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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

Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden
Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden - Part Two
Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden - Part Three
Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden (End)
Enough (1/2)
Enough (2/2)
Call of the Crown
Call of the Crown (Part 2)
Unsettlement in the Settlement: The Hollows
Unsettlement in the Settlement: Crowd Control
Unsettlement in the Settlement: Crowd Control (pt.2)
Another Day, Another Battle
Renovation: Creating out of the Created.
an experiment
Waiting
The Shards of Deceit :pt. 1
Smax's Walk (Part 1)
Smax's Walk (Part 2)
The Shards of Deceit pt.2
Shards of Deceit pt.3
The Samurai Assassin
Shards of Deceit pt.4
Shards of Deceit pt.4 continued
New Path (Pt. 1)
On a mission from the get go...
New Path (Pt. 2)
New Path (Pt. 3)
New Path (Pt. 4)
Origins: Postscript of a Dream
New Path (Pt. 5)
New Path (Pt. 6)
New Path (Pt. 7)
The Northlands: Neverwood
The Nothlands: Neverwood
Setbacks
A New Start, An Old Rage - Part 1 of 3
A New Start, An Old Rage Part 2 of 3
A New Start, An Old Rage Part 3 of 3
Ascension
Ambition
Shards of Deceit pt.5
This conversation's been...
New Path (Pt. 8)
Fa'Do
Recruitment Day Part 1 of 2
Recruitment Day Part 2 of 2
an experiment
Scouting Assignment Part 1 of 2
Scouting Assignment Part 2 of 2
Visions
X A New Game X
Night Terrors Part 1 of 2
Night Terrors Part 2 of 2
The Baby
New Path (Pt. 10)
In the darkness of Abaddon
The Northlands : Neverwood - A Grunts Visage
Dinner (1)
Dinner (2)
The Hollows: Hope
Another Morning
The Hollows : Shortage
The Hollows : Shortage pt. 2
Guardian of the Magi
A Joyous Moment
The Search : Refuge
The Search : Refuge pt.2
The Search : Refuge pt 3
Discovery
"And No Sooner:" a Brimming Ballad (Pt. 1 of 5)
"And No Sooner:" Warm Anecdotes (Pt. 2. of 5)
"And No Sooner:" Encroaching Triangle (Pt. 3.. of 5)
"And No Sooner:" Lifeless Rose (Pt. 4... of 5)
"And No Sooner:" A Silent Seal (Part 5.... of 5)
A New Path (pt. 11)
Will and Way
Aftermath





Writer: Kailyri
Date Fri Dec 11 11:59:15 2015

To All of Althainia and Arkane ( Immortal Religion Roleplay )

Subject Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden



She could not stop crying.

No matter how she tried to calm herself, to breathe steadily, to turn her
thoughts to something else, it All failed and the tears continued to pour
from her. Sobs and sniffles, quiet and ladylike, accompanied the salty,
stinging tears that made her eyes swell and turn red. It felt as if for
every person that would not mourn this loss, she had been chosen to weep for
them. Her heart ached so badly it was a passing though to remove it, but
she simply continued to cry.

Sitting on the floor of the atrium that belonged to worship of Kantilles,
Kailyri stared at the silvery urn. An inscription, simple and done in
fanciful curly cues and flourishes, gleamed in the passing light of the
magical moons and stars that passed overhead. It read: Hope never dies -
Magic lies within.
Hanging from the top of the urn, held by simple ribbon,
was a performer's mask, stained with blood splatter.

She had not witnessed the event herself, but merely reading the words had
caused her so much shock that she knew she was behaving erratically. Anger,
pain, crying, scurrying about, not eating, ignoring other missives and
important details of the kingdom's day-to-day; she barely could herself
together, it felt like she needed to literally fall apart. The young woman
known as Hynden did not deserve this.

Their meeting had been brief, but Kailyri's heart had went out to the woman
immediately. Hynden was a heart full of colors. For shamans, souls did not
have genders or any real shape - they were colors. The brighter the colors,
the more sharply the one they belonged to felt them - and Hynden had
possessed so many colors, so vivid, swirling toward a point of pale blue,
the one that Kailyri had come to associate with hope. All important hope.
And as she and the Emperor had watched Hynden explore the statue of
Kantilles, unreserved in her childlike exploration of its features and
magical intricacies, she had felt immediate responsibility for Hynden - had
personally vowed to see the woman through her transition to the Light.

It was All gone, now.

There were no more colors. There were no more flourished bows, no more
grins, no more words. Only the ashes within the urn at the foot of the
statue.

Only the promise that an "assassin", one that supposedly owed allegiance to
Aliera, had been banished.

Kailyri bowed her head as a fresh wave of tears erupted as if from her very
heart, the flood overwhelming her delicate form. She rested her face within
her hands, but the tears simply soaked her gloves and sleeves before falling
to her lap, as well.

Was she, herself, going mad? Surely, if she thought Aliera would
orchestrate her own abduction and torture, and then try to cover up her
puppetry by killing off those that could oust her, then she had to be. Even
if others had expressed the same concerns to Kailyri, quietly and with
similar doubt and uncertainty, then it could not be ignored. But Kailyri
was a Daughter of Taliena - it was her purpose in life to love
unconditionally, to see the good in others, to embrace differences and flaws
as endearing perfections. She was to hold her head high and speak
compliments and giving advice born out of unconditional love.

Yet Hynden was done with no proof of guilt and her assassin belonged to
Aliera and had come out of nowhere and had disappeared to nowhere.

In a lull in the tears, Kailyri read the missive one more time, then placed
the copy inside the urn. There would be no real justice for Hynden, because
she had not been part of the Light, but what real justice was that?




Writer: Milleuda
Date Fri Dec 11 18:42:44 2015




Writer: Kailyri
Date Sat Dec 12 13:17:46 2015

To All of Althainia and Arkane ( Immortal Religion Roleplay )

Subject Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden - Part Two



It seemed like hours before Kailyri finally stopped shedding tears. Her
head ached and her mouth was parched, her throat sore and her eyes nearly
swollen shut. She used fresh water from her decanter to wet a cloth and
clean her face, gently dabbing at her eyes to ease them from their inflamed
state. When she could breathe with more stability, she shifted to her knees
and removed her gloves and her bonnet, laying them beside her on the floor.
It was the moment before she began to pray that words flooded her mind.

"I don' know 'ow t'feel, ot'er than the angries' I ever been. "

Thasgerd's words in her mind wiped away the doubts, and the self pity. It
reminded her that she was not the only one confused, angry, and grieving
over a lost soul - a pointless and violent murder and the chaos it left
behind. She was not the only one cast adrift in a sea of emotions and
questions that seemed without clear answers.

"Come join me in the temple of Kantilles, " she urged the swashbuckler.

When Thasgerd arrived in the temple, Kailyri beckoned the man to come and
kneel next to her. He did so, his normal athleticism tainted by the
stiffness of anger and a heart in turmoil. His handsome features were
tight, strained by the effort to hold in All that she herself, and others,
struggled with. With strength born out of her conviction, she took one of
the man's hands into her own, squeezing firmly.

"I'm angry, too. And confused. I feel like someone murdered a sister. "

The next voice came before Kailyri could say any more. Wrought with similar
heart ache, the voice of the Empress quavered slightly as it conveyed
simple, but honest words.

"M'Lady I... I am at a loss. "

Unbidden, tears returned to Kailyri's eyes and she squeezed Thasgerd's hand
again as he continued to stare nearly straight ahead. Despite the tears,
Kailyri steadied herself with a breath and managed to speak calmly - though
who she was trying to convince, she was not certain.

"We're All shaken, I think, and lost. It's easy to get lost in these
emotions at these moments, and to want something physical to force it to
make sense. But they don't make sense. You can't ask a storm why it rages.
All you can do... Is find a piece of wreckage to cling to. "

In response, Thasgerd spoke simply, "None of this is righ'. "

All Kailyri could do was nod at the words.

"No, it's not, " she agreed. "I am not going to let this slide. I woke
today with the intent of letting it All go, of moving forward, but then
this? We are backsliding into territory that we of the Light do not belong
in.
"

Then, not even realizing she was speaking aloud, Kailyri made a confession
of her heart.

"She had so many vibrant colors. I loved her almost immediately... This is
why I can't... I can't agree with what the Wrath and Gareth do. We're only
mortals. What right do we have to play judge upon anyone?
"




Writer: Kailyri

Date Sat Dec 12 13:45:41 2015

To All of Althainia and Arkane ( Immortal Religion Roleplay )

Subject Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden - Part Three



"There's a figh' ou' there an' i's comin' 'ere. The Dungeon, the Knigh's
of Storm. Tha's why I figh'.
"

The reminder was simple, and stark. The words alone could inspire good or
bad thoughts and feelings. In her current state, All Kailyri could feel was
sorrow that it was inevitable that differences could never be surmounted
with words alone - that there would always be those that were too hard
headed to listen to ought but their own desires.

Rather than dwell on another dark path, she called to the kingdom and let
all the present souls know that there would be an imminent gathering and
prayer for the soul that was Lost. Thasgerd quietly slipped away as others
arrived, but the number of those that came at her call was an uplifting
reminder that All the Light and Goodness of the world had not yet been wiped
out, stamped out by the efforts of those on the other side of the spectrum.

Cassiopia, Clarissia, Teimhnean, Tireth, Kittius and herself gathered in a
ring, clasping hands as each bowed their heads. Before she began to pray,
Kailyri looked up to the statue of Kantilles, hoping that the spirits of her
grandparents would guide her words, and reach out to the others.

"{pKantilles, Lord of Joys and Wisdom, we gather here today before Your image
to mourn the premature loss of the woman known as Hynden. {pWe knew her only
shortly, and under circumstances both clouded and uncertain, but in that
brief time, we were blessed. {pShe was Yours, Kantilles - it could be seen in
her smile, in her joyful heart, and her childish wonderment of the world and
that which brought smiles to others. {pYes, her soul was tainted, and her
aura swirling with such, but we know this does not make or break a person.

