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Player Written Story Note Archive

Note: If you see names without the note below, its due to their story not being posted to "All"

Listed By Author Name

Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part I)
Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part II)
Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part III)
Logistics of Murder - Hiding the Body
Rhaxx Rage, Ebony Student
Leaving the Pridelands
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Eight)
|Bath of Dragon's Blood|
Time brings about All things
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Nine)
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Ten)
The Coming of the Lord of the Gullies
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part One)
A Caged Songbird - The First Verse
The ethos of war and humanity
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Two)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Three)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Four)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Five)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Six)
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers I
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers II
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers III
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers IV
Faltering Hourglass
Conflagration I
Conflagration II
Conflagration III
The Priestess: Visiting the Ruins
Conflagration IV
Primal Worship (I)
Primal Worship (II)
Primal Worship (III)
Primal Worship (IV)
Dark Dealings: Part One
Dark Dealings: Part Two
Dark Dealings: Part Three
Dark Dealings: Part Four
Dark Dealings: Part Five
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Seven)
Family Duty
the shrine of water
The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part I]
|Culling of the Shieldlands|
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Eight)
Pirates in the Dark
|Hanging at Fortwall|
Storming the Keep
The Experiment
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part One)
The Hammer
Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part I)
Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part II)
|Massacre at Mideel Port|
Nighttime Rescue
|The Scourge of Nigh'hold (I)|
Dark Dealings: Part Six
Dark Dealings: Part Seven
Dark Dealings: Part Eight
The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part II]
Dark Dealings: Part Nine
Dark Dealings: Part Ten
Dark Dealings: Part Eleven
(The Healing)
The Haunting of Verminasia: Echoes of the Past
Dark Dealings: Part Twelve
Dark Dealings: Part Thirteen
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Two)
The Arch of the Covenant
The Haunting Of Verminasia: The Ghostly Crew (Part 1)
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Three)
Ethos of war and humanity (II)
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Four)
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Five)
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Six)
A Cat's Curiosity, Part 1
The Work Begins Anew
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Seven)
A New Beginning
Unexpected Changes
The Early years, a long road.
And So it Began
Pocket Pixie, Scourge of Algoron
Fw: The missing link.
All magic is precious.
The Camp and The Bindstone
Finding Her Heritage
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part One)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Two)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Three)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Four)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Five)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Six)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Seven)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Eight)
Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Nine)
Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part One)
The road less traveled. Part I
Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part Two)
Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part Three)
Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part Four) (THE END)
The Priestess: Research [Part I]
One step closer
The road less traveled. Part II

Writer: Babetta
Date Sat Jul 12 21:40:49 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella

Subject Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part I)

Babetta felt as though she were ice that had somehow caught fire from the
inside out. Her intestines were razor blades, and her heart beat out an
intense rhythm as the white-hot flow of adrenaline coursed its way through
her young body like a viper's poison.

None of this showed on her face however, as she strode out of the office of
Abaddon's Inquisitor, Deccan. To any passerby on the street, she appeared a
highly bored and slightly sullen teenager with outlandish hair, chewing
bubble gum (to hide the tension that would otherwise be evident in her jaw)
and walking with a slow, unenthusiastic gait.

She had joined Deccan in the library and there discussed with him her...
Options. If they could be called that. Fatale's "laws" were a strange
thing indeed, but however strongly one might feel, the law was the law.
Whatever satisfaction might be gleaned from breaking it would be quickly
swallowed in a sea of agonizing punishment were the God of Murder and Death
to become angry...

Babetta honestly could not decide what troubled her more. The act itself,
the nature of the cover-up, or her fathers pathetic weakness following the
deed. Behind the mask of her apparent apathey, wheels had been set in
motion. Deccan had chosen to be honest with her about what had happened - a
fact she would not be soon to forget. This left her in a sad quandry
though, and she knew that she needed time to think. Emotional decisions
were usually bad decisions, and Babetta was indeed overcome with emotion.

Retreating far away from Abaddon to a distant and forgotten temple of
Fatale, the young womans mind turned over the days revelations over and over
again. Like a toxin without treatment, the desire to murder regardless of
the rules festered inside her, refusing her even a moments peace.

She tossed reagents into the cauldron she had conjured without any thought
to possible spell formulas. Any effort to concentrate on such a thing would
have been futile in the extreme, and the act of brewing was more to clear
her thoughts then to produce a tangile result. Again and again, a useless
potion. She stired the liquid inside the pot, imagining she could see the
events as they played out in the water.

Today, she had learned, All at once, that her mother Casiella Darksong, was
dead. Murdered by her father, Jonathen Darksong, for having an affair. And
she knew with whom. She had also learned, in the same breath, that her aunt
Avienda Darksong was likewise dead for reasons too clearly fabricated to
believe, and that her older sister Syrieni Darksong was a traitor marked for

Following the murder of her mother, which had apparently happened with the
tacit approval of Count Orlen, for she had been the cities Inquisitor at the
time, Jonathen had "made amens" with his wife's lover and fled the city,
again with permission, to go "fix himself". Apparently, per Deccan, the
"shock had been too much". Babetta snorted in discust.

Shock? And what shock was she feeling now? But did she run away to some
comune of Kadiya, or touchy-feely Taliena support group, or whatever the
Hells he was doing, to "fix herself"? Clearly, the act had been born of
weakness, compounded by further weakness of obvious regret.

"Death Requires Strength - Weakness must be Culled." Were these not core
tenants of Fatale?

Another useless potion. And another. Babetta continued to stir, continued
to ponder. Yet, what could she do? Who did she hate? Did she hate the
Count? No, she decided. Oh, she was none too pleased with Orlen. He had
allowed this weakness to happen. He had excused it. Turned a blind eye.
But for his role? Babetta felt only mild irritation. For the most part,
she still liked the man. But her father... For him there was a black
reservoir of emotion.

What to do? What to do? And then, quite suddenly, she realized that potion
she had just brewed a moment again that she now held in her hand contained
an answer...

(continued in part II)

Writer: Babetta
Date Sat Jul 12 22:19:48 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella Colette

Subject Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part II)

The Althainian woman moved through the moonlit street in a state of
blissful ignorance. The sun had set only an hour prior, and the pretty
middle aged red head hummed a soft tune to herself, completly unaware of the
shadow that was following her every step.

Babetta studied the woman carefully, feeling the cold press of urgency.
Shadowform gourds were hard to make, and the spell never lasted long.
Although outside the periphery of the guarded imperial streets, the young
witch was still in as much danger here as her mark was. Around any corner
might walk a patrol, or even a good samaritain. Despite being a follower of
Fatale, Babetta was still quite new at this. She had killed before, but
never in a situation where the odds were not stacked completly in her favor.
This was different. One mistake here, and she'd be rotting in a cell
awaiting execution at the Emperor's pleasure.

She had chosen to take the fortuitous appearance of her target as a sign
from Fatale that He was smiling upon her enterprise. Of course, it could as
easily have been dumb luck, but that hardly mattered now. Her attuned
senses told her she had only a half an hour before her concealment spell
lapsed, and if she missed this golden oppertunity another might never come.
Sweat poured down the sides of her face, and she worked to keep her
breathing even. It wasn't enough to simply kill her. It had to be done

As the woman rounded a corner and was nearly at her own doorstep, Babetta
knew it was now or never. Conditions were not ideal. She had seen a guard
on duty two blocks back who might well hear a scream, but if she went inside
her house she might lock the door...

Stealing up from behind, Babetta wrapped one shadowy hand around the targets
head and covered her mouth. Her other hand made a lightning-quick jab with
a poisoned needle, designed specifically to leave no trace once removed.
Babetta felt a burst of adrenaline and tried to compensate without any
proper training, failed, and made a loud grunting noise as her grip on the
red head went slack seemingly contrary to All logic.

It didn't matter. She was dead before she hit the ground, without a mark.
Exactly what Babetta had wanted. The untrained witch-assassin looked around
frantically. In her mind she had imagined her grunt as possessing the
volume of a trumpet. Surely someone must have heard... But the street on
either side of her remained dark and empty. Silent as a grave.

Looking down, trembling, she studied the woman one last time, even though it
was foolish to linger. The resemblence to her mother Casiella was uncanny.
Oh, she'd never pass for her of course, but after she had been rotting in
the ground for a day or two... Hefting the corpse over her shoulder, much
as she imagined Jonathan had done with her mother, she murmered a prayer to
Fatale and recalled back to Abaddon.

(continued in part III)

Writer: Babetta
Date Sat Jul 12 23:02:21 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella Colette

Subject Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part III)

The locate remains spell she had brewed in the Chambers of Shadows had
led her... Here. Babetta looked around with an expression of
uncharacteristic sadness. A lonely, forsaken graveyard and an apparently
unmarked grave.

The white and red moons had long since set. Illuminated brightly by the
empty light of Drakkara's black moon, a light only those of darkness could
see, the graveyard scene around her made for an oddly inversed tableau.

Still trembling from the murder of less than an hour ago, Babetta dropped
the corpse of the red headed woman she had - with difficulty - carried to
this dismal spot. She removed the spade from her pack, pausing to rest for
a few moments before starting her grim work on the freshly turned earth of
the grave. There was no time to lose.

She had anticipated that the excavation to be an arduous ordeal taking hours
but to her surprise, found the freshly made grave easy to dig up. It was
not long before she was face to face with her mother once again, gazing down
into the cold lifeless face that had once brought her such joy. Babetta
cringed, then caught herself, as if Fatale Himself might be watching.
Judging. She had a goal here, and too much time had already been lost.

Fighting down a surge of bile in her throat and a swimming in her stomach
that threatned to give way to vomit, Babetta chocked down a breath of air
before pulling the corpse clear of the grave soil to regard it with an empty

A sudden sense of relief washed over her. Pale, yes. Dirty, yes. But
intact. No rot had yet set in. This is what she imagined Casiella would
look like if she were a vampire, locked in the grip of deathly immortality.
Except, of course, in a state of sleep...

Her hand trempled and she had to stop herself. Spilling the groud would
mean having to brew another one, and who knew how long that might take?
Taking several deep breaths to steady herself and calm her breathing,
Babetta poured the gourd with the necromantic embalm spell down her dead
mothers throat and watched with a surge of joy as the magic begin to do its
work. The body would be preserved, in this state, forever. She had not
been too late.

Sighing, she sank down onto her haunches next to the corpse and leaned back
in the moon light, allowing the night breeze to waft sepulchral air from the
grave around her. A surge of relief overcame her leaving her weak and
faint, not simply because she had preserved the body, but because it had no
obvious mark upon it. Babetta had feared that her father had been stupid
and made a mess of the kill, and that would mean - among other things - that
Babetta would have to inflict the same damage upon the Althainian womans
corpse to ensure the facade would be seamless. She was a murderess, yes,
but she had not been looking forward to having to mutiliate a corpse.

Standing, the young witch began to drag the Althainian into the grave when a
glint in the moonlight caught her eye. Bending down, she pulled a broken
harp free of where it half protruded in the soil. The strings had been cut.

Within her came once again that deep reservoir of blackness. The sentiment
behind the broken Harp nearly made her gag on a mixture of tears and bile.
She gave Jonathen credit, as it was due, for making it a clean kill... But
this was too much. She could not take the Harp. If the grave was checked,
its absence would be noted. Instead, she plucked one of the many broken
strings and placed it into a pocket, visualizing as she did so using it as a
garrote to strangle her father with. She replaced the Harp itself and then
pulled the corpse over it. If her sister Colette told Jonathen of her
interest in Necromancy, as Babetta suspected she might, it was entirely
possible Jonathen would check the grave. She knew this Althainian woman,
once rot had set in, would prove a convincing enough simulacrum. Reburying
the corpse, she lifted the body of her mother in her arms, and left the
graveyard on the wings of magic.

Writer: Jonathen
Date Sun Jul 13 02:19:51 2014

Writer: Babetta
Date Sun Jul 13 06:38:31 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella

Subject Logistics of Murder - Hiding the Body

The secret chamber was almost cozy, Babetta reflected to herself, as she
gazed around at her surroundings. Permanent stone torches burned eternally
within recessed wall sconces, shedding a warm and constant illumination upon
the small stone crypt, located far beneath and within the mountains of
Shokono. Well beyond the range of conventional gating magic, Babetta had
taken the additional step of placing wards to prevent both scrying and
location of the rooms contents. She couldn't know for certain if these
would function as desired of course, but the chances that her father would
think to dig up her mothers corpse, inspect it closely enough to notice any
discrepancy in the rotting substitute she had chosen, then think to contact
a necromancer to track the body seemed a highly unlikely chain of events to
say the least.

Now, Babetta stood gazing at the open stone sarcophagus that contained the
magically preserved body of Casiella Darksong. There she lay, carefully
cleaned to remove any trace of her time within the earth, attired in a
beautiful, revealing red gown that would have been both seductive and
flattering on her in life. Babetta had even taken the time to comb out her
hair and place a pair of stylish boots on the feet of the body, such as her
mother might have favored. Except for the extreme paleness of death, to all
outward appearances, Casiella appeared to be peacefully sleeping, her hands
resting together on her lap.

The chamber Babetta had chosen was secret and well hidden. No one would
ever stumble upon it by mistake, and no one could possibly gate in given the
restrictions on such magic on Shokono. Even if someone knew exactly where
to look, they would have an extremely hard time physically reaching the
location so deep in the heart of the mountains without a witches full array
of magical tricks. Just be sure though, Babetta had taken the final
precaution of setting up magical alarms with her gourds. Her mothers body
was as secure as it was within Babetta's power to make it.

Now what? The young woman stood, looking down at her mothers body within
its resting place. She considered her options. The first possibility that
came to her mind was seeking out a vampire capable of raising Casiella as
one of the undead. Babetta wasn't sure if this would actually be possible
or not... She didn't know how long the body had already lain in its deathly
torpor before she found it, and while it appeared to be in prime condition,
Babetta remained ignorant of any possible metaphysical limitations incumbent
upon such a process. Then of course, there was the issue of the demon. It
wouldn't really BE her mother... Or so the books in the library had led her
to believe. Of course, the vast majority of vampires she knew of seemed no
different after their transformation, but then again, demons were notorious
for being deceptive.

Putting aside questions of Kindred mechanics, Babetta also had Fatale to
think about. How would the God of Death and Murder view an attempt by
Babetta to resurrect her slain mother? Although she worshiped Him, the
young witch understood Fatale the least of All the dark Gods. His
priesthood often preached conflicting messages and the books that His voice,
Sereb Trucido, had written were cryptic in the extreme. Philosophical
arguments using Fatalite doctrine could be made either way. One set would
support Babetta's action, the other condemn it as weakness. Guessing how
Fatale Himself would regard such an act was impossible for Babetta, and
there was no one whose opinion on the matter she could trust.

Sighing, her thoughts turned from Casiella to Jonathen. It really wasn't
important how her father met his end, she realized. In fact, Babetta
actually preferred to remain totally anonymous, and would not even have
blinked if he died in a legitimate accident before she could strike. All
that mattered was that he not live. She filed away the idea of raising
Casiella should a chance come up, and began to think.

Writer: Jonathen
Date Sun Jul 13 07:15:11 2014

Writer: Rhaxx
Date Sun Jul 13 21:04:24 2014

To Conclave All Travanian Dxutim Ashlen Tyrinx

Subject Rhaxx Rage, Ebony Student

Rhaxx was not large for an ogre. Nor was he better looking than most of
his kind.

But what differentiated him from most of his kin were moments of clairity.
Almost as if some divine being injected their perspective briefly. Or maybe
Rhaxx was just lucky.

There were invitations to join his kin within Darkonin. It would be a good
life, filled with war, women, and wealth. But that fortuitous instinct,
however fleeting, pulled Rhaxx elsewhere.

Writer: Cheiron
Date Wed Jul 16 19:16:56 2014

Writer: Thaydius
Date Thu Jul 17 00:39:48 2014

Writer: Thaydius
Date Thu Jul 17 00:40:08 2014

Writer: Thaydius
Date Thu Jul 17 00:40:13 2014

Writer: Kermine
Date Thu Jul 17 16:22:41 2014

To All ( Imm rp Hania )

Subject Leaving the Pridelands

Standing on the balcony of the castle, Kermine surveys the city of
Althainia. Her home since leaving the frigid plains of Icewall. Lirrram
had returned to her. The place that was alone, hardening, becoming aloof
was filled again with warmth and love. He says they will make a life in
Arkane. Althainia wasn't ever really his home. He had found her there but
he was a drifter before joining the pride. Will they remain in Hania or
will he insist on a new pride? Papa would be furious if she left Hania too.
She will have to disuade her mate from do that. He is the head of her
house, but she is the neck. And where the neck goes, the head will follow.

Most of the time.

Still, she wonders what her future will bring. A family? A new pride? So
many things uncertain but one thing. She is happy and will do whatever it
takes to keep her mate. Anything.

Writer: Tyrinx
Date Thu Jul 17 18:34:04 2014

Writer: Phibbledorf
Date Fri Jul 18 01:09:08 2014

Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Fri Jul 18 15:00:46 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Eight)

Dragon and gnome passed the next several moments in satisfied silence, as
the massive tower rapidly shrank from view behind them. Once they had
cleared the outer fence of Mart-Town, Ol' Brassy began a lazy descent,
banking slightly to the left. Reaching the altitude he desired, about the
mid-point of the tower, the huge brass dragon levelled off, continuing a
counter-clockwise path around the town. The euphoria of first flight
wearing off, it was Thimtax that spoke first.

"Well, I won't lie. I don't think I've ever had that much fun in my entire
life. Did you see the looks on their faces? I can't wait to see those two
back on solid ground!"

Ol' Brassy grunted almost inaudibly, offering nothing more. The pair
continued their counter-clockwise path in silence a few seconds more, before
the hardhat wearing gnome spoke again.

"All right then, I suppose we should get down to the matter at hand,
shouldn't we? Now, had I known prior, I would have packed some surveying
tools for the ride. Luckily, I -do- have a small transit tool and a scope
with me. If you can hold steady, I can get a perpendicular reading All the
way around the tower. Once we've got that squared away, excuse the pun,
perhaps we can shrink the circle down a bunch. That way, I can get a good
look at the facade. That way, I can make sure the grout is holding firm,
and not cracking. It'll also let me get a good look at the blocks
themselves. Check them for any possible cracks or fissures. Then if
possible, I'd like to get right above it again so I can get an idea of ho-"

The large brass dragon interrupted Thimtax with an audible sigh, then spoke.
"There will be no need for that. You and I both know full well there isss
absssolutely nothing wrong with your tower. Your calculationsss and
mathemtaticsss clearly ssshow that, and ssso do mine. Why don't you jussst
sssit back and enjoy the ride?"

Time and time again this morning, the hardhat wearing gnome was dumbstruck
by the words of Ol' Brassy, and Furui, his human form. But, as they say,
successive shocks have a decreasing effect. Thimtax quietly pondered what
had transpired in the past sixty minutes, and the pair continued their lazy
circle around the tower in silence for the next several moments.

Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 19 11:27:14 2014

Writer: Rosa

Date Sun Jul 20 01:29:35 2014

Writer: Rosa

Date Sun Jul 20 01:30:26 2014

Writer: Troy

Date Sun Jul 20 02:21:17 2014

Writer: Colette
Date Sun Jul 20 08:14:11 2014

Writer: Rosa
Date Sun Jul 20 15:56:43 2014

Writer: Rosa
Date Sun Jul 20 15:58:18 2014

Writer: Phibbledorf
Date Sun Jul 20 16:07:15 2014

Writer: Phibbledorf
Date Sun Jul 20 16:59:50 2014

Writer: Phibbledorf
Date Sun Jul 20 17:55:11 2014

Writer: Troy
Date Sun Jul 20 18:18:37 2014

Writer: Drew
Date Sun Jul 20 19:36:58 2014

Writer: Rosa
Date Mon Jul 21 00:57:38 2014

Writer: Rosa
Date Mon Jul 21 00:58:51 2014

Writer: Ryael
Date Tue Jul 22 04:40:45 2014

Writer: Calvissus
Date Tue Jul 22 21:55:40 2014

To Abaddon All ( Storyline Roleplay Immortal Zypher )

Subject |Bath of Dragon's Blood|

Calvissus leaned forward on his cane, looking out over the deck as the
crew raised the corpse from the water. Thirty feet in length, the scaled
beast was pulled on board the deck of the Deliverance with great effort and
restraint. It's corpse hanging, lifeless from the rafters.

Calvissus snarled as he slowly plodded down from the hooded wheel house down
across the open deck. His cane tapping hard into the polished wood with
each ragged step taken. Upon reaching the dangling corpse, he nodded to the
Seashade. The large, burly man stepped forward, battle-axe in hand as he
lined up the mark and then swung. A large thud eminating through the area
as the axe buried itself in the dragon's jugular. As the Seashade pulled
his axe backwards, blood began to spurt out of the wound, dripping down its
Sapphire scales filling massive tubs with its crimson fluid.

With each tub filled brought a small crew of sailors over to remove it,
replacing it with another, until finally the beast bled its last drop. Four
tubs filled to the brim with blood, stacked neatly against the downwards

"Take 'em t' mae office, n' fill up th' tub. Leave th' res' there. '

Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Tue Jul 22 23:53:17 2014

To All ( Roleplay )

Subject Time brings about All things

Like an incessant and petulant child, Kaelowyth's mind forced his
slumbering form to stir despite its obstinate desire to remain asleep.
These days it took more and more effort for him to rise, greeted by the grey
and bleak skies and waters of his keep. Once a bustling hub of activity,
where either drills or the sound of various housekeeping would awaken him
promptly each morning, Sylvestris was now empty and quiet, a reflection of
its owner.

His words returned to him, "I am the land." How ironic it seemed now that
Gyathoth had once again withered. He did not need to look out the great
windows to see the dead and decaying trees or the fetid swamps and valleys
which replaced the once verdant landscape. It was silent now, save for the
distant crashing of the waves against the cliffs below - a steady thundering
which almost seemed to echo his own heart's beat. The thought brought a
tiny smirk to the elf's lips as he steadily rose amidst the furs and
cushions which formed his bed.

It had been months since he last visited the capitol. Even longer since he
bothered to read the missives or keep up with the courtly goings-on. On
some level, he knew that nothing had changed and thus did not preoccupy
himself with it for too long. Such thoughts served only to speed him back
to his bed with a foul taste lingering in his mouth. No, today he awoke for
a reason. Today he awoke to properly survey his keep. Gliding like a
spectre or ghost of legend, he exited his chambers into the barren halls of
Sylvestris Hold.

A fine layer of dust covered everything - ample proof that his subjects had
done as they were told and vacated the grounds. For as much respect as they
had for him, they feared what he had become. Gone was the hopeful and
boisterous nature, replaced by a cold and almost ancient malice. They saw
the change in the land even as they saw the change in him. Good - less
people to meddle in his affairs. As he exited the keep proper, he saw the
interior of the keep remained much as he had left it. The spells of order
and growth having done their job to keep even the faintest of cracks away.
A perfect and untouchable tomb, for a perfect and untouchable creature.

As before, that thought brought forth an expression of mirth upon the Elf's
lips even as he floated upwards to survey the whole of his dominion. Dozens
of solid steel chests appeared to be stacked at the portcullis - tithes and
taxes from his citizenry no doubt. Alongside it another pile of waxed
scrolls and missives which would likely simply fuel the fires he used to
heat his tea. It seemed the world was exactly as he wanted it - far, far
away. There was no sign of an invasion or attempt to wrest his small haven
from him, and that was satisfying enough.

Settling down atop the massive pine which dominated the courtyard, he
noticed the leaves had turned a coppery color and seemed flecked with red,
as if blood had spattered upon them. Chuckling softly to himself, the elf
simply gazed out from atop his perch and nodded to himself. A hand went to
his throat, removing the clasp fashioned in the previous haute couture of
Verminasia to denote his rank and accolades. Hanging it from those withered
branches, another soft peal of laughter escaped him.

"Peace and quiet at last."

Writer: Ryael
Date Wed Jul 23 03:56:41 2014

Writer: Troy
Date Wed Jul 23 14:03:07 2014

Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Wed Jul 23 23:00:09 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Nine)

"So... Why are we doing this?" The hardhat wearing gnome finally
asked; the only sound, save for the winds of flight, as the duo coasted
around the tower on unseen currents.

Ol' Brassy craned his massive head around to face the inquiring little
gnome, and offered a nebulous reply.

"Thossse who create, ought to be able to fully regard their work."

Thimtax pondered the dragon's answer thoughtfully, then pressed forward with
his question.

"Well, I suppose. But... Why are -you- doing this?"

Without expression, Ol' Brassy slowly returned his gaze forward. With a
mighty flap of his wings, the pair began to ascend rapidly, while
maintaining their counter clockwise course around Mart-Town and the tower.
He answered the hardhat wearing gnome as the town shrunk from view beneath

"Perhaps there are many softlings in this world that strive for absolute
perfection. However, the overwhelming majority of them seek it for reasons
less than virtuous. They seek perfection in their craft, for reasons of
monetary gain, and personal prestige. They seek perfection in their
possessions, for they desire an advantage over others."

"And then, there is you, who cares neither for wealth nor acclaim. You've
taken no extra salary from the Ixi'kweez for building this tower. And your
Chairman and co-workers. They know next to nothing about the logistics of
building something of this magnitude. Perfection is lost on them."

"And yet, there you are. Day in and day out. Checking and rechecking the
day's work, long after the others have gone home for the evening. By the
gods, you asked me to strike your work full force, for no other reason, than
to correct an insignificant deviation in perpendicularity, which noone
including myself had even noticed!"

"No, my friend. You've only one reason to go to the lengths that you have.
You strive for perfection, simply because you -can- achieve such, and
therefore, you -should-. And that, is the most noblest reason of them all."

The duo majestically broke the plane of the roof of the tower, and continued
soaring upward. The huge brass dragon levelled off some distance above the
tower, and pulled up. The two hovered there, well over a thousand feet off
the ground, with the tower below and before them. Ol' Brassy spoke once

"So look upon your masterpiece, Thimtax! Gaze upon what you have created,
and take pride in it! Know that without you, this entire town would never
have been. Your efforts affect this world more than you will ever know.
But, your work is not finished yet. Let this aid in your motivation. And
know that I will be at your disposal should you need anything."

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 24 01:07:00 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Ten)

And Thimtax did look upon his creation. It was exactly as he had planned
it, down to the last detail. Not really one to pat himself on the back, he
was however, willing to concede that All thus far had gone very well, and
the results had so far lived up to his expectations. He was pleased.

"He hasss to asssk." Ol' Brassy spoke once again, the only party to do so
in some time. "The four large sssteel thingsss on the ground in the
courtyard, with their endsss bent down. What are thossse for?"

The hardhat wearing gnome strained his eyes downward to no avail. His
vision was not nearly as sharp as the dragon's. "I can't see what you're
seeing, but I'm pretty sure I know what you're looking at. Those, are for

"For me?" Ol 'Brassy asked in surprise.

"Sure are. You see, originally, this tower was originally going to have a
marble dome for a roof. But, once I realized you may want to use the tower
as an observation post, I had to change it around a bit. Now, the roof will
be flat. Those four steel perches will be mounted there, and secured to the
eight main support pillars for the tower itself. That way, you have several
comfortable options when you're up there, and I won't have to worry about
your massive claws scratching up the roof."

Ol' Brassy turned around to look at Thimtax, a look of concern on his face.
"Hrm? You changed the plan?"

The little gnome shrugged his shoulders. "I had to. Perfection must
include both form and function. To not change the roof, would've been

The brass dragon grunted quiety and returned his gaze to the tower. He
waited several moments before he spoke again.

"You do realize, what may happen to you, should you complete your Lifequest,

Thimtax wasn't especially surprised that Ol' Brassy was aware of the ancient
legend of the Lifequest, but he was not expecting him to bring it up. The
legend was that every gnome had an innate task, a life's work, that they
were to accomplish. The nature of their Lifequest is never revealed to the
individual, save through a lifetime of experiences, and in most cases, some
sort of epiphany. The vast majority of gnomes live and die without so much
as even learning of their Lifequest, and noone alive could recall a time
when one had actually completed it. But it was said that when a gnome
completes his or her Lifequest to perfection, Cliath will bring that person
home to Him, and they would create together for eternity.

"Yes, I'm aware." Thimtax finally answered quietly, not a bit of anxiety
in his voice.

The two continued their holding pattern above the tower in silence, as the
sun reached its zenith.

Writer: Drew

Date Thu Jul 24 06:15:15 2014

Writer: Colette

Date Thu Jul 24 08:57:14 2014

Writer: Tarpu

Date Thu Jul 24 22:57:06 2014

To Althainia Dolund'ir Kaithen All ( imm rp )

Subject The Coming of the Lord of the Gullies

Dolundir was one of those kingdoms in the world with no roads leading to
it. Tarpu had to get in through the sewers, though there were other ways
into the city through the Midennir swamp. Tarpu was simply no stranger to
the sewers of Althainia being a gully dwarf. His usual fear was overridden
with giddy excitement. Emperor Kaithen had given him a job and he was going
to do it. The Emperor wanted the rats and skunks of Dolundir slain and who
better than Tarpu Ratslayer for such a task? It didnt cross the gully
dwarfs mind that he might be the only Althainian that really didnt mind the
stench of the dung ridden goblin city.

As soon as Tarpu got there, he realized that this was going to be a long
job. Fortunately Kaithen had told Tarpu he was in charge of efforts in
Dolundir and could have All the help he wanted. So, standing in Monolith
Square, Tarpu waved his hands and whistled loudly to get the attention of
all the goblins.

"Me Tarpu Ratslayer!" The gully dwarf loudly introduced himself, "Emperor
send me here to be in charge! Wants All rats dead! Wants All black kitties
with white stripes dead! Listen to me! Tarpu is Lord of Dolundir now!"

Tarpu triumphantly raised his arms at his proclamation, a cheesy grin
filling his features. The goblins didnt seem to be impressed. In fact they
seemed not to understand the gully dwarfs grandiose explanations, or just
didnt seem to care. The slow traffic of pilgrims to the Monolith continued
uninterrupted, the goblins came and went as normal and one goblin made a
show of using the latrine, meaning the street.

