinian in thanks.
Reliving it in her mind, she wept. She had thanked Austinian then, and
although she had prayed that he not abandon her, had not thanked him she was
still alive. Slowly the walls stopped whispered and appeared normal yet
still whispered the songs she sung as a child in comfort.
Lighting the rest of the candles, she prayed, "Father of Light, I give up my
failures to you with the promise I will change them to successes in the
future. I submit to Your will and say... I am mortal and imperfect and yet
through you will try to be more. I sacrifice my fear and face it for what
it is and allow it no more dominion of my mind and soul. The Light is our
guide and salvation. Through your teachings may we know the way ahead and
spread hope and faith, in Your name."
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Thu Mar 4 21:12:08 2010
To All Althainia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm Austinian
Subject The Stormy Calm After The Storm
Ixi'kweez stretched lazily as he slowly awoke in his home in the Vallens.
He decided to linger there a little longer, enjoying that blissful stage
between sleep and full consciousness before starting what was bound to be a
most interesting day.
'Oh, well. Let's go see how much hate mail is sitting in my mailbox. '
Ixi'kweez said to himself. Donning his robes, he gingerly stepped out of
the house and walked to the mailbox. Sure enough, it was just brimming with
missives, bearing the telltale Shalonesti crest. Ixi'kweez dug deeper, and
noticed that -every- missive he received bore the same crest.
Ixi'kweez wasn't shocked in the least. Of All the places who could have
given him a hard time, only Shalonesti saw the need to disparage him.
"You-obviously do not know your history...." . 'Yes, that must be it. '
Ixi'kweez chuckled to himself. 'Former longtime Senator of House Sha'enras.
What in the Abyss would -I- ever know about history? '
Ixi'kweez stopped at the end of the first missive and looked about him. It
was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining on his face, and the air
seemed a bit sweeter for some reason. He placed the pile of undoubtedly
angry and disparaging missives on the ground, the one he read, he laid on
top. Ixi'kweez smiles to himself.
'I have far too much to do to sit hear reading. If it was something good,
that is fine. If it was something negative, that is fine too. ' Ixi'kweez
then summoned a small tornado from thin air, sending the mass of parchments
to the Gods know where.
'And if they had anything to say at all, they know where to find me. '
Writer: Teroh
Date Thu Mar 4 22:57:41 2010
To All Althainia Slayers Rp Imm
Subject Forgiveness Forever
The plains north of Althainia were far from quiet..
Wearing the nothing but a cloak tied around his waist and a pike in hand,
Teroh fought one of his most cherished training partners: his shadow. With
every thrust of his pike the ariel felt his muscles strain and ache, but
he learned as a boy that you have to push through the pain if you want to
become stronger.
He kicked off the ground and into the air with his weapon held high and
began to engage in a few midair thrusts, intentionally making a pattern of
"jab, flap, jab" as he exercised the concentration needed to slay a foe
suspended in midair.
The dark-skinned ariel folded his wings seven feet above the ground and
ended his exercise with a thrust of his pike into the earth.
"For as long as Zandreya has been my Mother and Austinian my Father I
have believed that what I could bring to the outerworld would be a hope
for a brighter future with unclouded skies, but I was wrong. Until I am
forgiven for my sins, penance will be the definition of my life." Teroh
reflected inwardly
He frowned and held his bald head low in shame.
Writer: Nymaya
Date Fri Mar 5 02:38:06 2010
To RP New_Thalos All ( Crelius Anastormia ) Imm Necrucifer
Subject Starless Portent
The Ishtar Harbor was a bustling mass of business and activity, even at
the ungodly hour she found herself prowling its dirty, sandy paths.
Night was heavy on the world and clouds scudded past the moons and obscured
the stars, making the alleys All the more opaque. She was struck by the
scent of fish and brine, spice and alcohol. A unique mix that easily
assailed the senses as she tread by on cat's feet, deftly dodging the
various drunken sailors and avid merchants that littered the area.
The sound of the moored ships creaking and groaning softly at their berths
was a constant in the background along with the gentle slap and rush of the
river. It was almost soothing, could have been moreso if the faint
disturbance of movement behind her were not a clear indication that she was
being followed.
She did not recognize the cadence of whatever stalked behind but she knew
with little doubt. Brief pauses, detours as she stopped to engage the odd
guard in conversation. It did not rid her of her shadow. She found it
curious if disquieting. She had been hunted before but this did not appear
to be similar.
It was not overconfidence that left her feeling rather interested but
caution took over when she found herself in a far more vacant section of the
harbor, a place that hosted empty stalls, tents and a single decrepit
tavern. The disreputable often had the most interesting rumors.
The alleys she found here were even more ominous than the ones in the main
bulk of the harbor's market, if only for their depth of silence. It was
easy to get lost amongst them. She wasn't worried about that as she paused
to scan the way behind her, though the faint shifting of shadows and the low
hanging mist drew her attention sharply. Down an alley directly across from
where she stood.
The flash of steel glimmered briefly as she paused long enough to check the
curved daggers along her forearms and then she let curiosity and instinct
guide her into the close alley.
She was ready for the slender figure that darted at her when she reached the
intersection at the back of the warehouses. Her left hand shot out to grasp
and violently twist the wrist holding the dagger headed for her throat even
as she pulled the form from its hiding spot. Wide, murderous green eyes met
hers as her dagger snapped forward in her grasp to press into the pale
throat.
There was only a moment to spare during which, she took immediate stock of
her opponent. A thief, well armed but wearing little more than black rags
and a few pieces of ragged leather armor. The half elven creature was
pitiful but carried the scent of blood on his clothing. A sloppy killer.
She was almost disappointed but that faded away only moments later as a
sudden jarring impact struck the half elf in her grasp from behind, spurring
the youth onto the blade she held at his throat. The green eyes opened
wider, as did his mouth, which began to fill with arterial blood. She let
go of the half elf as he reached up to cover the wound, her gaze following
not it but the shadows around.
cont.