"{pWe pray, now, in grief, in sorrow, for a soul has escaped this world too
quickly, with too many questions left behind. {pWe pray, now, to ease the
aches in our own hearts, and to wish her well on her journey, wherever it
takes her from here. {pI cannot speak for All present, but I personally hope
that she resides in Your Courts, now, where her heart truly belonged, and
that her eternity is spent in smiles and laughter, guiding other souls like
her own to Your Light and Goodness.
"

Raising her head to look about at the others, Kailyri asked if there were
any others that wished to say anything, and the Empress of Althainia, the
Matron of the Light, nodded her head.

"I never had the opportunity to meet her. But you and Teimhnean had faith
in her. So, by extension, I had faith. I pray she has found salvation in
the Light. That that which she sought upon our earth was granted to her in
Your heavens.
"

With such, the Emperor and Empress excused themselves, unable to stave off
the relentless duties that called upon them to serve the Kingdom. Those
that remained heard the closing of the prayer from Kailyri.

"{pA soul has been lost to us here on Algoron, but may she find All that she
sought here where she now rests. Forever within the Light, Amen.
"





Writer: Kailyri

Date Sat Dec 12 14:00:50 2015

To All of Althainia and Arkane ( Immortal Religion Roleplay )

Subject Passage of a Soul: Mourning Hynden (End)



Releasing the hands that had grasped her own during the prayers, Kailyri
felt a wave of weariness nearly rock her where she stood. With care, she
bowed her head to those remaining and then moved to kneel before the statue,
resting her bare hands in her lap. Thanking each of the remaining parties,
she wished them blessings of grace and light, then watched them depart one
by one, until only she and Tireth remained.

With a nod, Tireth spoke, the words coming as a surprise.

"Thank you Advisor. Not many would do this, " he said, his kind eyes
studying her, then the statue.

Tears welled in her eyes at the truth of his words, a faint smile touching
her lips.

"How could I do anything other? " she asked the man.

With a sigh, Tireth focused his gaze purely upon the statue, while she
herself gazed upon the gleaming urn at its feet.

"We live in violent, and dark times. In this city, sometimes it's easy to
forget that. I don't know if Hynden was sincere in her belief to convert,
or if this was an additional ploy, one that required the ultimate sacrifice.
But regardless, I think this has reminded people as to how ugly the world
can be. And perhaps motivate some to work harder to make it better.
"

With his words, Tireth offered Kailyri a small smile, the kindness of such,
the fleeting hope within, apparent.

For a moment, it was hard for Kailyri to find her own response. Were so
many people truly struggling? Were so many that desperate amidsts the heaps
of personal loss and experience, that they failed to see the others with
them in the waters? It seemed as simple as each reaching out to the next
and with enough pieces of wreckage, they could build a new ship - a new
vessel of hope and goodness.

"This world is only as dark as people allow it to be. Light can be found in
every soul, every heart. They simply need to be reminded that it can only
reach them and others when the shutters are open.
"

"As you say. I will leave you to your vigil. The Lady bless you, and the
deceased.
"

With that, Tireth turned and departed, leaving Kailyri alone in the temple
with the statue and the ashes of Hynden.

It was true, they would never know the truth of the matter. It was also
true that they, as a whole, had faltered deeply, but there was always hope.
Tomorrow was never a promise, but while they had even a moment, they could
try again to be better. They could work for as long as they were granted to
remove the tarnish, and buff away the scratches, to gently remove the dents.
Even if the piece needed to be cast in the fires to be forged once again in
the heat of trials, All was not lost.

And where there was hope, the Light could flourish.




Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Dec 12 15:12:43 2015

To All althainia nadrik imm RP

Subject Enough (1/2)



Rellinath found his way through the streets of New Thalos, hoping to
finish his business quickly. He did not care for the heat of the desert or
the greed embraced by the city, so the less time he had to spend here, the
better. But he knew that the incident had occurred at the east gate of
Althainia. New Thalos was the closest city. It was the logical place to
begin his hunt.

It did not take long for him to spot the man, making his way through the
markets. He shadowed him for a few moments, then came around the corner of
a stall to stand directly in front of the man, both weapons drawn. A growl
came from behind the man, and he looked over his shoulder to see a large,
snarling panther, her fur standing up on end and her tail twitching with
anxiety.

"I want answers. Why'd you do it, Rionan? Why'd you kill Hynden? "

The man shrugged, his attitude calm and laid back for one who was facing
bared steel, as if he'd known All along that someone would come for him
sooner or later. "The City of Light is falling. There's a sickness upon
it, and this was the fastest cure. "

"So your solution is murder? She was a Devionite, and I do not believe for
a second that she was repentant, that she truly sought the Light. But her
guilt was not proven in the crime she was accused of. Her death was
unjustified. "

Rellinath shrugged, lowering his swords before Rionan could respond. "But I
cannot fault you your decision. I would have done the same thing, a few
days ago. I only came to realize my folly by watching it committed by
another. That does not mean, though, that I agree with it. You did not
strike with justice when you slew Hynden. Judgement should not be passed on
someone for what they may do in the future. "

He sheathed his weapons. "Besides, what would be accomplished if I slew you
in vengeance? It would not undo the wrong. And then, who would avenge you?
And after I was dead, who would avenge me? Where would it end? There has
been enough bloodshed, enough wrongdoing. It needs to end. "

Rionan faced Rellinath down. "Vengeance? I killed her because she was
evil. Unlike you, I don't have the burden of honor on me. I can do what
needs to be done. "

Rellinath shook his head. There were things that Rionan didn't know, but
now was not the time to explain. It had occurred to him that he should
probably not be seen conversing with Rionan overlong, considering the other
accusations that had caught his ear.

"I have to ask, Rionan. Did Aliera hire you to do this? Did she command
Hynden's death? "

(cont)




Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Dec 12 15:24:15 2015

To All althainia nadrik imm rp

Subject Enough (2/2)



Rionan actually laughed. "You know better than I do that she's incapable
of that. She's bound by honor, just like you are. That's why she didn't
like me, why she removed me from office. I don't claim for a second to be
an honorable man. "

Rellinath had known the answer, of course, but he wanted to hear it. The
accusation that Aliera had hired Rionan to kill Hynden for some nefarious
purpose had angered Rellinath almost as much as it had Aliera. He knew what
it was, though. Teimhnean had issued a death warrant without due process,
without knowing the facts of the matter, without even giving the accused a
trial, and now someone had executed it. He needed a scapegoat to pin his
ignorance of justice upon, to blame for his mistake so that he could save
face in front of the people. What better person to paint as the villain
than one who was already reviled by many due to the lies they'd spread so
well before the mutiny?

"I need to go. Aliera is still on the mend, and needs someone with her at
all times right now until she heals. For the record, though, although I do
not agree with you on your actions regarding the Devionite, I do agree with
you on one thing. "

He sighed heavily to himself. "The City of Light is falling to darkness.
But it is under watch. Should the Light be in danger of being extinguished
in Althainia, its champions WILL rise to defend it. "

He turned to leave. "As for yourself, you should probably avoid Althainia.
Seek Arkane, you'll do well in the entertainer's guild there. If Althainia
has fallen as far as we believe, there are many within who will kill you for
what you've done. Especially since the Devionites had them fooled so badly
that they chose to support them over a priestess of Nadrik. "

Rionan chuckled behind him.

"You know I won't. "




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Dec 13 01:56:50 2015

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Call of the Crown



Few paid notice or even turned as the goblin in the queen's livery
entered the Snow Eagles Inn. Hands on hips he scanned over the tables and
crowd before taking a deep breath and bellowing out over the usual noisy
ruckus, "Where be the one callin' hisself Mokla Warchylde?" Aside from a
few glances, little attention was his reward. As he prepared to bawl out
again, a heavy hand thumped him on the shoulder, causing him to whirl about
and find himself staring into the chest of a large bugbear. "Who wanz?" ,
Rumbled a voice from above. "The queen summons!" , The goblin taking a
defiant stance and peering up, "so if ya knows what's good fer ya.." The
bugbear snorted and started forward pushing the goblin ahead of him. The
goblin's protests and threats ended as he bumped up on a table from behind.
Spinning around he looked into a hobgoblin face which squinted as it peered
back and forth from the gobin to bugbear. "Trouble Nagg?" Came the soft
voice. The bugbear snorted and shrugged as the goblin drew himself up
again. "I am a messenger for the Queen! I will get some answers or trouble
it will be! Bring me this Mokla Warchylde to me or I'll have you both fed
to the wargs!" Raising an eyebrow the hobgoblin drew a few coins out and
tossed them over to the bugbear with a nod. "Can't have that now can we?" ,
The hobgoblin replied as the bugbear turned and bumped the goblin one more
time before leaving. "I would be that Mokla Warchylde, also being known as
Legate Mokla Warchylde.. Know what that means? Its meaning I don't take
threats from any old terd from the palace slops." The goblin faltered a bit
then stammered out ".. But.. Er.. I have a message... Ah Legate." Mokla
motioned with one hand to keep the goblin talking while raising his tankard
with the other. "You are summoned! To the Queen I mean." The goblin
relayed. Mokla sat quietly looking at the goblin for a few moments before
handing him a few coins. "See how easy that was? Now give those to Nagg on
your way out and he might, and I do mean might, not drop kick you into the
street for hurting his feelings." , Mokla replied with a sneer, "I will see
myself to the Queen."


Watching the goblin depart, Mokla wondered at what would be asked of him.
Thinking the days of mayhem and intrigue had departed from Darkonin, he
puzzled over what the crown needed from the likes of him.




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Dec 13 03:07:21 2015

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Call of the Crown (Part 2)



Passing through the halls brought back old memories of past deeds and
wonder at future perils for Mokla. Shown in to the audience Mokla noted the
guard's positions and posture before gazing upon Queen Euterah and her two
ministers. Sensing no immediate threat he bowed and waited to be greeted.
The Queen peered at him quietly before extending a warm greeting and the
offer of a seat. It had been some years since last he had seen Euterah and
much had occured since. Like All changes, some good, some bad depending on
your view point.

"I have looked to the rolls and see you hold some title now, Mokla" the
Queen started, ".. And I was unfamiliar with the term Legate. Perhaps you
could inform us of it's meaning and how you came into it?"