Tarpu scratched the back of his head, looking disappointed. He was hoping
for cheers and celebrating at their new liege lord. Maybe if they saw him
killing the rats and skunks theyd get the idea. Hours spent hunting rats,
trapping skunk and frantically yelling and gesturing at indifferent goblins
went by and Tarpu was tired. Spotting the empty palace in the northern part
of the city, Tarpu gave another grin.

The new Lord of Dolundir would be living there now.

Writer: Drew

Date Fri Jul 25 08:25:47 2014

Writer: Ryael

Date Fri Jul 25 08:55:41 2014

Writer: Cheiron

Date Fri Jul 25 12:48:14 2014

Writer: Cheiron

Date Fri Jul 25 12:53:55 2014

Writer: Colette

Date Sat Jul 26 00:11:05 2014

Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 26 01:04:18 2014

Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 26 03:30:20 2014

Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 26 04:39:48 2014

Writer: Drew

Date Sat Jul 26 15:19:49 2014

Writer: Deccan
Date Sun Jul 27 04:07:32 2014

Writer: Andreyna
Date Mon Jul 28 10:14:20 2014

Writer: Ryael
Date Mon Jul 28 22:29:48 2014

Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Tue Jul 29 00:20:52 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part One)

The Chairman absent-mindedly opened and closed one of the myriad of empty
filing cabinets that populated the eighth floor of the tower. This, was the
new home of the Accounts Receivable Department. Ixi marvelled at the near
limitless potential for document and record storage this floor offered. A
simple layout, the entire floor consisted of a cluster of desks and chairs
around the center. Two dozen aisles of uniform silver filing cabinets
radiated from the center outward, like spokes on a wheel. Each aisle ended
short of the tower walls, creating an outer pathway.

The tower was empty and silent, for Thimtax gave everyone the day off. The
95th floor had been completed the day prior, and the Project Manager wanted
his workers well rested, before they made the final push to complete
construction. Ixi'kweez visited the tower nearly daily, his excitement
growing as what was once just a hole in the ground, finally began to
resemble the finished product that he and Thimtax had envisioned. It would
not be more than a couple weeks, before the tower would be occupied and open
for business.


Startled, the Chairman turned around briskly, though there was no question
as to who would have said such a thing. The red panda finished her trek up
the stairwell, and sat up on her haunches, clapping happily.

"Hello, girl! Now how in the world did you manage to find me up here?"
Ixi'kweez knelt down where he stood. The panda made her way over the
Chairman gingerly. As she did so, another voice could be heard, from the
floor below.

"Squeeeeezuuuuums!" The little girl's voice echoed upward from the
stairwell, getting louder as time went on. "Squeezums, no! We're not
asposed to go into Mistaw Ixi'kweez's tower!"

Recognizing the girl's voice instantly, Ixi called out. "Momiji? Is that
you? It's alright, dear! I have Squeezums right here with me! Come on

The little raven haired girl peeked her head up shyly from the stairwell, a
guilty look on her face. She spotted Ixi and Squeezums not far away,
playing gently. Momiji slowly made her way over to the two.

"I'm sorry, Mistaw Ixi'kweez. We were playing in the courtyard, and
Squeezums ran into the tower."

"It's okay, Momiji. She must have picked up my scent in the courtyard, and
decided to pay me a visit."
The Chairman chuckled lightly, as he looked
through one of the many windows. The sun remained high in the sky. Evening
was still a couple hours away. "It seems you have some time before you have
to be home for dinner. Would you two like a tour of the tower while you're

Expecting to be scolded for being where she shouldn't be, Momiji was elated
to be offered a tour of such a wondrous building. "Wow, really? I would
love to see your tower!"

Writer: Sindraste

Date Tue Jul 29 01:06:53 2014

To Azheri Bloodlust All ( Admin Dekaios Immortal Religion Storyline )

Subject Acceptance

The dim, crimson light of the sanctum pulsed with an eerie light, a
strangely vital thrum of power radiating from a black wooden edifice that
dominated the center of the chamber. The lacquered coffin stood ajar, its
occupant pacing the visceral room and smiling with a nearly unfathomable
joy. The vampire's smile stretched cold lips painfully- the very sensation
of mild discomfort a joy to the entity that wore stolen flesh. The
satisfaction it felt, however, was entirely its own. The immense pleasure
of work completed.

The Warlord had accepted it.

It had been a labor of months, months of currying favor with the underlings
of the Dungeon. Befriending the ogre, Rogle, simple as it was, and earning
its respect had been the very first step in its carefully-crafted plan. It
was a stout fellow, one well-regarded by its peers. Krazeth, too, had
fallen into its favor quickly, one of the few with the eyes to see it for
what it was and capable of respecting the power it commanded. Even the
Overlord- the man who was to become Warlord, had taken to it, accepted the
gift of its power without question and instead fostering trust as more and
more bodies were added to the pile.

Notes were passed back and forth- first to Jazaren, a fruitless venture that
still could ruin the veneer of happiness it wore as it paced. Then Deza'th
had stepped up, championing it, and wrested the reins of the Dungeon from
feebler hands. The door was opened.

However, it had not been enough, was not proof of its devotions. More favor
was to be sought. The vampire had traveled back across the world, slipping
through shadows and between the cracks of the world, through unseen methods
and hidden ways finding the ear of the Count of Abaddon. Orlen Aingar's
prayers, he had said, were heard by the Lord of Death. It was thus that the
vampire murmured the supplications desired to be carried. Promises of many
more souls to be reaped, orisons of thanks for the existence it enjoyed in
its shell of cold earth and flesh. Such prayers were uttered, it was said,
and the vampire was satisfied so.

The vampire's pacing stopped, and it looked at the coffin that thrummed with
the vital power, eye teeth exposed as it walked slowly to its sanctuary,
pressing delicate, gloved fingertips against the engraving of its own name
embossed in the wood. The final trial, yes, that was the one that pleased
it the most. Letters of faith, a calling to All of the Dungeon who had seen
its actions. Who had received its favor and had been much pleased by the
efforts. Letters from Minions and Reavers, Bloodletters and even an
Underlord. Letters of recommendation and praise, letters from those who
would back it in any venture, who would delight in seeing its power wielded
for Fatale.

These letters, it had taken for itself. With a creak, the coffin opened,
and the vampire gazed within through red-tinted lenses at the sheaves of
delicate parchment strewn in the confined space. It was a strange sort of
response, an almost fetishist act to preserve the letters that lauded it,
but its ego was stroked by the adulations, and so it slept among the proof
of its power.

The shadows writhed with necromantic power and the raw energy of the
demi-plane of shadow, and the vampire turned its head, closing its eyes and
leaving its den with reluctance. The Warlord was not done with it yet.
There were lives to claim.

Lethe'lain surged forward, becoming immaterial in near an instant, and
within the span of a breath the chamber was empty, with no sign of its
having been there at all.

Writer: Megan

Date Tue Jul 29 10:21:57 2014

Writer: Tahereh

Date Wed Jul 30 09:25:38 2014

Writer: Nathalos

Date Wed Jul 30 11:30:57 2014

Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Wed Jul 30 11:54:12 2014

To All ( IMM RP )

Subject A Caged Songbird - The First Verse

Perhaps the most noted change, when All was said and done, was the song.
Where before a happy and elated tune rang out throughout the Verminasian
docks, now it had been replaced with a haunting melody, the notes soft and
cold as a banshee's warning.

Where before men walked the docks and worked the ships with happy smiles
plastered across their song-struck faces, now only the emotionles spirits of
ancient beings passed, lugging supplies to and from the Requiem, neglecting
all beyond that sweet and sorrowful ship.

It was not unhappy, per say; no anger laced this new song, no malice. It
was simply eerie, like the death-knell of a church-bell, heralding some
fallen virtue or another. It was simple; it was pure; it was grace.

The sweet songbird, still wearing her Captain's badge upon her cape, sat
atop her nest, gazing unseeingly over the waves, her eyes never once
wandering towards the land behind her. Her emotions, as always, lay masked
beneath that tender smile of hers; that sensuous laugh and those delicate

And yet the song went on, seeming to chill the very air with her thoughts.

Perhaps...it was almost time.

Writer: Kyan
Date Wed Jul 30 13:54:10 2014

Writer: Deccan
Date Wed Jul 30 18:47:26 2014

Writer: Aratorex
Date Wed Jul 30 22:04:42 2014

To All Raije Imm (RP)

Subject The ethos of war and humanity

The sky grew dark with clouds and the distant thunder began to gain a
rhythm uniform to the drums of war...

The half-man and half-horse stood below the most ominous cloud above, his
war-tattoo covered frame arched in a defiant pose of victory where none has
yet to be found. The pulse of the war drums begins to fade, and the centaur
knows his journey has just begun. The realm before him as his vision
allows, a cruel and unusual place. The only thing that makes sense to the
centaur is honor, but not Nadrik's honor that can be found by any who seek
it. The honor that becomes truth is trial by fire, combat and honor.

Again the lightning strikes far off in the distance, followed by the thunder
that once again sounds of war drums. A low hung head attached to the neck
of Aratorex, knowing the journey before him is not suited for his cause.
His limbs raise to the darkened sky once again, shouting to Raije that the
laws of men can not apply to him so long as he brings war in the name of

The centaur's ideas of humanity were not aligned with his current ethos,
although Aratorex sought humanity in vain, he only must seek himself. But
still, the centaur could not help but wish to shed his reddish aura in favor
of a more chaotic golden aura to honor the War God and dismiss the lesser
laws of men.

Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Thu Jul 31 01:05:24 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Two)

The tall, bearded man in grey robes strode with purpose down Dented Steel
Neckguard Boulevard, taking in every sight and sound along the way. The
townspeople, however, hadn't noticed his presence at all. Shifted out of
phase, he continued his course unimpeded and uninterrupted. He noted the
little town was pleasant enough, but his focus was almost solely on the
tower at the town's center. Without stopping, he strode through Gate 'A',
and proceeded into the courtyard.

Afforded his first unobstructed view from the ground, the bearded man halted
his gait. Placing his hands on his hips, he craned his head upward,
following the tower as it pierced the clear, azure afternoon sky. Reaching
the top, he slowly returned his view downward, scrutinizing every block and
seam, every window and vent, down to their last detail.

And in an instant, he was gone, only to reappear in front of Gate 'C' to the
west. His contemplative pose remained unchanged, as he looked the tower up
and down once again. Satisfied for the moment, he appeared yet again in the
east in front of Gate 'G', then at the north end in front of Gate 'E'. Each
time, surveying the structure from a different perspective.

He blinked out of sight once again. This time, when he reappeared, he did
so at every position around the tower; nearly thirty identical copies of the
man's image encircled the tower, All maintaining the same thoughtful
tableau, scanning it up and down from every possible angle. Satisfied, the
man in the gray robes waved his hand, causing his projections to dissipate
into thin air.

No expression registered on the bearded man's face. He had done nothing but
observe the tower from two hundered feet away. His work here had only just
begun. Arbitrarily choosing one of the lower floors of the tower as his
first destination, the mysterious man waved an arm and vanished from the

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 01:52:16 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Three)

"Alrighty, twenty-second floor. Marketing, Advertising, and Promotions."
The Chairman explained as he exited the elevator, Momiji and Squeezums in
tow. "This is where Mister Olliwac will lead our team; researching and
developing new slogans and advertisements for our company."

The Chairman tried his best to keep the tour limited to the more interesting
floors, understanding that he was giving a tour to a little girl. However,
he was surprised to find her very interested in everything he had shown her
thus far. In fact, the precocious almond-eyed girl had many questions as
they went along. But it was getting to be later in the afternoon, and Ixi
knew Momiji and Squeezums would have to be home in time for dinner. He
would show her the best part when they left this floor. As they milled
around the endless sea of easels and inclined drafting tables strewn around
the floor, the Chairman decided to ask a question of his own.

"So. I hear Mister Crillow has been spending a lot of time with you and
your mother lately."

"Oh yeah! We see Mistah Cwillow nearly every day." The raven-haired girl
replied cheerily. "Mummy hasn't been this happy since we lived with Daddy."

"And, how do you feel about Mister Crillow?" The Chairman asked.

"Oh, he's great! He's nice to Mummy and me and he can cook really well!
And he's nice to Squeezums too, even though he keeps tripping over her for
some reason. It's like he's going blind."

"Well, Squeezums always did have a habit of getting underfoot." Ixi
replied, chuckling. "Well, I'm glad you three are getting along so well.
Say. It's nearly time for me to take you and Squeezums home. How would you
like to go to the very top first?"

"All the way to the top? That sounds wonderful!"

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 02:58:32 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Four)

The tall, bearded man appeared in the middle of an aisle in what appeared
upon first glance to be some sort of auditorium, or possibly a concert hall,
for as large as it was. Black drapes hung over every window; the floor
itself illuminated modestly by ambient light sources affixed to the walls at
set intervals. The man noticed All the walls and supports had been sheathed
in wooden panels, designed specifically with acoustics in mind. As he
panned his gaze around further, he noticed a mahogany podium on the stage.
In an instant, he stood before said podium, looking out at rows upon rows of
empty seats.

In a moment of levity, the bearded man mimed the shuffling and tapping of
papers on the podium, envisioning the Chairman doing the very same in the
near future. He spoke aloud.


He paused. There was no echo, and at least from this perspective, he could
hear his voice projecting well. The mysterious man waved his arm from right
to left, and in an instant, the auditorium was packed with carbon copies of
the man, All gazing in rapt attention towards their speaker.


Immediately, the crowd rose to their feet, cheering madly. The bearded man,
blushing, took a bow and mouthed a quick "Thank you", then waved his arm
from left to right, causing the auditorium to clear once again.

"Not bad." The man said to himself out loud. "Let's see what else he's
With that, the mysterious man blinked away. The tenth floor was
once again unoccupied and quiet.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 03:02:28 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Five)

The tall mysterious man was surprised that one would ever go so far as to
build a fighting arena in the middle of a tower. But yet, here he was, on
the 86th floor, ankle deep in ivory sand, looking out on a sea of sparring
dummies hanging from hooks in the ceiling and support columns, each in a
different offensive or defensive pose. The bearded man walked over to what
was once an intact sparring dummy, now cut to shreds, most of which laid in
a heap on the floor below.

He could not comprehend taking such an architectual masterpiece, and turning
part of it into an arena for fighting, and the idea did not impress him.
However, this was one of the few floors in the entire tower, where the stone
walls and supports were completely exposed, not sheathed in any type of wood
or tile.

He solemnly placed a hand on the remaining torso of the dummy. A blue light
began to radiate from inside the dummy, projecting downwards towards the
floor. As the light reached the tattered remains below, they began to
levitate upward, re-meshing with the torso. After several seconds, the
dummy had been completely restored to its original condition. Satisfied,
the bearded man turned his attention to the outer walls.

He walked slowly over to the outer wall and placed a hand on it, removing it
nearly immediately. The block which he had touched radiated a soft blue
glow, which faded over the next several seconds. He pondered for a moment,
then with a flash of quickness, the man slapped the same block hard, causing
it to glow an angry red hue. After several seconds, the red glow also

The man continued to do this at several points along the outer wall and
supports, each time with the same result. Satisfied with the results, he
took a moment to walk to the window and look outside. The sun was lowering
in the sky. It would be evening soon. But there was one more place he
wished to inspect. With a flash, the tall man in grey robes vanished from
the 86th floor, with the intention of reappearing at the top of the tower.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 14:56:44 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Six)

"And over here, we have the forest and the city of Shalonesti, home of
the elves, myself included."

"Oooooh! The forest looks like it goes on forever!" Momiji exclaimed in
delight. The Chairman had placed her atop his shoulders to give her a
better view, for the walls of the open air ninety-seventh floor were at the
moment the same height as the precocious little girl, which would've made
the view much less enjoyable, had she been standing on the ground. The
Chairman walked her around the perimeter of the wall southward, gesturing
towards a large city to the south.

"And that huge city over there, that is the kingdom of Althainia, the City
of Light. I used to live there years and years ago. Nice town."

"It looks beautiful! I can't wait to visit it some day! And the
Shalonesti. And All the wonderful places I've seen here!"

It just so happened, at that moment, the mysterious man in grey robes
blinked onto the 97th floor, mere feet behind the Chairman and his
companions. Startled, he vanished and reappeared nearly fifty feet away.
Of course, noone would have been able to see him, as he was shifted out of
phase, but he was not expecting anyone to be up here. The surprise having
worn off, the tall man casually walked towards the group, and followed
behind as the Chairman led everyone around the tower perimeter.

"Mistaw Ixi'kweez?" Momiji asked, as they enjoyed their walk around the
tower walls. "Do you think I could work at Ixi-Mart when I get older?"

The Chairman slowed his gait to a halt, looking out over the western
continent. "Why of course you could. You are a wonderful, intelligent,
caring little girl. You can do anything you put your mind to. You could
travel the world. Start your own business. Make a name for yourself.
Ixi-Mart would be but one out of many, many options for you."

The almond-eyed little girl pondered the Chairman's words thoughtfully for
some time, but when she answered, she did so with a confidence not normally
found in one so young. "No, I think I want to work for Ixi-Mart. Ixi-Mart
makes people happy. Noone here ever has to suffer. It is the reason
Mart-Town is even here. The company cares about the town, and the town
cares about the company. I want to make people happy, and I'd like to do it

Ixi reached up and removed the girl from his shoulders and placed her gently
back on the ground. He regarded her seriously. The precocious raven-haired
girl never ceased to amaze him. "Ixi-Mart would be delighted to have you as
part of its family. Maybe, when the tower opens, I'll bring you back to the
22nd floor, and introduce you to Olliwac again. I'm sure with his
imagination, and yours, some great things could happen."

"I'd like that."


The tall, bearded man stood where he was as he watched the Chairman, little
girl and panda in tow, enter the elevator, and slowly descend out of sight.
Alone once again, he pondered what he had witnessed this day. There was no
doubt in the man's mind, that the gnome indeed pulled out All the stops in
his quest for perfection. But there was more happening here. More than
just an edifice being raised. Thimtax had either intentionally, or
unwittingly, created a town which shared a positive symbiotic relationship
with the tower and its occupants.

"Form and function." The bearded man mused aloud.

He was very impressed.

Writer: Eldrin

Date Sat Aug 2 12:05:17 2014

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 06:26:15 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers I

The city on the coast of Althainia was a populous once, if not
particularly vast. The real name of the compact bounds was lost on most
visitors, and even more than a few of the natives had forgotten its true
name, preferring to simply call it "home". It was a blessed place, the
locals said, with easy access to the sea for food and a tributary of the
Ishtar providing fresh water and fertile lands to make the place largely
self-sufficient. Trade ships were known to make use of the city's ports,
traders with a mind to send goods upriver and a few unscrupulous sea-bandits
who were willing to pay a bit of extra coin to avoid the hassle of bribing
the Althainian port authority at the main docks proper.

Houses built upon houses lined narrow cobblestone streets, families living
in largely good-natured close quarters. The prowess of the city guard was
admirable, the worst of the lot quickly dealt with when the sailors coming
ashore stirred up too much trouble. While the constabulary was often kept
discipline did not need to be unnecessarily draconian. By and large, the
people of the Althainian continent were of a decent sort, barring the
occasional Abaddonian miscreant sneaking across the border to cause a
ruckus. For the most part, life was good, and the people of the city were
happy. They were safe, they were fed, and they were content.

They were complacent.

It was in the midst of this complacency that the migrants came. Some
bedraggled, some grizzled, some simply hollow-eyed. They came from ships
hailing from Tropica, mostly, with a few walking off of the decks of
southern Arkanian vessels or swimming ashore from some of the less-savory
ships that rumor maintained were cutters that hailed from the pirate Haven
or the feared Dead Man's Cove. Despite their odd appearances, the guard
rarely had much to do with them. Strange as they were, with their odd
accents and their aversion to the questions asked of them when they arrived,
they did not cause problems, quickly disappearing into the bustle of the
city once they had been cleared by the local port authority. They took up
work in the menial labors and lived in the run-down homes in the older parts
of town, remaining beneath notice and venturing out little, but to the local
taverns or to the marketplaces.

It was on these short forays that they began to reach out. One by one, to
most seemingly attempting to merely make friends amongst the city folk. A
kind word from a stranger to a weeping widow, an offer of assistance to an
elderly man. A meal purchased in the tavern, a favor done for no cost.
Slowly but surely, the strangers worked their way into the lives of the
needy and the downtrodden.

When the more devout of the common folk approached them about a visit to the
nearby temples to attend a service, a polite refusal would answer- sometimes
a little too vehemently, or with an undertone of some emotion that refused
to be readily identified. The more curious of the lot would press further,
asking about their beliefs. More refusals would follow. Those that dropped
the curious inquiries found that their newfound friends were suddenly busy
elsewhere- work becoming more demanding or illness striking at the worst of
times. The more insistent and inquisitive, however, would eventually be
rewarded, if in the most terrible of ways.

When at last a curious soul would cross the threshold, an offer would be
made. An offer to attend the quiet service of the stranger's faith. A
small sermon, a small function- a remote sect of some innocuous faith.
Those foolish enough to accept soon found themselves in the dark of a
basement someplace, beneath a tavern after-hours or underneath one of the
rundown homes in the city, surrounded by hooded and robed figures who
chanted in ugly tones. With fear in their eyes, seven such souls were
mobbed by the cultists infesting the heart of the city and cut down, their
hearts sliced from their chests and sacrificed upon the infernal Octed of

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 06:47:49 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers II

The eighth sacrifice was of a somewhat more delicate procedure. An aging
woman of wealthy stock, she did not quickly take to the migrants who would
visit upon her when she deigned to be seen in public, only hiring one of
them- one of the more handsome specimens- at his groveling insistence.
However, his efficiency and obedience elevated him quickly in her eyes, and
her gaze upon her warmed more and more by the day, eventually becoming
amorous. The young man did not protest when she called him to her one day,
and the first seeds were sown for the final offering to Chaos.

She would ask after him, and in small pieces- small lessons and shared
stories day by day- he would tell her. He would describe the truth in the
broadest of strokes, the stark and unforgiving Primordial Truth diluted to
fit her jaded view of the gods that lorded over Algoron. More and more she
would ask, curiosity getting the best of her between sordid affairs, her new
lover a fascination that she delighted in unraveling layer by intriguing
layer. The way he considered things, the way he spoke of the gods and of
his thoughts on them bordered on heretical at times, and the forbidden
nature of his very life struck a thrilling chord in her. It was positively
sinful, and she considered it All the more exquisite that she had captured

One day, at last, he presented her with a small gift. In the morning, he
had asked of her the great favor of her dusty and abandoned symbol of
Kwainin, a wrought silver medallion suspended on a cord of same. Three days
later, he returned with a new trinket. Gone was the symbol of Balance, and
in its place was a new creation. A curious, spiked star with eight points,
pointing to each of the cardinal directions. With a polite smile, she asked
about it, and with equally polite terms he explained it. The Octed, he
explained, was a symbol of absolute freedom. A symbol of the directions of
the world. Anyone with the proper will, he said, could go anywhere they
choose, in any direction, to any place. The only obstacle was their own

With a coy, sultry smile and a soft giggle, she preened, accepting this new
gift from her charming lover. It was a lovely thought, and the symbolism
behind it was sensible. It was a faith for not simply the common soul, but
for any who had the ability left to dream bigger than their own lives. As
she slipped the chain about her neck, however, a terrible chill ran through
her body- a soul-freezing pain that lanced from head to toe, followed by a
fiery burn that made her eyes water. As she tried to cry out, however, she
found to her horror that her body had ceased to obey her commands. With
fearful eyes she looked up at her erstwhile lover, seeing him in a terrible
new light as he loomed over her, from his handsomely-cut clothing producing
a wickedly-sharp dagger with the Octed branded upon the hilt.

Her soul belonged to the Warp now, he said with a widening smile, the
madness that he had hidden for weeks finally allowed to come to the fore.
The mark of the Lord of Chaos was seared into her very being, and she was
the keystone to the redemption of this city of fools and weaklings. Her
silent protests went unheeded as his dagger fell, and a splash of crimson
painted his face and his well-made clothes. It was the work of some minutes
to remove her heart, and even as her body cooled he set to work.

He moved with quick, deliberate movements, measuring the lines carefully as
he daubed his hand in the blood of the dead noblewoman, painting upon the
floor of her bedroom the Octed in larger scale, setting her heart upon the
very center, upon the convergence of the eight equal arms. From his pocket
came a tightly-bound scroll, wrapped around a tiny pearl that burned with
latent power. It hurt to touch, but it was with a zealous desire that he
grasped it tight as he read the words inked into the vellum.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 07:04:13 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers III

Eight hearts of heretics stolen, taken from the fearful and meek. Their
bodies form the stones of the Path to the End. We tread this path together,
and call upon you now to lead us. Heed the call of the faithful and come to
us now, Word Bearer!

The words resonated eerily as he spoke them, the taste of blood overwhelming
in his mouth. As the last syllable fell, so, too, did he, blood dripping
from his lips as he coughed and gagged. Dreadful heat filled the room, the
tastefully-decorated chamber darkening as a hellish glow suffused the far
wall. With bleary eyes, the cultist peered over the corpse of his false
lover, over the hateful bed where he had woven the web of his cunning trap.
A swirling portal of churning black and bloody red had engulfed the wall,
seeming to consume it entirely with a doorway to elsewhere.

Within a minute, the first of the beings from the other side began to come
through, filling the bedchamber quickly and beginning to push past one
another, past their weakened brother and the dead woman and into the hall.
The cries of servants at this sudden intrusion were cut short with brutal
efficiency, each new visitor armed with some form of weapon or other- most
of them human or similar and wielding clubs, swords, knives, or the
occasional flail or other exotic weapon. Each of them had a few common
features, despite their disparate races and choice of attire. Each of them
wore loose-fitting half-robes of blood red over their ramshackle armors,
each of them clasped their overrobes with the Octed, and each of them had
the same light of zealous madness in their eyes.

A dozen, two dozen, and then a score more filed through the hateful portal
before the eyes of the bleeding cultist, the flow of blood refusing to end
even as he neared the point of unconsciousness. The world swam as he
remained on All fours, heaving blood with ragged breaths onto the Thalosian
carpet that his companion had decorated her chambers with. So far gone was
he that he nearly overlooked the going-ons around him, until at last his
attention was dragged forward once more.

A ripple passed through the room, an unease that jumped from person to
person as the armed cultists backed away from the churning portal. The last
cultist through seemed to try dashing away, elbowing his way into the
hallway outside and a little bit farther still. The dazed cultist found
himself being trod upon by booted feet, groaning as he was kicked and
shuffled around while the portal disgorged a final traveler before yielding
to the force of the world trying to mend the hole torn in it. With a
shriek, the Chaos portal closed and was no more, leaving behind its final

Standing a full head taller than any of the humans and vying for height with
a few of the cultists of clearly half-ogrish descent, the broad figure of
the man was unnaturally swollen, corded with growths of muscle that seemed
too great for a man's body. Wrapped in platemail so thick as to test the
limits of belief for movement, he strode with an ease of motion that taunted
the expectations of his observers, unlimbering a massive axe from his back.
A horned helm depicting a scream demon's visage in place of the face swept
side to side, taking in the disposition of his forces as they backed away
from him, finally settling on the prone figure who was once again alone in
his suffering, his abusers having fled from the sight of the butcher in
their midst.

'W-we... We did as you commanded, Word Bearer.. The hearts of eight.. The
way open... It was...
' he coughed out a weak laugh, blood joining the
growing stain beneath him, '.. Unpleasant... The woman, that is... ' He
looked up at the figure that was now striding toward him, his heavy
bootfalls deliberate and slow until the massive man loomed over him as he
had his victim not so very long ago. He looked on without fear, as one so
close to the grave can look upon any mortal terror and feel no more,
'Release... Me.. '

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 07:14:50 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers IV

The bestial visage of the mask gazed down at him in silence, then turned
to the axe held in both gauntletted hands. It tilted toward the weapon, a
low growl in the broad man's throat as he seemed to listen to some unheard
voice. A creak of leather was deafening in the absolute silence, onlooking
cultists not daring to intrude upon the exchange between the summoner and
the summoned. The man's hands tightened on the weapon, and he brought the
bearded axe up over his head in an executioner's pose.

'It hungers. '

The axe fell.

The summoner passed into the Maelstrom without a sound or a cry, crumbling
as the back of his head, his neck, and his upper back were simply
obliterated, punched through by the cutting edge of the weapon. A wet thud
sounded as the body was slammed into the blood-saturated rug on the floor,
and a dark chuckle was heard by all, coming from the butcher who had just
slain one of his own.

Erebaal Phaeron raised his head and his voice, his gaze and his words taking
in All of the cultists in the room and several in the hallway who peered
into the bedchamber from the doorway. 'This city shall serve as an example
to the rest. The Final March will not be stopped. The Final March cannot
be stopped. Put it to the flame. Burn it all! Slay them all! Let the
world see the wrath of the warriors of CHAOS! LET THE STREETS RUN WITH

The Word Bearer's bloodlust was infectious, spreading to his followers like
a plague as his words grew more and more frenzied, until each maddened
cultist stirred and howled and cheered their assent as their leader's final
command was spoken. With a cry, they surged toward the exits, spilling out
into the streets in the waning night, their yells and frenzied howls audible
from streets away.

Within an hour, the midnight sky burned fiery red as the forces of Chaos set
light to the coastal town.