Writer: Nymaya
Date Fri Mar 5 02:49:31 2010
To RP New_Thalos All ( Crelius Anastormia ) Imm Necrucifer
Subject Starless Portent
What had been no more than an insubstantial sense, more a "knowing" in
her gut, became real before her and without preamble, she found a steel grip
around her own throat before she felt her back impact the side of a wooden
stall.
It might have been a flesh and blood creature or it might have been
something else entirely but an instant's warning flashed through her and she
held her hostile intentions at bay.
You do not yet understand that which you seek. It whispered, leaving a
sense of curiosity and malice in the air between them.
Trying to study it through the deep shadows of her hood produced nothing and
having had enough manhandling, she slashed out at it. Surprisingly, it
retreated, appearing no more than a hunched figure in the dark.
You may find what you desire, though terror...will be your gift, elf. It
breathed, and then; If you survive.
Dagger still to hand, she let herself lean against the solid stone wall
while her free hand rubbed at her neck. The creature - whatever it was -
faded into the shadows after its last mocking pronouncement and it was then
she heard the thumping of mailed feet coming toward her. The sound
redirected her focus and she looked up to see two harbor guards approaching
quickly.
"Waliullah." The first to her said as she straightened, his eyes flicking
to the bloodied blade in her hand and then to the body. "We heard a cry.
Is All well?"
Nymaya glanced from the guard to the body lying still and cold now upon the
ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Crouching down, she wiped her blade
clean upon the clothing of the would-have-been thief and nodded.
"I can handle myself, harbor guard." She said, and not as unkindly as a
part of her wanted to. "But yes, All is well enough."
"Even a Wali should not wander alone through..." The second spoke though he
trailed off at cold blue glance.
She didn't need to say more and she didn't intend to as she ended the
interaction with a curt inclination of her head, sheathed her daggers and
drew the hood of her cloak back over her brow. She left the two guards to
the unwholesome business of disposing of the body while she exited the
alley, her mind strangely calm in the wake of her encounter.
There was a sense of the familiar in what had happened this night, as if
she'd lived through the moment before, and while the warning was not lost on
her - it was the message behind the visit that spoke loudest. It was easy
to assume she was on the right track even though it was clearly leading her
down a road more terrible than any she had yet tread.
She almost found herself welcoming the challenge as it gave greater credence
to the belief she held in her incoherent dreams, her blind striving and her
need to find...what she was looking for.
She took a small measure of certainty from the belief that if she did, in
fact, manage to survive what she was striving toward she would have
something new to rival the edge of the dissonance that ran tainted through
her soul. And if not - well, there weren't many left who would mourn the
remnant and she doubted any of her mortal problems would follow through her
demise.
Writer: Gildred
Date Fri Mar 5 06:38:01 2010
To Wargar Betha Thaxanos All ( imm imms RP religion Cliath )
Subject Vessels, Hammers, n Lads.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sparks flew throughout the room as heavy hits from the hammer rang
repeatedly throughout the Wargar halls. A bright red illuminated the room
as the asterite was drawn from the forge and struck yet again with the
hammer. Slowly, Gildred poured the remains of the molted silver from the
Elfslayer into the carved marble laying upon the floor. Steam and heat
caused the dwarfs forehead to drip with sweat as he continued to pound the
asterite into shape.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
As Gildred looked down as the object in the works, he knew that he was still
missing something. Aye, he had All the sufficient material to make
something quite pleasing to what his final goal was, but it still needed
more involvement. With great exhaustion, he stood up from his work and set
aside what raw materials he had left. Gazing within the fires of the forge,
Gildred watched as the sparks from the melted remains of the asterite within
the forge flew about without direction. As his vision began to blur from
the incredible heat, the sparks seemed to be floating in the same direction
as one another. Gildred knelt before the forge and prayed.
"As yer sparks work te build ae fine vessel o mortal make, guide them in de
unknown n most unlikelae creation known te them. Te watch the lads n lasses
o Wargar work so diligently in makin such, aide mae in remindin them that de
lord creator bae their inspiration. . Let more come forward, offer their
wares, n aide mae in creatin something glorious n rememberable te pay honor
aboard the ship. Guide yer deacon, m lord, for my devotion n drive bae
unfaltering."
As Gildred raised his chin from his thumb, his eyes were met with the bright
glow from within the forge. Briefly, the sparks within held forth the
symbol of the creator, Cliath, before idly floating about the forge once
again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Writer: Alyster
Date Fri Mar 5 18:16:53 2010
To All ( Imm RP Malachive Seanan )
Subject Excommunication
Alyster had never felt more free in his life since he expunged Austinian
from his body. He ceased to feel any sort of guilt, any sort of betrayal,
when he conflicted with His tenants. Every soul he rid from Algoron he felt
as it left its corpse. Every arc of blood sent flying onto him was warmer
and thicker than ever. When he had previously spoken to Lieutenant Laeruh
Lightcatcher of Arkane, he failed to fully explain the feeling. It would be
like explaining color to the blind, sound to the deaf. An invisible
darkness's shadow in blinding black. He could no longer cast any of his
magic, nor could he pray for any sort of transportation. But it was so..
Enlightening.
He had boarded the Merchant Ship Sygzani and embarked for Althainia; he
needed to get more potions for training, and, perhaps, grab a nice meal
while he was in the city. The soft mist of water that blew into his face
was refreshing. Salty, and cool. It seemed as if the excommunication only
heightened his senses and perception. The crew gave him looks of curiosity
and hate as they passed him. He could only chuckle at their glances. Such
ignorance.
It was no longer Austinian that guided his blades, it was Alyster. The
force behind them were his muscles, his strength. Not the "power" of a
god-fearing slave. He could easily live without any form of divine
assistance. Especially if it continued to be so invigorating.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Fri Mar 5 21:37:37 2010
Writer: Gildred
Date Sat Mar 6 09:56:14 2010
To Wargar Thaxanos All Betha ( imm imms RP religion Cliath )
Subject Simple Appreciation.