Old nerves tingled like breath on the back of his neck as Mokla pondered
where the line of questioning led. Is this a trap, an indictment, a
measurement of worth and how to proceed had his thoughts racing. What does
she know? What does she wonder at? How will she act upon that? Part of
him called out to declare the deeds. Yes, I cast the seeds of discontent to
see where they took root. Yes, I turned them out to be rooted like weeds.
Yes... I stood grinning as the fruits of my labors saw your husbands head
mounted on a pike. I took the orders and acted on them for a Darkonin that
even some kings could not see. I could. So be it, better to finally hang
as a braggart than be dismissed as a slink.

Ahh. But old habits never die do they? Take the road of caution and wait
to see if it forks. "It is a minor title, Majesty, given for past service
from the previous king. Airy promises of land but mostly.. I think as a
way to bind loyalty to him." Mokla stated. "I think my past services left
him feeling that I was not the sort of.. Loose end he wanted unsecured" he
added with a grin.

"What sort services were those?" The queen asked, glancing at her
ministers. If only he could reach out and see what her mind held the next
step would be easy. Caution again, "I advised.. I solved problems,, and I
earned. For the Mountain of course." He stated easily.

The queen pondered this for a moment then as if some decision was made said
"I would like to see more of such service.. For the Mountain, and would
offer you a post within my personal guard the Titans."

The fork, the question and the choice. The old road filled with deception,
distrust, and fell deeds or a new path filled with.. What? Does she see
the same Darkonin which once fuelled my efforts? Can I learn to preserve
the one sitting on the throne and not just the throne? Mokla pondered no
more than a moment before deciding that yes, I will try this new path and
see where it leads. After all, if she's trusting of me, then obviously she
needs someone looking out for her. "I am at your command, Majesty", he
replied with a grin...




Writer: Shigeto

Date Sun Dec 13 11:55:44 2015




Writer: Euterah

Date Sun Dec 13 14:14:34 2015

To All Mokla Euterah Darkonin Mruz Vitriosablet ( Sunny Imm RP )

Subject Unsettlement in the Settlement: The Hollows



Just a short trip out to the Northlands, to show her Titan Mokla
Warchylde the progress made, the Witch rode her ice wolf, Berox. The Titan
rode behind on a warg. The ride would take a good day to get to the
settlement north of the Neverwood. The Witch tucked herself deeper into her
cloak as she thought of her experiences within that ancient dark wood. She
could not help but give a shiver.

The Witch took a more direct route this time. She had commissioned the ice
Goblinkin to create a wider tunnel out onto the plains north of Darkonin,
avoiding traveling around a large portion the Mountain. The Hollows needed
something of purpose. Too many stood about arguing and idling. The tunnels
leading in were strangely hushed, though yet well lit. She glanced back at
Mokla. The keen eyed Titan seemed to take in everything.

The tunnels opened up in the grand market, not a true market in any sense,
but a place of discussion and trading. The murmuring conversations were
low, unhappy and tense. The Witch felt it immediately, some unrest within
the Hollows. Something was not quite right. Berox certainly felt it and
balked, trying to back into the darker passage way of the tunnel, only to
bump into the warg the Titan was astride. The warg snarled, Mokla leaning
forward with an amused grin over his face.

Come, Berox, it is well. You are good. The Witch soothed, glancing back
at the Titan. Mokla's gaze was guarded, watchful.

They crossed into the large cavern, the voices had stopped. It seemed all
eyes were on the Witch riding the ice wolf. There were a few whispers. She
caught the words, Neverwood, cursed, a buzz went through the crowd. She
cleared her throat, unsure of how to approach the tension within the cavern.


Greetings to you all, how goes the tunnel and the settlement of Neverwood?
Are there any concerns the Mountain may help you with?
All around her
bursts of irritation and frustration, fear and anger came at her. The Witch
was taken aback as the people closed in on her. Berox whined and snapped,
causing the mob to turn darker. Shouts and furious exclamations harangued
the Witch's ears. She tried to calm them, tried to understand the growing
rage around her and quell it, but her soft voice was lost and Berox was
squirming away from her as fingers and hands held her back. She gave a
little muffle cry and then was plucked from the crowd, caught up by Mokla.
They pressed through the crowd back in the tunnels, turning and heading back
for Darkonin.

She remained quiet for a long while as they trotted back to the Mountain.
Mokla, gratefully did not comment. Berox came back to flank them as they
rode back to Darkonin.

They were frightened. That is all. They are correct, the Neverwoods are
cursed, something dark dwells there. I cannot tame it myself. I will have
to issue a warning to the captains to keep the people out. It seems not
even safe to take trees from the edges.


The Titan looked down at her, his keen eyes discerning. He made a gruff
noise and then stopped, setting her back on Berox. They reached the gates
of Darkonin quickly.




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Dec 13 20:05:06 2015

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Unsettlement in the Settlement: Crowd Control



It was a long ride back to the Mountain, as Mokla seethed in silence at
the scene which played out with the Hollows. The crowd was rowdy, agitated,
and way too close for comfort, but that was not the irritating burr for the
Titan. He remembered the faces, faces which always looked the same.
Balifore.. Dolund'ir.. The faces of conquered people. No, the faces
grinding upon Mokla were those of the hobgob pacifiers as they stood looking
helpless and confused, standing behind the mass of the crowd. Something
which cried out for a reckoning, a job he would see to personally and
joyfully.

After seeing the queen off, Mokla rode back fast, fueled by anger which
fought off the biting cold winds. A short trip when the mind races ahead of
you. His arrival was greeted by the same scene of confusion and loitering
crowds which he paid no mind as he sought his target. The garrison office
was a small building near the end of the way. There he would find the means
to fix the problem.

He stopped the warg and jumped down, leading the beast towards one of the
pacifiers leaning idly against the wall of the building. Thrusting the
reins out to him, Mokla said "Hold the beast till I return,,, or you'll ride
back to the Mountain in his belly." He held the pacifier with a sneering
gaze till any notion of resistance faded and the reins were taken, the
headed for the office door. Upon opening the door he spied a gaudier
dressed hobgob reclined in a simple wooden chair behind a table. Staring at
him intently, Mokla let his ire rise till the hobgob curled his lips in a
sneer and snarled, "What'n bleedin rot are you,, ". That's All that got out
before Mokla stormed forward and kicked the table back, sending the hobgob
to the floor from his upturned chair.

Moving around the table Mokla calmly took the chair and set it over the
torso of the enraged and sputtering officer, pinning him to the floor.
Seating himself on the chair he reached over to take the warming brew from
atop a nearby stove and slopped a bit onto the hobgobs face. After the
howls of pain subsided from the second and third helping, Mokla growled "I
have your attention, yes?"




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Dec 13 20:48:05 2015

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Unsettlement in the Settlement: Crowd Control (pt.2)



"I had a problem today.. I don't like problems.. Before I leave, you
will not like them either." Mokla peered down with an evil grin at the
hobgob officer pinned beneath him as he sniffed at the pot of brew in his
hand. "Your Queen, the Monarch of the Mountain, was nearly mobbed by a
group of these pasty gobbo workers, who for some reason were not working,,
but in that sense neither were you or your men. That is my problem.. Or
actually yours now." , Mokla stated calmly. "So, let's start by relearning
just what we are doing here, yes?" Mokla asked while poising the pan above
the officer who nodded vigorously. "You and your pacifiers are here to do
just that.. Pacify our new subjects. To keep them from trouble so we can
all get along. You do that by keeping them busy and out of large groups." ,
Mokla explained slowly. "So now that I have given you that free lesson I
expect to be able to lead the Queen through with no threats of mobs.
Understanding, yes?" Mokla asked, waiting for the obligitory nods. "Good,
because when I return I will be watching to see you have explained this all
very carefully to your men. If I should see any crowd of more than five
gobbos I will lift a patch of your hide, about the size of my palm,
everytime I see it. You will either get very good at your job or the Queen
will have a new patchwork leather sack. I promise." Mokla whispered with a
grin.

Any questions then, I think I should give you that since we're All of the
same mind now.." , Mokla asked in mock sweetness. The officer sputtered and
between nodding and shaking his head blurted out, " but.. But the workers..
Theys All spooked.. An theys saying the works stops now"

"Spooked?.. How so spooked?" Mokla asked with a raised eyebrow. "Them
woods.. They sayin somethin er spookin' em. I can't makes em work they
thinks getting killed here better'n gettin killed workin' there", the hobgob
quickly blurted out. Mokla pondered a moment before replying "Stick to your
crowd control problem, focus remember?" , Holding the brew poised once again
over the officer. "I know you're hoping not to see me again.. I wish I
could say the same, but I put my money on ignorance winning out over
competance mostly." Mokla snickered adding ".. But you try to have
yourself a good rest of the day just the same."

As he got up and left the office, Mokla's mind turned to this "spook" issue
and what problems it might mean. Workers are lazy, it's a given fact, but
fear as to outweigh punishment... That requires actions. Perhaps he should
suggest an ogre solution to the Queen. They work hard, they know the lay of
these lands, and damn sure don't spook easy. Mokla grinned to himself
deciding, that yes, it would also make it ... Someone else's problem.
Cackling loudly he snatched the reins from the pacifier who stood holding
them at arm's length. Mounting up, he winked and grinned evilly at the
hobgob and shouted "Hail to the Queen" as he rode roughshod back up the path
to the Mountain.




Writer: Zorreau

Date Wed Dec 16 10:30:58 2015




Writer: Hanon

Date Fri Dec 18 13:05:06 2015




Writer: Thaydius

Date Fri Dec 18 20:23:49 2015

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Another Day, Another Battle



A thick trail of deep, red liquid oozed down the sparkling surface of his
abdomen. The rivulet sped up and slowed down as it maneuvered the ups and
downs created by his muscular physique. His tunic had ripped away, splashed
wet by the mixture of melting ice and the carnage of battle. Already, the
wound from which the wandering stream originated had sealed away in his
body. They All had. Everything sank beneath and into the umbridled light
in his soul. Like the thousands of battles that had come before.