Writer: Travanian

Date Sun Aug 3 20:17:19 2014

To All imm Drakkara

Subject Faltering Hourglass

The woman continued to struggle, even as she felt hopelessness set in.
The chains that bound her were heavy iron, crackling with a low purple fire that had quickly taught her not to push to far.
A dark line of burned flesh striped across both her upper arms, seared deep into the pale skin.
The door creaked open on only lightly rusted hinges, but no figure stepped through that dark portal, there was only a slight pause before the heavy oak slab swung back to it's original place and locked with a heavy thud.
Frantic eyes darted in the woman's bloodless face, scanning from corner to corner as she searched for what had disturbed the door, now pressing back towards the wall rather then away.
"You must wonder, darling, why such a common woman as yourself has been dragged to the Ebon Spire, yes?"
The voice that echoed around the stone room was deceptively soft, sliding forth as a melodious clear baritone, although there was still no visible source.
"You must wonder to yourself, yes, I who have a family, a life full of happiness, love, sanity... What would anyone want with me? I have nothing of worth to steal..."
Here the voice paused, and a slight rustle was heard as a tall, lithe shadow detached itself from one of the walls and glided forward, a set of burning amber orbs floating within the shadowy tendrils.
"Why, thats where you're entirely wrong, my dear," the shadowy figure said, as the shadows slowly began to slink together into one mass, which began to float to the ground into a solid shape.
"You see, your life is full of things that strengthen your will to continue living the pitiful existance you possess. They draw you back like a moth to a candle, they inspire you, here," the Archmagus said, tapping one long slender finger against the woman's chest, directly over her heart.
Whimpering and groveling, the woman's eyes rolled madly and her mouth opened as if to speak, but only groans of despair continued to leak forth as she failed to find her voice.
Without any further words required, Travanian released the chains with a word, gracefully kneeling to pin the woman as she slid bonelessly to the floor, even as one pale hand drew the sacrificial dagger from his belt.
A feral grin twisting at the corners of his mouth, he swept the dagger down in a hard slash, opening the woman's throat from ear to ear, the blood gushing forth to splash across the stones of the floor, and coating the milky white skin of his hands and forearms.
Looking down, the feverish amber eyes of the dark elf met those of his latest victim as the gleam of defiance and life fled from there depths.
Setting to work, he began to carefully slice into the corpse, opening it with swipes of his dagger before driving his hand directly into the chest cavity.
Travanian drew the still warm heart out, before sitting cross legged on the floor, cradling the symbol of desecrated life in his palms before him.
Slowly, he began the chant, the dark words rolling from his tongue, his voice rising and falling and rising again, the sounds trapped within the blood splattered chamber.
Rising swiftly to his feet, the necromancer grasped the heart in his left hand, lifting it high as he screamed the last of the incantation, a fanatical fire burning in his gaze as he lifted his right hand over the heart clutched in his left.
Flickers of black mist roiled around the clawed fingers of his right hand, as the heart pulsed violently, a white substance streaming from it towards his open palm, entering the flesh and racing up his arm and All the way through him.
As the last of the white light fled from the heart, the shriveled husk crumbled in his grasp, dust drifting to the floor in the ringing silence following his bellowed words.
Travanian smirked, nodding to himself, as he began the process of cleaning this chamber, leaving no mark of what had transpired.

Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Wed Aug 6 05:14:31 2014

Writer: Oszen

Date Wed Aug 6 19:21:28 2014

Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 03:38:16 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration I

Panic spread through the port city faster than the fires.

All across the sizable burg, men who had arrived as strangers but had grown
to become friends turned on their companions, drawing blades and laying into
would-be friends as the first hints of hellish red began to fill the night
sky. In taverns and on the docks, in late temple services, the strangers
cast off the falsehoods of their identities and embraced the madness of
Chaos with zeal, making first for the churches of various faiths to put
their inhabitants to the flame first.

The local guard, to their credit, mustered with commendable alacrity,
forming a brigade first to deal with the flames that spread from the manse
from which the followers of Chaos charged forth. Soon, however, they found
themselves with a new conundrum. The first wave of cultists that surged
into the city were primarily of larger races, of half-breed and pure-bred
ogres indoctrinated with the basic precepts of Chaos. These lumbering
brutes laid into anything that did not bear the Octed with a stupid joy, the
half-ogres acting with a bit more discretion, taking a particular joy in
smashing into the houses surrounding their point of entry and terrorizing
and sacrificing their inhabitants before the torches were put to them.

Following were the common men and half-elves, the occasional wilder,
maddened with grief or with a resignation to the inevitability of the Warp's
success, who began to break into the local Tower, startling the magi within
who were laboring to send out a warning to the Althainian capitol. Their
message was drowned in screams as axes and blades pierced the senders,
disrupting the portals and sending spells that were to bring deliverance.

The Guard carried on their defense admirably, with dogged determination even
as the conflagration spread from the heart of the city. Pillaged temples
began to catch in every corner of the town, panic and flames spilling out in
the wake of the Chaos advance. Brave men and women fought with a grim
desperation, thinning the numbers of the initial wave with the understanding
of their predicament- to die would see the rest of their fellows All the
worse off. They fought like animals backed into a corner, with a fury
almost unmatched by any of the ranks of the forsaken that had come to
destroy their way of life.

Their anger was paltry in the face of the Word Bearer.

When at last the last of the cultists had been dispatched from the portal
room, the scion of Chaos deigned to emerge. Cloying smoke was thick in the
air, and the din of frantic battle was a cacophonous symphony that battered
at his ears. Beneath the ghastly visage of his bestial helm, Erebaal
smiled, feeling his blood grow hotter and the shutters of his mind beginning
to darken. The world was turning red through his eyes, and the whispers
were growing louder.

He heard it All the more clearly. It was growling in his hands, practically
trembling with the force of its ravenous hunger. The hateful edge of the
axe seemed to glow with its own malevolence through his bloody gaze,
catching the hell-light of the burning homes and temples and reflecting it
to him like a sign.

It was time to feed.

A growing roar built in his throat as monstrous strength, as berserker fury
coursed through his limbs, carrying his armored form out through the
street-facing window of the dead woman's manse and into the fray, heralding
his cataclysmic arrival in the chaotic melee that had broken out in the
docks' square.

In the following minutes, it drank deep.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 03:58:29 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration II

The little girl sniffled as she crouched in the corner of the city
dungeons, the only occupant of the hall of cells that All stood ajar. Her
father was the Captain of the Guard, off to fight the strange men that had
come from nowhere and begun destroying things. She had tried to ask what
the men wanted, why they were doing these awful things, but her father had
shaken his head with a look that had scared her more than the fire that was
burning on the horizon did.

Within the hour of his departure, he had returned to the modest home he
shared with his daughter, the well-made armor of his office dented and
bloodied, one bracer split open and hanging from his wrist by only the
leather strap. She had started to cry then, seeing her father in such a
state. He had bade her come with him, that they would not be going far.
She took his hand- avoiding the side that had the shattered wristguard- and
held on tight, her small legs working beneath her to keep up with her
father's hurried stride.

She had tripped almost immediately on the way out the door, cobblestones
knocked loose as the ground began to shake. Temples had started to collapse
around the city, the force of some of the heavy edifices causing tremors
that quaked the nearby commons. Her father had scooped her up, then, barely
breaking stride as he pulled her into his arms. He paused for the briefest
of instants, looking into her tender face and managed a small smile, a
fleeting affection before the grim mien of the Captain returned and he began
to run for the city dungeon.

By the time he had arrived, the cells were empty. All of the doors stood
ajar. The heavy stones had not been knocked out of place by the nearby
demolitions, nor had they been forced. The little girl had looked around
and asked where everyone had gone.

They had been freed, her father said, they had been asked to fight for their
homes in the hopes that they could live to see a second chance. He had set
them free to protect everyone, to protect her, and that it was safest if she
hid where they were kept. He said this with a smile, but the little girl
could see something in his eyes that worried her. Her father was not always
so gentle with her. He was a stern man, but a good man. He had many rules,
and he stuck to them all. He took his job more seriously than anything but
the duty of raising his daughter, and this breaking from that tradition
struck a chord even her developing mind latched on to.

Something was terribly wrong.

He had guided her to one of the cells farthest from the door, a clean room
that had clearly not seen use for several days. The straw on the floor was
fresh, and the simple sleeping roll had not been slept upon or soiled. He
had told her to hide in a corner and to not come out unless he told her to,
that he was going to leave the door open the tiniest crack so that she could
make sure it was him when he had returned. Help was coming, he had said.
She just had to be brave for him for a little while so that he could go and
make sure the strange men did not hurt anyone else. Again, his strange
manner unnerved her, but she had put on her best brave face and nodded to
him firmly. He tousled her hair with his bloody glove, leaving faint traces
of it in her locks. With a smile that faded even before he turned away, he
walked out of the cell, closing it All to All but the very last and left her
in near-darkness to hide from the forces of Chaos.

That had been three hours ago, and now she huddled alone in the dark. Fear
ate at her, keeping her from passing out where she stood, but still
exhaustion crept up upon her tiny form. On the other side of the thick
stone walls, the din of men shouting and metal clashing was heard, sometimes
at a pitch that was loud even through the heavy muffling of the rock. Once
or twice she thought she had heard footsteps outside, but she dared not to
leave her corner to check.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 04:17:55 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration III

As dawn began to creep up on the city, at last she slept, a fitful rest
that brought her little comfort.

She did not know how long she had slept, nor did she remember the exact
circumstances of the nightmares that roused her. All that she knew was that
some time had passed since she had nodded her head against her arms and
dozed. Some time had passed, and stinging in her eyes were tears forcing
their way out.

She stood up tentatively, a tiny whimper of a sound forming a question
without words. With wide, fearful eyes, she dared creep over to the cell
door, which still stood open a crack. She peeked through it, afraid even to
blink as she glimpsed through the gloom of the dungeon.

At some point in the night, the torches had burned themselves out, casting
the corridor into heavy shadows broken only by the light that shone through
the open doorway at the end, past the jailer's desk. Daylight had fallen,
and the sounds of battle from the previous night had fallen silent. There
was no sign that her father had returned, and a knot of dread was
solidifying in her stomach.

Quiet as a mouse on her own, the little girl cringed as the heavy wooden
door of her cell creaked. She wedged the heavy edifice open just enough to
slip through, creeping toward the light of day that beckoned her. Nothing
opposed her in the gloom, though her imagination had cast terrible
apparitions at the edges of her vision that lurked inside every cell. It
had taken the passing of several minutes for her to slink into the light as
she poked her head into every cell, just to be safe.

Outside was a scene that could have been Hell.

All down the wharf road was desolation, buildings razed to brittle timbers
and the road torn apart in some places. Blackened bodies- some wearing the
armor of the guard, some wearing the ramshackle raiment of Chaos, and some
wearing mail with symbols she did not recognize- littered the gutters of the
avenue. Many clutched weapons in their charred hands, many broken or
consumed by the flames that had taken their corpses. Tears were squeezing
out of her eyes again, and she bit her tongue to keep from sobbing. Nobody
deserved something this horrible. Only the wickedest of souls, the sort
that Austinian's love did not touch, could do such horrible things. Even
the murders that she had heard in hushed whispers among the wives of the
market perpetrated by Fatale's death cult did not reach this scale of
horrendous destruction.

Turning her head this way and that, she scampered out into the broken
street, threading her way through fallen combatants and the wreckage of
burned-out husks of buildings toward her home but a few streets over. In
the distance, she heard something that could be more fighting, raised voices
and the clatter of steel. The sound of it made her freeze, like a deer
happening upon a predator, before she forced herself back into motion,
girding her courage as she tried to find a point of reference in this new
and ugly world.

She found her father not fifty paces from the shattered door of her
demolished home.

It was a terrible sort of thing, in her eyes. The grandest cruelty forced
upon anyone by the world. The ring of destruction that had radiated out
from the temples and from the manse had been stalled at some point through
the efforts of the guard and, perhaps, by the men in strange armor she had
noticed on her way over. That line had ended very literally one house down
from her own. Hers, it seemed, had been the final victim to be consumed by
the blaze, and it had taken the courage of a single brave man to stop it.

Writer: Isabel

Date Thu Aug 7 04:31:57 2014

To Kikko Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Visiting the Ruins

The misty morning air clung to Isabel's robes as she yawned again. It
was early. Far earlier than she was accustomed to being about and in the
forest no less. The bouncing, eager kender in front of her tugged at her
hand, urging her onward. Isabel couldn't help but smile at Kikko's spirited
gait. If only humans had such boundless energy, she thought silently to

As Isabel quickened her pace to keep up, her thoughts returning to what
waited ahead. She and Kikko had spoken at length of the accursed statue
that had been placed upon the rubble that was once the city of Balifore.
She had never visited the ruins of the Kender Kingdom but she had grown up
hearing the tales of Malachive's rise and the destruction the demi god and
his followers had wrought on the realms of Algoron. The thought of it made
her stomach twist in a small knot as she considered the countless lives that
must have been lost. The kender were not so easily wiped out. Some had
escaped the destruction and rebuilt their lives, persevering in the face of
adversity and Darkness. She smiled then, glancing at Kikko. Isabel admired
the optimism and fearless nature of the kender. They had survived for good


The dappled light beaming down onto the forest floor in front of them
suddenly shined harshly as the woods opened into a wide clearing. Isabel's
breath caught as she took in the sight of what could only be described as a
wasteland. It was difficult to picture that any living things had ever
grown here. The few, charred stumps were the only evidence to the contrary.
He gaze was immediately drawn to the white granite statue that stood upon a
base of mortared rubble and cobble.

Kikko frowned as they marched up to the idol of Malachive, her normally
cheerful features becoming a mixture of disgust, sadness, and anger. She
spat on the statue, glaring up at it with fierce determination. "This is
what ORB needs help removing." Isabel gently rested a hand on Kikko's
shoulder and nodded in agreement as she looked at the statue. Kikko
continued, "This thing is salt in the wound to All kender." Isabel smiled
sadly, giving the kender's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I will pray to
the Father on this matter, and I will do whatever I can to help see this
statue removed from Arkania." Kikko glanced up at her as hope sparkled in
Kikko's eyes. "Some believe this land is cursed by Malachive." Isabel
nodded again. "That very well may be. But I believe Father Austinian could
heal this land. I do not think such is beyond the power of His Goodness."

The kender flashed a bright smile at Isabel then. "Some have already agreed
to help. And I pray to Big A about it All the time." Isabel nodded again,
smiling her familiar gentle smile. "Count me among those who will help. I
am sure that there will be more who will want to aid you in this." Kikko
gave Isabel a hug and the surprised priestess giggled softly, bending
slightly to return the embrace. They both glanced at the statue then one
last time. The land did feel wrong and in a silent unspoken agreement,
neither wished to linger longer there than need be and turned to leave.
Kikko beckoned Isabel to follow her and Isabel did so gladly. With every
step that put distance between them and the statue, Isabel felt the
heaviness begin to lift from her heart.

She believed in the kender. She believe in ORB. They would find a way to
rid the world of that blight of a statue. As they walked, Isabel prayed
quietly. "Father, bless the endeavors of your children. Help us remove the
mark of Chaos that has been left upon Arkania. May your Goodness shine
through and restore these lands." Isabel kissed the pendant around her
neck and smiled gently as the sight of their bind stone rose in the
distance. The hall of Justice was her home and she could not imagine being
without it. The kender people needed a place to call home again too.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 04:34:06 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration IV

Her father lay in the middle of the street, untouched by the flames that
had devoured so much. His armor was in ruins, the proud chainmail of his
office shredded and tattered in many places, clotted with blood where he had
been wounded over and over again. The sword in his hand was broken- and,
indeed, not even his sword as far as she could recognize- and the shield on
the opposite arm- his wounded arm, had been cloven from the top down. He
had been mangled and beaten and had not gone quietly, a fact attested to by
the bodies of six cultists arranged before him. Three of them appeared
human, or something close to such. The fire had claimed two of them and
only the approximate proportions of their armor gave any hint as to who may
have worn it. The other three, however, were massive brutes, ogres that had
been laid low with massive wounds to their chests. Hoofprints had scattered
much of the ash on the ground, but the girl took no notice as the sight of
her noble father broken on the ground opened the floodgates to her despair.

A wail forced its way from her throat, a warbling clarion call of utter
misery that carried on dead air.

Her sobs shook her entire body, tiny hands reaching for the broken pauldron
that barely clung to her father's shoulder. She gave it a tentative shake,
a futile effort in vain hope that it would wake the fallen. Her cries would
not stop, could not stop, and as her hands fell into the soot and ash on the
stones, she gave a scream of pitiful anguish that wracked her body with its

Then she heard it.

A heavy bootfall, far too loud for the city guard. Her bleary eyes came up
from the ground and her father, fixing uncertainly on a blur the color of
blood in the middle distance. She wiped her eyes with the back of her
forearm, smearing a line of ash across her face as she screwed her gaze into

Whatever it was, it looked like something out of a nightmare. It had a face
like a monster, a metal mask that opened a fanged mouth wide in a scream.
It had horns and spikes, jutting from its head and from its shoulders and
elbows like the demons that came to take the children who would not obey.
It carried an enormous axe like an executioner, a weapon that looked too big
even for its brawny stature, and as it moved, it left behind a pattering
trail of blood that stained the ash beneath it.

Worst of all, it had seen her.

She sat up, paralyzed with fear at whatever that thing was as it began to
lumber toward her, its armored bulk seeming too big to be able to move the
way it did. Heavy bootfalls slammed into the ash, kicking it up as its
stride changed, its weight leaning forward as it dug in its heels. It was
some three hundred feet away, maybe, but it had begun to do the impossible.
It had begun to charge. The footsteps grew louder, crashing against her as
she screwed her eyes shut. It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.
Her father would wake her up in a minute if she could just hold on a moment

It had begun to shout, bellowing words she could not understand through the
slits in its mask within the demon's mouth. She didn't know, and she didn't
care anymore. It was a nightmare, and she was going to wake up. Footfalls
became even louder, and she felt a shadow cast over her, big enough for
three people. It was upon her. She was going to wake up. It was just a

She thought she could pick out some of the screamed battle-cant in the final


The axe fell.

There was a flash of light.

Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:02:44 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Philyra ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (I)

The flames of the bonfire licked high into a black sky, the only light to
be glimpsed for miles. For neither star nor moon flickered above, replaced
by the heavy shadow of threatening clouds.

It was a night to worship, to believe in demons and wild spirits. In which
dark things danced through the deep, caressing dreams and nightmare alike.

She stood by the edge of that wild light, captivated and bound to the eerie
chanting, the ominous beat of drums. It called to her, slipping through the
blood like distant thunder, her heart beating strangely in time. It
harkened to something ancient, something primitive within.

Fur-laden bodies painted with red, black and white moved rhythmically around
the flames - like freed spirits, everything about them was primal and
mesmerizing. She could feel their movement in the ground and that part of
her that had grown amongst their ilk, that had fit more with their wildness,
sought to join.

She did not though.

She stood alone, watching the hypnotic play of shadows as it cast a rictus
visage over each of them in turn. As if the God of Death were there amongst
the gloom, casting a mix of blessings and curses.

Her thoughts fell like stones into the river of her Song, that rushed just
beneath the surface. Appraising the moment and how appropriate it felt,
gazing inward to mark the ever present resonance of the Haunt that writhed
as if called by the bonfire... and the cold shadow that had long since
taken hold in her soul.

Quiet your thoughts

The whisper licked through her like a fine edge, tingling painfully over
nerve endings, leaving behind an oily taint that was recognized intimately.
She obeyed though and let silence rule her mind.

A breath of icy wind swirled around her, an infernal caress if ever she'd
felt one, and then dispersed. The stale humidity closed in again and though
the rustic drumming continued, she became aware that the elders All had
their eyes on her and the dancers had turned, their arms lifted toward the

Tempted to turn away, to fade into the impenetrable night All around, she
was instead rooted to her place at the edge of the fire light. She had been
invited, a rare gift or so she had come to understand, and her discomfort
aside she could not turn her back on that. For no matter how refined she
might have become, in life and faith, this was primal and important.

The elves, her wild kin, who lived amongst the shadowy boughs of the Great
Forest were not a welcoming lot but she had piqued their curiosity. A high
born - they called her - who wore wild heritage openly and walked in
darkness. She was not a stranger to such regard. If only they knew...

"You will drink of this, you will dream and we will know. " The voice was
ancient and brooked no argument. She hadn't heard the elder approach but
she met his steely eyes and slowly accepted the fragrant bowl.


Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:06:38 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Philyra ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (II)


She had an inkling of what she might see or dream if she drank of their
strange concoction and she was not eager to visit it. There would be no
turning back now though. She had agreed to attend.

The dancing had resumed; two circles moving in opposite directions around
the stationary blaze. It was dizzying.

"Drink." The word was spoken as command and an otherworldly gleam
shone within the shaman's eyes.

No more hesitation. The liquid went down her throat like fire, burning
a path All the way to her soul. The bowl fell, her right hand lifted to
hold her throat and the left would have followed but she was on her
knees and a shadowy form held her wrist in a solid grasp.

A fever gripped her, comprised of gut-wrenching pain and strange wonder.
Was she to die now? The elves had been worshipping the darkness...death.

If there was an answer, it appeared in the form of a dagger flashing
dangerously in the night and culminated in sharp pain as its edge tore
through her wrist and palm. The metallic scent of her own blood followed
and she realized that she remembered this. A memory..

Gritting her teeth through the pain, her eyes watering with it, she
turned from the priestess holding the dagger to look at the throne and
the Queen sitting its cold stone.

Do you seek death. The woman spoke but her lips did not move. Her
eyes flashed red in the shifting mists.

Does it seek me. She knew the answer though no voice spoke it. Her
cry scraped forth then as claws tore into the dagger wound, ripping it open
wider. There was no fighting it, so she endured.

What broke you?


Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:17:06 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Uvall ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (III)

Something stirred in the darkness as if the mists were alive, concealing
a predator that watched - that waited. She was not afraid anymore though.
There was only cold conscience; an awareness of the choices she had made,
the road she had chosen to walk and the merciless God to whom she had
devoted All but her heart.

If anyone owned that it was her husband, her children.

Their names whispered forth over and over again as they entered her
thoughts, the sound becoming a maddened cacophony. She couldn't stop
it, couldn't get away from it, couldn't cover her ears to muffle it.

You think you know madness. Laughter followed; malicious, mocking.

And abruptly - the whispers stopped.

She was still on her knees, she could feel the solid ground beneath her
and the heat of the sanguine flames roiling from the fire that licked
up toward the shrouded sky. Sweat had coated her skin and as she lifted
her gaze to the shaman standing over her, holding her left wrist in his
hand, the encompassing chill of anger rushed in to fill the confusion.

"You carry a spirit with you." The words were intoned with reverent
interest and her anger dispersed before a wave of dizziness. Upon closing
her eyes though, she was met in the darkness by the faint outline of a

Linot.. Friend. Sister. Lost.

Remotely, she knew that she was speaking. A chaos of words, answers
perhaps to questions but she could not control the fever or the tumble.
It burned in her gut, through her veins, in her head. The last time she'd
felt this was in the desert - the sandstorm...


She wasn't sure she spoke the word aloud, she couldn't differentiate
between reality and dream. A jumble of memories assaulted her though,
as if she were caught in the rapids of a river. There was no stopping
the avalanche until- as if All the world simple ceased to exist, the
rush of images and sensations simply ended and there was black,

It was a balm next to the inundation but she knew, even as she floated
in eternium, that she would reach true insanity if it went on indefinite.
She could have been there forever or a mere handful of moments, time did
not matter and though the fever persisted, she found calm. Linot was
there, stalwart and strong. As she had always been. And then another.
It's will was unfathomable, demonic. Her eyes opened to meet a crimson
gaze with black pupils but there was no fear, not this time.

Have we tasted enough of this. Mocking, wry. Was it a figment of
madness or was it 'him'? Perhaps he was simply a part of her now. It
didn't matter. She had paid her debt.

Laughter preceded the sudden shattering of the black emptiness, she fell
and with a sharp inhale of breath, she was awake.


Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:30:52 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (IV)

The night was still and she could taste smoke, smell ash and ember. The
bonfire smoldered where it stood but the flames had receded. The wild elves
were gone with the exception of the shaman who sat nearby, gazing at her.

Weary but released of the ritual, she pushed herself up and sat still,
simply content to be free of the fever. To be awake.

The shaman stood while the silence thickened and walked to her side. A
feather lowered before her, held in his calloused hand. White and possessed
of many brown streaks and spots, he held it there until she finally accepted
it. Owl..?

"Wisdom and death walk hand in hand." His cryptic words filled the silence
and then, "That spirit will only bring you pain. If you ever wish to be
free of it, come to me."

"Which one?" She asked wryly, voice hoarse. Her throat was parched.

The shaman laughed at that and lowered her a bowl that sloshed. She
narrowed her eyes at it and glanced up at his grinning features, still
painted with white, black and red. Stark colors that made him look as wild
as his heritage suggested.

"It is not the ritual drink." He claimed with amusement. "Just water."

"I don't think I'll be doing that again. " And she lifted her left hand to
accept, but stopped short of taking the bowl. There was a poultice wrapped
around the scar, extending from palm to wrist.

The shaman crouched on his haunches and taking her right hand, forced her to
accept the bowl even while he explained, "Your scar reopened during the
ritual. We take this to mean Fatale was pleased."

Pain throbbed in a sharp line through the wound as soon as she noticed
it but rather than dwell, she set her mind to the water and took several
deep draughts. She would not accuse these elves of lying but it seemed
more likely to her that someone bled her with a dagger - again.

When she was finished, the shaman was gone. Without a sound, leaving
nothing but the spent bonfire, the feather and the bowl behind.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sat Aug 9 23:00:25 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part One

She slept but a few hours.

Her dreams were troubled, haunted by intangible memories that were not her
own but lingered upon her waking, fogged images and thoughts from times she
had never been alive to witness. They clung to her half-awakened senses
like ghosts, distorted whispers of things long lost.

Unaccustomed to sleep and still weary, she forced herself from her bed and
crossed the room to splash some water on her face before pausing to study
her reflection in the mirror there. The sight of her mismatched eyes still
alarmed her and filled her with unanswered questions.

Why had she agreed to this?

The question repeated itself in her mind. A litany of doubt that set her
mind wandering over the events of the evening before and she replayed them
in her memory.

The blessing of the Queen's temple for Necrucifer had barely begun when she
had felt it. A presence on the edge of her senses. It drifted on the
boundary of awareness, urging her to calm herself. The voice in her mind
directed her to come to it when the ceremony had ended and had fallen quiet
once more.

For a moment, she had questioned her sanity. It was not entirely impossible
for her to fathom that her mind had snapped or that the lack of sleep had
driven her to hallucination. The others in the room had sensed nothing.
Distracted, she had remained for the service.

The graveyard was by no means her favorite place in Verminasia. The man
that waited for her there had been wreathed in shadow, the only visible
feature the green of his eyes. The conversation began as many do.
Recognition of her father, a brief mention of knowing. What followed was
the offer of a story. The skald in her could not refuse and she had rested
upon a headstone to listen.

'You can step into the world of Necrucifer. I can sense it. '

'There is something from there I need. '

Those opening lines had struck a nerve, filling her with a sense of dread
even as they intrigued her. She had listened to his explanation and
accepted a quest that could very well bring her a fate much worse than
death. But why? She could name no reason other than a feeling of fate.
Her existence had been building up to this moment. She could either face
what lay ahead with acceptance or continue on as she had been.

Regardless of reasoning, Ashtiel found herself blindly following whatever
impulse had led her to become a host for the spirit that now lingered
dormant inside of her.

The growing light of dawn had drawn her attention from her reflection,
snapping her from her revelry and she crossed the room to her window to
watch the rise of the sun with a heavy, heart felt sigh.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sat Aug 9 23:50:54 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Two

The day had passed without event.

The quiet was enough that Ashtiel had begun to question her sanity again.
Fortunately, the fact that one of her eyes was still glowing green
reinforced the fact that she was not, indeed, insane.

She had searched through the library of Iagothal manor but had found nothing
written that matched the words the spirit had shared with her the evening
before. Whatever time that the spirit had lived had happened too long ago
to have been recorded in any of the ancient tomes that were housed within.

Finally, coffee in hand, she resumed her usual post at the guillotine. Not
much time had passed before she felt it.

The presence within her awakened, stirring on the edges of her senses, and
she greeted it with a simple, 'Morning. '

Did you rest well?

'Well enough. Did You? ' Her spoken rejoinder drew her an odd look from
one of the peacekeepers passing by, making her All to aware that she was, by
all appearances, talking to herself.

It was difficult to keep you here. I may have under estimated the power of
the bind that you were cursed with...

Thankful enough for the rest to avoid complaint and lacking argument, she
remained silent and waited while the spirit gathered his strength and began
the process of searching for signs of the shaman he had mentioned the
evening before. The shaman had in its possession a relic that would help in
obtaining what they sought in the other realm.

The power of it rippled out from her and her head spun as the spirit took
control of her senses and expanded them, searching every living and undead
being nearby from multiple viewpoints All at once, her mind racing. From
the streets of Verminasia, her mind's eye moved outward, touching upon the
people of Arkane before moving further still.

She struggled to concentrate, to grasp hold of any one detail as they
floated into being within her head but they moved swiftly. Her awareness
stretched over oceans and continents, passing through the shadows of beings
and structures as if they were no more than portals. Finally, they found
it. A power shielded their gaze from entering the Blackwood.

Ashtiel's first thought had been of the vale. But the spirit discounted it.
Something else lingered within the wood that was blocking his magic. Her
mind snapped back into place.
Something in the forest is keeping me out.

Go, see if you can find anything. Be very careful and go slow.

The shadows swirled around her protectively, condensing into a solid shield
around her armor and limbs and her one green eye began to glow as she stood
from the guillotine and began her journey to Icewall.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 10 02:12:57 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Three

Stop a moment.

The breath left her in a frosted cloud that lingered on the air as she came
to a sudden halt a few feet from the entrance to the wood.

The spike of inky darkness that fired forth from her chest startled her but
she watched it curl out towards the trees and spread wide, reaching some
unseen shield that sent it drifting like dust to the frozen earth.

I don't think I will be of much use to you in there. Do you think you can
handle it on your own?

Ashtiel chuckled inwardly as she walked towards the trees. 'Well, I suppose
we'll be finding out shortly, won't we?

She had made it only a few more feet into the tree line, stepping past the
invisible shield before the spirit spoke again, his voice growing weaker
with each word.

I... Something is putting me i-in... Stasi-

The protective layers of shadows melted from her armor. She was on her own.

The exact moment his voice failed and the protections left her, the sound of
a cronish and cackling laugh echoed forward from the wood.

She followed the sound, or more accurately wandered in the direction that
she perceived to be its origin. An odd quiet fell over the woods and then
the shrieking of bats sliced the silence as they poured in mass into the sky
to the east, drawing her to a cavern hid at the edge of the forest. The
breeze that drifted forth gifted the waning day a sinister aspect that
shrouded the forest behind her.

She paused outside of the dark mouth of the cave to douse her light and
glanced backwards once before venturing inside.