As the vessel named Triumph glided across the black waters of the
Underworld, non of Gildred Boltbeards clan mates noticed the sketches that
he was working on. He studied every nook of the vessel, drawing angels and
sails to match those of the ship. He was not one to believe that time was
to be wasted, even while sailing. There was always something you could do
to help aide either his lord in his given quest, or his clan.
After a few hours, the ship slowly make port at a rickety old dock. Him and
his clan mates quickly disembarked and began to work their way towards one
of the keeps within this grand place. As he followed the group leader of
Wargar, he took in All the sights and sounds of this new territory. Sure,
this was not the first time that Gildred had been down in the depths of
Underworld, but rather than glance around in fear of surprise, he knew what
to expect and took in the grandeur of everything.
How could the life of Algoron not see what there is to protect against this
coming Chaos? The beauty and majesty of Cliath is something to behold on a
daily basis. Long had Gildred spent his youth and young adult life strictly
within Thaxanos. There was no doubt in his mind that the greatest of mortal
creation was to be found there, by Cliaths created sparks, but he was still
awed by what the outside world held.
As they approached the keep, Gildred tucked his sketches into his robe and
whispered a simple prayer to his lord in appreciation of it all.
Writer: Mezlak
Date Sat Mar 6 10:13:29 2010
To All Marauders ( Raije RP Storyline Religion Imm )
Subject Rebirth of the Marauders (Beginings)
Mezlak sat alone in the libray, like usual. However, it wasn't that
troubling to him like it normally was. He was in an unusually good mood
lately. He wasn't sure if it was the looming threat of battle, or how well
the Highlord and him were communicating lately that was the cause. What
ever the reason, he didn't care.
A slight smile fromed on his lips. He has almost completed his Lord's
command to him. Algoron would soon see grand armies meeting on a field of
battle again. And right in the middle of them would be the Marauder banner.
He chuckled at that thought, then lowered his head an began to pray.
Lord, we march soon. Ryim will bring war back to this world in Your name.
Malchive is and always will be, Ryim's foe, as he is Yours, and will oppose
him at every opportunity, with or without the support of the leaders of the
Other Neutral faiths. I ask you, guide my blade so it may strike true. I
ask you, be with those who fight beside me, let your strength and courage
fill their hearts. Let them feel in their hearts that even though
Marauder's may march alone, they don't go to war alone. I ask one more
thing of You, Lord. Help the others to unite with us, to show Unity against
Malachive's Chaos. For without those of Balance fighting along side us, I
fear defeat. I fear, with our defeat, the destruction of Algoron and the
chaos that would ensue. For Your glory, I will continue to fight.
Upon finishing, Mezlak stood off the couch, and headed for the door of the
library, counting on his fingers, going through a list of preparations to
make.
Writer: Crelius
Date Sat Mar 6 18:24:10 2010
To All Necrucifer imm ( story line )
Subject A Prologue.
The feral and pandemonium yelps and grovels of a deep jungle chimed in
wanton disparity. Heat as sickly as Dragoth himself weltered and
embellished everything it touched. Moisture as constant as a lingering sore
reminded the rain forest of its futile eternity. A vine entangled ground
was the threshold to a hardly shaven path. All of the wood's mandibles
managed to find a way onto the primitive road, ever promising discomfort and
hardship to the fool that might try and traverse it.
A lone foot-soldier clad in naught but a tattered and fetid robe tramped
weakly through the wilder path. He shakily swathed an ashen saber through
the brush and rasped a leper's breath as he pressed forward. Horde's of
thimble sized insects created an aura about him, and he stumbled now and
again upon the jungle's veins. He gritted his teeth through sanguine lips
as he fell upon an unexpected pool and with a wretch pulled himself upward.
The hood of his robe fell back in the flurry, and he sheathed his sword in
the belt about his robe.
The tall, raven, man stopped with a sigh, allowing the vile humidity of the
forest to drip upon his pale white scalp. With utter care he raised his
hands. Those hands, scarred in their circumference at the wrists, quaked as
they reached to a knot at the back of his bald head. Taking it carefully he
tightened a blue-red stained fold that covered his eyes. Accomplishing such
a feat, he sighed heavily and withdrew the saber at his waist. He continued
through the small deluge, and up over a muddy and vegetated rise
Harping calls of raptor birds and reptilians bellowed through an open space.
Lofting the rise he stopped and replaced his hood. He heard a voice
"She's through here, Atennim," Spoke a confident and lazy voice through the
pathway ahead
A vine ravaged temple of warped marble was his destination. The knights of
Gogothath had taken this impossible place. Knights of Gogothath, a motley
gathering of questionable servants, they were not what many would expect as
the warriors of Crelius' province. Murderers and cutthroats of the most
fatal kind, Crelius had recruited many of the older blades left without work
from Gaar Volen. They did the job, and they did it well.
Never the less they held respect for him, and he paid handsomely. He
reserved his noble structure for Storm Keep and Verminasia, but for those
that would protect his land and further his personal agenda he employed only
the most unscrupulous and capable.
"I'll open the way," Mathan spoke as he tapped a hand against a high
stretched stump impeding upon the gate's closure.
Crelius remembered Mathan of Mathan's band through his blindness. He was a
man known for taking the wives of his victims and defiling them without
relent. A wily-looking little man, with a sharp nose and a laughing mouth
and a shock of straw-colored hair. He usually dressed with a pre
cataclysmal sort of costume of orange, red, and brown.
Through they walked into an overgrown courtyard. A hand signal was issued
to a door man at the center. Swelling doors of beach and sweat did not but
at first as a mercenary put his shoulder into its keyhole.
Walking down Crelius moved slowly by the guidance of his hired knights,
through whatever halls they wandered he could not perceive. At last they
arrived to the underchamber.