It was this kind of chaos that turned good men into monsters. The old
saying about when one stares into the darkness, the darkness stares back at
them didn't really apply to Thaydius. There was no space in his heart for
evil to occupy. It was already filled by the love of his Mother. That was
what wiped away the wounds faster than they could grow. Her eyes fell upon
him. Her hands cradled the unstable essence in his body. How else would he
have lasted so long in such a dangerous world?

He didn't like the battles. He wasn't made for it. He was always holding
back. Hurting people, even bad people, didn't sit well with him. There
were so many other good things for him to do with his powers. By the time
he had composed himself after the skirmish, he was back to his boundless
energy and he began to mend his clothing. When it was said and done, he
stared at the White Moon and transitioned into the rifts of magic, moving
across the world in the blink of an eye.

Something terrible had happened near Thalosia. He would rendezvous with the
healers there and ensure that the White Moon would be represented in helping
these people. He could abide by no suffering. And hopefully the thirst of
his pursuers would be sated, if just for the moment.




Writer: Rolus

Date Sat Dec 19 11:12:44 2015




Writer: Rolus

Date Sat Dec 19 11:25:20 2015




Writer: Rolus

Date Sat Dec 19 11:31:45 2015




Writer: Rolus

Date Sat Dec 19 11:42:31 2015




Writer: Nessah

Date Sat Dec 19 23:16:19 2015




Writer: Feodora

Date Mon Dec 21 14:35:33 2015




Writer: Feodora

Date Mon Dec 21 14:38:12 2015




Writer: Feodora
Date Mon Dec 21 14:42:06 2015




Writer: Zorreau
Date Tue Dec 22 04:31:33 2015




Writer: Rarau
Date Tue Dec 22 20:19:27 2015

To All Cliath Imm RP Religion Nordmaar GallowGlass

Subject Renovation: Creating out of the Created.



Rarau stood quietly, the only noises heard was the jingling of his armor
after his twitches as he stared down from the VIP Room of the Snowstorm
Arena to the playing field below. Something was bothering him, but he
couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something needed to be different.

He scoped out the playing arena below. He knew the game didn't need to be
different. But what did?

He sat in one of the chairs. It was a velvet chair pointing towards the
playing field, which, when first crafted was comfortable and smooth,
providing the owner of the arena and guests a relaxed spot to enjoy the
match.

He ran his hand down the arm of the chair. The once soft and almost silky
velvet was not matted and hard -- Evidence of the wear and tear of 5 seasons
of fighting matches. Five seasons, of which Rarau had only owned the team
for two.

Rarau stood. Scanning the VIP Room, he began to understand just what it was
that was bothering him. All around him there was evidence of what once was,
what someone else had dreamed of, what someone else believed. Not him. He
took the stairway down and examined the rest of the Arena. All around him
stood someone else's work -- Someone else's design. Claritae's at first,
unaltered by Tiernan thereafter. Nothing was his.

He felt a shift in his sheath, as if the item hiding there was calling out
to him. He withdrew the hammer from its holster -- the hammer given to him
by the Historian of the Annals and Scribe Balanx, Ankabasanu, as was once
held by the Constellation of Cliath before him.

"Yes, my friend, " he whispered to the hammer as he held it out before him,
"It's time we got to work once more, making this place our own. "




Writer: Feodora

Date Wed Dec 23 11:21:59 2015




Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Dec 28 19:08:58 2015




Writer: Fyahy'll
Date Tue Dec 29 07:53:23 2015

To All Knighthood IMM

Subject an experiment



As Fyahy'll set the last of her plated armor into the cabinet, she sighed
deeply. Uncertain what fruits this undertaking would bear, but determined
to see it through she close the doors and locked them together soundly.

She felt odd without the familiar weight of metal around her. The simple
leathers and light walking staff seemed woefully inadequate in the world of
mounted combat she was accustomed to. It left her uncomfortable,
vulnerable. Fyahy'll was decidedly uncomfortable.

With a lingering touch on the hardwood cabinet Fyahy'll bid farewell to her
arms and turn her back on the comforts they afforded. She had a journey to
make.




Writer: Zorreau
Date Tue Dec 29 10:46:17 2015




Writer: Rmed
Date Tue Dec 29 16:34:31 2015

To All Chaos Imm Erebaal

Subject Waiting



Rmed sorted through a variety of unkempt rucksacks. Muttering to
himself, he sorted his ill-gotten goods by some counter-intuitive logic.
Jeweled eggs nestled amongs rotting flesh while swords and armors fit for
royalty were grouped with the bloodstained robe of a beggar

Rmed paused for a moment, scratched an open wound with a long, yellow
fingernail, and continued his unique organization.




Writer: Traice
Date Tue Dec 29 17:33:11 2015




Writer: Tanisia
Date Tue Dec 29 18:45:59 2015




Writer: Clare
Date Tue Dec 29 20:49:35 2015




Writer: Korrin
Date Wed Dec 30 12:07:58 2015




Writer: Korrin
Date Thu Dec 31 14:07:10 2015




Writer: Simani
Date Fri Jan 1 06:34:28 2016




Writer: Simani
Date Fri Jan 1 16:29:29 2016




Writer: Simani
Date Fri Jan 1 16:29:44 2016




Writer: Korrin
Date Sun Jan 3 09:53:06 2016




Writer: Mokla
Date Sun Jan 3 15:17:31 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Shards of Deceit :pt. 1



Looking up from the parchments of daily reports, Mokla's face curled into
a silent snarl as he realized the previous days events had left him
unsettled and distracted. A sweep of his arm scattered them, clearing the
desk as he cleared his mind to focus on the problem as he saw it.

Unsettled and unprepared for complications were something he could never
bypass easily and this new, and yet old matter demanded attention. Should
it be handled directly, indirectly, or prepared as a contingency? All
proper footing to solving problems began here. As he pondered the questions
his eyes set upon a dusty, near empty crystal decanter resting on a shelf.
His eyes pulled down into a squint as his mind worked and images formed in
his head.

Rising to his feet, Mokla moves to take the decanter down and brushes the
dust from it's sides. Working the stopper from the top, a whiff confirms
the Sewer wine's identity. With a shrug he raises the decanter to his lips
and tips it back for a swallow, which causes him to sputter as the taste
fills his mouth. .. Damned if I knew tha stuff could taste worsen it
started out being..
, He mutters to himself after spitting it out. A flip
of the wrist hurls the decanter over his shoulder to shatter with a tinkling
sound as it hits in the corner of the walls. Turning at the noise, Mokle
regards the shards of crystal reflecting the dancing light of a lantern. A
light reflected in his eyes as a slow grin spreads across his face.

Reaching down he plucks one of the larger shards from the pile, holding it
up to regard it's point and razor fine edges. Testing it's point with a
taloned finger, it easily draws blood piercing the toughened hide. Curling
his fist around the shard draws additional blood as he peers into empty
space murmuring, "... Shards... Yes.. Shards will do."




Writer: Smax

Date Sun Jan 3 18:15:21 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Smax's Walk (Part 1)



Smaxs Walk - part 1

It had been a long day of training. Smax Bonebreaker had spent hours
perfecting a particular move with his sword. Smashing always came easy to
him, fine movements with swordplay took work. He didn't mind, however.
This is what he was born for, his passion, his drive. He loved to fight.
He returned to the resting area and tried to settle himself to sleep, but it
wasn't working. He needed to walk. Something seemed to be clammering
inside his head. Sleeping would not settle the noise.

He arose and set off allowing the simple exercise to try to clear his head.
Big things were happening. The Mountain had been abuzz for weeks and it
didn't show signs of stopping. New faces seemed to appear everyday. Some
seemed severe and important. Others seemed mischeivious and dangerous.
Smax cared for none of these distractions. Only one thing drove him above
all else: Make Strong. Make Ogrekin strong. Make the Mountain strong.
Make his Clan strong. Make himself strong. He walked rehearsing these
goals as almost a mantra in his mind and soon found himself far outside the
caves of Darkonin and on the plains.

Something seemed to beckon him forward and the night air was freezing and
felt good on his hide. His breath huffed in little clouds of mist before
him as he marched through the night. The dawn was breaking as he at last
came upon the opening of a large tunnel that seemed as though it had been
recently constructed or at least worked on. Many hastily constructed
buildings were here, no doubt the dwellings and areas of the workers. He
had heard of this place. The tunnel. This was the Queen's project to make
a quicker path to the Northlands.

He walked through the little settlement of workers, many of them stirring as
the day began. He looked up to notice a hobgoblin Officer of the Guard
resting on a chair outside of a building. The hobgoblin looked up at Smax
approached and then a look of almost panic came into his face. He stumbled
and stood up quickly. "We are working! We are getting things under
control!"

Smax returned the gaze, completely confused as to the Hobgoblins words.
"Good?" He replied cautiously.

The Hobgoblin peered at him strangely, "The Titan did not send you?"

Smax shook his head, "No. Smax walk through night. Come here. Need walk.
Need think."

The Hobgoblin let out a breath, almost a sigh of relief. "Well, that's
good. There's still something up there. Something in those woods. We try
to keep the people calm, but something stirs them up."

Smax furrowed his brow. Something in the woods that made people afraid.
Smax feared nothing, well almost nothing. But when he heard that people
were afraid of something, it raised his curiosity. It raised his ire. He
took a deep breath and without another word, set off through the sloping,
dark walls of the tunnel.




Writer: Smax
Date Sun Jan 3 18:20:47 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Smax's Walk (Part 2)



Smaxs Walk - Part 2

The journey was long, but it hadnt been difficult. The tunnel stretched all
the way to the borders of the Northlands, though it grew more narrow as it
reached the other side of the Mountain. The goblin workers still had much
to do to widen out the entire tunnel.

Smax peered ahead at the line of trees that stretched out before him. The
woods ahead of him seemed to carry within them a darkness of their own.
They seemed to stretch endlessly before him. He at once could sense an
almost sinister presence as he followed a narrow path into the darkness of
the of the trees. Yes, these were the woods, he was told of. These woods
were scaring the goblins for some reason.