Bats hung from the ceiling within and a weathered old woman stood beside a
pool of water that had formed in the center of the cavern floor, illuminated
by the ball of light that drifted with her.

'Stop there. Do not come any closer! ' The aged, curled joints of one hand
lifted the knotted walking stick held within and leveled it at Ashtiel and
she obeyed, quietly eyeing the woman.

'Think you can fool us? Think that we could not see you bring the damned
with you?
' The crone shrieked the question at her and the peaceful water
of the pool began to boil and fill the cave with a thick steam.

'I do not like to consider myself entirely damned. A little hopeless,
' She backed defensively away from the old woman as she answered,
moving herself a bit closer to the exit at her back. 'And to intend to fool
you, I would have to know you or seek you ill. I come merely in search of a

'We know why you are here, what we do not know is which of the abominations
you carry with you. It hides itself from our sight. Tell us it's name, so
we know the identity of this unwelcomed guest.

'I do not know it. ' Having given her word to keep his presence a secret
from all, she lied.

'Lies! It decieves you and you defend it. What has it promised you? What
is it's price?

'I believe what you sense is a tether between myself and the lands of
nothing. I have not been promised anything.
' Ashtiel managed the last bit
sincerely, her tone alone conveying the truth of her words.

The old woman lowered her staff, sinking to sit cross legged on the cavern
floor before the spring as it settles, the veil of steam still lingering in
the air.

'You do not know what you deal with. '

Ashtiel bit back a dry chuckle and raises a brow, her lips curving at the
corners with genuine humor. 'Lady, no offense, but story of my life. '

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 10 14:43:35 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Four

The steam that misted the cavern air sent cold droplets of sweat rolling
down the back of Ashtiel's neck. High above, the shuffle of bat wings drew
her gaze cautiously upwards for a moment, her eyes quickly assessing the
creatures that hung there before she returned her attention to the crone.
The pool that separated them rippled calmly now.

'Who are you? ' She finally broke through the silence that drifted between

'We are the great Oracle, Daphne. We see the possibilities of the future.

The sound of her sword sliding back into its sheath at her hip sent the ring
of metal echoing off the walls. Ashtiel raised her hands in a gesture of
peace and introduced herself.

'We know. We have seen you, watched you, as we watch All things. ' The old
woman cackled sinisterly. 'That you are still alive is nothing short of the
grace of the forces that govern fate and destiny.

The black of the crone's eyes did not focus but they remained turned in the
direction of Ashtiel's voice.

'And your eyes? '

'We lost our vision fighting the green-eyed devil. With it he took the
sharpness of our gift, and our predictions have since been clouded.

'Do you have a prediction for me? ' Ashtiel asked, her arm lifting to wipe
the dampness from her brow.

'We have seen several, All of which end with your eternal imprisonment
within the heart of Necrucifer's darkness, suffering endlessly.

A dry chuckle fell from her smirking lips as she eyed the oracle. 'Was
there ever another possibility?

'We have at times seen a future where you come to us, and we rid you of your
curse, but without our eyes we lack the ability.

'Your eyes? They cannot be returned to you. ' Ashtiel's voice sounded cold
to her own ears.

'There is a way, but there are none able to take back our eyes by force. '

'Interesting. ' Seeing no need to push the issue further, she returned to
the quest that had brought her here. 'I seek a relic. Do you have it? '

'We know what you seek, for yourself, and for your abomination. Let us rip
it from you, and cast it into the spring to be purified, and we will bestow
upon a weapon of your choice the ability to draw blood from the most
powerful of demons.

Tempted. Ashtiel shook her head. 'Afraid I can't do that. A weapon of
that sort would do me no good. You and I both know that.

The oracle hissed in disgust.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 10 15:02:16 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Five

'If you wish our bottle instead, and to march into oblivion even after
hearing our prediction, we will ask you do something in return.

Another cackle. Another deal.

'What is it you would ask? ' Ashtiel shoved the black and silver strands
clinging to her face behind the points of her ears and stared at the crone
as she waited patiently for the trick to be presented. There always was

'We will take the shard upon you in place of the eye, if you are willing. '

Her hand fell to her satchel to draw it closer to her defensively. Inside
it, the enchanted shard contained the form of a middle aged woman who lay as
if sleeping, her soulless body bespelled and trapped in crystal.

'So an eye or the shard? ' Neither were her's to give and so she asked, 'I
need time to make a decision between the two. Am I allowed it?

Her question agitated the old woman who shrieked at her in that dry and
scratching voice, 'We can not let you leave this place. It will know what
you have seen and will return for us and we will be defenseless.

A resigned sigh fell from her lips. 'Then we've an issue, it seems.
Because I'm not handing over either willingly.

The Oracle Daphne smiled wickedly and snapped her fingers.

The steam that lingers in the air turns a sickly shade of green as the
oracle rises, her aged frame groaning with the effort of her movements.

Ashtiel lifted the fur of her pelt over her mouth and nose, wary of the

'It's no use. You have been breathing it this entire time. '

Her strength drained from her, forcing her to her knees as the weather
oracle limped over to her. A gnarled hand reached out, 'Shhh.. It will be
over soon.

The oracle's gnarled hand explored her face before coming to cover her green
eye and the pain was numbing, shooting through her skull as she felt the
spirit's eye being torn from her own.

Sensing her struggle, the presence within her stirred to awareness and with
great effort forced his energy into her right arm. The moment strength
flooded into her arm, her dagger left it's place at her side, flipping in
her grasp to strike at the hand that covered her eye.

The crone's shrill shrieks of agony as her hand severed at the wrist were
ear piercing. She fell back, clawing at the ground with her remaining hand
in futile effort to drag herself back toward her pool and away from her
attacker. She did not get far, the fall of Ashtiel's blade ended her

Even as her last breath fell from her lips, the bottle that they had come
for fell from the oracle's belongings, rolling ominously onto the floor and
Ashtiel crawled forward to pick up the relic, stuffing it into the satchel
that held the shard before aiming a weak kick at the old witch's corpse.

'Take my eye will you?! '

Freed from the stasis, the spirit hosted inside her flooded her with
strength, purging the poisonous steam from her. She rose from the cold
stone, grabbing hold of the old woman to drag her further away from her
magic pool because this was Algoron and some things didn't stay dead.

That was close.

She didn't laugh.

You should find someplace else to go for now. Whenever I use this much
energy the forces of the Shade can sense me. They will be here soon and I
do not have the strength now to fend them off.

The warning was dire enough to warrant swift retreat but Ashtiel took a
moment to aim another, stronger kick at the crone's corpse, watching the
body flop to rest in a bloody heap before she made her way from the cave and
returned to Verminasia.

Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 17:12:52 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn

His powerful stride was muffled by the dry dirt road, his gaze straight
ahead the beauty of the light forest lost on him. In the distance a small
village, typical of Arkane, from kilometers away the simple and predictable
nature of these simple villagers was evident to even the most casual of
observers. Small houses clustered around a central square, a tavern, and of
course the ever present temples of the archaic and ridiculous masters of
this world. But not for long, soon they would be toppled one after the
other and once burnt to the ground a new era would begin. And that would
start now.

Yegigoth ran his calloused hands over the worn pommel of his great sword
with a familiar caress. This was actually what he enjoyed, the scorching of
earth. Something resembling almost a smile passed across his tusked face as
the village grew ever more near.

Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 17:44:04 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn

The scrawny mutt was chained to a post some distance from the back of the
house. The very idea of chains enraged him, and the world grew red.

Wrapping a length of chain around his forearm, Yegigoth ripped the chain
free from its mooring before loosing the hound. Length chain around his
right forearm and a heavy notched sword in his left, he shattered the door
with a booted foot.

Startled the middle aged man dropped his bowl of slop and stagger from his
chair towards the far door. Heaving his left hand back and over his head
and a smooth arc, Yegigoth launched his sword into the thigh of the fleeing
man. Collapsing with a heavy thud, the villager stared at his leg in shock
and disebelief as he was drug out the now shattered back door.

Wrapping a few lengths of chain around the now howling man, Yegigoth fixed
him to the post before whistling once sharply.

"you know what happens when a hungry beast smells blood? "

Yegigoth looked over his shoulder at the now approaching curr and back
toward the quivering mass before him.

"your masters have fed long enough, and now we are hungry"

Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 21:30:39 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn

Turns out a dead man's soup isn't half bad. Yegigoth wiped his forearm
across his face and slid his half helm firmly into place before standing.

It was time to burn.

Snagging the two barrels of pitch he'd prepared, Yegigoth tucked one under
each arm and stepped sideways out the back door. The now full hound, looked
up at him lazily before sniffing and curling back up to sleep against the
slumped carcass still tied to the post.

In the fading light, Yegigoth made his way around the outside of the
village, applying pitch to each of the buildings he passed. Marking a "U'
around the town with the open end toward the road leading to the western

The scene set, and nightfall in full swing. Yegigoth returned to the vacant
home for a few torches, he was going to need light to do his work.

Writer: Tyrinx

Date Sun Aug 10 21:48:12 2014

Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 23:59:22 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn

The first clangs of the village bell brought a smile to Yegigoth's face,
the reassuring clamour of predictable sheep. Several points of dark smoky
orange light were illuminating the night sky around the village. A wall of
cleansing fire, a sheperd for the lost sheep.

Set to push the villagers to use one path and one well, he laid in wait
while running a whetstone the length of his heavy bastard sword. The shouts
of the village people getting closer, Yegigoth stood and gave his sword a
few swings before stepping off into the shadows a few paces from the well.

The first went up and into the well before he knew what had happened, the
second cleaved from shoulder to mid chest with a powerful swing.

"I ask you now you abandoned sheep, for what do you give your prayers? "

Yanking his blade free, Yegigoth spun and brought his sword to bear in an
upward arc, separating leg from torso and sending another villager tumbling
to the ground. Screams of pain now mingled with those of fear and
confusion. Yegigoth looked up to the smoke filled sky howling in concert
with the cacaphony of the terror filled night.

"This is your future your fate, make of it what you will or join your gods
in ruin!"

The chaos was tangible, a coppery taste filled the air around Yegigoth as
the slaughter continued until they chose fire over blade.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Mon Aug 11 00:53:02 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Seven)

"Really, Crillow. I don't know why you insisted on blindfolding me. I
know exactly where we are."

It had been several hours since the visitors from earlier had vacated the
tower. And it had remained unoccupied, until Crillow and Momoko walked into
the main entrance to the tower. With little more than the light of the
white moon shining through the windows, and the light of Crillow's torch,
the couple made their way towards the elevator. Once inside, the burly man
quietly closed the gate and pressed one of the many buttons near the exit.
Slowly, the grand counterweight of the elevator descended, causing to
elevator itself to begin its ascent.

"Now, how could you possibly know that?" Crillow replied coyly, knowing
full well Momoko indeed knew where they were.

"Well, I can feel the floor vibrating, and I distinctly sense that we are
moving upward. Now, I'm pretty sure there is only one such place in All of
Mart-Town, and I'm almost positive you had a hand in building it."

Crillow feigned a hurt expression, though it would most certainly go
unnotied to the blindfolded Momoko. He replied once again, coyly.

"Won't you indulge me just a little longer? We are almost there."

Momoko sighed in exaggerated exasperation, having a little fun herself. "I
suppose. But only because you're so good to me."

With a soft click, the elevator reached its temporary apex and ceased to
move. Crillow casually opened the gate and led Momoko towards one of the
stairwells. Swiftly, he swept the raven-haired woman up in his arms and
carried her up the staircase what would soon be the 97th floor of the tower.
Carrying her towards the center of the floor, where the elevator would soon
rise through, he gently placed her back on her feet and stepped back a
couple feet.

"Okay. You can take it off now."

Writer: Marian

Date Tue Aug 12 03:56:56 2014

To All Nordmaar

Subject Family Duty

The rain falling was assuredly cold, she knew that in the back of her she
were floating outside her body, watching someone else being pelted with
highland rain that was always cold, no matter the season. Mind. What
surprised her was the numbness that she felt, almost as if

A separate, guilty part of her tried to scold the curious part, but that
felt numb, too. She was certain that in the months and years ahead she
would be able to satisfy the guilty part of her with drink, but that was far
off, too.

With a deep breath she collected herself, smoothed out her darkly-colored
her family, simple fisherfolk, were not rich enough to afford a full set of
black clothing, nor were any of her neighbors that she could borrow one in
the right size. It was the best she could do to attend a funeral. Dress.
It was the deepest navy blue that she owned, but not quite black-

Her deep blue eyes re-focused on the image of her mother's cascet at the
bottom of that deep, dark hole that the village men had so dutifully
excavated to break the permafrost, ensuring that like All the other graves,
it would be unspoiled when the summer thaw returned next year to turn the
frozen dirt into mud. In what seemed like no time at all, the small crowd
had dispersed to the undertaker shovelling scoop after scoop of dirt into
the hole, the priest, and herself, pelted by the rain.

"Come, lass. You should nae stan' ou' in the rain, or yae will catch a col'
and bae joining your mother in the grave. Le' me fix yae a kettle of tea,
and we can discuss your new living arrangements. I knew your pa, he was a
goo' man, and I woul' bae happae to len' you a room until...

She turned and shook her head, casting her gaze past the rows of tiny wooden
crosses marking the graves of the poor, and down the wandering path leading
to the great kingdom of Nordmaar.

"Nae, father... There bae nothing lef' for me here. It bae time to go do
mae duty."

Writer: Aelysse

Date Tue Aug 12 08:52:09 2014

Writer: Kerram

Date Tue Aug 12 16:37:53 2014

Writer: Hoshi

Date Tue Aug 12 17:23:28 2014

To All Religion RP Imm Shokono Zandreya

Subject the shrine of water

By the light of day, she slides from the comfort of her modest tatami mat
to test her socks against the cool floor, every breath that she draws into
her waiting lungs touched with incense. Dressing quickly and sliding on her
sandals, she relinquishes the temptation of dreams, the warmth of covers,
for the day ahead.

As is required of her as the sunlight pools into the water shrine, the
preteen with the dark eyes sees to the curious visitors as they reach the
large, circular room of the shrine's common room, features doused in the
pale blue of the cheerily glowing orbs that are the room's only source of
light. Cupping her hands around one of the tiny spheres, she studies the
pilgrims, many from the continent but a few from shores that seem to stretch
endlessly from this place. They smile and default mostly to the older
priestesses, which suits her well enough. For when the sharp eyes of the
older priestesses are directed elsewhere, she presses handfuls of petals
into the hands of peasants who can't otherwise afford the offerings.

At twilight, the last strains of light lingering in the skies as they are
dyed pinks, oranges, and reds, Hoshi enters the room of meditation,
strolling between the visitors who are knelt in prayer. Her hum carries
with the chime that sounds through the quiet chamber. She does not find her
knees, does not pray, but leaves a handful of flower petals to fall unseen
upon the dark floor.

It is when darkness falls and the stars hang upon the firmament that she
pushes wordlessly through the gates of the shrine and through the cold
evening air, her breath expelled in puffs of white. Though the vortex of
water beneath the causeway churns unnaturally, bright and demanding of
attention, Hoshi's feet do not falter. Instead, she runs, feeling the
prayer in each sprinting step. The hill is precarious enough without the
ice and snow, but she laughs as she barrels down it and past the goats, the

He sandals leave indentations in the deep snow and she continues until her
lungs burn, a smile stealing her lips. It is only when her lips are chapped
and is she is chilled to the bone, tiny snowflakes nestled in her dark
strands, that she returns to the shrine to find her knees in the heart of
the temple, before the reflective pool. Pale, porcelain skin seeming to
absorb the soft blue glow of the chamber, she bows her head in prayer,
before retiring to bed.

Wondering what lies beyond the blanket of white.

Writer: Isabel

Date Tue Aug 12 20:18:44 2014

To Kikko Branzol Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part I]

Isabel turned on her side, unable to slumber. She kicked away the
blankets that had become tangled around her in her restlessness. It seemed
sleep eluded her even within the protected walls of the Wrath. The moon
rose high in the evening sky through her window and cast it's light upon the
floor. Isabel slipped from the warmth of her bed, wrapping one of the
blankets around her shoulders as she stepped out onto the cold floor. In a
voice barely above a whisper, she prayed for light and the candle at her
desk sparked to life, the warm glow filling the darkened room.

She sat down in her chair, tucking the blanket under her chin to keep it
cocooned around her body as she smoothed out the letter that laid on top of
the desk. Her mother wrote to her each month, keeping her up to day on the
goings on of her former home. As she always did, Helene asked her how she
was faring, if she had made any new acquaintances or friendships, and how
her religious meditations and studies were coming along. Isabel's dainty
lips curled up at the corners in a gentle smile. Even now in adulthood, her
mother worried for her as if she were still a child. This did not anger
Isabel, however. She was the only child of Edward and Helene Clere and they
had always treated her with great care and concern. She could not fault her
parents for worrying over her well being. It was why they had seen closely
to her tutelage within the Church of Austinian, ensuring she grew up having
the teachings of the Light held dearly within her heart. She was grateful
for this. More grateful than she might ever be able to adequately explain
to her parents.

Thoughtfully, she withdrew a piece of parchment from her desk drawer,
setting it beside her mother's letter. Isabel dipped her quill into the
inkwell beside the candle, taking care not to leave splotched marks on the
paper as she began to scribe her response. She wrote to her mother of her
first sermon, the one on the subject of perseverance that she held at ORB
Headquarters thanks to the hospitality of the kender Kikko. She wrote of
her visit from the angel that had spoken to her and bolstered her courage.
Isabel's hand paused, the tip of her quill hovering over the parchment. Her
thoughts had turned to the Executor and her promotion to sergeant. While
she had no desire to boast, she was happy that her service within the Wrath
was considered valuable and that she was trusted as capable.

Another thought brushed at the edges of her mind and she felt warmth grow on
her cheeks. She pressed a palm to her face and giggled gently as she
realized she was blushing. With a shake of her head she dismissed it and
began the next paragraph of her letter, the ink glistening upon the
parchment in the faint glow of candlelight.

Writer: Drew

Date Wed Aug 13 01:50:57 2014

Writer: Milleuda

Date Thu Aug 14 08:51:09 2014

Writer: Traice

Date Thu Aug 14 14:41:15 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Tashio Immortal )

Subject |Culling of the Shieldlands|

Removing his bloodied helmet, Traice looked over the field. Forty or so
men lay dead in front of him. The majority of his host lay in reserve while
the 1st Marauder Infantry stood scattered throughout the field, cleaning the
blood from their weapons or taking what loot is rightfully theirs by

The leader of the militia - Lord Tyrannus Bhuliovika - fought hard at his
restraints, pulling at each binding keeping him tied to the cross. His eyes
bore a look of pure rage, his body stripped naked. The nails of Tyrannus'
fingers were caked in gravy, his stomach swelling outwards. Each profanity
laced scream sending a wave of spittle flying from his pompous mouth. And
through All of this? Traice watched, calmly.

The villagers, after a time, could be seen peeking through the windows of
their huts, looking at their esteemed lord hung to the cross, screaming and
generally creating a fool of himself. Traice sat back, leaning against his
powerful ebony mare, picking his fingernails with his knife - waiting.
Watching. Watching the changes in the Lord's temperment go by throughout
the day. From hatred and rage to sorrow and despair. From crazed happiness
to the depths of madness. He watched.

'Why? Why are you doing this to me? We - we did not have enough tribute to
offer this year!
' the Lord finally spoke, somewhat defeated.

'It is not your place to withold tribute to the Marauder Army. It is your
place to serve, and in your service comes tribute. Your people look to you
to keep them safe. When you refuse payment and ally with rebels and scum,
you do not keep them safe. You keep them dead.
' Traice spoke, quietly,
his crimson eyes meeting the Lord's.

'The tribute was on its way! I swear it! '

Traice shook his head, a frown spreading across his lips as he climbed the
steps, reaching underneath his vambrace, he withdrew a small arcanium blade.
With his eyes lowering, Traice brought the blade up, slicing through the
flesh of the Lord - blood spurting from the wound, bubbling up at the base.
Tyrannus' eyes went wide with shock, as he attempted to gasp for air, each
pained breath forcing the air out of his throat, blood covering his naked
body as the life left his eyes.

Turning around, away from the crucified man, Traice addressed the soldiers
and citizenry gathered.

"Fort Ironclad has sworn throughout these long years to protect you. We
give you shelter from the cold, and funnel money into your province. We are
repayed by your betrayal. You think us weak. We are not. You think us
forgiving, we are not. We are not without mercy, as the rest of you will
not be touched. You will be brought back into the fold, and the gold will
flow in your pockets once more. Do not stray again.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Aug 14 15:02:46 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Eight)

Momoko removed her blindfold excitedly, and gazed about the vast expanse
of the 97th floor. Crillow had since extinguished his torch, yet they were
by no means left wanting for light. She immediately noticed that the entire
perimeter of the floor was lined with dozens upon dozens of white paper
luminaries, set against the wall at regular intervals. She craned her head
upward and gasped in delight, seeing what appeared to be every star in the
universe, on diplay brightly above them. The full, white moon hung proudly
in the midnight sky.

"It's breathtaking! I mean, I knew it would be an incredible view and all,
but nothing could have prepared me for this!"
The raven haired lady walked
to the wall and peered over the side, unable to detect the distant lights of
the city, nearly a quarter mile below them. "I'll bet it's even more
impressive by day. Ixi'kweez wasn't kidding! I bet you really -can- see
the whole continent from up here when the sun's out!"

"Indeed, you can see most of the continent from up here, provided the
weather is fair."
The burly man replied nervously behind her, wringing his
hands unnecessarily. "Where we stand right now, is exactly one thousand
feet above the ground. I can say with reasonable certaintly, that at this
altitude, we are the only two people in the world."

"It's truly magnificent." Momoko said slowly turning away from the view of
the continent back to Crillow. "You All should be very prou- oh! OH!"

"That euphoria you are feeling, is but a fraction of the euphoria that I
feel, each and every time I think of you."

Momoko raised her hands to her mouth in utter shock, as she watched the
burly man lower himself to one knee and produce a modest yet stately diamond
ring from his pocket. She was at a complete loss for words, as tears began
to well up in her eyes.

"Momoko," the burly man began to speak nervously, "I have spent most of my
life, travelling the world, never staying in one place for long. I went
where there was work to be done. It had never dawned on me to live any
other way. Until that one fateful evening I tripped over Squeezums, and met
you. And now, I cannot imagine leaving you, Momiji, or this place, for
anything in the world. I humbly bring you to this wonderous place, and ask
for your hand in marriage, if you would have me."

The raven haired lady wept openly, throwing her arms around Crillow where he
knelt. "Oh, you sweet, romantic fool! Of course I'll marry you!" The
burly man returned Momoko's embrace, saying nothing, savoring the moment he
had dreamt of, one thousand feet up in the sky.

Writer: Speyburn

Date Thu Aug 14 23:11:05 2014

To Marauders All Thalimir Traice ( Tashio imm kwars rp Devion )

Subject Pirates in the Dark

Deception Bay lived up to its name in a number of ways. The tame waters
of the Roully Bab Bimb flowed into it, giving it a calm, temperate
appearance. This appearance was added to by the fact that the bay had a
narrow mouth, widening into a perfect harbor along southeast Arkanias
otherwise rocky coast. Though the bay was so shallow, full of sandbars,
submerged rocks and other objects, it was All but suicide for a larger ship
to attempt entering it, as the number of timbers, and tattered remains of
vessels both beached and jutting up from the water, gave testament to.

The narrow neck of the bay, which really permitted the passage of only one
or two vessels at a time was dominated by a large craggy, and steep
mountain. Fortunately, and the young Marauder officer had even sent scouts
to climb the mountain during the day to make sure, such a perfectly
defensible position was clear of any fortifications. The steep cliffs that
jutted into the sea, coupled with the rugged slope on the land side wouldve
deterred All but the most determined sieges or bloody assaults.

Instead the lady of the territory had chosen to build a keep just outside
the small fishing village and port on the opposite end of the bay. Though
keep was a generous term as it was really more a small manor, with its
fences seeming more designed to keep out the riffraff than to be defendable.
Though it did feature a heavy gate.

Captain Speyburn Fiddich studied the town from the deck of the Cutlass,
which was at the mouth of the bay alongside the larger warship Raptor. All
three moons shone down brightly on the bay from various angles, providing
illumination enough for the task at hand. The Lady of the Bay had been
neglectful in paying tribute or acknowledging the Forts authority and
sovereignty and examples had to be made. Young Fiddich really didnt care
for politics, but was eager enough to actually be doing something and not
only in command of his own ship, but a small fleet.

Speyburn gestured to one of his crew and nodded. A lantern was then hung
from the lower mast of the Cutlass, a simple but effective signal. Soon
enough the cannon of the large warship roared. The Raptor was firing at the
edge of her range, but it was still enough to reach the town. Moving any
closer would put her in the bay and a ship as large as she would likely join
the other ships in the treacherous graveyard of the bay.

A smaller scout ship like the Cutlass however, wasnt too much larger than
the fishing trawlers and smugglers skiffs that normally operated here and
sure enough, Speyburns flagship was making its way across the bay, keeping
to the known safe routes. The young Marauder captain had chosen to commence
his attack two hours after sunset. The fishermen would be drinking in the
taverns, any guards and militia wouldnt be alert, and any night fisherman
would already be gone.

As the Raptor continued to fire, mostly firing for effect, against the
rebellious Lady Merella Martianos manor, the Cutlass approached the docks of
the village unmolested. Her two guns barked quickly, firing grapeshot along
the docked trawlers and the village aiming more to confuse and disorient
than to cause any actual damage. Confident the dock was clear, and the
Cutlass approached bold as day, as if it were docking not under opposition,
though a few pistols, crossbows and blunderbusses fired off at any targets
of opportunity that dared venture too close.

As the ropes were tied to the mooring, the overcrowded decks of the Cutlass
began to empty and march towards the keep, eager for the prospect of looting
such a prosperous building. As Speyburn walked among the men, he couldnt
help but feeling slightly disappointed. Lady Merella was said to be quite a
looker, it was a shame she wouldnt outlast the night.

Writer: Traice

Date Fri Aug 15 01:45:34 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Immortal Tashio )

Subject |Hanging at Fortwall|

Sweat dripped from the brow of the assassin as he scaled the walls of
Ragestorm Keep. Torches were lit off in the distance, guarding the outer
walls as he slowly but surely secured his place with each movement, nearing
his target's window. As his fingers gripped the worn windowsill, he pulled
himself upwards, mask down over his face, hiding his features, his crimson
eyes peered into the room.

Silently he rose through the window, rolling into the room silently. With
careful, deliberate intent he removed his grappling hook and secured it
around the leg of the massive bed and began to pull up the rope, fashioning
it into a crude noose. With a small turn of his lips upwards, he completed
the tying, letting it sit on the windowsill as he silently moved to the
large table sitting in the corner of the room - and picked the darkest chair
to sit in.

Traice waited for several hours, watching in the darkness as his prey slept,
stirring occasionally, but sleeping. Finally, as the light began to break
over the horizon, the man awoke. Sitting up in his bed, eyes caked with
sleep, he kicked his legs over the side of his bed. While letting out a
yawn, the man stretched his arms out, working off the hours of sleep.

Groggily, the Baron moved to his chamber pot, his nude body on display as
the rays dimly lit up the room. Traice stood. Slowly, silently moving
towards his prey. The only sound being the dull splashing made by the man
relieving himself. As he neared, the Baron seemed to sense something and
tried to turn his head - but too late. Traice reacted quickly, his stick
splitting in two - a razor thin arcanium wire connecting the two halves was
quickly draped over the Baron's neck, immediately slicing into his skin as
the assassin wrenched back on it.

The Baron spasmed, his feet kicking out - chamber pot spilling across his
floor as his feet slipped in the disgusting fluids. Blood poured from the
wounds, his gasping breath smelling like rotten meat and wine, his portly
fingers trying to grasp at the wire, but unable to even get a fingernail on
it. As the life slipped from his body, Traice's eyes, squinted in
concentration, knuckles wrenching back on the garrote seemed to let up. He
pulled the garrote off of the Baron's neck who gasped, finally able to wrap
his hands around his neck to ease the bleeding. Traice moved to the table,
reaching into his pack as he pulled out a long, crisp Marauder flag. As he
moved back to the Baron, now laying on the floor in his own urine, eyes
searching the mask for some sense of meaning to his death - Traice knealt.
His fingers moved to his belt, pulling long, rusted and jagged spikes from
each. A grin filled his lips, hidden by his ebony mask as his eyes looked
into the Baron's. With one smooth motion he pushed the spike through the
corner of the flag and with a quick jab, buried it into the Baron's shoulder
with precision. Severing the nerve endings in such a way that he lost the
ability to move.

After he completed this on the other shoulder, Traice reached down, gripping
the Baron by his matted, greasy hair, pulled him to his knees, leading him
to the window - his knee rose quickly, slamming itself into the jaw of the
Baron. His fingers quickly moved to the rope, grabbing the noose and
slipping it over the Baron's defeated neck. Before the Baron could protest,
Traice - while using the Baron's hair as leverage threw him out his own
windowsill, one defeated, breathless scream escaping the Baron's lips before
silence. No struggle, no spasming. Just a loud snap, and from then on,
only the cloak, biting back at the wind could be heard.

As Traice looked out over the Keep's courtyard, he watched as the Marauder
Army closed in on the keep, the militia throwing its weapons to the ground
as they submitted back to rule. - Fortwall had fallen.

Writer: Speyburn

Date Fri Aug 15 09:56:29 2014

To Marauders All Thalimir Traice ( Tashio imm kwars rp Devion )

Subject Storming the Keep

Storming the keep was anti-climatic in a number of ways. The six foot
high palisade that surrounded it wasnt the most formidable of obstacles, and
even if it were, the Raptors persistent canon fire had blown several gaps in
it, wide enough for the naval landing forces that Speyburn Fiddich led, to
simply walk through. The manor like keep had suffered significant damage as
well. A signal flare was launched into the night time sky to inform the
Raptor the landing forces were moving in, and to cease fire.

The townsfolk, and any militia among them had barely put up any resistance.
Most were going out of their way to stay out of sight of the Marauder
pirates, the demonstrating fire along the docks and in the city having been
more than enough. Young Fiddich wasnt inclined to slaughter the lot of
them, simply for the pragmatic reason of this province needed workers to
contribute to the common defense. A few had gotten in the way, and were cut
down, but so far his landing party was virtually unopposed, the surprise
nighttime attack having worked its charm.