Writer: Reklah
Date Sat Mar 6 21:24:20 2010
Writer: Gwendalen
Date Sun Mar 7 13:02:04 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Mar 7 14:31:09 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Mar 7 15:09:08 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Mar 7 17:27:14 2010
Writer: Gwendalen
Date Sun Mar 7 17:46:53 2010
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sun Mar 7 20:00:20 2010
To All imm Althainia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Austinian
Subject The Stormy Calm After The Storm (ii)
It was unusually quiet in the Vallens as Ixi'kweez made the short journey
from his home in the Vallens to Ixi-Mart. "All the better." He said to
himself, "I've had All the drama I can tolerate this day."
He walked into his store moments later. As always, it was immaculate.
Items were neatly stacked All about the store, and the florae had been well
taken care of. Behind the counter, Oriole only stared back at Ixi'kweez.
The two stood across the store from each other for some time, locked in some
sort of uncomfortable tableau pose. No longer one to hold his tongue,
Ixi'kweez broke the silence.
"I take it you have read my missive."
Oriole did not answer him. She just continued to stare at him, a looked of
incredulity and derision. Ixi'kweez allowed the tableau to continue a few
seconds more, then broke the silence for the last time.
"If you have something to say to me, Oriole, do say it. I am a very busy
man."
Oriole herself then finally spoke. "Are you out of your mind, Ixi'kweez?
Do you understand the trouble you cause in the Vallens?"
Ixi'kweez returned her gaze softly. "Had the Vallens as a whole disagreed
with what I had to say, there would be no trouble here."
"You're a damn fool, Ixi'kweez! You undermine our war with the dwarves!
You question our leadership!"
Ixi'kweez sighed quietly and shook his head. He was done arguing. "Oriole,
you have made my decision All the more simple..."
"You see, Oriole, the Vallens think me the fool, a troublemaker. Yet, they
have no qualms enjoying the revenue my store makes for them, day after day.
I do not need their agreement, their respect, or this store, in order to
carry out my task. I left the Vallens to protect it, and so I will continue
to do so. But the cash gifts to a Kingdom who would think me a fool are
over. Consequently, I have no need to keep one in my pay who would think me
the fool as well."
Ixi'kweez took a short step forward towards Oriole, who was now sputtering
in rage. He looked her dead in the eyes.
"Leave this store and do not return." With that, Ixi'kweez began
shovelling items into his many packs for transport away. Oriole curtly
brushed by Ixi'kweez and made her way back into the forest.
Ixi'kweez hopped up and sat on the counter, gazing upon his now empty store,
nothing left but his plants and his trusty charcoal colored cat, who had
never known life beyond the store's walls. He reached down and stroked the
cat gently for a moment, then slowly stood.
"Let's go home, kitty."
Writer: Michael
Date Sun Mar 7 20:33:53 2010
To All Knighthood Imm RP Kyri
Subject Preparations
Michael paced uneasily before the Chapel of Fallen Heroes. Drealda slept
quietly inside, but the soulseer grew more and more restless at the thought
of evil forcing its way into the Keep. She said they had some time, but
he could not sit idly back and wait, preparations had to be made. He moved
back to the Altar, where Thrakhath, Gwaine, Ramias and Regus rested. Michael
greeted his friends, who were already discussing the matter.
'Nothing a good paladin cannot shield strike the memory out of, however,'
the yinn said to Ramias, then nodding to Gwaine, 'Yes?'
'I thought the hooves of your charger on his forehead, that seemed far more
effective,' replied Gwaine.
'A little of both then, hmm?' said Thrakhath, a satisfied look on his face.
Ramias, aware of the possibility of the wizard having studied the books of
necromancy, spoke up, suggesting the wizard may use a phylactery, an item
tied to the wizard's very soul, making him impossible to kill, lest the
phylactery is destroyed.
'If he uses one of these...phylacteries,' said Michael, 'perhaps his soul
can be trapped inside, never to be released. Using...his own magic to trap
him.'
Michael nodded to himself then looked up at the spot on the wall where the
glyph had appeared then disappeared and a chill ran down his spine.
Writer: Antoinette
Date Sun Mar 7 21:06:28 2010
To Daalegoth Mercerion Jadess Althainia All Imm RP
Subject Trapped [3]
Antoinette lie curled up on the pallet of dirty rags that passed as her
bed. She had penned the letter she was told to though not for the reason
they might have expected. Sure she wanted to get word to her husband, But
more importantly she wanted her wedding ring out of that goblin's pocket.
The idea of his filthy fingers touching it outraged her. She knew that was
backwards thinking but she couldn't help it. Logically she knew his having
the ring did not actually soil what was between her and Daalegoth. However,
blind rage kept that logic from having a chance to make any kind of home in
her.
She wondered what he was doing right now. She hoped he wasn't too lonely.
She hoped he hadn't done anything rash. A weak smile trembled on her lips
for a moment. For a human he had a lot of fire. She had often felt very
misunderstood. Her wild elf blood carried her on one emotional current
after another sometimes. Passion, emotion, feeling, these things often
ruled her. She felt completely misunderstood by most of the humans around
her. Her husband was a lot like her in that respect. It was one of the
many reasons she felt so comfortable with him as a mate. Her eyes ached as
a hot flood of tears welled up, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
She could smell the fire that warmed her captors as they talked into the
night. They spoke in their native tongue, as they often did. Perhaps they
assumed she couldn't understand it. That, or they really didn't care if she
overheard them. They never used names though. They had at least taken that
small precaution. She persisted in listening even though common sense
spurned the small flickering flame of hope that she would hear something
that made a difference. She heard the familiar sound of the angry goblin's
voice. He was arguing with the others, trying to convince them they should
not sell her. They had indeed found someone willing to buy her but he was
trying to convince them they could get a better price.
The others were not being receptive to his argument at all. In fact they
seemed irritated by his persistence. They were ready to be rid of her.
They were clearly ready to move on to the next opportunity. As far as she
could tell they were just a simple band of thieves, a small group of social
rot. Her ego had taken quite a beating getting so effectively captured by
this lot. What's this? The angry goblin had advised them to take her? And
by the sound of it they were not very happy with him. He had left certain
details out. Like the fact that she was a retired General and had since
married the Emperor's Nephew. The angry goblin was loudly protesting any
prior knowledge of it. His argument to keep her seemed spent. She was
going to be sold and they were going to move on to other prospects for
making coin. Something in her eased. Change meant possible new
opportunities. At the very least she would no longer have to endure the
vicious beatings this goblin inflicted upon her.