He marched on through the forest and at each step deeper in, the feeling of
an ominous presence grew. His heart began to race, even he could sense an
unbidden fear rising in him. He drew his swords, instintively. A warriors
sixth sense seemed to trigger in him, and he turned, just in time to feel
the sharp claws of the shadowy being rake across his arm.

Smax counter-attacked with vengeance. He was in his element now: battle.
His blades whirled and sliced, his body lunging and falling back as he
battled the dark creature. He could deflect most of the blows, but every
now and again, those claws would tear into his flesh. And the fear, the
fear always kept growing in him as a constant pressure. For a moment, he
was almost afraid that this would be his last battle, but at last, he found
his footing and he felt his swords end the existence of the evil creature.




He took deep breaths, letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins to
dissipate. He smiled. He had survived -barely, but he was still alive. He
looked around. Was this the thing that had spooked the goblins? Perhaps,
they wouldn't be so scared now. A sense of pride washed over him. Silly
goblins getting scared of something that he had killed in one fight. Well,
barely killed. He knew he still had much to learn of battle. He looked
around suddenly. That fear was still there. The feeling of dead.

He looked up the path before him and realized that the ground rose to a
crest just before him. He followed the path through the trees and found
himself on a little knoll where the trees seemed to thin out a little. The
sky was visible above him and a slight breeze ruffled his hair. The height
also gave him a view of the forest ahead. The forest. He looked again. It
seemed to move All of a sudden. He shook his head trying to clear his
vision, but nothing changed. The shadows seemed to be moving. Perhaps,
hundreds of those creatures that he had battled were down there. He gripped
his hilts and prepared himself to rush in. He knew this would be the end,
but he also knew his purpose.

On the precipice, something triggered in his mind. The Hobgoblin had
mentioned the Titan. Smax only knew one Titan. He paused. The Titan would
want to know about this. With somewhat reluctance, the Ogre sheathed his
blades. Turning, he set off back to the tunnel.

He reached the edge of the forest and turned his head back to look over his
shoulder. No shadows. Nothing moved. But the forest itself seemed to
reverberate with a sinister presence. Something was wrong with this forest.
Smax would return. The fight had only just begun.




Writer: Mokla
Date Sun Jan 3 18:56:20 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Shards of Deceit pt.2



" So yer sayin the answer bein yes?.." , Mokla asked as he pinched the
bridge of his nose to stave off the mounting frustration. Before him sat
the broken pieces of a crystal ball, laid out on a cloth for the supervisor
to inspect. His head positioned an inch or two above the fragments, the
supervisor shook his head and mumbled something incoherent before raising up
to peer at Mokla through thick spectacles which seemed filled with his
magnified pupils. "Yesyesyesandno.. Moreimportantiswhywhywhy?..
Uselesspointlesswastingeffortsbetterspentdoingnothing!"
, The tinker gnome
blurted with a frantic waving of his hands at the mess before him and
towards Mokla.

Taking a deep breath, Mokla waited for the expected, painful, explanation.
He'd come for an expert opinion on crystal working and the magics involved,
and listening to the little man's chattering was the price to be paid for
that knowledge. Getting this far through questioning the scurrying workers
and rushed directions had already set his teeth on edge, but perhaps he
would get what he needed.

"Anythingcanbeputbacktowholewithproperspellingbutnotnecessarilyandactuallyr-
relythepreviouswhole! Missingpiecessmallpiecesnewpiecesasshouldnotbethere!
Spellbringthemtogetherbutwrongcrudejaggedsharpthingnevertobeworkingagain!"

Came the reply. Dreaded as the delivery may have been, the content was one
welcomed by Mokla. He had what he needed finally and his blown out breath
signalled his relief.

Leaning back in his chair, Mokla fished out a small pouch of jingling coins
dropping them atop the desk and cutting off the unending stream of speech
still issuing forth with a solid "thunk". Reciprocated grins and nods ended
the encounter as Mokla quickly stood and moved off. Making his way back
through the maze of the factory and darting workers, Mokla stopped to throw
an arm around the shoulders of the surprised timekeeper. Thanking the gnome
for his directions and patting him on the chest, Mokla gave him a grin then
moved off towards the exit.

Upon leaving the factory Mokla stopped to peer at the brightness of the day.
Holding up his newly acquired golden time piece for inspection in the light,
he snickered to himself and tucked it away in a sleeve, " Always break
even.."
He muttered as he moved off for home.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Mon Jan 4 18:26:48 2016




Writer: Mokla

Date Tue Jan 5 21:53:09 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Shards of Deceit pt.3



Pushing aside his freshly drained mug, Mokla once again scanned the room
and fixed on the door once more. Doing his best to hide his mounting
frustration, he drew out the newly acquired time piece and watched the hand
turning on the dial. With a snort at the thought that the device actually
measured impatience and not time, he tucked it away again and looked up to
finally see the expected, if overdue arrival he awaited. Settling himself
as the goblin approached, the cues of experience spoke of one thing, a
problem.

As he reached the table and offered a small gesture of respect, the goblin
blurted out, "Not my fault, but there is.." , "a problem.." Mokla
finished for him. Clasping his taloned hands before him on the table, he
fixed a glare upon the goblin and waited for the explanation. "I did likes
you say, seeks magikin' shop, in the Thalos.. Tells him who's being sending
mes.. And.. And hims sayin no dealin' wit deal-breakin gobs no mores!
Hims sayin' cheated once an nevers again!"
, The gobbo offered while
holding his hands out in a gesture of supplication. Gesturing for him to
continue, Mokla watched him closely for the slightest sign of hesitation or
deceit. "Hims sayin delivry short.. Three times. And him already paid fer
delivry fees..."
, The goblin whined. Mokla leaned back in his chair
thinking for a few moments.

"Delivery fees, eh?.. It does sound like the head of the Dolund'ir crew is
developin' a bit of... Initiative. Initiative can be a good thing.. A
special thing to be encouraged."
Mokla stated calmly. "So.. I want you
to make another trip. To the old city. Go to Grokle's place, ask for Ghref
tell him I need him to come to the Mountain so we can talks about
promotions. You can do this, yes?"
, Mokla asked and was answered with
vigorous nods. Waiting a moment to make sure he had been understood, Mokla
then simply extended a taloned finger at the goblin and then thrust out his
arm towards the door. A look of relief washed over the gobbo as he turned
to bolt for the door as if fearing he would miss the next departing ship.

Watching the door swing closed behind the harried gobbo, Mokla offered a
raised eyebrow to Nagg who sat with crossed arms by the doorway. The
bugbear gave a grunt and snorted, turning his attention back to his own
thoughts. "Wiser words are seldom heard, Nagg.." , Mokla replied with a
grin and signalled the barkeep for another mug.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Jan 6 02:25:34 2016

To Verminasia Shadow Latealm All Imm RP

Subject The Samurai Assassin



The silence that fell over the city at night was a lie. The shadowed
souls that dwelled within its gates still roamed about their business.

The hour was late, the night a cold one and wet with the rain that seemed to
fall more often than not.

The summons came unexpectedly, a man who's name she would never learn
beckoned her to join him within the Burning Sands of New Thalos.

The journey was a short enough one, the smell of coffee rich in the air when
she arrived and she followed the man to the room he had taken upstairs to
discuss the business at hand.

The claim that had brought her here was false, she knew it before she ever
reached the tavern but curiosity and boredom drew her from her recluse and
she'd gone to meet with him nonetheless.

The conversation was short. The samurai made a single declaration that he'd
been hired by another to kill her and attacked.

The initial rush caught her offguard but as he grabbed her, she struck him
in the face. The struggle that ensued lasted longer than it should've. The
samurai's attempts to overpower her were weak, poorly timed and her spirits
aided her enough that she was able to overcome him, finally pinning him to
the floor with her thorned boot at his throat.

She shook with rage as she dropped her weight onto him, drove both of her
fists into his face until she was certain he wouldn't be moving again. Then
she leaned sideways to drag her dagger over. She lifted the blade and drove
it through the samurai's eye, embedded it so deeply into his skull that it
had taken several tugs to free it.

The fight done, she had dragged the corpse from the room, down the tavern
stairs and out into the street, ignoring All the gawking faces along the
way.

She and her spirit pulled the corpse through the streets of New Thalos and
into the desert, westward to the Shrine of Necrucifer that rested northward
off the path.

Disgruntled by an evening interrupted, Ash kicked the corpse once before she
sacrificed the remnants of the samurai to her Lord.




Writer: Mokla

Date Wed Jan 6 23:00:55 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Shards of Deceit pt.4



In a shadowed room a fist sized ball of crystal rolled slowly across the
top of a wooden table to be stopped and sent back across by a taloned
finger. Mokla sat silently peering into it's rolling depths, lost in
thought as it passed from hand to hand across the table. Events of the past
days passed through his mind, a replay of distractions, decisions, and
solutions All to be examined for oversights, errors, and loose ends...

It had begun with a simple nod to Nagg, as his dealings often did. The
bugbear opened the door to the Snow Eagle tavern and produced the gobbo and
hob awaiting entrance to the vacated inn. Closing the door and returning to
his seat, Nagg directed the pair with a shove. Watching them approach,
Mokla could see the nervous steps of the goblin, while the hob offered a
glare to the bugbear and measured his stride with a boastful swagger. It
had been some time since last Mokla had seen the hobgob, and the foreman he
had appointed had changed much in that time. Aside from the remembered top
knot of black hair, and misguided haughtiness, All else spoke of a change in
his fortunes. His jowled face and the sizeable paunch at his beltline
should be out of place among denizens of Dolund'ir, and Mokla added it to
the list of perceived offenses he felt.