The keep ahead would be different. If the Lady Merella Martiano had any
well trained guards, they would be there. Sure enough as the first men of
the landing party poured through the gaps in the palisade, the sounds of
steel being drawn, clashing and penetrating flesh rang through the night.
Speyburns staff caught one in the face, as he barely lost stride towards the

While some of the landing party engaged the guards that appeared to be
focusing their defense against the first squadron through the gap, others
moved about to form a perimeter to keep anyone from escaping. However most
followed the young captain into a breach in the keeps wall. It wasnt large,
so there would only be so many places that Merella could be hiding.

Eager for the prospect of loot, the pirates spread through the keep like
wildfire quickly turning the place inside out. An eager would be looter
found the hidden doorway behind a dresser, that produced the Lady Merella
Martiano. Sure enough, as reports said she was quite lovely and highborn,
dressing well above what one would expect to find in a humble fishing
village. It was a shame one so lovely would have to die, but orders were

"This is an outrage! Ive been Lady of this province for the reign of five
Highlords!" The lady screamed out.

Well, my lady, you shouldve paid tribute to the sixth," Speyburn said in a
friendly voice, offering his customary carefree smile, "Any last words?

The ladys response was to cock her head back and send a stream of spittle at
the Marauder captain. Speyburn shrugged and gestured to the guards holding
her captive.

"Guess not," Speyburn said wiping the spittle off his face with the back of
his hand, Hang her from the balcony out there so All can see her fate.

He was hoping for a chance to spend a bit of time here before moving on to
the next mission, but things had already changed and they had business in
Darkenmoor. Theyd be setting sail at first light, while the bodies of Lady
Merella and her guard hung from the ruins of her manor.

Writer: Ghillena

Date Fri Aug 15 19:13:24 2014

Writer: Tahereh

Date Sat Aug 16 08:39:25 2014

Writer: Tkrif

Date Sat Aug 16 14:36:56 2014

To All Pickett ( Dragoth Cliath Imm RP )

Subject The Experiment

The uttered words escaped his lips as easily as a breath, arkane words
that were like a second language to the Duergan shaman, perhaps even his
first language. He imagined tendrils of brown-green vapor escaping his
lips, imbued with divine power, as they wrapped around the caged rabbit in
front of him.

; Instantly, the rabbit began to quiver and shake with weakness as its
muscle tissue began to break down, rotting out from the inside. He had cast
the spell of leprosy hundreds of times before, but this time his intention
was different. Usually, he meant for the spell to kill his enemy. Much
slower than the acid or lightning blast of a magus, the disease caused a
slow and painful death to the target. However, instead of just kill the
rabbit, Tkrif wanted to see what would happen after its demise.

He watched as the rabbit twitched and suffered, waiting hours until it
finally went through its death throes, scribbling notes on a yellowing
scroll of parchment. Digging up a small patch of soil, he buried the corpse
in a shallow grave.


Several months later, he returned to his makeshift laboratory in the forest,
retracing his old steps to the rabbit's grave. Beholding the patch of earth
where the rabbit had been untombed, he came upon something unexpected.

Admidst a patch of thick, green grass, another rabbit was feasting on a
clump of colorful wildflowers.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Aug 16 14:55:54 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part One)

"Alright, gentlemen. I'd like to thank you All for attending my little
impromptu early lunch meeting. Seeing as construction finishes up today, I
felt it would be only fair, that I give you a brief overview of how this is
going to work. As you can see, we've an awful lot of stuff to load into the

The board members gazed at the seemingly endless queue of wagons and carts,
leading from the main tower entrance, through the courtyard and down the
entire length of Dented Steel Neckguard Boulevard, upon further inspection,
it looked as if the procession stretched All the way back to the old

The hardhat wearing gnome continued speaking, as the board's eyes were glued
to the front of the queue. "We're loading the top floors first, then
working our way down from there. On each floor, there are workers with
rolling carts, ready to unload the elevator, and bring everything to it's
designated positions on the floor. We're only getting everything to where
it's supposed to be. It will be on the workers and managers to organize it
to their liking. While that is going on, we have a crew who as we speak is
raising the pieces of the roof, to cap the 99th and final floor. They are
doing from the rear of the building, as to not interfere with the loading
process. So long as nothing goes wrong, the process should be finished by
dinnertime. But don't spoil your appetite. The town has planned a huge
celebration in the courtyard this evening, for the completion of the tower."

"I have to admit, old friend," The elder kender piped up excitedly from his
seat. "This whole moving process looks like a logistical nightmare. But
you've managed to make it look simple. To think that everything in this
long line will be in the tower and ready to use in but a couple hours is
amazing! Hey! What's that tall thing under the tarp over there? There's
something shiny sticking out!"

"Shiny?" The Chairman's head perked up and focused on where Olliwac was
looking. "Ooooh! I bet that's my new statue!" With that, the Chairman
bounded over the picnic table they were sitting at, and hastily made his way
over to the cart bearing the object in question. "Hey, take that tarp off!
I want to get a look!"

The remaining members of the board converged on the cart as the tarp was
slowly removed, revealing a life-sized bronze statue of none other than the
Chairman. 'Statue Ixi' was winking proudly, dreadwood log in one hand, the
other hand giving onlookers the thumbs-up. 'Actual Ixi' turned around to
face the board, mimicking the pose of the statue next to him.

Thimtax attempted valiantly to hide the overwhelming urge to cringe at the
garish statue before him. Instead, he forced a somewhat impressed smile,
and the board followed his lead.

"Heyyy... That's great, Ixi! Let's get that thing into the tower right
The little gnome turned to the one of the workers in control of the
cart and whispered quietly. "Put that god-awful thing in Ixi's office."
With that, the statue was covered up once again, and the cart continued to
wait at the front of the queue for its turn. He then addressed the board
once again.

"Well, I suppose while we're here unveiling things, I have a little gift of
my own for the boardroom. See that huge blue tarp about twenty yards behind
the statue? Hey! Yeah, you guys! Lay that thing down on it's side, we're
coming for a closer look!"

Writer: Tkrif

Date Sat Aug 16 18:27:40 2014

To All Pickett ( Dragoth Cliath Imm Religion RP )

Subject The Hammer

The tool in his hand was a simple one, a stake of sturdy wood sanded and
polished down, a flat-edged piece of metal affixed to the top. The Duergan
hefted it in his hand, swinging it idly though the air. He felt the tool's
balance between its two parts, noticing how the weight was evenly
distributed, allowing it to feel light in his hand despite the hammer's

Tkrif new at least some of the many uses of the tool. It could be used for
construction or destruction, to break this apart or reassemble them. This
particular hammer, however, was designed to forge metal.

Ponderously examining the instrument, he jotted down in his journal:

"Mountains, towering statues of stone erupting from the ground, were
certainly hewn by Cliath himself. Like the blood of mortals, Mountains have
veins of minerals and metallic ores.

"Alone, a piece of orestone has no real use. It does not bolster the
structure of the mountain, nor does it have any magical or medicinal
properties. Only through the touch of a mortal can the potential of the
orestone be released.

"Under immense heat, the stone melts away, leaving only its glowing metallic
component. Certainly, these bits of metal, hidden deep within the skeleton
of a mountain, are like wrapped gifts from the Creator. Not an outright
gift, but one that must be discovered and worked toward.

"Once the stone and metal are separated, the precious material can again be
placed under heat and made malleable. Like clay to a sculptor, a hammer
such as this can be used to pound the metal into any imaginable shape, from
the simplicity of a nail or horseshoe to the exquisite complexity of an
ornate breastplate.

"Here, we witness the completion of a cycle. From components created by
Cliath, we have indeed created something ourselves, using the wisdom he
bestowed upon us when he created mortal life.

Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Aug 17 17:28:29 2014

Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Aug 17 19:38:51 2014

To Marauders Thalimir Traice All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Storyline Raije )

Subject Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part I)

The sounds of battle were slowly beginning to fade. The battle had been
fierce but short. The horse slowly walked along the houses, his rider
carefully steering the beast among the dead on the path. Mezlak glanced
down at the bodies with near remorse on his face. This should not have been
their fate. Their strength should not have been wasted in this manner.
Slowly he approached the half dozen or so cavalry that stood guard.

On one side, two mounted soldiers stood guard over the townspeople who had
been forced from their homes. As Mezlak scanned the frightened people he
saw the cost of sudden removal. Most men and even some of the women had at
least one bruise forming on their faces. No small few of the number had
blood drying on their faces from deep cuts. Parents held screaming children
close, trying fruitlessly to calm them. Something that was impossible to do
when shivering and crying themselves. On the other side, two more soldiers
stood guard over ten former militia, now stripped of their armor and
weapons. Mezlak sighed. Once again, such a waste of potential strength for
the army.

Dismounting, Mezlak strolls to stand beside the man stripped to his small
clothes. His hands tied together were attached to the pommel of the saddle
of yet another of Mezlaks command while his feet were being bound in a
similar manner to a second horse. The prisoners body was covered head to
toe in scrapes, welts and cuts from being drug before the priest.

I have to say, Monterah, you and your men put up a worthy fight. Too bad
for you I didnt underestimate a former Marauder.
Mezlak nodded to the
mounted soldiers before continuing, signaling them to walk their horses in
opposite directions, stretching the prisoner between them. Therein lays
your crime. As a former Marauder, you above All other lords of the land,
should know about loyalty.

Mezlak then turned a slow circle, inhaling slowly before turning back
towards the prisoner now suspended above the ground. You swore The Oath!
He screamed as he kicked Lukas Monterah square in the ribs.

With another nod, a dismounted soldier placed a stone that he pulled from a
small fire beneath the suspended prisoner and places it on his chest. You
not only set up your own command here, independent of the Highlords, but you
raised arms, and commanded others to raise arms against your former
brothers. Brothers you swore to with blood from these hands.
statement is punctuated by the prisoners shouts as Mezlak takes a moment to
jamb a steel spike through Lukass bound hands. Mezlak then turned his
attention to the townspeople who were gathered. Most were trying to keep
from watching their former lord being tortured. The childrens screams had
lessened to barely audible sobs. None the less every single one was shaking
uncontrollably. Mezlak slowly walked up to the crowd and began pacing back
and forth as he addressed the townsfolk.

There is no need for those of you who didnt raise arms against the Marauders
to fear us. We know this rebellion wasnt of your doing. You dont blame the
students for a bad teacher.
Mezlak then turned and nodded again to the two
soldiers working over Lukas Monterah. Immediately they begin to pull out
his fingernails one by one. You will never need to fear. The Marauders
will protect you. Even from those who would lead you down a fatal path.

Mezlak finished, and turned back to his suspended captive. Slowly he drew
his sword, and sliced across Lukass s tomach. Mezlak then spun his prisoner
over face down, allowing his entrails to spill out into the fire beneath

(End part 1)

Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Aug 17 19:41:25 2014

To Marauders Thalimir Traice All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Storyline Raije )

Subject Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part II)

Mezlak slowly paced back and forth beside his suspended captive. He
ignored the mans screams as he was cooked alive. Mezlak barely paid any
attention to the prisoner anymore. He despised people like them. Those who
would turn their back on those they swore to fight alongside. He gave a
disgusted snort anytime Lukas came into his sightline. Slowly Mezlak let
the man cook to death. Once he was sure the man was dead, Mezlak didnt want
to ease his pain any, he turned to his gathered soldiers, and started
issuing orders.

Dismember the body. Arms, legs, and body are to be displayed along
Hammurabis Path. His head is to be placed upside down on a spike outside
the gates. That way All know the price of betraying The Oath by raising
arms against your brothers. As for the rest of his men.
Mezlak slowly
looked over the captured fighters. Hang them from Ironclads walls.

With that Mezlak quickly mounted his horse, and rode off to rendezvous with
the rest of the Marauders at Boltof Hold in TPal-Mal, a pleased grin on his

Writer: Traice

Date Sun Aug 17 19:50:39 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Tashio Immortal )

Subject |Massacre at Mideel Port|

Traice moved silently, turning his head either way to ensure his troops
moved along with him. The only sound coming in this too-silent night, were
the rustling of leather leggings brushing across each other, or the subtle
jingling of chainmail as they move forward.

Something wasn't right. This was an encampment of fifty people, but there
were enough tents to support two hundred, and what's more, they weren't
here. Scouts only an hour ago had reported that there were fifty men here.
There were signs, of course - the campfires freshly snuffed. Meals
unfinished that lay around different fire pits. It was puzzling.

Traice frowned as they entered the camp, waving his hand down the line
signaling for his men to be at ease. And that is when he heard it. A sharp
whistling coming through the air, like a hundred small voices singing
together in tune. He noticed just too late, a shadow blocking out the moon
light as the sickening thud of a hundred arrows slammed into their targets,
he heard the sound of arrow piercing leather All around him, yells coming
from his men as they were brought to the ground. He felt the pain before he
heard the warcries. The sharp, piercing pain as an arrow embedded itself in
his shoulder - almost immediately followed by the warcries of two hundred
men, charging down the hill towards the encampment.

His men quickly regrouped around him as Traice reached to the arrow,
snapping it in half as the distinct ringing of swords being sprung from
their scabbards rang across the camp. Traice yelled out, as his men filed
rank and with another yell, began to charge. Breath came hard, and heavy.
The pain shooting down his arm blazing through him with each step taken.

Like a blast of thunder the sides collided, shields clanging against shield,
sword against sword. Screams of pain and terror rose up at times, terrible
shrieks filled the air. Traice stabbed, slashed, parried his way through
the forces, his own numbers dwarfed 2-1 by the opposition. Stab. Slash.
Parry. Stab. Slash. Parry.

As Traice cut and hacked his way through the enemy troops, he came to a
clearing in the battle. Standing before him was a mammoth of a being. A
Giant Ogre, adorned from head to toe in wicked bronze armor. Strewn around
it were bodies. Mangled beyond belief, limbs torn from their bodies, heads
plucked off of torsos. As Traice came into view, the ogre charged. Traice
dug in his feet and took off towards the ogre. As he neared, the Ogre
raised his massive warhammer and swung it down.


Traice grunted to himself, holding his side, ribs broken, arrow shaft
sitting broken in his shoulder as he tugged his gladius out of the face of
the Ogre captain. He looked up to survey his troops, only six men remaining
from the hundred brought into the province. This militia was a little too
skilled for being farmers.

Writer: Speyburn

Date Sun Aug 17 20:27:13 2014

To Marauders All Milleuda ( Tashio imm rp kwars )

Subject Nighttime Rescue

The coast of Darkenmoor was a curious mixture of crags and rough beach.
As Speyburn Fiddich examined the coastline from the deck of the Cutlass, he
mused he wouldnt want to try landing in force right here. Though he wouldnt
have to, given most of the landing forces he had were left at Deception Bay
to keep the locals in line, and the rest of the men were on the Raptor which
should be scouting the enemy encampments further north along the coastline
at Stonecrag. Though there orders were open ended and if they saw an
opening they were to exploit it before reporting back.

The Cutlass was a small and quick scout ship, one of the smaller vessels in
the Marauder fleet, though Speyburn kept his flag there upon his promotion
to Admiral. His mission had already been changed as there was an agent in
this province overdue as he was informed, likely located on the beaches of
the coastline. It was dark and cloudy, so the moons werent providing any
helpful illumination tonight. Playing it safe, Speyburn ordered the ship to
keep a safe distance from the shore. The last thing he needed to do was
scrape an submerged rock or ground the ship in shallow waters.

Darkenmoor Keep was a small silhouette atop the higher cliffs in a position
to monitor the few beach lines on the province. Again it was too dark to
discern anything useful from this distance. There was nothing for it but to
lower a boat to sneak in and see if they could find their agent. A dozen
pirates, Speyburn included, began rowing their way towards the shore,
leaving only a scant handful on the Cutlass. Though they had orders to use
their cannon to take out any targets of opportunity and support the landing
party at need.

The landing part silently rowed through the choppy waters of the coastline,
and soon enough the ship hit the sand and the pirates jumped into the
shallow water, pulling the boat safely ashore. Lanterns were a risk, as
anyone in the keep above would notice them if they were alert, but from what
the Highlord said the defenses were minimal and so too was the risk. Being
able to see what they were looking for would outweigh the risk.

"Hey, Admiral, this her?" One of his crewman softly called out.

Speyburn took a moment to trot over there, and squinted his eyes as he saw
the unconscious form of a young elven woman breathing labouredly. Sure
enough he recalled seeing her around the fort, though couldnt recall ever
speaking with her being exchanging polite nothings maybe.

"Yeah thats her, lets get her out of here!" Speyburn said, lifting her by
one arm, the other crewman grabbing the other sand spreading her limp arms
over their shoulders as they began running back to the boat. A sharp thin
whistle signaled the rest of the crew who had spread out to look to return
as well.

A deafening roar of a cannon broke through the soft churning of the ocean
causing everyone to sharply jump, and soon enough the impact send sand
flying into the sky behind them. The blast had obviously come from the keep
on the cliffs.

"Lights out!" Speyburn shouted. He didnt need to tell them to run for it.

Fortunately the Cutlass was keeping an eye and answered the cannon blast
immediately with one of its own, apparently targeting the muzzle flash from
the Tower. As the landing party got to the boat and shoved off into the
sea, the keeps cannon seemed to be indecisive as if to fire on the landing
party or the ship. The Cutlass didnt hold any inhibitions about its target
as it lobbed one cannonball after another into the keep.

The crew rowed the boat like possessed men, eager to get back to the
relative safety of the boat. Speyburn wasnt a healer, but sang a small song
of healing over the unconscious agent that would hopefully sustain her until
they got her back to the Fort. A lucky shot from the Cutlass hit the powder
store in the keep, briefly illuminating the nighttime sky with a large
rising fireball. Soon enough, the boat was being hoisted back onto the
Cutlass and sails were being raised so they could be safely away.

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Aug 17 22:44:22 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Immortal Tashio )

Subject |The Scourge of Nigh'hold (I)|

It took less than a week for the Marauder 7th Infantry to make its
presence felt in Nighhold. The territory was hilly, a rolling country
dotted with several small mining villages along the way to its heart.
Flying the standard of the Marauders high, the priest stopped at each
village along the way offering Necrucifers benediction to those who would
have it and speaking often of their mission as an envoy to treat with Lord
Alistair Alnkrov.

By the fourth village just outside their final destination a large, heavyset
man wearing fine furs was waiting along with appeared to be half of the
town. Men, women and children were gathered in the square. Their ragged
clothes and gaunt faces stained black from long days in the mines. Telthian
raised his hand, halting the advance of the 7th as he proceeded forward
astride his nightmare. Always at his side, six figures in black plate
followed silently behind.

The rotund figure approached, wringing his hands and bowing low as the
priest came to a halt. "Knight-Templar Schwartz, allow me to extend a
welcome on behalf of Lord Alnkrov. He is most excited to receive you. I am
Martyn, his steward,
" Martyn smiled nervously, and extended his hand in

Motionless, Telthian simply stared at the hand for moment before leaning
down in his saddle and grasping it firmly. A small smile played across
Telthians lips as he spoke, "Thank you for this warm and hospitable welcome,
Steward. Please understand I do this with nothing but the utmost of
contempt for men like you. "

Martyn's eyes went wide, recoiling but Telthian held him fast, his hand like
a vice crushing the delicate bones in the stewards hand. With a fluid
motion, Telthian drew a small crossbow from his hip and fired, the bolt
burying itself within the stewards gut. A cry came from the town just
moments after the stewards own. Telthian allowed Martyn to fall, then, the
man landing face down. Dismounting to stand behind him, the priest grasped
the man by his hair and drove his sabre deep. The platinum sabre penetrated
beneath Martyn's brain, smashing his jaw and silencing his screams forever.

****************************** Within Twilight Grotto, Lord Alistair Alnkrov
had just finished his evening meal of roast pheasant and retired to his
personal library. Usually his steward would bring him the evening tallies
from the mines and the two might enjoy a brandy before the fire. Instead,
he was subjected to the prattling of an uneducated servant whose name he did
not even remember. Alistair yawned, sipping his brandy and half listening
to the boy speak.

"... And finally milord, we received a chest of tri... Tribute sent ahead
by Knight-Templar Schwartz for Your years of service and a job well done. "
Snorting, Alistair directed the boy to place the chest on the table before
him, "About time those bastards in command saw fit to acknowledge All my
work here. It isn't easy dealing with you inbred layabouts.

All color drained from the Lord of Nighholds face as he opened the chest and
looked upon the head his servant and friend of many years.
****************************** In truth, battle would have been an
overstatement. Lord Alistair's men guarding the walls of the grotto had
clearly never dealt with hellfire before. Tar and oil was one thing, at
least it could be extinguished. The more they fought and struggled to put
it out the more the hellfire spread and before long, the whole of the
battlement was burning and the soldiers with it.

The door to the Lords chambers were sealed, predictably, but an earth
elemental made quick work of them. The room was in complete disarray, a
sure sign that Alistair left in haste. Telthian picked up a candle,
lighting it with a word. As he searched, the flame flickered, near a
well-appointed bar. Smiling to himself, Telthian kicked a heavy rug aside,
revealing access to the tunnels below.

"The chase is on," he mused to himself as he took the first steps into the
waiting darkness.

Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Aug 18 03:24:29 2014

Writer: Drew

Date Mon Aug 18 08:56:07 2014

Writer: Cheiron

Date Mon Aug 18 15:33:02 2014

Writer: Cheiron

Date Mon Aug 18 15:35:34 2014

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Tue Aug 19 19:38:10 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Six

I see you losing something very precious to you. A memory, as part of a
price to permanently break your affliction.

Farium's words replayed in her mind long after the spirit went dormant
inside her.

The excitement of the evening had left itself etched forever on her mind.
Her first encounter with a dragon, the killing of the gold had left her with
a traumatic sense of loss. The gravity of what she had done weighed heavily
on her. Enemy or no, there was an infinite sadness to the death of the

She had stared into the eyes of the gold, pinned beneath its massive talons
on the warm stone of the volcano's floor.

The gold, Zalzachan had leered over her, searching for the spirit inside of
her even as he protected Ashtiel's body from being crushed. The dragon's
grin was one of sickening satisfaction when she finally sensed him.

'Ah.. Yes.. There he is I sense the fowl thing within you... I shall
enjoy ripping you both to shreds.

Whether it was the threat or the jarring shift of weight on her chest that
had woken her, Ashtiel wasn't sure. But in the moments that had followed,
Farium's magic had drawn every ounce of energy she had to offer, draining
the color from her hair, opening the wounds she bled from further. The
force of it had threatened to shatter her even as she had thrown her arm up
as Farium instructed and the shadows rose from her to feed off the beast

She had stared into the eyes of the dragon, had seen the very moment when
the dragon realized she would die and that the shadows were siphoning her
life from her.

They fed from the dragon until she had become no more than dust that drifted
to linger on the cavern floor. The final roar of surprise rung in her ears
long after the dust settled.

It had taken some time for her to collect herself, even though Farium's
energy has restored her own and healed her wounds, even returned the color
to her hair. Finally, the threat of shades who were no doubt headed in
their direction had sent her back to the city to hide.

They had All the required for the journey. As the spirit slept, Ashtiel
studied the shard and the bottle and thought over what lay ahead of her.

It was almost time to make her journey.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Tue Aug 19 20:24:05 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Seven

Her mind splintered, fractured deeper the further they traversed the
depths of the Hunger.

Even viewing this dreadful place with the protection of Farium's shadows did
little to reduce the trauma of witnessing and knowing what dwelled within.
For each moment that passed, the barrier that separated her mind from that
of the spirit eroded further and his memories assaulted her.

She felt his heartbreak at the rejection of Mahris, the woman he had loved
and whom had sent him to die only to enslave him in his undead form for her
servant. The woman who's soul they now searched for within the Void.

She witnessed the woman's selfish disregard for his life or the worth of it
when the woman had called him madly from his death and demanded he serve

She felt his powerlessness to do anything other than obey the woman he loved
without fail.

Before anymore of his mind could invade her own, they arrived within the
Plane of Necrucifer. The putrid smell of decay lingered heavily enough to
turn the stomach but she swallowed the bile that rose and held her silence,
not wishing to draw attention to her.

The shadow armor around her hardened, forming into solid, mirror like scales
that reflected the black of the plane back upon itself, leaving the only
evidence of her presence the faint glow of Farium's green eye.

The bodies of those not given the luxury of death were dismembered and
crawling with imps who took great pleasure in biting their exposed entrails
and broken limbs.

The razor sharp ferns that covered the black nothingness beneath them made
no sound as they dragged along her armor harmlessly.

The demonic beings that moved around here did not see or sense her presence,
as Farium had planned. They moved together, forward until they saw what
they had come for, a woman's soul trapped over a vent of heat, burning
eternally to from whole to ashes only to be renewed that the burning could
begin anew.

The woman, Mahris.

Her eyes, just before melting for the third time in as few minutes landed
upon Ashtiel and she bucked against the bindings that held her, reaching

Every set of eyes, including the large eye form of flying things within the
sky turned towards Ashtiel, though she was still cloaked from sight by
Farium's shade. All headed in her direction, moving without focus but

Get the shard out. We need to do this quickly. Try not to run into any of

She slipped the bottle from her pocket and into her hand and bolted towards
the woman's burning soul, dodging around one demon and barely missing
careening off another with a deft dodge to the right.

Another lunge and she was there, standing before the woman's burning form
and the bottle was out, lifted up, touching the trapped soul only a moment
before the magic took hold and the woman's soul was sucked into the small

The task done, Ashtiel spun back on her heel. The path ahead was full of
demonic and unnameable things. They writhed in enraged anger and screamed
collectively. The loss of the soul had not gone unnoticed.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Aug 20 02:21:02 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Eight

The foul thing that emerged and blocked the exit was something the mortal
mind had no capacity to understand. Even the sight of it left a permanent
mark on her mind. The color draining from her. Six-legged and heavily
quilled, the tormented writhed within being eaten alive by the parasites.
Their screams alone where enough to chill the resolve.

What force had summoned it, Ashtiel did not bother to guess. The demons at
her heels whispered, shrieked, and screamed.. An army of hungry things
desperate to feed. The path before her was quickly blocked by this massive
creature of nightmares. No escape in sight, panic filled her. They were
going to be trapped.

Whatever you do, don't turn back.

Farium's voice urged her forward and she obeyed it, though she was
absolutely certain it would spell the end of them both. The suddenness with
which his energy left her was jarring, costing her step she could ill afford
to lose and she was only vaguely aware of the demon springing at her back.

She pitched forward, intentionally ducking low to let the demon shoot over
her and darted around it before it had a chance to recover.

The denizen sprang forward to attack Farium's growing form. Evenly matched,
the Shade-Spirit locked himself in battle with the beast and she obediently
kept moving, circling around the two as they toppled in her direction. The
ground shook beneath her.

The nexus was right in front of her, unguarded and she ignored the stabbing
pain in her feet, the ferns cutting at her as she ran. The glowing light of
the runes that held her nexus open reflected in her eyes before she
hesitated a moment to glance back and see the horde of demons overrun

They covered him and the denizen as a swarm of ants, leaving only a writhing
mound visible to her sight. Hopeless to save him, she turn and dove into
the portal that would take her home.

Writer: Isabel

Date Wed Aug 20 07:07:21 2014

To Kikko Brunster Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part II]

Pressing her finger along the parchment, Isabel folded her letter neatly
before holding the deep blue sealing wax over the candle flame briefly.
With a practiced hand, she pressed the melting wax to the missive and
stamped it with the seal of Justice. She smiled at her handiwork
satisfactorily and placed the letter on her desk. In the morning, she would
have it sent off to Althainia.

Isabel felt more relaxed. Writing to her mother was always cathartic, in
it's own way. She blew out the candle that had begun to burn quite low and
slowly stood up from her seat. The room had cooled even more since she
first woke up to write. Holding the blanket close, she made her way back to
the bed, swinging her bare feet back onto the mattress. They were chilled
from having been on the cold floor for so long. She shivered once and laid
her head on the goose feather pillow that waited for her. Isabel closed her
cerulean blue eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Sleep did not come.


The priestess sat up, peering out at the starlight through her window.
While she did feel better, there was still a restlessness tugging at her
heart. Isabel stood up, pulling a blanket with her as she turned and knelt
at the head of her bed. She lifted the amulet she always wore around her
neck to her lips and kissed the symbol upon it lightly. She closed her eyes
then and clasped her hands together, bowing her head reverently.

"Father Austinian, I come before you tonight seeking rest. Grant me this
blessing, so that I may better serve you on the morrow. Still my restless
soul, bring peace to my heart. In Your name, Amen."

Isabel smiled, readying herself to stand when she began to feel a heaviness,
a prompting. She returned to her kneeling position, folding her hands in
prayer once more. She whispered in a soft tone, "Father, I think this
restlessness comes from unfinished prayers that need asking. I shall do
what I must. Please, guide and protect my friend Kikko and her husband,
Brunster. May You light the way for their endeavors in rebuilding their
people's nation. Bless their marriage, and keep them strong in both faith
and in each other. Show them the direction they seek."

These heartfelt prayers continued to pour forth from her as she remained
kneeling before the bed. She prayed for the leaders of the Wrath, that they
might continue to have strength and endurance in carrying out Austinian's
work. She prayed for the City of Light, her homeland, and for her parents.
She asked for the Father's blessings to be upon those of Gareth's Keep. She
prayed for the elves of the Vallens that served and aided in the cause of
the Light. Words bubbled up within her in earnestness as she prayed for
their allies and All of the Light that remained scattered throughtout the

It was when her throat became parched and her voice hoarse that her prayers
finally came to an end. Isabel opened her eyes and smiled. The night had
passed and the dawn had come while Isabel had offered prayers to her god.
The weight and restlessness of earlier had completely left her. And while
she had not slept, she felt more refreshed than she had in a very long time.
Crawling back into bed, she laid there and contemplated the past evening.
When her eyes closed, she murmured very softly, the words almost completely

"Bless them, Father."

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Aug 20 22:37:02 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Nine

The switch between one reality of her existence and the other had always
been confusing.