She heard the fire hiss as someone dumped something liquid onto it. In
relative silence they found their beds, and the marsh was finally still. If
she closed her eyes and ignored the smell she could imagine herself
somewhere else.
Writer: Daalegoth
Date Sun Mar 7 23:03:15 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Mar 7 23:23:58 2010
Writer: Antoinette
Date Sun Mar 7 23:50:58 2010
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Sun Mar 7 23:51:17 2010
Writer: Antoinette
Date Sun Mar 7 23:56:38 2010
Writer: Gwendalen
Date Mon Mar 8 06:41:28 2010
Writer: Jonathen
Date Mon Mar 8 08:21:18 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Mon Mar 8 09:39:12 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Mon Mar 8 09:39:27 2010
Writer: Iulh
Date Mon Mar 8 11:23:34 2010
Writer: Iulh
Date Mon Mar 8 12:59:17 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Mon Mar 8 15:27:11 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Mon Mar 8 15:27:26 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Mon Mar 8 15:27:39 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Mon Mar 8 15:27:49 2010
Writer: Eva
Date Mon Mar 8 15:27:55 2010
Writer: Ailyara
Date Mon Mar 8 19:58:06 2010
To All Alyster Enduriel Malachive
Subject The Path of Chaos I
The bartender was looking at her. She could feel his eyes upon her skin.
People told her that she was asking for it, dressing as she did, but she
made no implicit invitations. She chose what she wanted to do, where she
wanted to go and what she wanted to wear. Other people werent going to
control her just because they misread her intentions. It didnt matter.
He could look All he wanted, it didnt mean he could have what he saw.
She flipped open the book that her brother had given her earlier. A book
which he apparently treasured. An image of him looking at her holding the
book, smiling, appeared in her head. There was so much about him that was
different when she had last seen him. But she had only been a little girl
then. She remembered that he picked on her though. He had been immature,
nasty- Ailyara sighed. No. She wouldnt look sad, she wasnt going to let
weakness in so easily.
In many ways the book called to her. One of the first things she had
learned since leaving home to live out on her own was to trust herself and
to make sure whatever she did benefited her. Few others would care what
happened to her, and those that did always had some sort of self-interest
of their own. "Everyone gets what they desire, when what hinders us is
no more." It was very appealing.
She had taken up to following Raije early in life. She was not a
particularly violent individual, but hardly passive either. However, she
did enjoy watching others fight. Was it a sadistic glee? She was unsure,
but she knew that she enjoyed watching others fight each other and beat,
scratch, bruise and bleed on one another. Her parents had told her that she
should find someone to worship, for otherwise she would not be able to draw
upon the magic in the world. She would not be able to pray home when she was
in desperate need. And so, even though she was not one to listen much, she
took up to praying to Raije.
She paid him little homage. Already she knew that, mostly, she was using
him. That he would most certainly use her if she intended to be more active
in her faith. But the book was right: to what end? Raije gave her only the
most basic things that mortals had come to expect on Algoron. Why should she
work hard for one who would never pay her any attention, who would never give
her any more for her efforts than he already did?
There was no question of her work ethic. But the idea of a god that fought
and bled as she did, that appealed to her. It made her feel as if her efforts
would be noticed. Rewarded. She would be using Malachive, just as he would be
using her. But it would be an honest exchange. She would work hard for him,
for herself, and he would see to it that she was recognized for what she did.
Ailyara sighed and dropped her head, thick strands of black hair fell about
her face. She had always felt different from other people. Her hand brushed
the countertop, felt the grain of the wood beneath her palm. Now she was given
a chance to prove it. She could feel her temple pounding, the blood in her
head rushing as quick as the thoughts, the questions, and the worries that
flitted through her mind. Could she become a traitor to the world, and follow
the one that offered her everything that made sense to her?
Writer: Ailyara
Date Mon Mar 8 19:58:54 2010
To All Alyster Enduriel Malachive
Subject The Path of Chaos II
Enduriel was frustrating. That was the long and short of their encounter.
Ailyara kicked an empty bottle across the alley way and watched it shatter
against the brick wall. Glass flew like spray, reminiscent of the white spray
atop cresting ocean waves. In many ways it reflected the violence and the beauty
of the ocean itself and her icy gaze followed the fragments as they scattered on
the dusty ground. It was bad enough that most men ogled her and saw her as
something attractive, undressing her with their eyes. She had hoped that
Enduriel would be different. He was different, but not in that regard. It caused
her worry, what if it was All that anyone would see, All that Malachive would
see? Would he ask her to use her looks in service to him? At the very least,
Raije had never requested that of her. He had never requested anything directly
of her, in fact. She was supposed to follow his word, without ever hearing it
from him, without ever feeling as if he personally cared whether or not she
existed.
Malachive offered more than that, if he was true to his word as was proclaimed.
But she didn't want to be seen as something that was only attractive to the eye.
Perhaps she would cut her hair and wear baggy clothing. No. No, she wouldn't let
what other people thought control how she acted or dressed. She felt as though
Enduriel saw her as weak, as something to be controlled. She would have to
change that. Even if she disliked the fact that she would likely continue to be
stared at by him, she would endure it. For the more she thought about it, the
more the thought of freedom appealed to her.
Ailyara touched a hand to her cheek, felt her soft skin. Some things about her
nature she would not be able to change. She would always be human. She would
always be mortal. But she was tired of following in the same path as everyone
else, doing as everyone told her she should be doing. She wouldn't follow a god
that never spoke to her, a god that never offered her a chance to put herself
before himself or others. Selfishness was a term coined by those who hid behind
weakness. It was in serving the self that one survived, in serving the self, one
could truly -live-.