Reaching his table the gobbo quickly offered a small gesture of respect as
Mokla nodded at him. Ghref gave a smirking grin at the goblin's actions and
seated himself at the table. Mokla sat with his elbows propped on the
table, regarding them coolly for several moments before speaking. "It's
been some time, Ghref... I'm so good you could finds time away from the
job."
, Mokla stated evenly, "How's business?" Swelling himself up.
Ghref replied, "I keeps a good eye on it.. No problems, no worries. When
I'm in charge, I takes charge."
Mokla pursed his lips and nodded slowly,
then drew his brows down in a look of confusion. "Funny that.. I been
hearing things.. Shortages.. Extra charges. Customers complaining.
Needing to tell me about anything?"
Mokla said, tilting his head and
peering at Ghref who leveled a glare at the smaller goblin. "Theys always
complainin'.. Problems happen.. I dos whats needin doin to fix 'em. Thats
being what yer payin me fer."
, Ghref replied with a shrug, "Not gonna
bothers ya with every lil' problem."


Clasping his hands before him, Mokla leaned back in his chair considering
Ghref's reply. "I sees.. When I set up ta smuggle tha skunk oils through
tha sewers and past the Imperials I knew was good way to makes coin from
potion shops. I make good deals with them.
Deals so good as to be stupid
to buys any other way. I knows good happy customer means steady coin, few
problems."
I knew some problems would pop up, but if I found a somebody
who could handle them with a little initiative. I like initiative.. If it
solves problems, not starts them."
Mokla ended, fixing a look on Ghref.

( To be continued...)




Writer: Mokla

Date Thu Jan 7 18:43:12 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Shards of Deceit pt.4 continued



"You see.. Changes can be problems. I thought long and hard about the
way this job should be handled. I set the prices taking an eye to delivery
costs, bribes, and of course ample payment for those making it All happen.

The margin is slim yes, with a small tithe to me for setting it All up, but
the greater portion returning to the operating side of things, namely the
splits you All take away with you to Dolund'ir. I figured bein' generous
would stop any grumblings. I forgot about growth though.
I didn't think
about how appetites would grow. I didn't think about the growth of
initiative. How appetite and initiative might grow into .. Extra fees and
shortages. Had I been thinkin of that I mighta set a rule.. About
changes.. About hearin for changes before they happen.
I mighta asked fer
a little taste of the added profits of growth. A nod of respect even. I
made a mistake."
, Mokla finished nodding his head slowly and regretfully.


Ghref crossed his arms smugly and leaned back in his chair, giving a
sideways glance at the smaller gob whose eyes darted back and forth with an
uncertain look from him to Mokla. "I've failed to see the growth of your
initiative, Ghref. I failed to see your appetite would outgrow the splits I
set up when I put you in charge of the job. I failed to see you would
outgrow the job.
I failed you all, and that failure created a problem.
Now there must be a change to fix that problem so we can All get things
right again."
, Mokla said softly, regret in his voice.

"So yous thinkin me ready for promoshun finuly? I been 'speckting it. I
gets new respect. New jobs and gets tha split mes deserves."
Ghref said
with a sneer, " So lets be talkin 'bout tha split fir.." The last
syllables never came for Ghref's triumphal statement, replaced instead by
the slight whistle of air and meaty thunk of the axe which split his skull
to the brow. Ghref's eyes rolled up in his head as if looking at the axe
before falling forward face first on the table.

Wiping a small spray of blood from his cheek, Mokla gave a small grin.
"Nagg.. You've a beautiful mind, and the soul of a poet." , Mokla crooned
as the bugbear cleared his axe with a quick jerk and acknowledging grunt.
Drawing his dagger, Mokla reached out and grasped Ghref's topnot. A simple
cut along the scalp and vicious tug brought the thatch free to be tossed
into the lap of the wide-eyed and speechless gobbo. "Congratulations on
your new promotion.. I hope I've explained what I expect clear enough?"

Mokla said to the fear paralyzed gobbo who nodded vigorously. "You've got
my list still, yes? I'll take the items on it as a gift you'll be paying
for.
And make sure the customers get All the shortages back,, plus one
cask each.. For the troubles. Clear?"
Mokla ordered with dismissive wave
at the gobbo who took the cue to quickly agree. A quick bow of respect
given, he eagerly removed himself to the door.

"Much as I hate to disturb your meditations Nagg, could I possibly get ya to
be seein this mutt off to the rendering pit behind Humber's?"
Mokla asked
sweetly then snickered as he shoved the body off the table. "And be damned
sure to remind me to avoid the Special Plate for a few days.."
Mokla added
drawing a throaty gurgle passing for a laugh from the bugbear.




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sat Jan 9 00:15:10 2016




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sat Jan 9 00:30:06 2016

To All Conclave ( IMM Rp Religion Drakkara Kyri )

Subject New Path (Pt. 1)



Ozleust gazed out of the Tower's foggy window as a floating candle was
lit nearby. He attended to the normal routines of the administrative work
in the Towers, sending the proper papers off the arbiters to be approved.
There is a longing of sorts... No... Not longing... Boredom.

No it isn't boredom, it is the denial of further study.

He sifted through the notes he jotted down from every interview he has
performed with Shukenjas from different backgrounds. He took note of how
there is untapped Power... Well at least he believes it as such.

"I am sure She knows this. She wants me to be patient. She wants to
prepare me for hard road ahead."


There is much floating in Ozleust's mind. He thinks of his attaining of
power. But he knew there is more Drakkara had to offer in this study.

"Revolutionary. I can utilize the power of the fallen Magi of Her ilk.
This power is different from necromancy. You call upon the ancestors and
even converse with one.


He continued to study this new scroll and the applications that would be
useful in the Towers. Devotion is one thing Ozleust does not lack in. He
has devoted his life to the pursuit of Conclave's Magic and Her Power. He
is only acting in the things he knows best, to pursue Power in Her name. It
has taken him this far. He has strained relationships because She was the
only thing he was devoted to. What Ozleust is trying to accomplish is
difficult, but when he understands what he is trying to do, he sees it as an
opportunity to surpass the mindsets of Wizards of the past...




Writer: Jadelyn

Date Sat Jan 9 21:24:32 2016

To All clan justice ( Raije )

Subject On a mission from the get go...



Jadelyn wasn't sure how she got to this particular train of thought, but
she just couldn't get off it. She had originally begun sketching out the
plans for a new ship (it was a way to spend the hours not training), and
then suddenly she was thinking about war. Why did the Wrath war certain
clans? Some were very obvious, and didn't need to be explained. But others
were a little harder to understand, especially the ones that started before
she had joined the halls of Justice.

She grumbled a bit as she set aside the piece of parchment she had been
drawing on. Stretching, the former pirate stood up and looked down at the
cavern docks from the crow's nest of the Sacrosanct. She wanted answers,
but she had the worst luck catching anyone long enough to answer them, and
she couldn't find any texts or past missives that'd be of any help either.
It didnt help matters any that these questions popped up long after folks
had gone to sleep.

Jade tapped her fingers against the railing of the crow's nest with a
thoughtful hum. She might have to take things into her own hands. In fact,
she was going to do just that.




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sat Jan 9 22:14:08 2016

To All Conclave ( IMM RP Drakkara Kyri )

Subject New Path (Pt. 2)



The stillness of the Tower could be felt in the stillness of his own
mind. He sent off a couple of missives to the arbiters for the stack of
Aspirants.

"Some do not know what they are getting themselves into."

He thought of his own journey from the initial inquiring to Amex, to that
passing of the Ebony Mantle to him. He was untainted, full of hope, the
longing to be matched with people that had the same goals in mind. He aged,
he fought, and he sought Power. What was the Power he was seeking? He
picked up his treatise on Power that expressed how Power can attained.

"Wealth. Fighting prowess. Knowledge."

Little did the Magi know that he was working and exploring this new power,
the Power of Protection. He prayed about this, but there was no answer from
Her. He only knows that he is on the right track by the opportunities that
was presented to him. He understands what that means...

"Stepping down."

Some of the Ebony spend their entire careers wanting to get to this place of
Power, to lead Her Magical Army. What they do not realize that there is
Power in Protection. Ozleust's never felt strong in the field because of
his race, but he knew he had a calling to protect Her Army. He came to the
Conclusion that a Half-Ogre was not going to achieve this path of protection
studying the invocation book. He has already tried alteration and that too
did not live up to what others achieved.

But he know She had more to give. This path was his secret to getting
more...




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sun Jan 10 16:22:54 2016

To All Conclave ( IMM RP Drakkara Kyri )

Subject New Path (Pt. 3)



Ozleust received another mutiny in hand. He does not know that if this
is a form of encouragement or just a thought that he is not liked as a
Wizard.

"Do they want to allow me this new study or am I a terrible Ebony Wizard?"


These thoughts clouded his mind as he began looking at his time as a leader.
He understands that he could not make everyone content nor was that his
desire. What Ozleust wanted... What he thought everyone wanted... Was to
seek knowledge in devotion to their specific god and to the Trinity as
whole.

He did not want to choose. He will stay a Wizard as long as Drakkara
desires him to be, but he knows, or at least he can only assume that She
knows that he is on the right path.

"I know She knows my heart. She knows that it is purely dark for Her."

He pondered and prayed. He trembled with a host of emotions. Ozleust can
almost feel Her presence next to him, wanting him to go further... Go
deeper. Ozleust's devotion can be seen as an obsession, but he only does
what he knows is best for Her and for the Towers.

Ozleust opened a clerical book and began reading the basic studies of the
life of a Cleric. Awkward to him, but knows it is familiar. He flipped
through the pages of the power the cleric draws from their god or goddess
and equates it similar with his studies as a Magi.

Ozleust feels overwhelmed, but he presses to continue...




Writer: Ozleust

Date Mon Jan 11 11:39:01 2016

To All Conclave ( IMM RP Drakkara Kyri )

Subject New Path (Pt. 4)



Ozleust finished writing what could possibly be his last letter as a
Wizard. He reminisced about what he gave and offered as Wizard. Ozleust
knew that there were bigger plans for him and what Drakkara has laid out for
him.

"It is coming together... Soon."

This was the crescendo of Ozleust's journey. He has achieved and sought out
what is only desirable to Drakkara. His devotion would go rewarded by Her.
Ozleust did not know early in his training that this path of protection
would produce from his studies and training in the Towers.

"The time has come."

He uttered these words under his breath. The arbiters have accepted one's
mutiny, but he did not want to fight. He wanted to learn this new study.

It will come soon...