This time was no different. As the world changed from something of
nightmares to one of quiet and she found herself standing within a ring of
fading runes in the street, Ashtiel shuddered for breath. The last demonic
shriek of rage at her escape cut off as the magic that had fed her portal
failed and the nexus snapped closed, Farium still trapped on the other side
of it.

In desperation, she knelt to the ground, frantically working to rewrite the
runes she had used previously. Without the strength of Farium's magic, it
was hopeless. She couldn't consciously open the portal alone. Still, her
hands rewrote the markings once and again before she beat futilely against
the stone with one fist, hurting herself but not caring.

Within her pocket, trapped inside the magic bottle, a small pair of fists
beat against the glass. The nudge reminded her of her task and she ventured
through the streets and into the graveyard before she tugged the thing
angrily from her pocket and gave it a frustrated shake.

Angry and travel worn, she held the bottle up before her as she paced. 'I
should just break it.
' She warned aloud and the small woman inside pleaded
with her not to do so. The panic in the woman's tone was enough to bring
her a hint of satisfaction. But the fear by no means touched the punishment
the woman deserved, as far as Ashtiel was concerned.

'He loved you. ' Her tone carried her frustration.

Mahris answered from the bottle, 'I loved him too, you don't know the whole
side of it.. Please.. Release me back into my body...

'Not yet. You trapped him without end. How do I know if I release you, you
wont do something stupid?

Mahris whispered, 'I... Can summon him... Please you have to believe me...
' The thumps of her tiny fists beat frantically on the inside of her bottle.

'If you lie.. I swear by All that is holy I will find a way to send you
back, even if I get trapped doing it.
' Ashtiel knelt to the ground and dug
the shard that housed the woman's body from her pocket. 'Never done this
before.. You'll have to bear with me.

Having no idea what she was doing, she began to sing the skald's song of
resurrection, commanding the spirit of the woman to follow her as she had
done with many others. She added verses, repeating the sound in a litany in
hopes that the new words would order the woman back into her body. This
magic was new to her, not how the song was meant to be used and as the
woman's spirit obeyed, she suffered from it. The shock of the transference
leaving her shaking and rocked with pain. Ashtiel watched the crystal of
the shard crumble and listened to her cry a moment before she grew
impatient. 'Enough. Bring him back now. ' She glared at the weeping woman
as she made her demand.

Mahris cried, 'Please, have mercy! I beg you. I am weak. '

'Lady.. I will kill you.. ' The threat dripped like acid off her tongue as
she stepped closer to the wailing, weak thing. 'I am All out of mercy. You
had none for him. I know it well. I remember it as if it were ME!
' The
anger bristled from her. The emotion was frightening enough that the
simpering Mahris uttered some words quickly to surround herself with a
protective barrier. They woman retreated to the edge of it in fear and
Ashtiel awarded her a grim smile.

Even now, despite her words of shared love, the woman refused at first to
bring Farium back from the Hunger. The refusal enraged Ashtiel further and
before long, she was screaming at the woman in anger. Mahris said, 'I love
him, but I am afraid of him. If you knew what he was capable of...

'I do not care. I gave him my word and I know. I know well enough, I have
seen it in my dreams. I care not. You bring him back NOW!

Writer: Brawnwyn

Date Wed Aug 20 23:03:53 2014

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Aug 20 23:08:44 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Ten

Her voice shook with anger, the sides of her jaw set painfully with it as
she glared at the woman still hiding along the further edge of her
protective shied.

Mahris argued 'You don't understand, there's no promise he'll reform with
any of the same dispositions he has shown before. He could be a wholly
different person than you know.

Eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, Ashtiel took another step towards the
woman, 'I don't care. You bring him back and you free him from this
constant return. Maybe he is a monster. I do not know or care. But you
made him. You UNMAKE him now.

Mahris cried openly. The magic barrier that protected her from Ashtiel
began to fade, forcing the weak woman to utter another spell to maintain it.

Magic bottle in hand, Ashtiel held it out menacingly, 'I grow tired of this.
I will kill you. You bring him back now. You made him. You free him.
Patience gone, her free hand fell to the hilt of her sword.

The air crackled with energy as a figure faded in and out of existence.
Fabricating itself anew, the spell began to take shape and from it Farium's
features began to emerge.

As soon as he appeared, he fell forward and struck the earth with his face
bluntly, his armor and color weakened and pale.

Ashtiel shifted her stance. Her focus flitted between Mahris and Farium as
she circled to put an even distance between herself and the two of them, the
bottle held out as if it would defend her if Farium had returned some form
of monster. 'Help him. '

With a nod, Mahris moved over to him, kneeling and as she touched him, the
life drained from her and into Farium. His color returned and he pushed
himself up on his hands and Ashtiel forgot her fear for the moment.

'Did you make it through unseen? ' His first question was relieving. He
was himself, at least the version that Ashtiel knew him to be. 'You must
have, if anything had spotted you, you'd likely be drug back there already.
' Comforting.

Her eyes went to Mahris, 'Free him. '

Mahris looked to Farium with tears in her eyes," I'm so sorry. I never
meant for it to be like this.

Farium replied, 'I'm tired, and I hurt. I can't rest yet because of the
sins of my past. Once those are dealt with though, I wish to end my being.
How do I do that?

More excuses fell from Mahris's lips, empty words in comparison to All that
Farium had suffered and the speaking of them grated on Ashtiel's nerves.

Mahris finally relented, 'I don't know if it will work... But you need a
verse... And this...
' She held out an ominous yellow stone, dropping it
into Farium's hand.

'I don't understand what to do with this. ' He looked at her.

Mahris explained, 'It's an unsummoning stone. There's no promise it will
work but then there wasn't any promise you'd have become what you are now
either. Nothing is more powerful than even the softest whisper if the words
are filled with passion and feeling. And you need a verse to activate the

Farium dropped the stone into Ashtiel's hand immediately, 'I do not have the
imagination for such things. I need you again. Not today. Not tomorrow.
But some day when my fight is over, would you prepare a verse and send me
into peace?

'I will prepare one. When you wish it used, you will tell me? I will give
you the right to live and die as you wish. I believe you have had enough of
being controlled.
' Ashtiel cast an accusing glance at Mahris as she spoke
and the woman began anew with her apologies to Farium.

'You should go. I sense she wants to harm you. ' Farium glanced from
Mahris to Ashtiel meaningfully as he spoke, 'I don't think I would stop her
' He turned his back on Mahris, physically rejecting the apologies
she had offered.

'I am behaving. But yes. I believe she should have her teeth rattled
around for her.
' Ashtiel admitted, looking at the woman as she spoke.

The woman didn't hesitate to make a run for it. She dashed behind Ashtiel
and out of the graveyard in a full sprint.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Thu Aug 21 00:35:38 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Eleven

Ashtiel followed the fleeing woman with her eyes, smirking to herself
before she turned back to find Farium looking at her.

'I killed it. ' He finally spoke, the words carrying a hint of smile that
did not show on his heavily shaded face.

They brought to mind the monstrous denizen, drawing a shudder from Ashtiel
and she blinked, 'The denizen? That is impressive. '

'It had knowledge that you need, that I need, to live up to my end of this
trade. What binds you to your curse is not unyielding. There is a place I
must take you, and I do not know what will happen to you once you are there.

Ashtiel nodded quietly as he spoke and sank onto the same headstone she had
used during her original meeting with him, her hands running over her knees.
'What happens to you now? '

'I have a permanent host, one which has no soul so I won't destroy it if I
reside within.
' His answer was quiet. 'I still have work to do to prepare
the realm for the breaking of the seal cutting of the Shadow Plane from this

They spoke a moment of that threat before Farium's glowing green eyes locked
on her. 'If you are prepared you may continue on and face your destiny to
undo the pack made that has cursed you so... I fear for your well being in

His worry was palpable but what preparations could be made for such a thing.
She had already waited a lifetime.

He offered his hand and she took it. The squeeze of her fingers was either
meant to comfort him or herself. Which wasn't clear to her and she didn't
dwell on it.

'I can not see through the fog. This is All upon you now. '

She nodded silently, bracing herself for the unknown..

An inky blackness opened beneath them and they fall into it. The cold
emptiness of the shadow plane stung her skin to the point it almost
blistered and just when the threshold of pain was about to be surpassed they
emerge on the other side.

Writer: Calvissus

Date Thu Aug 21 01:11:57 2014

To Abaddon Kingdom Clan All ( Imm Roleplay Zypher )

Subject (The Healing)

Calvissus stood in the center of the pentagram, the room dimly lit by
candleholders set at the tip of each point of the star. He was nude,
completely. His burnt and mangled skin cracked open by the disease that
ravaged his body. Unable to stand straight he stood hunched, his breathing
more of a raspy wheezing. His solid black eyes opened weakly, gazing upon
the figure who stood with his back to him, working at the altar.

Next to Orlen laid a emerald dragon scale, shimmering in the candle light, a
small vial of blood next to that, and an obsidian forged chalice. Orlen
casually glanced over to the chalice, his hand engulfing in a holy fire -
the substance in the chalice bubbling like super-heated mud. It's
sludge-like appearance popping noisily in the chalice.

'Executioner. You have experienced a pain most could not fathom, and have
done it your entire life. Such is commendable, but I warn you. It is
nothing compared to what you will face now.
' the priest spoke.

'Jus' do aet.. Ah dunnae 'ave much toime lef' aen th's worl' withoo' aet.
' the pirate gasped out.

Calvissus skin was rotting away before the very eyes of those gathered, the
Countess watching amusedly while grasping the arm of the Count. His own
knees weak as the Priest approached him. Orlen smirked, his eyes looking
over the husk of a man before him as he reached out, placing his hand in the
center of Calvissus' chest, his hand engulfing in flames once more as he
spoke an incantation. The area around the hand began to boil, the skin
cracking as a pale light emerged, forcing Calvissus to his knees with a
wicked shriek. The Count moved behind him, lifting him up as the Crusader
nodded to Orlen.

Orlen's smirk vanished from his lips as he scooped the murky liquid from the
chalice with the emerald scale. He paused for a moment, considering his
options before reaching out - smearing the paste across the burning,
cracking skin of the Executioner. Almost immediately, the reaction began.
Calvissus thrashed in the arms of Deccan - the man backing off to watch with
a bemused look on his face. The skin bubbled, turning the color of lava as
it began to melt off his skin. His howling filled the chamber, emitting
from the old mausoleum and spilling out onto the streets.

Orlen continued, his hand placing over the skin of Calvissus - and then
applying the paste. Watching the man writhe in pain on the floor as his
skin melted. Even as it dripped or splashed to the floor like sludge
splashing across the ground, it sizzled, melting its way into the floor.
The only thing remaining of the Executioner was his musculature.

Orlen stepped forward, waiting until the last bit of skin had dripped from
the man's body as he held out his hands, a blackness took them, shrouding
the hands in mystical light as he uttered his words of healing. Every now
and then, dripping a bit of the vampiric blood from the vial over the
muscles, instantly turning pink as skin sprouted across his body, red - like
the skin when you peel off one too many layers of skin from your fingers,
and sensitive.

The Executioner laid there in shock, gasping for breath as he laid in his
catatonic state. He heard whisperings which sounded like the Inquisitor and
a woman, and felt himself being risen by magic, floating through the air.

Sometime later, Calvissus awoke, his disfigured, horrid skin which he had
known his entire life - gone. Replaced by fresh skin. Making him whole,
and free of his arcane poisoning.

Writer: Liviya

Date Thu Aug 21 05:10:39 2014

To Verminasia Tashio All ( Imm RP Religion )

Subject The Haunting of Verminasia: Echoes of the Past

The Queen's fatigue, mental and physical, was something she blamed
on her pregnancy. That was easier than admitting that she was getting
old and tired. Ageless flesh made it easy not to consider how old she
really was, but some days, her mind felt eighty, and she guessed it
wasn't far from the truth.

The birth of Aliera Snowdragon's children meant that Gwendalen MacLeod
would have been a great-great-grandmother were she alive. That was
daunting in a way she could not describe. She remembered the scandal
that had overtaken parts of the world when Branzol was born. What an
ass he had grown up to be.

That wasn't even considering other events of the world. She remembered
Tief as a Priest and Grumf as a Bishop. She remembered when Abaddon
appeared from the swamps. She remembered when Launy ruled Arkane and
when Fastia ruled New Thalos. She had no idea how many generations of
Shalonosts had risen and fallen in her lifetime. Who was the Speaker
when she was young? Thanatael, maybe? She wasn't sure.

There were some still living beside whom her own life was laughably
short- friends and enemies of her Father's from an era she had only
read about. Humans who somehow remembered the Purist Wars. Firstborn.

Liviya therefore blamed her old, decrepit brain when she ascended the
stairs to the throne room for some blessed peace and quiet and found
a woman sitting in her chair.

She wasn't a ghost. The Queen knew this because she recognized her.
She was also most definitely not really there. Her form was translucent
and hazy, and though she was younger than the woman Liviya knew, she
gazed out from the throne with a hard, intense expression.

Liviya cleared her throat. 'Lady Del'neth?'

There was no reaction from the specter, though a moment later, she rose
and crossed the room to the window, where she gazed out unseeingly at
the city below.

Liviya followed. She took up a place at the opposite side of the window
and followed the figure's unseeing eyes to the street below. In this
peculiar moment, she expected to see a different Verminasia laid out
below, the guillotine wet with the blood of the latest victim of King
Isadore's whim. Instead, she saw only the sleepy city she knew: same
vendor selling popcorn on King's Way, same slum lord dodging demands
for basic sanitation, same moat monster.

When she looked back at her ethereal companion, it was just in time to
see the figure fade away into nothingness. Liviya was alone in her
throne room, gnawingly hungry and possibly delusional, given what
she was already unsure she had witnessed.

There was no whiff of perfume in the air, no cold spot when the Queen
went to sit on the dreadwood throne that dwarfed her. There was instead
stillness. Liviya closed her eyes. Whatever she had seen, it was not
something to go telling.

Writer: Thaydius

Date Thu Aug 21 23:28:53 2014

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Fri Aug 22 00:42:09 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Twelve

The sense of loss and death was overwhelming, filling her with pain and
despair she had no armor against.

In the nothing there was a sword, a wicked blade surrounded by tendrils of

'Farium.. '

It took her a moment to manage his name and as he retrieved the corrupted
blade he looked at her once before driving the sword into the nothing,
cutting it away. The dark peeled back as if it were a curtain, drawn away
by unseen hands for the pedestal that rose in front of them. At it's
center, a dark jewel pulsated with an ominous light.

'It's not too late, if you wish to turn back. ' He waited for her reply.

Her eyes on the jewel, she swallowed heavily before asking, 'You know what
memory it will cost?

'I do not. ' His eyes followed hers to the pulsating stone and returned.
'I can only promise I will not leave you. '

'What do I do with it. ' She gestured to the stone and looked at him

'Present yourself to it. It is an omni-presence... '

She approached the stone warily, uncertain what it would yield and glanced
once back at Farium before she took the final step up to it.

What is your wish?

'I wish to be freed of the bind that returns me to Necrucifer's realm. '
Her voice carried, sounding hollow to her in the emptiness that surrounded

A binding can only be traded with another binding of equal worth. To
destroy one you must destroy the other as well.

'What is it you wish in return then? '

Place your palm onto your heart and your other onto the crystal of fate.

Her hand rose to her chest obediently but her other hesitated over the jewel
and she glanced solemnly at Farium before letting her hand fall to close her
fingers around the crystal.

The crack of thunder rose around them as the power within the stone invaded
her mind, every cherished memory that made up the whole of her was displayed
on the multi-faceted surface of the jewel. It began to spin, building a
heat beneath her fingers.

'Ashtiel... ' Farium's voice reached her as if from a distance, the worry
it conveyed lost on her. She stared blankly at the stone, watching the
faces and memories spin past with wide eyes.

Her body wouldn't respond to her. She couldn't release her hold on the
stone, her fingers were frozen to it even as it spun in her grasp.

Woe unto you mortal. Fate is cruel indeed, but freedom must be paid for
through suffering.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Fri Aug 22 01:09:06 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Thirteen

Agony. It was sudden and All encompassing and it filled every corner of
her consciousness. The stone sought the single thing that mattered most to
her and began to tear it from her heart and soul, ripping it from the very
fabric of what made her who she was and she was powerless to stop it.

'Stop it! You're going to kill her! ' Farium yelled.

Her destiny has been woven long before this day, you pathetic imagined

Held in thrall, Ashtiel gave a tormented, suffering scream and Farium lunged
forward, trying to project his spirit into her.

A deafening crackle of energy exploded from the stone, webbing itself around
him just inches from her and he fell to his knees. His hand found her leg
and he weakly tried to force his energy back into her to break the bond
between her and the stone. His face twisted in a sudden expression of
sadness as he looked up to her, the realization of an option enlightening

Just as she was about to lose what mattered the most to her, Farium reached
into her pocket. His fingers curled around the unsummoning stone even as
his other hand lifted to the pulsating gem that spun madly beneath Ashtiel's

'... Take it... '

The pulsating and spinning gem slowed down beneath her hand and there was a
sudden break in the agony that held her trapped.

'No... Farium! ' She tore her eyes from the stone and looked desperately
at him, shaking her head. 'No. '


The unsummoning stone faded to dust within Farium's hand and for a moment
was reflected in the pulsing surface of the jewel before the light

'No! What did you do? That was your freedom? ' Her eyes tore madly from
his face to the jewel and she wrapped her hand back around it. 'No.. It
wasn't his price to pay.. It was mine. Mine!

The blast of energy that met the touch of her hand lifted her, tossing her
and Farium into the air a great distance from the pedestal as the gem of
fate sunk back into the dark cloak of the shadow plane.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Fri Aug 22 14:08:49 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Two)

It took nearly twenty men, armed with ropes and braces, to gently lower
the giant pyramid-shaped structure flat on the ground beside the cart.
Thimtax hurriedly thanked the men, quickly shooing them out of the way, and
turning to face the board, All the while, loosening the ties which held the
tarp covering it in place.

"Now, it only made sense to me, that if we are planning on expanding in the
future, that there is a strong chance the number of board members could as
well. So it only seemed fitting that we have a boardroom table large enough
to accomodate more members, while not having to shout to hear those across
from you."
Finishing his sentence, he untied the remaining strap, allowing
the corner of the trap to hang loosely. "So, here it is!"

The hardhat wearing gnome grabbed onto the limp corner of the tarp and
trotted off towards the back of the queue, revealing the table underneath.
The board, and everyone within eyesight of the unveiled boardroom table,
were astir with ooh's and aah's. The massive teakwood table was a perfect
equalateral triangle, with the inside cut away, leaving a pristinely
varnished surface, roughly 36 inches wide on each side. Both the inside and
outside was bordered with ornate inlay work, which upon first glance,
included mahogany, bird's-eye maple, rosewood, and many others not so easy
to identify. Each of the three corners of the table also sported a large
image of the Ixi-Mart logo, Emmy, beautifully respresented in similar inlay
work. The board and the surrounding workers offered their vehement

"I built this in the old maintenance shed in my free time over the past
several weeks."
The little gnome exclaimed proudly. "Turned out pretty
damn well, if I do say so myself."

"Yes, it's simply exquisite." The Chairman replied, a slightly coy smile
on his face.

Thimtax looked at the Chairman defensively. "What's that look for?"

"Oh, nothing at all." Ixi'kweez replied innocently, though his coy smile
remained. "It's pretty big. How big is it exactly?"

"It is exactly twenty-four feet on each side."

"Mmhmm. Indeed. And how big did you say the elevator was again?"

"We've been through this a million times. The elevator is eightteen and a

The hardhat wearing gnome halted his words immediately, as the coy smile on
the Chairman's face grew ever wider. The entire time of the tower's
construction, it was the Chairman that ended up being the butt of humor,
whether it was by Thimtax, by Ol' Brassy, or by his own lack of common
sense. But this time, it seems every dog has its day. The Chairman
cheerfully continued.

"So. That thing come apart?"

"No, not really."

"Hmm..." Ixi brought his hand to his chin in feigned contemplation.
"Sounds like a problem."

"Well, we engineers have All sorts of ways to get something done. We're
taught to figure a way out of anything."

Ixi'kweez cleared his throat and smiled at the gnome. "You're going to get
the dragon to do it, aren't you?"

Thimtax sighed audibly, rubbing his temples. "Yes, Ixi. I'm going to get
the dragon to do it. Now, if you All will excuse me, I have to tell the
roofing crew to take a break while I take care of this. Why dont you all
come back here at 5 o'clock, and I'll show you All to your new offices and
the new boardroom?"

Writer: Grawnak

Date Sun Aug 24 08:11:27 2014

Writer: Brawnwyn

Date Sun Aug 24 18:52:10 2014

Writer: Elrei

Date Mon Aug 25 00:36:32 2014

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject The Arch of the Covenant

Implicit in the rage levied at him by those he had spoken out against
was the perception of a lack of authority, a lack of prerogative. Put
simply, Elrei had no right to judge them. And he had contributed to this
perception over the years, through his modesty: when asked what made him so
special, what quality he possessed which prompted Taliena to select him as
Her Prophet, invariably he would respond with "nothing" - that he was no
different from anyone else, and that he, himself, was unimportant on the

And so this facet of the reaction to his words was more difficult to
overcome. When it came to politics, the leader of a nation was assumed to
have authority to judge: leadership required decision-making, decisions
require judgment. More often than not a decision made in haste was better
received by the people than no decision at all, the latter being a sign of a
"weak" leader, even if the decision was later deemed incorrect. Even those
who disagreed with the previous Emperor's decisions never made the argument
that he did not have the authority to make them.

Yet it seemed a religious leader could not act in this way. The Prophet
of Taliena, according to some, had no right, no authority, to judge others
of the faith. Instead, the idea of brotherhood was stressed, with All the
mortal "children" of Taliena being equally without right to judge one
another. The first sermon he had attended post-banishment again stressed
the concept that none within the Light, not just those of Taliena's
following, had the right to judge one another. Weaknesses or failings were
to be overlooked, allowed to remain, so that the appearance of solidarity
could be maintained even if consistency was not.

If a religious leader, recognized by their own deity, did not possess the
authority to make any sort of judgment regarding others within the faith,
what was the point in the hierarchy? How could such a person even be called
a leader, if they could not be called upon to make judgments and decisions?
If a High Priest had no more right to correct the behavior of a Bishop than
a Novitiate did - if the only means of improving the quality of the faith
was to leave any and All criticism in the hands of the deity directly - then
the ranks of the priesthood were meaningless.

The only other explanation within sight was that this mode of thinking
was a fallacy, but one which had been supported and insisted upon as a means
to disregard the authority which existed. An authority that does not see
itself as an authority can be easily overcome, their power relinquished by
default because it was never realized and truly wielded. The few times
Elrei had attempted to wield his authority, he did so reluctantly,
hesitantly, and even apologetically. Considering his background that was
understandable, but it weakened his ability as a leader.

The fact remained that Taliena had more important things to do than
personally correct the behavior of every priest, every follower, who
misunderstood the faith. That She had sent so many priests to learn from
Elrei even when he was not of the Cloth should have made that glaringly
obvious. Priests were intended to be teachers, and a teacher who gives a
passing grade to every student without comment or critique is a poor one.
Priests were intended to be counselors, and a counselor who gives no advice
because they feel unqualified to judge is useless, though better than one
which counsels to ignore conflict in the hopes that it will disappear.

Priests were intended to be leaders. They had authority, and were
intended to wield it responsibly and confidently within the dictates of
their faith. While a sense of brotherhood and unity was to be sought, the
hierarchy still remained. The arch will not stand without the keystone,
even though the keystone is nothing more than another rock which was judged
to be the right shape.

Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Mon Aug 25 11:44:20 2014

To All Verminasia ( IMM Tashio RP Liviya )

Subject The Haunting Of Verminasia: The Ghostly Crew (Part 1)

Her eyes were growing worse.

Where once that infuriating mist only obscured faces and people, now it
marked the air itself. What was worse, it still -felt- as though there
should be people associated with it; as if those formless blurs were begging
for a shape, a name. On several occasions, she could almost place a face or
a name. Almost.

It had grown distressing enough that she had ordered her crew ashore for
leave; with a cheery voice, she had demanded that they All enjoy the city
for a while, before their next sail. She was certain that she had worn her
most convincing voice --- she was even more certain that at least a handful
didn't believe her.

Her Butterfly, for one, had been wroth to leave, wearing her tender worry on
her sleeve. It was hard to lie to her; but it would have been harder still
to tell her the truth: Her eyes were growing worse.

As she stood alone upon the Requiem's deck, surveying the old vessel, she
watched the small columns of crimson mist swirl and move, rolling across the
shift as if pushed on by some chaotic wind. She watched one column spiral
and climb up along the ship's mast, hovering near the crow's nest; another
moved back and forth again and again, slowly dancing over the boards of the

It seemed like ages since the last time she considered a cure; she had
actually grown accustomed to her accursed disability. Certain people, she
could now discern despite the mist; those closest to her, she could see even
with her back turned; small pinpricks of familiarity against a sea of the

But here, like this, with so much mist roiling without purpose or reason,
she was at a loss. Some moved close enough to brush against her, to pass
over her like a cold wave --- and in some of those banks of mist, she could
almost swear she saw faces, and partially defined bodies. But such was the
nature of mists and fogs. You could see anything, if you tried hard enough.

Almost idly, she began to unmoor the ship, seeking to place distance between
herself and the mists that plagued her vision; that made her near-blind with
crimson and gold hues. It was a struggle to raise the anchor; a chore to
draw the sails to their full height. She felt like she was suffocating, a
single thought threatening to push her over the edge with dreadful fear:

Her eyes were growing worse.

Well before she made her way to the wheel, the ship began to bump against
the side of the dock, as if the vessel herself was impatient to be gone from
here; perhaps she was. Ilimilipili fought to oblige, plunging through the
veil of mist with a grimace and a shiver. Any on the docks would certainly
think her mad, stumbling across the ship, dead- sober and in no condition to
sail. Perhaps she was going mad. Just a little.

After an eternity of struggle, she gained the sterncastle bridge.
Thankfully, the mist was thinner here; her eyes almost clear. There was
neither rhyme nor reason to it --- looking below at the deck, there was
still a seething sea of colors; here, there was but a single column of mist,
swirling about the wheel.

At first, it made little impact on her. It, like the rest, was nonsensical;
a sign of her vision receding, of her career ending. She had almost come to
accept it. Except ---

Her heart stopped, staring at the mist, tasting it. It missed a beat; then
another. She knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, what she was looking at. Who
she was looking at.

There was only one person who could catch her heart like that --- could
leave her cold as realization flooded her.

The eternally bold sea-captain crumpled to the ground, eyes never leaving
that single, short column of mist --- that spectre that she hoped no other
could see. The rage and sorrow were almost palpable; the youthful abandon
was tangible and unmistakable.

She whispered but a single word as the world faded; an apology, an
accusation, All mixed into one. A name; a torment; a benediction.

"Ryn... "

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Tue Aug 26 13:38:53 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Three)

"I have to admit." Olybrius, Vice-President of Distribution and
Logistics, remarked quietly. "I'm very impressed with the elevator. We're
climbing rapidly, but I feel no vibration or friction at all."

"Yes, I'm very satisfied with how the elevator turned out." Thimtax
replied, as he casually glanced over some documents he was holding. "I give
Crillow most of the credit. You see, I've never actually built an elevator
before. But he's built several. Nothing on this scale, of course. But his
experience was invaluable. I couldn't have done it without him."

Reaching its intended destination, the elevator cab slowed and gently
stopped with a soft -click-. The doors opened up quietly, revealing the
executive lobby, high atop the 98th floor. The board stepped out onto the
pristine, beige and navy patterned berber carpet and looked around in
amazement. A large, wraparound oaken desk sat in the middle of the lobby,
presumably for the executive secretary. To the left of the desk was a small
sitting area. Around the perimiter of the lobby were six large rosewood
doors. Each door sported a stainless steel placard bearing the names of
Ooof, Olliwac, Olybrius, Thimtax, and Illiquin. The final door showcased a
blank placard. But what truly captured the attention of the board were the
walls themselves. The entire perimiter of the lobby was sheathed in
luxurious golen oak panels floor to ceiling. It was Olybrius who spoke

"The walls. I, I can't believe what I am seeing! It looks as if it is all
one continuous peice of wood, the entire circumference of the lobby. I
don't see any seams! How is something like this possible?"

"It truly is amazing." The Chairman said, himself awed at the level of
detail involved in such an undertaking. "And being in the lumber business,
I can tell you -exactly- how it was done. If you don't mind, of course,

"Or course, Ixi. Go right ahead." The hardhat wearing gnome replied,
still flipping through the documents in his hands. "I'll stop you if you
miss something."

"Very good then." The Chairman cleared his throat and began. "You see,
the sheets of oak used for this project are what we call in the trade
"Sequence Matched by Number". Making these requires a special technique and
a special mill. For something on this grand a scale, only the largest and
widest of oak trunks would do."

"Now. First, a notch is cut and made square, lengthwise along the trunk.
The notch will be approximately one inch deep, and the width of the
sawblade. Once this is done, the sawblade will fit flat into the notch on
its side. The blade is brought to speed, and the trunk is rotated -
towards- the blade. This allows the craftsman to essentially cut sheets of
wood -around- the trunk, rather than -across- the trunk. Incidentally, this
process produces less waste, as nearly the entire trunk is cut in this

"These newly cut strips of wood are immediately cut into ten by four foot
sheets, and pressed flat and dried. Each sheet is given a designated
number, indicating the order of which it was cut. When these sheets are
layed out next to each other in the proper sequence, the grain of each sheet
will match the grains of the sheets before and after it, giving the illusion
of of a single unbroken sheet the entire length of the run."

The Chairman took a breath and continued. "Now. The only difference
between normal sequences, and our circular lobby here, is that each sheet is
cut and then formed to a specific and uniform curvature, which would cause
the run to end at the beginning. Truly magnificent!"

"The Chairman is absolutely correct. I made sure to cut out the doors and
vents myself. Didn't trust that to anyone. One bad cut, and the entire
sequence would have been ruined. Thankfully, this is one of the only places
in the tower that utilizes this process."