Others would gather in temples and pray to gods who were too busy fighting one
another. Too busy basking in their glory to care about mortal concerns. Too busy,
too cowardly, to come to earth and live among them. She could fight, she didn'
t need Raije to do that. The world didn't need Raije for war. Just as it didn't
need Turpa for weather or Kadiya for peace. In fact, she thought, the world
would be better off without Raije, without him to proclaim what was right and
what was wrong in war. There were no rules. There should be no rules. With Raije
gone, so the rules would go also.
Ailyara grinned a little, her eyes alive with a fiery mischief that might have
frightened a passerby, were there any others in the alleyway with her. The
thought of gods dying appealed to her. That would be a truly grand fight, the
most epic of wars. If the gods wanted control, they would have to fight for it,
they would have to bleed and suffer and show that they served their followers
just as much as their followers served them.
"I renounce you, Raije. You're worthless to me" she whispered.
"I RENOUNCE YOU, RAIJE. YOU'RE WORTHLESS TO ME" she shouted, yelling at the top
of her lungs. She yelled and yelled until she became hoarse. No angry mobs came
to beat her. No one came at all. She slumped against the wall when she was
through, coughing as her voice struggled to recover.
"I will accept Malachive as my Lord. My God. I will do what I see as best for me,
and no one else."
Writer: Antoinette
Date Mon Mar 8 22:36:18 2010
To Daalegoth Mercerion Jadess Althainia All Imm RP
Subject Trapped [4]
The day greeted her with a kick in the ribs and the clatter of a plate of
food being dropped to the ground near her face. "Eat et quickly, we need ta
be abou' or business." Came the dreadfully familiar voice. Holding her
side she sat up and began to shovel the food into her mouth. He watched her
as she scraped the bowl and licked her fingers, obviously still hungry for
more. "You tink you has suffer'd. I see dat look in you's eye. You's try
to hide it but under dat meek face you's tinking you's kill me some day.
You's dream of it." Antoinette looked downward, afraid of what her eyes
might convey at that moment. It was true obviously. All of it. But she
didn't want another beating for it." They's going to sell you today, now
that you's finished you's need to go outside and get cleaned up."
Outside she was shackled to a tree near a large bucket of cold water and a
cake of soap. Eagerly she scrubbed away at the filth and grime that seemed
everywhere. This was the first bath she had been permitted and it felt like
pure heaven. "I'm finished" she called out. A large matronly female came
around the bole of the tree with a rumpled ball of cloth that turned out to
be her new dress. Well, covering really. It resembled a bag with holes
more than a dress, but it was clean and as it was slipped over her head it
felt like the finest silk. Another goblin appeared from behind, holding a
knife to her throat as the woman unshackled her arm so she could slide her
arm through. She locked one of the shackles into place when suddenly one of
their number skidded around the tree.
"An Althainian patrol! They are speaking with Me'lak!"
Me'lak, finally a name! If only she knew which one it was. The older woman
looked at Antoinette and pursed her lips, as if Antoinette had called them
on some hidden trumpet. She locked eyes with the other two and suddenly at
once they All fled. Antoinette jerked at her chains. She wanted to scream
out immediately to get attention but she didn't dare. She closed her eyes
and tried to calm herself, She needed to think perfectly clear! She dragged
slowly at the chain so she could move around the tree to get a better look.
Peeking around the corner her heart leapt into her throat.
It was Daalegoth! Sitting on top of that huge war horse in his armor he
looked like a mountain that might at his leisure slide down on top of this
group of brigands and bury them forever! Freedom was a scream away! She
grinned broadly and took in a deep breath but it was cut short by the soft
sound of a bow being stretched. Looking to her left she saw the angry
goblin poising to strike as he said "Breaths to loud an his life end." Men
started converging on the encampment, searching the tents. They werent in
any particular hurry. Daalegoth was still talking to Melak, nothing about
this set of Goblins had yet tipped them off that this group had been the
ones to capture his wife. With a growl the goblin moved over to her, set
the bow down and unsheathed a dagger. Then he pulled a dirty rag from his
pocket, balled it up, and stuffed it into her mouth while the tip of his
blasted dagger dug achingly into her ribs. Another was tied around her head
to keep it in place.
She blinked away tears, her mind wasn't working clearly, All she could think
about was that Daalegoth sat 200 feet away from her and she was powerless to
get to him. The goblin fumbled a moment to free the single shackle from the
chain around the tree and when it was loose he moved the dagger to her neck
and growled for her to move. Holding the empty shackle he tugged at her,
spurring her like a stubborn mule to run. She earner herself several kicks
and punches but she prayed they would find some sort of evidence of her
having been in the camp, and if that happened she wanted to leave as clear a
trail as possible. They didn't go far, but her heart sank when they got
there.
[Cont.]
Writer: Antoinette
Date Mon Mar 8 22:42:22 2010
To Daalegoth Mercerion Jadess Althainia All Imm RP
Subject Trapped [5]
It was a simple outcrop against the hill. They probably had set a watch
here, one that no doubt abandoned his post when he saw the Althainians
coming. From this vantage point they could see anyone approaching from 600
feet or better. Her body would be cold and vacant by the time anyone got
there. Panting and out of breath Antoinette and the goblin peeked over the
ledge. One of the soldiers was running toward Daalegoth from one of the
tents with a small sack. Daalegoth's steed cantered back as his rider
pointed sharply and began shouting orders. The goblins they had been
talking to were seized. Judging by the reactions those had to be her
belongings. She whimpered softly and her heart broke for what he must be
feeling right now. He located something in the bag and went still. It was
the letter! Her ring slid out into his hand and he examined it before
closing his fist around it. He was silent as he read the letter then
suddenly moved like a viper. In one smooth motion he was off of his steed,
his dagger was out, and buried in the nearest captured goblin's chest.
Antoinette clenched her hands to the rock and gasped sharply around the rag.
That would certainly loosen tongues. She was fairly certain however that
was not his motive.