Writer: Catroina

Date Mon Jan 11 12:47:56 2016




Writer: Styrr

Date Mon Jan 11 19:47:55 2016




Writer: Saskya
Date Mon Jan 11 21:00:47 2016

To All Althainia Nordmaar IMM RP

Subject Origins: Postscript of a Dream



'
{nDa! No, Da! Please!'

The nightmare - Saskya still wasn't ready to call it a memory - kept
repeating, ever since it had started after that knock on the head over a
year ago. Night after night, always the same: her father in a drunken rage,
her mother collapsed and already bloodied by his hand, and her, cowering as
her father advanced.

It made being cheerful, performing for the tavern audiences, pretending so
that others could have a few minutes of joy in their otherwise bleak,
repetitive lives a great deal harder than it used to be. She'd faded,
enough that she could feel it even if no one else paused to notice.

She'd been running from her father ever since her mother had stolen her
away, even after her mother had passed. But she couldn't run from her own
head. There were nights, on the road between performances, that she would
wake from her fitful slumber only to find herself sobbing, fearful, and
suddenly alert for the sound of footfalls near her camp.

Anyone who's trained in the bardic guilds ends up with a reputation
regarding taverns and drinking, if not things more illicit. It's not
unreasonable to expect the attractive woman who was up on stage would be
open to at least an ale. You can't explain to every hopeful paramour that
the thought of alcohol makes you physically ill, that it brings back
memories of abuse and serves as a reminder of why you can't ever stay in one
place for too long, can't ever settle and have a normal life. You can't say
all that, even if you want to. It kills the mood, destroys the fantasy of a
joyful, carefree life that you've just woven. So instead, a laugh, a wink,
and a claim of being a mean drunk. And the next morning, early, she would
be back on the road.

It was hard, to lie like that. The truth was, she genuinely cared about
these people even if she didn't know them very well. They lived, worked,
had lives and troubles of their own - she knew, they'd tell her about them.
A few of them were even fairly handsome. To be invited into that life, that
normalcy, under the guise of a drink was tempting, especially recently,
and it felt like something died every time she had to reject it. Not a part
of her, maybe, but a part of what could have been. It would be so much
easier if she could just accept.

And then the image of her father, looming over her as a child, advancing in
her mind, would remind her of exactly why she couldn't.




Writer: Ozleust
Date Tue Jan 12 10:32:23 2016

To All Conclave ( IMM RP Drakkara Kyri )

Subject New Path (Pt. 5)



Ozleust read the missive. Finally he can move on to the next stage of
his journey. He has received the approval of his peers and encouragement
for pursuing Her. He thought about the last conversation him and Ba'buh
had. It was true, Ozleust harbored no ill feelings to what Ba'buh started,
but he just wanted to speak about some of the reasons to begin in the first
place.

Ozleust showed his heart when it came to revealing his relationship and how
he saw Her. In these past few weeks, Ozleust was more vulnerable to what he
wants to accomplish. It was received well with the masses of peers.

"They know how real I am... They now know the true me."

He paced his back and forth in the Commons, alone, awaiting the next step of
his journey to begin. He is not quite ready to leave, he awaits one more
confirmation... From Her.

"I know she is going to bless this journey."

He has stretched his theology and ideals to form around this one knew sight
of Power. Ozleust was ready to form a new path for her Magi and show that
there is more.

He will show just that...




Writer: Nessah

Date Wed Jan 13 00:24:29 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Wed Jan 13 16:11:30 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Wed Jan 13 16:42:25 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Wed Jan 13 16:50:07 2016




Writer: Tyrinx
Date Wed Jan 13 22:36:57 2016




Writer: Crelius
Date Wed Jan 13 22:57:12 2016




Writer: Ozleust
Date Wed Jan 13 23:04:27 2016

To All Conclave Damerus ( IMM RP Kyri Drakkara )

Subject New Path (Pt. 6)



The feeling... Similar, but different. The combat, exhilirating. The
devotion, unwaivering. Ozleust changed, but for the better.

"I hope the Ebony is ready for some sermons"

Ozleust was able to heal himself. He can cause harm to animals with just
the power of Her voice. If the Tower did not think a cleric was not
suitable to guard them, then they needed some more education.

"Alright, the first spell, blessing of peace."

This was the first time Ozleust cast a spell of significance since he was a
Magi. He trembled as he partly winced and casted the spell.

"This is powerful. The spell protects you greatly from being casted on."

Ozleust took out his journal and jotted down the notes. He thought All the
times he wished he was further blessed than simply by the wands.

"The wands, I will have no need. Drakkara has blessed me enough to bless
myself."


The new sensation exhausted Ozleust. Though he was going to get used to it,
he will need to adjust, but he has done so before. He strives on the
challenge. Ozleust rested... In a new environment. A cot... Not as
appealing as magical cushions, but he knew this was temporary. He reflected
on the changes that has been taking place. He thought about how his father
was able to help him finish his training. Ozleust felt awkward going out
into the realm, and not having clans attack him. He missed it a bit.

"I will get back to the Towers, but I will enjoy spending time with family."

Maybe that was part of his journey to culminate this new path. Ozleust
needed to learn to care for and love to be able to protect those close to
him. Ozleust began to see the power in protection...

But it was only the beginning...




Writer: Catroina

Date Fri Jan 15 10:20:00 2016




Writer: Ozleust

Date Fri Jan 15 14:43:57 2016

To All Conclave Laiton Musen Ba'buh ( Imm Rp Kyri Drakkara )

Subject New Path (Pt. 7)



Ozleust wiped the sweat off of his brow as he slayed a elder minotaur

"Time to go visit the Shukenja trainer again."

Ozleust waited as the Golden Koi approached and hopped on board. The sea
mist kissed his cheeks as he bobbed up and down with the waves. He stepped
off the boat for the second time, curious as to what he will teach him now.
As he entered into the sanctum of Shukenja, the shokonese trainer looks at
him

"This time you will learn how to receive the honor of your ancestors,
instead of holy presence, you will learn about ancestral presence through
the honor bestowed upon you."


Ozleust realized that this was harder to train. He had to learn to call the
honor of his ancestors. During his training he turned to the trainer

"What about Magi? Can I harnest the honor of the fallen Magi?"

"You dare question your training? What do you mean fallen Magi?"

"Well Master, I am considering how to utilize the power that Drakkara has
bestowed upon me and if Drakkara is granting me this power, don't you think
I can use the power from the Magi that has fallen?"


"I see your point. Keep progressing in your training and by the end you
might find the answers you were looking for."


Ozleust headed back to Arkane with encouragement.

He was on the right...




Writer: Mokla

Date Fri Jan 15 20:02:56 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Northlands: Neverwood


His cursing barely heard over the ruckus of whining wargs, and the
incessant noise of their digging efforts, Mokla's mind raced and skipped
back and forth from what was and what could be. It had All started so
suddenly, a surprise where surprises were seldom welcome. A brief moment to
scout the ground ahead becoming the sudden realization that the Queen had
taken a notion to closer investigate the small hill so strangely green
amidst the snow covered terrain. Racing back along her snowy tracks to the
edge of the hill where the snow stopped, she was nowhere to be found and
alarm raised All his senses into a frenzied state.

"Why does it grow where All else slumbers?" The Queen had asked of the
hill. "Probably a hot spring.. Under the hill, keeping it warm." .
Mokla had replied. Searching for any sign of her passing along the moss and
vegitation growth covering the ground, Mokla looked up to see the queen's
warg yowling and pawing at the ground a few yards further on. Racing up
Mokla could see the warg's digging had cleared a slab of stone, with a gap
running along it's edge forming a right angle. His mind screamed "DOOR!"
And he turned to call his own warg, quickly retrieving the mining tool
strapped to the side of the saddle. Forcing the other warg aside Mokla
placed the tip of the tool into the crevice and cleared a rectangular
outline along the edge of the slab. Using the tool as a lever Mokla pried
at the gap and was rewarded with movement on the second tool placement. An
opening slowly formed issuing the scent of long sealed tombs and a darkness
of untold depth. Grasping the slab and pulling to the point of sprung
muscles he was able to force a wider opening, from which a dim, distant
flash was seen, to be followed by a rolling boom.

Drawing a dagger to wedge the slab open Mokla began a descent into the gloom
with the two wargs scrambling in behind. Moving low and fast the group
groped their way forward as the flashes and booms acting as a beacon came
repeatedly and more frequently.




Writer: Mokla

Date Fri Jan 15 21:10:26 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Nothlands: Neverwood


The relief of finding the Queen and seeing her moving rapidly up the
tunnel was short-lived for Mokla. The coalescing swarm briefly distracted
by her magic shifted it's attention back on them as they headed out. After
racing a dozen yards up the tunnel Mokla turned and uttered a spell to hurl
a ball of fire back down his path in hopes of at least slowing the pursuit
of the entity. A slight pause was the only reward to his effort and he
raced on further, dragging himself atop his warg.

Finally catching sight of the Queen who was just exiting the door, he urged
his mount on in the deadly race. Dismounting hurriedly to clear the cramped
entrance, Mokla made out the shouting warning of the Queen, and the sudden
snap of his bending dagger as the door moved to close. Scrambling from his
crouch Mokla dove towards the closing door with the warg close behind.
Sparing a moments glance through the opening, he threw himself upon the
stone slab to hasten it's closure. As he strained against the slab, Mokla's
had ran over indentations on the outside surface. Focusing upon it, it
dawned on him that they were not the scratchings of a warg but some form of
script engraved within it's surface.

His efforts rewarded, the slab closed with a muffled thump and Mokla turned
to the Queen. "Go! Ride now for the Hollows! GO! GO!" He pleaded as he
scrambled to pull bracken from the woods. Piling what brush he could upon
the door, Mokla watched to see Euterah off down the road. A quick spell
started the pile ablaze in hopes of delaying any exit, and then he too
mounted up and sprang after the Queen. His hopes were dashed shortly after
as the swarm burst forth from the tunnel scattering the burning debris.
Riding as hard as he ever had, the wargs breath drawing raggedly, Mokla saw
the Queen exit the wood and turn the bend which would shortly lead to the
Hollows and safety. Feeling the lagging of his mount, Mokla made a decision
and drew rein a few yards after clearing the woods. His fireball had been
futile, the flaming debris mere nuisance, but perhaps Euterah had shown him
the key.