Writer: Ithelim

Date Tue Aug 26 15:50:17 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Tue Aug 26 15:55:19 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Tue Aug 26 16:00:26 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Tue Aug 26 16:04:49 2014

Writer: Brollo

Date Wed Aug 27 13:54:55 2014

Writer: Trina

Date Wed Aug 27 15:50:31 2014

Writer: Aratorex

Date Wed Aug 27 17:27:34 2014

To Imm Raije All Mezlak

Subject Ethos of war and humanity (II)

The centaur found himself on the southern shores of Arkania. After
following a group of pirates who came inland to pillage the southern
villages of Arkane, Aratorex was on the shore searching for their ship. The
Pirates were returning to their vessel after a successful mission upon land,
bringing back with them several young hostages who would prove either good
ransom or good eating. Aratorex being half man and half horse, moved upon
land much faster than the pirates who barely managed to shake their sealegs
for land legs. Before dusk, the Centaur had found the group of four pirates
and their two gnomish captives. Without hesitation, the Pirates began
shooting pistols at their seeker. After dodging the rounds, Aratorex
quickly disarmed the Pirates as they were reloading, hoofing one into a tree
that broke his back. The Gnomes were freed, and Aratorex escorted them back
to their village away from the badly beaten pirates who the centaur granted
mercy to, even though he was outnumbered.

Writer: Ithelim

Date Wed Aug 27 21:36:29 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Wed Aug 27 21:36:39 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Wed Aug 27 21:36:44 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Wed Aug 27 21:36:50 2014

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Aug 28 14:54:44 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Four)

The ogre in the grey pinstriped suit scrutinized the walls around him,
clearly impressed. "Iz like being inside of a tree. Ooof like. Nice

"It's absolutely amazing!" Olliwac piped up excitedly. "I've never seen
anything like this. Not even in Shalonesti!"
The elder kender paused
reflectively for a moment. "So... Can we see our offices now?"

"Hrm?" The hardhat wearing gnome grunted absent-mindedly, looking up from
his papers. "Well, that's why we're here, isn't it? Have at it!"

Immediately, the various members of the board proceeded to their respective
doors and opened them, each revealing a large, well lit office. The outer
wall of each office was little more than giant windows floor to ceiling. As
they walked in, the luxurious beige and navy carpet extended into each
office, reaching the side walls, which were sheathed in rustic maple panels.
The panels ended about chest high, giving way to smooth plaster painted in a
neutral tone, matching the carpet. Along the perimeter of the ceiling, an
ornate cross-cut crown moulding sheathed the transition to the walls. A
long series of blinds capped each windowpane, reaching All the way to the
floor, allowing the occupant to limit the amount of light in the room. Each
board member also saw their own desk and chair from their prior offices,
sitting before them. Other than that, the spacious offices were empty.

"You will notice." Thimtax called out from the lobby. "The each of the
six offices are identical, and quite spacious. I'm sure you've also
noticed, that they are quite empty, save for your desk and chair. This was
intentional. I was contracted to provide the Board ideal office space, and
I have done that. Had I catered to the wants and needs of each individual
board member, we'd never have finished on time. You are executives. You
can afford to decorate it yourself."

"It's huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge!" The elderly kender could be heard, clearly
out of breath, in All likelihood running around the confines of his new

"They really are, Thimtax." The Chairman commented, as he closed the door
with the blank placard. "A damn fine job youve done with them. But,
where's my office? Is it this one here?"

"No, that one isn't yours, Ixi." The hardhat wearing gnome answered cooly.
"That office will remain vacant until the time comes for the Board to
expand. We've also several smaller offices on the 96th and 97th floors.
But we can talk about that tomorrow. It's going to be celebration time
soon. I'm told the courtyard is being set up and decorated as we speak.
So, let us go upstairs, and I will show you gentlemen to the new boardroom."

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Fri Aug 29 14:16:10 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Five)

Reaching it's final and permanent apex, the elevator doors opened up once
again. The Board was astonished with what they saw. The vast open floor
was glad in huge, granite tiles, polished to a high sheen. These reached
out in every direction to the walls, which were nothing more than giant
panes of glass, reaching from the ceiling to about waist level, offering
those inside an unobstructed, panoramic view of the majority of the
continent. A long dividing wall stood towards the southwest of the floor,
effectively blocking off a cross-section of the floor. A large blackboard
was mounted on the wall, sitting in a stately cherrywood frame.

Directly in front of the blackboard, sat one of the three corners of the
newly installed boardroom table, surrounded by a sea of corinthian leather
bound swivel chairs, brought over from the old headquarters. Looking inside
the cutout of the table, one could plainly see an intricate mosaic depicting
the Ixi-Mart angel, 'Emmy', embedded in the floor below.

The hardhat wearing gnome looked around at the other members of the Board,
pleased with their overwhelming approval. Looking at the Chairman, he saw
much the same thing. He detected a bit of disappointment in the Chairman's
eyes. The little gnome trotted over to the corner closest to the
blackboard, and gestured to the seat in front of it.

"You seem anxious, Mr. Chairman. Why don't you take a seat, and relax a

Ixi gave a perplexed look at Thimtax's last statement. The little gnome
gave a coy wink in reply, patting the chair beside him. Geniunely curious,
the Chairman cautiously acquiesed and indeed took his seat.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Fri Aug 29 14:42:27 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Six)

"So." The hardhat gnome offered. "Boardroom turned out nice, yes?"

"It is even greater than I had ever envisioned. A penultimate work."

"Yes, yes." The gnome began to pace around a bit, hands clasped behind his
back. "And this table, hmm? Looks pretty good in here, wouldn't you

"Agreed." The Chairman offered carefully. "I've never seen its equal."

"Very good table yes." Thintax turned around to regard the Chairman
slowly. "Looks sturdy, yes? I bet it could probably take quite a

"Oh, I'm sure it could." Clearly the Chairman was feeling uneasy, as if he
were being made the butt of fun once again. He scrutinized the little
gnome, offering nothing more.

"Well? Give it a try then! Go ahead!"

The Chairman was now convinced he was being set up. Not wanting to be made
the fool again, he tried to decline.

"Um, I wouldn't want to do that to this brand new table. We just got it up
here! And, it's getting late, we should really be getting down to the

The hardhat wearing gnome interrupted him, grinning widely. "Oh, don't be
shy! Hey! I know how to get you going! We just have to make you mad!
Hey, you! Grotar says your logs aren't half as good as his!"

Ixi smirked at the gnome's manufactured insult, not so easily baited.
"Grotar never said that!"

"Hey der, Mister Chairman." Ooof chimed in from across the table. "That
Ashlen got sum gud prices!"

"Ixi, I was talking to Lunez about New Serpantol, and I think he makes a
great argument for it!"
Even the shy Olybrius had decided to jump in on
the fun.

The Chairman sighed audibly. "Do we really have to do this? Nothing could
possibly damper my spirits today, let alone get me angry."

"Hey Ixi!" The elder kender piped up from the opposite end of the
boardroom table. "Perion says your not a good arena fighter, you just get
lucky a lot!"

"That insolent WHELP!!! "

The now instantly furious Chairman slammed his fists down on the table
before them. "I'll show him! I will DESTRO- wait. What was that?"

The Chairman now noticed that everyone's gaze was focused behind him, and he
swivelled his chair around to match theirs. The section of the wall where
the blackboard was mounted, had opened up, revealing the area behind.

Writer: Kelthar

Date Sat Aug 30 14:39:38 2014

To All New_Thalos

Subject A Cat's Curiosity, Part 1

Kelthar inhaled a lungful of the thin mountain air and held it Almost as
if the was trying to determine if this was a dream. It had been a long
trek, and he had fallen down the mountain more than once already. He hadn't
even thought that it was anything diffrent from the maze-lize moutain range
to the west that he had spent time mapping. But for him, this sight was a
masterpiece. It was unexpected, awe-inspiring, and like many of his other
travels, likely dangerous.

Kelthar let out the air in a heavy laugh. "I can't believe I've found
it..." He said as he surveyed the awe inspiring landscape. "And by chance
no less!" He exclaimed. The statue was absolutely massive in size A dragon
half a mile long from nose to tail, the space beneath it's spread wings
swathed by a roiling, hypnotic fog.

For a time, he stood lost in thought. Should he help others find this place
by making a map known? Surely Pickett would love to see a statue such as
this. Kelthar pondered this as he started his descent into the valley.
Only time would tell him the answer to that question.


Kelthar was panted heavily, covered in dirt and wounds. He wasn't
paticularly surprised at his state of affairs. This almost happened quite
regularly with his adventures, except with ancient liches of unfathomable
power, ancient wizards and ogres of horrific size. But this was a first.
There had been two large blue dragons standing guard in the entrance to the
valley. Neither were paticularly happy to meet him, but that he was used
to. It was shortly after he had escaped the massive beasts that he had
noticed something was terribly wrong... It seemed the air itself wished to
protect this vale.

Writer: Ghillena

Date Sat Aug 30 19:15:36 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Sat Aug 30 21:21:31 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Sat Aug 30 21:23:40 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Sat Aug 30 21:31:39 2014

Writer: Ithelim

Date Sat Aug 30 21:34:17 2014

Writer: Corwaen

Date Sun Aug 31 13:27:10 2014

Writer: Corwaen

Date Sun Aug 31 14:29:38 2014

Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Sep 1 22:19:57 2014

To All Followers of Fatale ( Religion Imm Fatale )

Subject The Work Begins Anew

The candle burned low, its wick sputtering as the last of the wax melted
and pooled beneath it. Dawn would soon arrive and it would herald a new
day. But for now, the sky remained dark and the black moon full. The hours
had passed by as Z'Quarus sat unmoving.

The pages before him were not nearly full enough. It had been the same
since the beginning of the night. Too long had he been away from the field.
The clans had changed in more ways than he could count.

'Death requires strength in Its application. Failure is weakness, and
weakness is to be culled. Those who serve the Lord shall endure His tests,
lest they find themselves unworthy of His blessings. Those failing shall be
ground beneath the boots of fate. '

The words played in his mind as a mantra. This was his path. To seek, to
learn and to exploit failure. To turn strength to weakness. Tireless work
for unimaginable gain.

With a flick of his wrist the quill was in his hand and the pages began to
write themselves.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Tue Sep 2 15:04:15 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part Seven)

"You wanted to see your new office, didn't you?" The little gnome
quipped playfully. "Well, go on. Go take a look!"

Completely taken by surprise, the Chairman slowly rose from his corinthian
leatherbound swivel chair and walked towards the new aperture in the
dividing wall. Pulling up just short of the doorway, he turned around and
face the gnome increduluously.

"Wait a minute!" Ixi exclaimed. "Did you rig the door to-"

Thimtax sighed in feigned exasperation. "Will you just get in there

Stately granite tile gave way to plush, verdant carpet, as the Chairman
crossed the invisible threshold. The carpet extended All the way to the
outer wall, which was mostly glass, as were the boardroom and offices.
Ixi'kweez's giant cherrywood desk sat just in front of the middle of the
window array. Not far off to its right, 'Statue Ixi' stood, facing the
doorway. The tops of the window array were adorned with ornate wrought-iron
treatments, holding up thick, velveteen green drapes, which were currently
open, allowing the last of the sun's rays in. The Chairman looked out,
smiling proudly as he gazed unobstructedly upon Shalonesti and the
surrounding forest to his left, the kingdom of Althainia to his right.

Ixi turned around back towards Thimtax, who remained at the entrance. Only
now did he see that on his side, the dividing wall was sheathed in oak
panels, floor to ceiling. This array appeared to have been manufactured in
the same manner as the circular lobby, where it All looked to be one
continuous piece of wood. The only difference was that this permutation was
of the flat variety. To the left of the door, several stainless steel
cabinets stood. Several painting adorned the walls, depicting various
forest scenes from around the continent; their green overtones complementing
the remainder of the office.

The Chairman slowly returned to the entrance, looking around him every step
of the way in stunned silence. After several seconds, Ixi finally spoke.
"It's All here." A huge, proud smile grew on his face. "Everything's all
here! Everything that we had envisioned, to the last detail, and far
beyond. It's absolutely amazing! Gentleman, we are ready for business!"

"Not so fast, Mr. Chairman!" The hardhat wearing gnome interrupted. "I'm
not signing this building over, until I have completed my final walkthrough
and give it my approval. Until that's done, this building belongs to me-"

The entire party watched through the window as a single, red flare slowly
reached it apex, and slowly descended again, leaving the night sky with a
reddish hue. The hardhat wearing gnome continued.

"That's the town, signalling us from below. I guess they knew we were up
here. Word travels fast, I suppose. Let's get on down there. The
celebration is beginning, and they're expecting us."

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Tue Sep 2 23:19:06 2014

To All Imm RP

Subject A New Beginning

Cassioppia decided to leave the woods of Arkane. It had never felt like
home to her, she expected the people to be helpful and friendly but she
found the total opposite. She felt alone and a coldness deep down in her
heart. Her decision to leave was an easy one for she made no friends, had
no connections, and had no family to keep her there. She decided a new
beginning would be good for her. Stance off she searched and made her
assessment and felt the desert jewel would best fit what she was looking

Cassioppia also felt that the walk of a warrior was not her calling Lord
Nadrik was calling to her heart for better and wonderful things. She chose
her path as a priest of Nadrik and felt her choice was his will for her.

New Thalos has been very good to her and she also felt she would fit in well
with the citizens of the desert jewel. She was very happy with her
decisions and very happy with her new beginning,

Writer: Corwaen

Date Wed Sep 3 12:58:20 2014

To All Shadow IMM

Subject Change

They say there is but one constant, change.

Corwaen sat the smoky tavern room. The numbing sounds of revelry and tawdry
music the perfect background to downing your own bottle of whiskey.
Something of an old habit, resurfaced.

He had found that you never quite finish a bottle un-interupted, yet another
constant if you will. This eve was no different.

Cowled and shadowed within his robes, Corwaen kept to himself content to get
right and drunk while thinking. Yet there was surly table of three,
drinking courage until they were ready to make a bit of silver roughing up a
simple traveller, Corwaen.

"Get up, and hand o'er wots be in yer pockets old man"

Without looking up Corwaen responded, "This no' bae th' foight yue think it
is, and it certainlae ain't th' foight yue want lads."

"Oh it tis, and it bae" said their now confident leader.

Corwaen set down the half filled glass and rose to his feet. At that
particular moment his heavy robes parted slightly revealing the chainmail
beneath, "well then, ye've waited long enough... Let's git started?"

Writer: Penda

Date Wed Sep 3 18:25:26 2014

Writer: Drew

Date Sat Sep 6 08:04:13 2014

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Sun Sep 7 09:35:54 2014

To All Imm RP

Subject Unexpected Changes

Cassioppia walked through the garden her mind wandering. She was feeling
unexpected feelings she had never felt before in her life for she had walked
alone for the majority of it. He had become the subject of All her dreams
when she could sleep and just about every thought in her waking moments when
she wasn't meditating or praying.

Their first meeting was so sweet and romantic that it was engraved in her
heart. She even asked advice from her friend who said she was falling for
him to reassure her that her feelings were true. Sheath did not trust her
own judgment because she never knew love before in her lifetime.

Cassioppia decided to see where her heart would lead her and trust in him
with All her heart.

Writer: Tarithan

Date Sun Sep 7 18:33:14 2014

Writer: Tarithan

Date Sun Sep 7 19:59:32 2014

Writer: Brawnwyn

Date Sun Sep 7 21:32:56 2014

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Mon Sep 8 13:12:35 2014

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Mon Sep 8 20:07:41 2014

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Mon Sep 8 20:18:59 2014

Writer: Nimesa

Date Tue Sep 9 07:11:15 2014

Writer: Rhaxx

Date Tue Sep 9 13:04:27 2014

Writer: Tyrinx

Date Tue Sep 9 15:28:38 2014

Writer: Tyrinx

Date Tue Sep 9 15:56:38 2014

Writer: Tyrinx

Date Tue Sep 9 16:03:44 2014

Writer: Laiton

Date Tue Sep 9 17:03:30 2014

Writer: Drew

Date Wed Sep 10 00:16:57 2014

Writer: Bauk

Date Wed Sep 10 09:09:22 2014

To All Conclave New_Thalos Imm RP

Subject The Early years, a long road.

Bauk wasn't sure what this new life, new road would bring to him. He
spent his early years in bondage, enslaved, knowing there had to be better
for him. That part of his life was hard to speak about for Bauk, he'd never
had family and always felt alone. When he did finally escape his bonds and
find the road, he was again alone. In truth, when he did finally find his
biological father and a new home in New Thalos, the people were wonderful to
him, and he called it home, it was the closest thing he knew he'd ever find
to such a thing, but he'd always felt alone. That is until the moment he
met Cala. Cala was a bruteish female ogre, what female ogre wasn't a bit of
a brute? She was the only one Bauk had ever let put him in his place, tell
him what to do without some sort of fight - without wanting to get away
(though sometimes he does sneak away for his own peace of mind!) But for
Bauk, even more than New Thalos, Cala was his home.

Now, not entirely alone, he needed a profession if he was to make it in the
harsh world around him. Being no brainiac, magic was out of the question,
besides he was a little intimidated by magic and didn't trust it, though
he'd never admit any fears openly... His size left little room for thoughts
of being of a nimble trade such as an assassin - unless he could complete
his kill with the target seeing him coming from far away! No, what Bauk had
going for him was that he had spent his whole life battling. Battling to
get free, battling to stay alive, defending himself on the road to his new
home. Using his strength and size to intimidate and win his daily battles.

His father was a mighty ogre warrior, an armsman, trained in combat in every
weapon Bauk had ever seen and so it was no surprise that Bauk too took
quickly to the art of wielding weapons, both large and small. A lack of
book smarts held no influence on Bauk's skill with weapons. He found he
learned fast the mastery of many weapons and quickly choose his favorites.
He trained hard as an Armsman with a master and after lots of hard,
relentless effort and work, reached the pinacle of what the guilds could
teach him.

With his new skills/profession, a new wife, a new home... It was time to
find his place in the world.

Writer: Bauk

Date Wed Sep 10 10:02:54 2014

Writer: Cala

Date Wed Sep 10 11:54:37 2014

To All Bauk Conclave Imm RP

Subject And So it Began

Cala remembered the day she first saw Bauk. He was as strong and big as
any other ogre but he was different. He was battle scarred and looking a
little worse for wear.

She saw him as he made his way to the community fountain in New Thalos. He
saw her looking at him and nodded cautiously, looking like he knew her from
somewhere but couldn't figure out where.

Cala noticed some fresh wounds on his arms and legs, and offered him some
healing. He grew quite suspicious of her and backed away, muttering
something about staying away from magic. Getting irritated, she showed him
herbs and cloths that she used, saying it wasn't magic. Everything she used
c came from stuff she found and mixed up. Grudgingly, he finally let her
use her shaman ways on him.

Eventually, from that uneasy start, an uneasy friendship grew between them.
Sometimes hunting together, other times just arguing until he stomped off to
let out his frustrations out on something else. She wasn't going to let him
push her around, she stood up to him.

The relationship grew into a mutual respect (still with lots of arguing) and
odd pairing, but the pairing seemed to work out for both of them. She
admired his work with weapons, he still disliked her healing even if it was
for his own good and felt better after.

The best times were when they fought together, came home to the cave they
shared, and she could heal the two of them, gloating over their victories
and grumbling about their defeats. It was a good partnership.

Writer: Cala

Date Wed Sep 10 12:29:01 2014

Writer: Bauk

Date Wed Sep 10 14:59:04 2014

Writer: Laiton

Date Wed Sep 10 17:09:10 2014

Writer: Nimesa

Date Wed Sep 10 18:31:40 2014

Writer: Ayzrael

Date Wed Sep 10 18:53:09 2014

Writer: Rhaxx

Date Thu Sep 11 13:31:52 2014

To Nixx Conclave All Nimesa Laiton Amex Drakkara

Subject Pocket Pixie, Scourge of Algoron

"Wait for it... Wait for it... , " Rhaxx said to his small party.

A tiny strike force of five had infiltrated the entirety of Citadel Keep.
Armed with wands, staves, spells, and their wits, the lot of them attempted
to do what most fighters did with larger groups.

"Fine, " Nixx said impatiently. The rest quietly began whittling away the
at the awsome Lord of the Citadel. Waves of maladictions flowed from the
artists' hands.

A Bloodlust defender entered into the room, screaming to shock the siege

Nixx and Nimesa turned their focus upon the defender. He screamed for a
different reason then.

Writer: Nimesa

Date Thu Sep 11 18:15:56 2014

Writer: Amex

Date Thu Sep 11 20:33:01 2014

Writer: Atarvarno

Date Thu Sep 11 22:44:28 2014

Writer: Rhaxx

Date Fri Sep 12 11:11:29 2014

Writer: Rhaxx

Date Fri Sep 12 11:25:37 2014

Writer: Amex

Date Fri Sep 12 11:27:06 2014

Writer: Amex

Date Fri Sep 12 11:32:55 2014

To to All (Imm)

Subject Fw: The missing link.

| -----Original Message-----
| From: Amex
| To: Nimesa Rhaxx Conclave
| Subject: The missing link.
| Date: Fri Sep 12 11:27:06 2014

Amex watched as yet another would be victim ran away at the very last
second before death with a sigh.

"We need someone to hold the enemies we cannot hold down with our spells,
someone to knock them down so I can show them my favorite spell.
" Grinning
to himself he turned and disappeared without a sound.

When he returned to the tower there was the ogre Rhaxx and his pocket pixie,
Nimesa. The ogres size set gathered Amex's attention and he began to think.
Rhaxx is big, I bet he could do it.

Writer: Amex

Date Fri Sep 12 11:41:37 2014

To All Cherion Jorach Conclave (Drakkara Imm)

Subject All magic is precious.

Having set for on a journey of knowledge the Archmagus mulled over the
question he had asked the centaur Cheiron. Now he knew more but not enough
to call himself an expert and he had yet to find anyone with information on
the magic of song perhaps another look into its power was needed.

Song would have to wait the powers of nature were beginning to show
themselves and they were indeed interesting, Amex sat in a familure black
leather arm chain within the library and pulled out a filled with black
pacrchment titled "All magic is precious" and began writing

Writer: Nimesa

Date Fri Sep 12 11:45:45 2014

Writer: Nimesa

Date Fri Sep 12 12:13:50 2014

Writer: Nimesa

Date Fri Sep 12 19:14:13 2014

Writer: Rhaxx

Date Fri Sep 12 20:15:21 2014

To Bauk Nimesa Conclave Drakkara All Sebatis

Subject The Camp and The Bindstone

Nimesa kicked a rock with a huff, "Where IS everybody?! "

Rhaxx and Bauk waved their respective arms, buzzing away the undetectable
pixie, almost out of habit.

"She always like this? " Bauk grunted. "No, sometimes she also melt your
armor, burn your eyebrows, and toast hair,
" Rhaxx said, gently grasping the
bald spot on his head.

"Let's just hope we..... Ah, ha! " Nimesa exclaimed just as troops marched
in from Justice.

After the battles, Nimesa stood alone on the Dark Path. Blood everywhere.

Writer: Cheiron

Date Sat Sep 13 11:29:25 2014

Writer: Gurfing

Date Sat Sep 13 16:06:00 2014

Writer: Nathalos

Date Sat Sep 13 16:13:39 2014

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Sat Sep 13 19:23:53 2014

To All New_Thalos Imm RP Austinian

Subject Finding Her Heritage

Cassioppia slowly walked the long trail to the Highlands indecision in
her mind. Should she search? Do they deserve me time in even taking te
time te even search fer them?
She thought. They chose te leave me not I
She continued her walk her steps slowing as she went on.

Cassioppia sighed as she continued on passing a mountain goat along the way
and sadly smiling at the things she missed by never being raised in a land
she barely remembered. Her life in the forests was cruel and hard, she was
still surprised at how she had turned out with the life she had lived.
Sheath continued until she finally reached the registrars office. She was
afraid to walk in yet feared not enteringthis was the day she would face her
worst fears and her source of rage.

It took her two hours standing in the cold wind in with just her priestly
robe protecting her. No sooner did she walk in the door the head registrar,
a frail looking older lady, turned to face her a look of shock coming across
the ladies face. Analisa? Me thoughts ye perished ten yers ago.
Cassioppia looked at the lady in shock Pass... Passed away? She said
sadly. The lady took her glasses off and took a closer look at Cassioppia.
My word child, ye art te spitten image of yer mama. Ye art so beautiful.

Cassioppia could only stand back and look at the lady, she knew who she was
but Cassioppia didn't remember her at all. And me father? She asked the
lady not truly wanting to know his fate. The lady turned around and bent
down to reach for some old archives. Cassioppia couldn't tell how long the
lady was down there for when she entered the office she felt as if the world
stopped. After what seemed forever the lady pulled out a parchment and
handed it to Cassioppia and said I art truly sorry child, when te bout of
influenza tore through te lands many ran but died in their travels, others
died here in te Highlands and yer parents were amongst these.

Cassioppia was stunned. Not knowing how to react she took the parchment put
it in her hoard, Thanked the lady, gave her some blues, and walked out.

Cassioppia made it back to the garden where she cried alone.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:21:36 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part One)

A resounding cheer erupted from the lobby of the Ixi-Mart Tower, as the
elevator doors slowly parted, revealing the Board members inside. The
Chairman exited the cab briskly, and strode through a corridor of friends,
employees, and citizens of Mart-Town. Blushing from the unanticipated
attention, he made his way through the lobby towards the tower entrance, his
Board in tow. From what he could see from his perspective, it seemed as if
every single person in the town was waiting in the courtyard. Though the
sun had All but set for the evening, Ixi could see that the courtyard
outside was ablaze in fires and colored lights.

"You weren't kidding when you said the town was planning a celebration."
Ixi exclaimed, leaning down to regard the hardhat wearing gnome scurrying
along next to him. "I wasn't expecting anything on this scale."

"No, and I won't lie. I wasn't really expecting All of this either. This
-is- a rather big occasion, I suppose."

Shouts began from the anxious crowd waiting outside.

"Hey! There they are!"

"There's Ixi! And Thimtax! They're All here!"

"Yay! Now we can start the celebration!"

Finally reaching the entrance to the tower, the crowd outside broke into a
huge wave of applause and cheers. The six Board members through the
entrance and stopped their forward path, as they gazed around themselves,
taking in the scene, All the while, waving and thanking the crowd around

The people of Mart-Town had pulled out All the stops for the evening's
festivities. For as far as the eye could see, the courtyard was lit
brightly by a myriad of torches, colored paper lanterns, and cooking fires.
Multi-colored paper streamers were criss-crossed haphazardly overhead,
strung from trees, makeshift canopies, and even the tower itself. Scattered
about were a plethora of meats, roasting and grilling upon roaring
spitfires. Each of these fires were ringed by several tables, heavily laden
with All manner of food and drink. Several more tables littered the
courtyard, many of which were already full of happy guests enjoying the
night's festivities.

The scene, however, stretched far beyond the cooking and dining experience.
Minstrels could be seen and heard, working their way through the crowd,
impressing them with their craft. Frenzied children and kender alike raced
in between party-goers, many of which were holding brightly colored
balloons. The Chairman and the Board were truly blown away by the lengths
the town had gone through.

A retinue of party-goers ushered Ixi and the Board to what could be seen in
the torchlight as a very long, mahogany table. As they closed the distance,
it was apparent that this was in fact the original boardroom table, brought
here from the old headquarters for use one last time. The Board members
elatedly took their respective seats at the table, with Ixi at the head.
Several people rapidly approached and loaded the table with the finest food
and wine, and the group settled in and joined in the celebration.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:25:02 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Two)

The red and white moons rose high in the sky, as the celebration marched
on into the late evening hours. Feasting turned to dancing, and the
minstrels converged near the boardroom table, playing several lively epics
of times past. It was clear that some, board members included, were also
enjoying their fair share of wine.

A booming shout rang out from the crowd. "We want to hear from the
As a result, several similar cries rang out.

"Speech! SPEECH!!"

"Yuh! We wunt ter hear from der Chairman!" Ooof yelled while dancing
wildly, onlookers giving him a wide berth.

The celebration quickly ground to a halt as cook, musician, and party-goer
alike quieted down and approached the boardroom table, looking at Ixi'kweez
expectantly. The Chairman blushed furiously. It had not dawned on him that
he would be called on to speak to the town. When he woke up this morning,
he wasn't even aware that a celebration had been planned. It was not often
that the Chairman found himself at a loss for words. Thankfully, after
taking a few seconds to assess the situation, Ixi realized that he didn't
really have to say much at all. He took a deep breath and rose to his feet.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. First off, I want to thank you all,
for making this day such a momentous one. Myself and the Board are truly
blessed to have such amazing support from you all. We are forever in your

"But I, personally, can only accept so much of the credit for what has
happened here over the past year. I saw but a need, and had but an idea so
abstract, I could not even put it to paper. The stark reality is, if it
weren't for Vice-President Thimtax, that idea would still be but a picture
in my mind. Without his knowledge and skills, none of this would have been
possible. I think he's the one that should be speaking this evening, and
now, old friend, I invite you to do just that. Get up here, Thimtax.
You've more than earned it."

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:32:23 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Three)

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once again as Thimtax removed
his hardhat and slowly climbed onto the surface of the boardroom table,
calmly greeting the crowd. Allowing a moment for the clamor to die down
once again, he spoke with confidence and composure.

"First off, thank you All for the absolutely wonderful celebration you have
planned, in comemmoration of the completion of the new Ixi-Mart Tower. This
has been an amazing journey for me, and I am forever grateful that I had the
opportunity to take part in it."

"I would like to take a moment to extend special thanks to the workers who
have come in here, day in and day out, working All sorts of crazy schedules
for months on end. This was arguably one of the largest architectual
projects Algoron has ever witnessed. And without the workers' strength and
perseverance, none of this would have come to fruition."

"I would also like to give my thanks to Chairman Ixi'kweez and the Executive
Board. An undertaking such as this one required unprecedented financial and
logistical support. Without such, we would be nowhere near complete at this

"But most importantly," Thimtax continued, slowly looking about him at the
masses before him, the mighty tower looming in the background. "Most
importantly, I want to thank each and every one of you. You see, I am but a
craftsman. My job is to produce. I was contracted to erect a tower.
Granted, that tower is now the tallest free standing object on the face of
Algoron. But a tower is but a building. It fulfills a function."