The Goblin next to her spoke in a dangerous hiss "I come to terms wif yous
working yous debt to me off through slavery to another. I see yous face and
i wants to kick yous teeth in one by one. I wants to make you pay in blood
for whut you's done. You's remember da goblin boy dat attacks you from da
tree? Da one you's let go All those years ago? You's tink you do me a
kindness but you's army kill my Father and All three brothers dat day! If I
could spend da rest of me life makin yous suffer I would counts et a life
well lived. But et looks like dat not gunna to happen." He removed the
knotted cloth that dug into her face and pulled the rag from her mouth.
Jerking the cuff sharply he hauled her up onto the outcrop, in full view of
the camp. "Scream for you's husband! Scream so he can weep over yous
bones!"
She didnt know what to do. Tears wracked her body. The luck that had been
so crucial in making her career seemed to have run out. All she wanted was
to see her husband one last time. She couldnt die and risk leaving
Daalegoth to search for her forever. Alright she said. Ill do it. She
looked down through the trees at the small peaked tents. Maybe 15 or 16 of
them at most. Daalegoth was being lead to the tree where she had been
shackled moments ago. The Goblin held his dagger close to her throat,
digging it in as he urged her to get Daalegoths attention. Antoinette took
a deep breath and screamed for him. She saw him whip his head in her
direction. He was to far away, but she imagined their eyes met. They
shared only that brief moment before the razor sharp dagger slid across her
throat. Spilling her blood down the front of her ragged dress. It quickly
spread down the collar. Her vision blurred but she could just make out
Daalegoth laboring in his armor towards her. She tried to speak, tried to
say I love you one more time but felt the air expel from her lungs and out
the gaping hole in her neck. She thought dimly how odd it felt. She was
falling forward now. Had she been pushed? It didnt really matter.
Blackness was already closing in.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Mon Mar 8 22:51:13 2010
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Tue Mar 9 00:40:55 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Tue Mar 9 09:58:00 2010
Writer: Fhaeeus
Date Tue Mar 9 10:55:26 2010
Writer: Clarissia
Date Tue Mar 9 14:02:05 2010
Writer: Madilyn
Date Wed Mar 10 00:14:44 2010
Writer: Madilyn
Date Wed Mar 10 00:21:10 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Wed Mar 10 03:10:01 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Wed Mar 10 03:10:17 2010
Writer: Mercerion
Date Wed Mar 10 03:13:53 2010
Writer: Ailyara
Date Wed Mar 10 11:03:43 2010
Writer: Gildred
Date Wed Mar 10 12:44:00 2010
To betha thaxanos All ( imm imms RP religion Cliath )
Subject The Anvil.
He nodded at the Thane of Thaxanos and made haste to return to the clan
hall. The forge was still hot from his earlier work on this anvil. Gildred
Boltbeard laid a large hickory board on the floor and began to engrave the
wood with hot steel. He went down his list reviewing All the lads and
lasses that had submitted trinkets of tribute to the lord creator. Yes,
this was coming out nicely. He made sure to work upon the etch with a
steady hand this day, using the most ancient of dwarven script, for
something he hoped would be seen and prayed upon for centuries to come.
With great determination, the mountain dwarf picked up the very large
asterite anvil and placed it upon the hickory board. The gemstones, made of
amethyst-diamond-ruby, were placed in the side of the asterite to represent
Cliaths hammer, with pieces of ruby to represent his dwarven sparks.
Gildred began to root through his bag of items and pulled out some bull
moose leather and ran the straps through the groves of the hard anvil
surface.
Finally, Gildred stood up in front of the forge and gazed at his own
creation. He began to shed a simple and pleasant smile as he knew all
things used were of dwarven make. He walked slowly over to the forge and
grabbed a large silver hammer that was against the nearby wall. Using all
of his strength, he dragged it over to the anvil.
The mountain dwarf withdrew a vial of blood that was tucked in his belt and
kneeled.
"Lord Cliath, take this dwarven blood offer as ae final sample o yer sparks
unfaltered devotion n praise te you. Manae o these halls offered der souls
n whot dey created fer this. Fer centuries, we shall come te gaze upon tis
n bae reminded how yer sparks stand firm n strong te always defy de odds in
mortal craft n stance fer All that ye make. "
Heaving the hammer over his head, back buckling, Gildred struck the anvil
with one swift motion. The room around him began to hum and shake as
consciousness began to escape him.
Writer: Enduriel
Date Wed Mar 10 16:24:26 2010
Writer: Xowac
Date Wed Mar 10 17:33:32 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Rochford Dae'ni IMM RP Necrucifer
Subject Trial by Fire, Trial by Storm
Patroling is not new to me. Looking for obvious threat is easy, then
attack. I have to remember what I am looking for this time though. I met
her before, she is not a small human person, as far as they go. Seemed to
know stuff, but now she is gone? Hiding? In trouble? Maybe fought and.. ,
Just have to look for her. Orders on Papers, kinda new. Find her, Antetum,
Shadow and tell one person only. Call for help do not tell why. Look
around the wall, forrest dark woods. All in Verminasia country side.
Nothing new, no crys of blood, no smell but dirt and rain.
She is hiding good, or in the Walls safe. The Palace, would she know?
Writer: Rublos
Date Wed Mar 10 19:41:15 2010
Writer: Crelius
Date Wed Mar 10 20:36:02 2010
Writer: Rochford
Date Wed Mar 10 22:19:40 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Lanival Dae'ni RP Imm Necrucifer
Subject Romancing the Stone III
He paced within the small stone room for hours now, contemplating the
progress of the Verminasians. They are growing restless, he thought to
himself as he toiled in solitude. He rubbed at his face and neck feverishly
as he paced, ignoring the tell-tale signs of his affliction while in
private.
Several more minutes passed before something broke his stride. The
never-ending throbbing in his head began to pulsate with greater magnitude
as his vision began to blur. He let out a loud growling cry in pain as he
dropped to his knees upon the cold stone floor, clutching at the temples of
his head in terrible pain.