"But much more than that has happened here, hasn't it? Tonight serves well
to illustrate, that more than a simple building was erected here. Look
around you. An entire town, with its own society, is here now, yes? A town
that supports it's company, and a company that supports its town. I'd be
shocked if any of you could name a similar place."

"No, my friends." Thimtax smiled warmly as the crowd listened to his words
in rapt attention. "No, this place is much more than a tower now. The guts
of the town may lie within the tower walls, but its heart! It's heart is
found within each and every one of you. -You- are what makes this place
special and unique. And I will never be able to thank you enough for being
able to take even a slight part in it."

"Now." The little gnome reached down and grabbed his little hardhat,
placing it atop his head. "My work isn't quite finished yet. I've my final
walkthrough to perform, and then I will sign the documents needed to turn
control of the Ixi-Mart Tower back over to the Board. Thank you All once
again. I am forever blessed. I expect you All in here on time tomorrow
morning. We've got a lot of work to do!"

The largest cheers of the night exploded from the crowd as the hardhat
wearing gnome hopped down from the table. He shook the hand of each member
of the Board, and hurriedly made his way back into the Tower to complete his
walkthrough, amidst a sea of praise and cheering.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:37:51 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Four)

"Excuse me, Sir."

The still inebriated Olliwac slowly opened his eyes. After several seconds,
they were finally able to focus on the figure looking back at him.

"Excuse me, Vice-President Olliwac." The quiet man in coveralls asked once
again. "But the celebration is over. Almost everyone has left. I'm with
the cleanup crew. Our job is to restore the courtyard back to pristine
condition before the tower opens for business this morning."

The elderly kender stretched his arms and slowly rose back to a full sitting
position. "Hrm. Ohhh, riiiight. It's time to go home and sleep it off."
Olliwac reached to a bowl of peanuts sitting on the table in front of him,
and turned to his drinking partner, who was still unconscious.

"HEY!" Olliwac yelled, flicking a peanut at Ooof's head. "Hey! Wake up!
We gotta go!"

The ogre in the grey pinstriped suit tossed in his overburdened chair, but
refused to open his eyes. "Mmrmmm... Ooof hammered. Go away. Ooof sleepz

"We can't stay here!" The kender slurred. "The cleanup crew's here tryin
to work! Move your fat ass!"
Olliwac grabbed another peanut and flicked
it at the ogre's forehead.

"Nut fatassss!" Finally, Ooof opened his eyes, slowly focusing on the
antagonizing kender. "Go away, bug! Mez smmush yerr face!"

Olliwac laughed sarcastically. "I may be old, but I'll be damned if the
likes of -you- could ever catch -me-!"
With that, another peanut smacked
the ogre right between the eyes.

Ooof unsteadily rose to his feet, grinning menacingly at the inflammatory
kender. "Ooof nut smush yuz... Kender old. Break hipz. Ner, I stringz
you up from der tower! Leave you for Ixi to find termorrow!"

"You ain't stringin up -nothin-!" A handful of peanuts left the kender's
hand, showering the staggering Ooof full in the face. The ogre in the grey
pinstriped suited grinned and bellowed out a war cry, and the elderly kender
was off, Ooof in hot pursuit. Olliwac quickly bounded onto a nearby picnic

"NUT FATASSSS!!" The impudent kender roared mockingly, offering his best
ogre imitation.

"Hur hur, mez got yuz now!" With that, the ogre dove at the table, just in
time to see the surprisingly nimble kender jump out of the way. The ogre in
the grey pinstriped suit crashed through the table, which promptly collapsed
under his massive bulk.

"Come on! Is that the best you can do?" Olliwac chided from feet away.
"Admit it! You can't catch me! Then we can go home and sleep it off!"

The drunken ogre staggered to his feet, grinning widely. He dusted the
debris from his suit and turned to face the kender. "Ooof jus gettin
started! C'mere you!!"

The man with the cleanup crew sighed, as he watched ogre and kender racing
off towards Gate 'A', and back into town, leaving a path of broken chairs
and tables in their wake. He shouted out across the courtyard, to noone in

"Hey! Can I get a little help over here?"

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:48:07 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Five)

The Chairman meandered aimlessly around the perimeter of his office in
the old headquarters building early the next morning, absent-mindedly
running his fingertips over the old, plastered surface of the walls as he
went. Like the remainder of the tired, old building, his office was All but
empty; his desk, chair, and important documents All having been transferred
to the top of the tower. What had in the past seemed small and cramped to
the Chairman, now appeared large and quite barren.

It had never occurred to Ixi'kweez that he would be upset by this. A wave
of nostalgia came over him, overwhelming the excitement he had for the grand
opening of the tower. For decades upon decades, the Chairman had lovingly
operated and grown his company here, which was in the beginning, little more
than a single storefront. Memory after memory flashed in Ixi's mind. The
meetings. The numbers. The speeches to shareholders. And now, the
building that made such an expansion possible, was little more than a
decaying husk. It had never even dawned upon the Chairman, to consider what
would become of the old headquarters. Perhaps after the excitement of the
new tower settled down, he and Thimtax could evaluate whether the old
building was at All salvagable.


The Chairman suddenly awoke from his musing, hearing the cry from what
seemed to be somewhat far away, though in the building. It took next to no
time at all, for him to ascertain that it was indeed Ooof's voice, and it
was closing the distance rapidly.

"Ixiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!! IXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!"


Ixi jumped back reflexively as the ogre in the grey pinstriped crashed clean
through his office door, knocking it off of its hinges. Ooof wheezed
violently in a vain attempt to catch his breath. He was hunched over,
placing his hands on his knees for support. His skin was deathly pale, and
he had horrified look in his eyes.

"What in the blue abyss?!" The Chairman exclaimed, completely taken back
the the situation. "What on earth could possibly have gotten you so

"Hee---- heee------" Ooof gasped out desperately, still unable to catch his
breath. He raised one hand from his knee and gestured the Chairman to
follow urgently.

"Please, old friend!" Ixi pleaded with the upset ogre. "I need you to
calm down, and tell me what the problem is."

The frantic ogre stood up straight, shaking his head violently from side to
side. Unwilling to waste another second, he grabbed the Chairman by the
wrist and dragged him bodily from his office.

"Ner... Ner time. Letz go! Ooof explain on the way!"

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:54:53 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Six)

The elevator doors had barely parted when Ixi burst through the cab into
the boardroom. Without a moment's hesitation, he and Ooof strode quickly to
the boardroom table, where Olliwac, Olybrius, and Thimtax were grouped. He
immediately focused on the lifeless gnome seated opposite of the Chairman's
seat. Ixi slowly reached out his hand and moved Thimtax's hair away from
his face, and promptly stepped back in disbelief.

The little gnome was no more; his little head resting face down on the
table, his little hardhat sitting up ended on the floor below. The faint
trickle of blood from his little ears suggested a brain hemmorage. In all
likelihood, Thimtax had never felt a thing. In his little hand, a feather
quill still rested. There was a single document lying on the table in front
of him. Ixi'kweez reached for the paper and inspected it. This was the
final document, giving complete control of the newly finished tower back
into the hands of Ixi-Mart. His little signature adorned the bottom line of
the page.

The tower was officially theirs, and Thimtax was gone.

For several moments, the board did not speak a word. Most were in tears,
save for the Chairman, clearly still in a state of shock, the enormity of
the event not yet sunk in. The silence was broken by a raspy, high-pitched
voice shouting from behind them.

"Out of my way!" The elderly gnome yelled. "Let me through! I want to
see him!"

The elderly Illiquin, Vice-President of Accounting, pushed his way though
the surrounding board members. Slowly, he climbed onto the chair next to
Thimtax and onto the boardroom table itself. Kneeling down directly in
front of the body, Illiquin grabbed its head by the hair and pulled it
upright. The elderly gnome's eyes went wide with amazement. He turned
Thimtax's head for the rest of the board to see. On Thimtax's forehead,
just below his hairline, was a small representation of two crossed hammers,
the mark of Cliath. Satisfied that All had seen the mark, Illiquin
unceremoniously released his hold on the dead gnome's hair, letting his head
fall back to the table with a ingominious thud. He then addressed those
before him, a look of incredulity in his eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" Illiquin's question went
unanswered, as the others looked at the elderly gnome in utter shock. "Why
are you crying? Don't you see what has happened? Did you not see the mark?
Don't you -dare- cry for him!"

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 01:59:07 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Seven)

The board gaped at Illiquin, dumbfounded by his seemingly callous words.
Unfazed, the gnome rose to his feet, maintaining his look of indignation as
he met the shocked gaze of the Board. He took a deep breath, and continued
speaking in a fevered tone.

"Every gnome that has ever been or will ever be, has what the gnomes call a
'Lifequest'; an inherent masterpiece within each and every one of us. Noone
is told what their particular Lifequest is. The only way discover it, is to
trust in yourself and your experiences to point you in the right direction.
If the Lifequest is indeed discovered, and that Lifequest is completed to
Cliath's satisfaction, He will take that soul, and said soul will dwell with
Cliath for eternity."

"You All saw the mark! You saw Thimtax's signature on the final documents!
There can be no question. He did it! He -actually- did it! This tower was
his Lifequest, and he -knew- it!"

Illiquin watched the blank, astounded stares of the Board members in front
of him. More energized now than ever, he continued.

"Do you not see the gravity of what I've just told you!? He fulfilled his
Lifequest! It has been centuries since the last instance was documented!
I've gone my whole damn life without so much as an inkling of what my
Lifequest is!"

"Oh, sure. We gnomes are no strangers to architectural marvels. Noone can
deny that. This tower is but one. But look around you! The tower is but
part of what he created here. He created jobs! He created an entire town,
and made sure the needs of everyone in it were met! And most importantly,
he created hope! Hope for you, for me, and for everyone who passes through
those outer gates and enters this place!"

"He had the love of hundereds! He got to ride a dragon! He's taken us to
places that we had never thought possible! And he did it -all- in but a
single year! Noone in this room will ever do more in our entire lives!"

The elderly gnome halted his tirade abruptly. As true as his words were, he
was no longer able to hold back the gutwrenching emotions within him. He
dropped to his knees once again and threw his arms around the lifeless body
of Thimtax, sobbing.

"Don't... Don't you dare... Cry for him..."

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 02:03:42 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Eight)

The Chairman had not spoken a single word, nor shed a single tear, since
he entered the boardroom moments ago. He was in a state of utter shock.
Thimtax had been a part of Ixi-Mart, as well as a trusted, dear friend, for
decades. He felt like a part of him had just died, and in a way, it had.
But he had to remain strong. He was the Chairman. However, he felt his
resolve wavering, and attempted to excuse himself.

"I.. I need a moment, please." Ixi slowly made his way to the dividing
wall and the blackboard. He pressed against the panel softly, but it did
not budge. A second, stronger attempt yielded the same results. He traced
his fingers across the wall, seeking a secret catch or fingerhold. He found
none. A flash of anger overcame the Chairman.


Noone dared utter a response, and the Chairman sighed, lowering his head.
He slowly turned around and made his way to his seat at the boardroom table.
Keeping his gaze to the floor, he spoke once more.

"God damn you, old friend." The Chairman half-heartedly pounded on the
table before him, and he heard the secret panel release from the dividing
wall behind him. He slowly turned around and trudged soundlessly to his
office. He was overwhelmed by what he saw inside.

No longer did 'Statue Ixi' stand vigilantly to the right of the Chairman's
desk. No longer did he wink impishly at onlookers, showcasing a dreadwood
log and the light-hearted thumbs-up. In its place, now stood a perfect
representation of Thimtax. He stood on a granite pedestal. He wore a
hardhat on his head. He smiled happily, holding a hammer in his left hand,
and waving to onlookers with his right. The pedestal on which he stood,
bore the inscription, "We've got a lot of work to do!"

The Chairman dropped to his knees at the threshold of his office and openly

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 02:11:41 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Celebration and Loss" (Part Nine)

The Chairman emerged from his office not thirty minutes later, once he
felt he was able to maintain his composure. He walked over to the boardroom
table where everyone was still amassed. He was relieved to see the other
board members were slowly regaining their composure as well. It was
Illiquin who spoke first.

"I've already contacted Gahboom, and told them of what happened. A
delegation will arrive here via portal any moment now. They will document
this event, and take his body home with them in triumph. We must respect

"They'll.. Take him?" The Chairman repeated, taken aback by how swiftly
events were unfolding. "But he-"

Just then, a bright flash of light burst forth from near the elevator, and
the very air tore asunder, revealing a small, dimensional portal, which
slowly grew in size. Reaching it's maximum, a total of four gnomes exited
the portal, and hastily made their way towards the Board. The lead gnome
introduced himself briefly and efficiently.

"Greetings. I am Livvix, Comptroller of the Department of Divine Occurances
and Unexplained Phenomena, and these are my subordinates. On behalf of
Gahboom, we would like to extend our deepest condolences for your loss.
Thimtax was a well respected individual, and will be sorely missed."

It was Illiquin who answered first. "Greetings, Comptroller. I am
Illiquin, Vice-President of Accounting for Ixi-Mart. Thimtax's sudden death
has had a profound effect on us all, but knowing that he will be granted a
triumph for his deeds makes All of this just a little less sorrowful."

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Livvix interrupted. "We can't just assume this was the
work of Cliath! Perhaps he had an anyeurism, or a stroke. This could well
be coincidental. We've months of testing before us before we can make a
determination like tha-"

The elderly gnome reached in front of him and raised the head of Thimtax
once again, turning it so the delegation could see the mark of Cliath. He
glared at Livvix impatiently.

"Good gods! That's-" the Comptroller halted his words and quietly conferred
with his associates for a moment. He then returned his gaze to Illiquin and
the Board. "Okay, so we're going to take him home in triumph. Murvin,
prepare the portal, please."

"Not so fast!" Ixi'kweez snapped at the gnome. "You're not taking him
anywhere just yet!"

Livvix raised his little head to meet the Chairman's gaze, giving no reply.
Ixi took that as a sign to continue.

"You can't just waltz in here and take him away like that. I understand you
are simply doing your job, but you need to understand just how important
Thimtax is to us and this town as well. One year ago, this place was
nothing more than an undeveloped plain. Because of him, an entire town has
blossomed. And the people of this town will be heartbroken over his
passing. Gahboom will have its triumph, but not until Mart-Town has

Livvix gazed shrewdly at the Chairman. Sensing the seriousness of Ixi's
tone, he decided not to press the issue. Relieved, the Chairman spoke once
again. "Alright, good. Olliwac, head on down and gather the people.
Inform them of what has happened. In an hour's time, the Board, along with
the gnomish delegation, will bring Thimtax from the lobby, through the
courtyard, and down Dented Steel Neckguard Boulevard. Once we're past the
town limits, I will personally raise the portal back to Gahboom. But for
now, it is time for Mart-Town to see their hero, one last time."

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Sep 14 03:41:51 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part One)

"Mister Crillow is here, as per your request, Chairman." Hyaku'cho
spoke softly as herself and Crillow crested the stairwell from the lobby

"Thank you, Hyaku'cho." Ixi'kweez replied graciously. "That is All for
now." With that, the young Shalonesti elf lady turned on her heel and
returned down the stairs to her station in the executive lobby.

"Mr. Crillow. Please. Have a seat."

The burly man offered a polite nod and walked over to the boardroom table,
choosing the seat closest to him. He sat down and removed his glasses,
wiping them with a white, silken cloth. The Chairman continued.

"Crillow, I'll be brief. It's been several weeks since Thimtax's passing,
and we All miss him dearly. But, Ixi-Mart needs someone who can take over
his duties as Vice-President of Production. Thimtax had lauded your skill
and aptitude on many occassions. That's as good of a reference as I need to
hear. I would like to offer you the position."

"Me?" Crillow responded in surprise.

"Well, why not you?"

Crillow's expression turned somber. "Well, for one, I'm going blind. I
doubt I'll be able to see at All in a few years."

The members of the board exchanged glances across the table, but refocused
on the Chairman as he continued.

"I understand that, Crillow. Thimtax was quite frank about that. But
here's the thing. I don't need you down there, making things and
micro-managing. I need you up here, keeping the production department
running smoothly. I need your input, your feedback, your recommendations,
and your ideas. Your expertise would be invaluable."

Crillow considered the Chairman's words carefully, but had yet to offer a
response. Always the salesman, Ixi'kweez pressed on.

"I hear Momoko is considering opening a little restaurant in the undeveloped
quarter. Vice-President money could make that dream a reality real quick."
Still receiving no reply from Crillow, he folded his hands and laid them on
the boardroom table before him. "Look, Crillow. I get it. You've spent
your life laboring and toiling around the world, and now you've found
yourself a wonderful wife and daughter. You'd like to be able to slow down.
And you deserve to do that. And, you'll be able to do that up here with us.
I can continue to search for an adequate replacement if you wish, and you
could preside on an interim basis."

Crillow glanced around the table, seeing everyone's eyes focused on him. He
had not expected this when he was called up here. And he would have never
expected to be offered an opportunity like this. And the ability to give
Momoko the money she needed to start up her restaurant. The burly man had
little choice but to accept.

"Okay. I accept your offer. Thank you for this opportunity."

"Excellent! I'll have Hyaku'cho show you to your new office. Welcome

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Sun Sep 14 10:24:52 2014

Writer: J'zinea

Date Mon Sep 15 21:09:01 2014

Writer: Zedryk

Date Tue Sep 16 07:35:39 2014

To All Conclave Wargar Slayers Sebatis Imm RP

Subject The road less traveled. Part I

It was there! Like a perfect gem in the heavens. The red moon was full
and in high sanction. Zedryk loved to stare at it for hours on end during
his meditations. On this day in particular he was traveling on the merchant
ship Sygzani on a course to Arkania to complete a small errand for the high
priest of Althainia. He had lost count of how many times he had ridden this
ship with the same heading to complete practically the same errand. The
world was such an interesting place with so much to see and do, and he did
not enjoy the fact that until he could cast the greater transportation
spells he, Zedryk, would have to continue to be grunted at by the crew of
the sygzani. He was anxious to commence his self-appointed mission. He
would spread the word of Sebatis and do his best to aid those who already
followed his God. He remembered the day that he proclaimed his lonership to
the world and smiled to himself at how far he had come. He took a moment to
reflect on how few people chose the life of a loner. For him it had been
relatively pleasant so far. He had made some friends. A couple of hill
dwarves like himself who called themselves the GemSeekers. He was proud to
call himself a GemSeeker as well. As he scratched his beard he wondered,
not for the first time, where the temples to Sebatis were located. He had
come across temples to many of the other Gods during his travels, but had
not yet been able to find one for his patron. "Thar's got ta bae one out
thar somewhere! Perhaps in some hidden place on Algoron not frequented."
As the crew began to dock the ship he gathered his belongings, lowered his
head in a quick prayer to Sebatis, and disembarked the ship feeling
invigorated. He began to make his way along the northwestern coast of
Arkania towards the enormous tree along the north coast of the continent.
All the while he gazed up at the red moon in its most exultant phase. "Oh
yes. Ah bae uh GemSeeker indeed." He stepped off the shore and coughed on
a mouthful of salty ocean water. Spluttering and floundering in a less than
dignified manner he climbed back onto the shore soaked to his bones. Blast
ye Sebatis ah was tryin tah keep mah eyes on tha prize. Yer moon bedazzels
mah mortal sight. And now mah new clothes bae drenched and stinkin o sea
water." He arrived at the great tree and began to climb the trunk easily.
He found the missing emerald, but rather than scooping it up and running
back to the high priest he sat down next to it and spent the remainder of
the night enjoying the sight of the red moon while he wrung out his new
robes of gossamer.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Tue Sep 16 21:36:20 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part Two)

Momiji's feet dangled above the floor as she sat atop a desk within the
Department of Marketing, Advertising, and Promotions, high atop the 22nd
floor of the Ixi-Mart Tower. She regarded the highly animated kender with
an expression somewhere between amusement and skepticism, as he gestured
wildly towards the wooden easel standing next to him. Standing atop the
easel were several large sheets of white paper, bearing several haphazardly
drawn diagrams and illustrations.

Olliwac waved a black crayon madly in his right hand as he spoke. "So. Ixi
wants more people in the stores. So we need to come up with some type of
promotion to make that happen. Here's one idea. We gather up thousands of
cedar logs. Then, we hire a bunch of wizards to cast a tornado spell, and
send them flying All over the world to potential customers! Then, everyone
gets free samples and see how great our products are!"

The elderly kender was disappointed as the little almond-eyed girl quirked
an eyebrow at him. "No, huh? Alright. Then how about this?" Olliwac
quickly pulled down the front sheet of paper from the easal, leaving it lie
on the floor. He pointed to the newly revealed sheet, showing what looked
to be a crudely drawn representation of a flight of dragons.

"Alright. We make a -million- flyers with our logo on them! Then, we hire
some dragons, and they'll swoop down on every city in the world and drop
loads of flyers All over the place! That way, everyone knows where to-"

The kender's words trailed off into silence as the look on Momiji's face
clearly registered one of disapproval. "What? You don't like that one
either? Well, you're new. I won't hold that against you. How about this?
Why don't you pitch -me- an idea for getting more customers into the

The little girl crossed her ankles and rested her chin on her hand,
pondering challenge thoughtfully. "Well, maybe we could have a sale. You
know. Lower prices on items we sell for a while. That way, more people
will want to shop at our stores."

The horrified kender stared back at Momiji in amazement. She offered
nothing more than a confident expression.

"A sale? That's it!?"

"Mhm." The little girl nodded her head vehemently.

"Well, that's not a bad idea. But, no dragons? No explosions? Nothing
raining down from the sky?!"

Receiving no further response from Momiji, Olliwac sighed and deferred to
the little girl's judgement.

"Alright. We'll try your idea this time. But you sure have a lot to learn
about marketing!"

Writer: Rhaxx

Date Wed Sep 17 08:02:23 2014

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Wed Sep 17 13:36:36 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part Three)

"So. Quite a masterpiece, wouldn't you say?"

Thimtax slowly craned his head up and down, scanning the outside of the
building, as he and Cliath stood in the open courtyard, shifted out of
phase. He studied his work for several moments before giving his answer.

"It turned out pretty nice, I guess."

Cliath quirked an eyebrow at the little gnome beside him. "You guess? Why?
What would you have done differently with it?"

"Well, I'm not crazy about the crown moulding we used in the offices. I
probably would've raised the ceiling on the top floor a foot or so. And
truth be told, I really should've made arrangements to have that god awful
Ixi statue disappear on its way into the tower."

Cliath mimicked the little gnome, peering up and down the exterior of the
tower, then returning his gaze to Thimtax. "Perhaps your definition of
perfection and my definition of perfection, are two different things. Oh,
and I've already taken care of that statue for you."

"Oh, good." The little gnome replied. "I hope Ixi wasn't too upset over

Cliath smiled softly. "Not at all."

"Good. So. I've been meaning to ask you. Where are the others?"

"Oh, I'm afraid it's just you and me for now." Cliath replied jovially.
"There is another, but he is off working on a secret project, and he has
requested a little privacy."

"Well alrighty then. So. What is next for us? What shall be our next

Cliath beamed a proud smile, clearly elated by the little gnome's question.

"Come on. I'll show you. You're going to love this!"

With a wave of his hand, the pair vanished from the courtyard.

Writer: Olaf

Date Wed Sep 17 19:36:36 2014

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Wed Sep 17 23:16:24 2014

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Knighthood Justice Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Scorn Ehl'din Austinian Zandreya

Subject Raising The Tower "Forward the Tower" (Epi-Logs: Part Four) (THE END)

Furui Shinchu stretched out lazily across one of the massive, steel
perches Thimtax had installed on the roof of the Ixi-Mart Tower, basking in
the sun's warm rays. He gazed pensively upward as the occasional cloud
travelled across the azure background of the sky.

"He is saddened by the passing of the Thimtax. He had a great respect for
that one."
, The man in simple brown robes mused aloud. "However, his
efforts and accomplishments have earned him a place in Cliath's realm. He
has shown the world the potential that lies within each and every softling,
and what one is capable of when one dedicates oneself unilaterally to their

"However, it is one thing to create perfection. It is another, to maintain
and protect that perfection."
Furui pushed himself upright into a sitting
position and stretched his arms above his head. "It will not be long before
undesirables find their way to this place. There will be those who seek to
take advantage of, or even hurt, those who reside here in peace and

"And yet, this town has no sheriff. No peacekeeping force. No defenses at
all to speak of. Could this have been but a careless oversight?"

Furui looked down at the perch on which he sat, then looked around at the
three identical ones that ringed the roof of the tower. "Or perhaps the
Thimtax did indeed provide a defense, by binding me to this place, and
causing me to reevaluate my opinion on the value of the softlings."

The pleasant looking man hopped down from the perch onto the roof, and
walked to the edge, gazing straight down towards Mart-Town below. "Very
well, Thimtax. I will seek to perpetuate, that which you have created."

With that, Furui jumped from the roof. The floors of the tower flew by as
he began his transformation back into his natural form. In a matter of
seconds, Ol' Brassy spread his massive wings, slowing his descent rapidly
until he had levelled off, and made his way back towards his lair.

"He will ressst thisss day. On the morrow, he will gather hisss wealth, and
find himssself sssuitable accomodationsss in town. Let usss sssee what
thisss town hasss to offer."


Writer: Elva

Date Thu Sep 18 15:09:10 2014

Writer: Isabel

Date Fri Sep 19 02:08:54 2014

To Immersa Kuromaru Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Research [Part I]

Isabel rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaustion was finally
beginning to catch up with her after weeks of little sleep. She closed the
hefty tome that sat in her lap and sighed. A creature that invaded the
mind. A demon without a corporeal form that was able to invade the minds of
it's victims. She had scoured every scroll, book, and parchment she had
been able to find within the Wrath's library but her research had turned up
with naught.

She stood then, stretching her legs out as she walked across the room to
look out the open window. Evening had come already and yet again and
Isabel's stomach reminded her that she had eaten nothing since breakfast.
The corners of her mouth curved upward into a smile as she shook her head
to herself. It was both a blessing and a curse at times to become so
consumed with one's work that All else fell to the wayside.

The words of her mother whispered in the midst of her other thoughts. "Your
passion and drive will serve you well but you must be humble too. Remember
your own mortality. Take care of yourself so that you may make the most of
each day." A blush crept into Isabel's pale cheeks. She had a feeling
Helene would be displeased with her current state of lacking rest and

Folding her hands into the sleeves of her robes, Isabel treaded silently
down the hall to the kitchen where Ingraine was cleaning up the dishes left
behind from the soldiers who had already had their supper. Isabel paused at
the counter and rapped her closed hand gently against the wooden casing.
Ingraine looked up from the cupboard she had been attending to and waved her
finger at Isabel as she made a clucking sound at the priestess.

"Late again, I see!" Ingraine's tone was accusing but not unkind as she
brought out a steaming plate of steak and potatoes that had been hidden from
sight. Isabel nodded as she offered the cook a sheepish smile. "Yes, I'm
afraid I am... Tomorrow will not be so." Ingraine snorted softly as she
shot Isabel a disbelieving look. When Isabel took the plate from the cook,
she stared intently at Ingraine with an earnestness that could be felt in
her words. "I do mean it. While the work I do is important, I know it is
also my duty to take care of my own health. I will be more careful in the
future." She smiled meekly and Ingraine studied her for a moment. "I'll be
holding you to it, Miss Bells. Mark my words." The chef raised a ladle and
waved it teasingly at Isabel. Gasping in mock horror, Isabel giggled gently
and smiled warmly at Ingraine. While the older woman could be gruff, she was
motherly in her own way. The priestess found this to be comforting.

Writer: Kailyri

Date Fri Sep 19 21:44:24 2014

Writer: Laiton

Date Fri Sep 19 21:53:28 2014

Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Fri Sep 19 21:56:41 2014

To All Religion Fatale

Subject One step closer

Nimble. Graceful. Never would these words be used to describe the
hulking minotaur priest that sat cutting and polishing the gems before him.
Yet here he sat with cutting with precision and patience.

Death is patient in its blessings. It is a pale rider come to visit each
door, and as such, bears no need to act hastily. Seek always power in his
name, yet be wary that what is already claimed is not lost...

These gems were special. Every gem was. Each helped to glorify his master.
This set in particular would not only strengthen the horde but would also
allow him to pick the brain of a former member of Gareth Keep. One step
closer to his goal and hopeful victory for the darkness. And that which he
desired above all. Favor and power.

With a final appraisal of the gems Z'Quarus nodded and headed down the
Dungeon's to fuse the gems into the former knights armor.

Writer: Shalrienne

Date Sat Sep 20 09:36:39 2014

Writer: Shalrienne

Date Sat Sep 20 09:38:09 2014

Writer: Nathalos

Date Sun Sep 21 02:39:10 2014

Writer: Zedryk

Date Mon Sep 22 10:24:50 2014

To All Conclave Slayers Wargar Sebatis Imm RP

Subject The road less traveled. Part II

"Wher'd tha blasted Kender get to!" It was just past sundown and Zedryk
was lost in the woods of Tropica with the sounds of monkeys off in the
distance and mosquitoes biting him left and right. He looked about uneasily
at the lengthening shadows and shivered despite the humidity. He didn't
know where the Warp was located, but he was sure that at this moment he was
dangerously close to the halls of MalACHIVE's army of Chaos. His illusory
companion had not been seen in several hours. Zedryk wanted desparately to
count this as a blessing, but the Kender did seem to know the ways of this
continent like the back of his hand. There was a loud roar somewhere off to
the west, followed shortly by a strange bouncing noise that sounded
suspiciously like a gigantic spring being compressed and released. He
listened to this sound move farther and farther away and offered a quick
prayer to Sebatis that, for a short time at least, he would be left alone by
the enhabitants of this jungle. He moved along the sorriest excuse for a
path he had ever seen, All the while snagging his new robes on thorns and
branches. What a sight he would make. Sweaty, dirty, scratches and scrapes
up and down his arms, and covered in ichy welts the size of grapes. If
there was a temple to Sebatis out here in the pits of Tropica, he was at
least glad that there would most likely be nobody there to see his
triumphant arrival. He decided that it was getting too dark to make any
further progress today, so he set down his pack and began making
preparations for a sleepless night in the jungle.



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