Then as quickly as as it came, the pain was lifted, but his vision continued
to blur until nothing but darkness could be seen through his large
wiley-eyed gaze.
He had returned.
"WHY HAVE YOU NOT RETRIEVED IT YET? KNOW THAT MY VENGEANCE IS GREAT UPON
THE SLOTH. "
Rochford remained in his pathetic kneeled state upon the floor as he replied
obediently.
"I am trying, Master. I will not fail you, I will find her, and I will take
back that which belongs or die trying. "
There was a long dreadful silence that seemed to last an eternity until
finally was broken by the booming voice within Rochford's head.
"KNOW THIS HERE AND NOW, THAT FAILURE WILL NOT BE TOLLERATED. KINGDOMS HAVE
FALLEN AT THE MERE MENTION OF MY NAME AND SO WILL THOSE THAT STAND BEFORE
YOU THAT KNOW THE WRATH OF GOD. "
Rochford replied, "None deny your wrath, Master, but I fear there are those
that deny your faithful servant, they doubt me, Master, they doubt the
sickness in my head. "
"THEN YOU WILL SMITE THEM IN MY NAME, LET NO MORTAL STAND BETWEEN YOU AND
YOUR QUEST, LET NONE STAND BETWEEN YOU AND THE CURE. YOUR STRIFE SHALL NOT
BE IN VAIN. I TOLD YOU WHAT TO LOOK FOR, I TOLD YOU WHERE TO GO. NOW TAKE
IT. ANY MEANS NECESSARY. "
Then once again, as if a mountain had fallen upon Rochford's skull, the pain
had returned and with the magnitude of unspeakable things. Rochford cried
out in terrible pain as he clutched at his head and fell to his side in a
half-fetal position upon the cold floor. He rocked in place over and over
again while pleadingly whispering in hushed tones:
"Your will shall be done.... My life for you.... My life for you..... My
life for you.... My life for you.... "
Writer: Baire
Date Wed Mar 10 23:37:52 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Rochford Dae'ni IMM RP Necrucifer
Subject Trial by Fire, Trial by Storm{z I
Baire walked the streets slowly with a careful helmed gaze set on
anything that stirred but rarely was there a shout or rustle, save for the
occasional bickering of haggling merchants and drunken farming head home to
their nagging wives.
The city was too quiet and there was certainly something very strange about
his Orders to patrol the streets, not that he was any stranger to them or
the routes he would take for they were routine to him by now. He would walk
purposely down the streets, visiting every Square, and gazing upon every
visitor that he would cross paths with.
The only difference between then and now, however, was that he was looking
for someone specifically this time. He knew of Dae'ni well and had glimpsed
her from afar many times as a boy. She was regal, proud, and honorable. He
looked forward to meeting her.
He continued on his routine patrol until he came upon the entrance to the
northern gates to find a man waiting for him there. Baire examined the man
as he approached. He was tall and wore heavy dull gray chainmail with a
dark cloak bearing the same sigils that matched Baire's own cloak.
"Manfrede", Baire said as he greeted his childhood companion.
"I've brought news from the others, " replied Manfrede as he lifted his
heavy chain coif up off from around his head.
"And that news might be? " asked Baire.
Manfrede glances over his shoulders briefly as he took a few steps forward
until only a few inches from Baire's shoulder. He leaned forward and
uttered in a low tone:
"They decided it was best that we withdraw our banners for the time being,
until--" and Manfrede paused for a moment before continuing as if to better
engrave a sense of purpose in his words. "--until the water is clean enough
to drink again. "
Baire nodded once as he turned to return to his patrol with a beckoning
gesture towards his companion. Manfrede lifted his heavy mace to his
shoulder as he walked beside Baire for several paces before finally asking,
"Where are we going? "
Baire replied cooly, "We're looking for Dae'ni Atennim... And we're running
out of time. "
Writer: Trallin
Date Thu Mar 11 03:05:08 2010
To All Shadow Verminasia Rochford Dae'ni IMM RP Necrucifer
Subject Trial by Fire, Trial by Storm.(The Sewers)
Wind howls as clouds swiftly blow by overhead. Drops of rain make
pattering noises against water of the Moat surrounding the Palace
of Verminasia. Standing before the water, Trallin peers quietly
appraising the ground. With swift movement he leans in tugging a
drain cover from over the entrance to the sewers below. Lowering
himself down a ladder of rope dropping to the ground below. He
land below landing with a loud squish beneath his feet. Scowling
he shakes his boot off, stepping to the edge of the tunnels.
He looks down at his side, a loop of shrunken heads swaying quietly
at his side and speaks "You enjoyed that I'm sure." The heads
remain silent. He lifts the rope, glaring angerily at one of the
heads "You shut your mouth... I'll throw you in.." he speaks
quietly. In frustration he drops the loop back down to his side.
Cautiously stepping forward, Trallin proceeds down the tunnel. As
the light from the hole above grows dimmer he reaches into his
satchel pulling from it a small torch. Striking some tinder the
torch illuminates, shedding light upon the stretch of tunnel. Murky
water flows through the center, rats clamber All about the sides.
Proceeding deeper into the sewers, the passages spread and split.
Marking his way with a bit of coal on the walls, the methodical
search of the tunnels continues.
"No, I don't know what she looks like" Trallin says, as he
reaches to lift the group of shrunken heads to eye level once
more.
"How would I know what they want with the Lady.." he speaks
louder, his hand now shaking the length of rope that holds the
heads.
"If you don't shut up you're going back in the bag." he speaks
abruptly, dropping the length of rope back to his side.
The clawing and squealing of rats, the only sound audible above the
flow of water. He proceeds further downwards. Many hours pass and
eventually All of the tunnels have been marked. Shaking his head,
he heads back the way he came.
"She surely isn't here, perhaps they will have luck in other parts
of the city."
Writer: Reklah
Date Thu Mar 11 04:40:12 2010
Writer: Ailyara
Date Thu Mar 11 13:34:47 2010
Writer: Rublos
Date Thu Mar 11 19:40:02 2010
|