Eyeing both the swarm boiling down the wooded lane and the snow laden
branches forming the roof of the forested tunnel, Mokla summed up what was
left of his energy for one last gambit. Beginning the incantation in low
tones he could feel it's strength gathering as he increased the tenor of the
words of power. Extending his hands before him he barked out the final
syllables to release the coiled lighting at the branches of the trees
directly before and above the swarm. The crackling lightning struck home
and leapt from branch to branch, and from there to the clumped snow falling
from them creating an electrified matrix which caught and stopped the swarm
cold. Holding on to his focus, Mokla poured the last of his strength out
into the spell. A moment before his collapse the swarm suddenly turned and
fled from the damaging confines of the matrix, and sped away back down the
wooded lane leaving a fine fog smelling of ozone and scorched wood, and the
muted crackling of dying sparks.

Utterly spent Mokla slumped over the agitated warg and slipped from his
senses well before the warg made the decision to return to the Snow Eagle
Inn it was most familiar with.




Writer: Lucien

Date Fri Jan 15 22:44:57 2016

To All Shalonesti Imm RP

Subject Setbacks



After writing his letter to seek consultation with a representative of
the Vallenwood, Lucien spent the next day in preparation. He bought All new
armor and weaponry, and even had the foresight to consider what magical
potions and pills would be useful in his venture. The funds which he had
budgeted for expenses did not last long, especially in the face of potion
prices, but he was undeterred. He was seeking his father's murderers, after
all.

Gaining no response from his letter, he put word out to the clans that he
sought someone from the Vallenwood. At first, he met only the barbing of
those who had nothing better to do, but eventually, he got a response. He
had intended to ask only for confirmation that his letter was received, but
the representative moved very quickly into assessing the young de Creer.
Life in the Fray, it must also move very quickly, he considered, so this was
not off-putting in itself.

Lucien's new armor was inspected, and even the collection of consumable
magics, which Lucien thought was still rather too small. But it was the
next item which proved the stumbling block.

'Can you name each of the Vallens' present enemies and the locations of
their stones? Relative is acceptable.'

'This, it is not something I have had to know. I know you war the dwarves,
I assume they are near the mountain. Chaos, of course. All hear they are
on Tropica. Though where, I could not say.'

'You should learn All of this before you enter the Fray.'

'Who teaches this?'

'It is general knowledge of the realms.'

'It is not the general knowledge of a former merchant. But so be it.'

And that was that. The representative left, Lucien had failed. Any other
requirements or queries were left unsaid, perhaps for him to stumble over in
future attempts.

So be it. He may have abandoned his family's business, in light of his
father's murder and the desire to see him avenged, but that did not mean
Lucien was without resources, without contacts yet who could provide such
information. For a price, of course.

Within an hour, he had been delivered a list. He paid the courier, and
spent a few minutes looking it over, reading the names and the locations.
But this list, to Lucien, was useless. It had words, not experience.
Reciting it might move him forward with the process of joining Shalonesti,
but it would not train his muscles, his reflexes. He could not think,
'Bloodlust, ' and have his legs already know the movements to take which
would bring him to his goal.

Without that, memorizing this list would be useless. He would have to spend
the time, visit these places, learn them physically and associate the names
with the locations, or else he may as well know nothing.

This would take time. Especially, as the list was incomplete. Perhaps he
would have to go outside his old contacts to discover the location of
Chaos's stone and hall.




Writer: Vokard
Date Sat Jan 16 11:59:21 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject A New Start, An Old Rage - Part 1 of 3



The hewn stone tunnels echoed with metal clangs, dull wooden thumps,
heavy shuffling steps and uneven breathing. Within the great cavern claimed
by the Armsmaster, shadows cast by numerous lanterns shifted behind the
large figure of a bugbear engaged with practice dummy. Dense iron plates,
selected for their weight rather than any protective purpose, were strapped
to Vokard, encasing his powerful arms, massive chest, and trunk-like legs.
Another metal slab gripped in his right hand for a shield and a crudely
formed cudgel of granite in his left, Vokard went through a simple combat
routine while straining against the encumbrance of the training equipment.
Attack, block, counter, block.

The cleverly designed dummy, really a great upright log set with thick,
counter-weighted poles that would swing back the other way when struck, sent
one dense pole whirring to attack after the other. Mace and shield
responded in kind. Vokard continued the drill, endeavoring to etch the
forms into his muscle memory to hone a response beyond calculation, beyond
instinct, a level where nothing could distract him. Attack, block, counter,
block.

He had been put through many challenging paces, routines he would not have
thought possible. Still the Armsmaster pushed him, weighing down the
bugbear's already impressive bulk with more and more weight while demanding
faster reactions.

What good are those arms if you can't lift your weapon halfway through a
battle?! Why have legs if you can't run in your armor?! The biting voice of
the veteran Armsmaster chased Vokard even after each session.

It was like no training he had ever had. Vokard was used to being yelled at,
but usually it was a string of foul words with each syllable punctuated by a
lash from a barbed whip. Now, he was only struck if he failed a block during
drills. As he settled into the routine and adjusted to the new weight,
Vokard let his mind drift and his muscles take over. Attack, block, counter,
block.

He had only recently been brought to Mount Darkonin. His youth had
been spent as a slave and gladiator in a dwarven mining outpost with
a fighting pit. Even then the feel of a lash as he hauled ore, the taste of
fetid food scraps, and the mocking roar of the drunken rabble in the
stands returned to him with crystal clarity. His right shoulder still ached
just before a storm from when it had been wrenched out of joint by
another slave forced to fight him. Attack, block, counter, block.




Writer: Vokard

Date Sat Jan 16 12:06:07 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject A New Start, An Old Rage Part 2 of 3



The Mountain was a different world to Vokard. He had never been
around so many of his kind, had never even seen a giant ogre or a troll.
So many beings in different shapes with different goals, All somehow
combining to strengthen Darkonin andprotect their home. Strength and
cunning were respected above race. He was quickly learning to enjoy
the frozen climate and silence outside of the main tunnels. So used to
towering over most, it was a relief to live in tunnels made for folk even
larger than himself. Attack, block, counter, block.

Vokard remembered scrambling on his hands and knees through the low
dwarven tunnels, the heavy smoke from coal furnaces thick in the air.
Once again he felt the glass tip of the slave driver's whip slice into his
back. Attack, block, counter, block.

It began to surge up within him. The rage. He tried to keep it bottled up,
deep inside. A rash action led to severe punishment. Vokard had to
always keep his temper under check. A misspoken word, a wrong title,
a careless movement would invite the beatings and another trial in the
fighting pit. Attack, block, counter, block.

The sandy stone floor of the pit, footing treacherous from spilled blood
and entrails, where slaves were compelled to fight until only one drew
breath while insults, bottles, and tankards rained from above. The
memories stoked the burning rage within Vokard. The pain, the hunger,
the blind aggression it All ignited an inferno that he could not contain.

He missed a block and a swinging pole struck his side, only partially
deflected by an iron plate. His next strike was far too forceful, sending
two poles whirring around from the other side. He blocked one with his
shield only for the second to cuff him on the ear and break his scalp.
More poles slammed in unheeded, but All that registered was the
sensation of blood oozing through his lank white hair which only
heightened his fury. With a great swing of his shield, Vokard bashed the
entire right column of poles, sending the whole of the other side
sweeping around in an unavoidable assault.




Writer: Vokard

Date Sat Jan 16 12:16:42 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject A New Start, An Old Rage Part 3 of 3



The rage had moved him beyond pain, beyond reason. He saw only blood
boiling red and heard only the taunts of the fighting pits. Moving in a
sudden flurry, Vokard pivoted back on one foot, bringing his mace across
to parry three poles in rapid succession while raising his armored shin to
stop the lower ones.

Howling in a voice that nearly shook the stones of the cavern, Vokard
tossed down his shield and mace and slammed his great bulk into the
training dummy, over and over, while his hands clawed and ripped
at the log and his fearsome maw gouged the surface of poles with
mindless snapping bites.

Under the brutal assault, the whole post came unmoored and ripped
out of the stone. The tumult of the beam striking the floor amidst chunks
of mortar shattered his rage induced frenzy, leaving the red pupils of his
yellow-green eyes dilated and his chest heaving for air.

Minutes passed while Vokard collected himself, sublimating his rage and
taking stock of his new bruises and split scalp and a number of wooden
slivers lodged in his mouth. The anger flowed so strong, but it made him
careless, sloppy. Unacceptable. He must learn to use it like a weapon or
it would undo him.

The sight of the wrecked training dummy spread an uneven grin across
his bear-like muzzle, long and jagged yellowed teeth glinting in the light.
He'd be working for the task master for weeks to repay the Armsmaster
for the damage- and likely suffer even more brutal training. So be it.

With a slight limp, Vokard ambled across the hall to remove his weighted
armor and stack it with the rest. With a shake of his head to loosen his
blood matted hair, Vokard departed the training cavern.

The Queen of Darkonin had issued a call for All citizens to aid in
claiming the territories surrounding Mount Darkonin and Vokard,
proud of his new home, would gladly serve.




Writer: Mathesan

Date Sun Jan 17 00:25:42 2016

To Verminasia All Immortal Roleplay Marcaus

Subject Ascension



The corridor rang with the sound of footsteps, the only sound that
penetrated the suffocating blackness that closed in on the hall.
It was as though the darkness had become substance, a malevolent,
cruel substance that hated the very thought of life itself. There
was only one occupant in the hall. A young man, one with long black
hair tied back so as to be out of the way. He had a straight posture
and remarkably strong build that might have indicated some sort of
martial training. However, it was in his eyes that one could see the
true nature of the young man. There was a certain gleam in his cold,
ice-blue eyes. He was a man of the mind. Whatever his profession,
he approached it with a shrewd, analytical thought process honed by
experience and wisdom beyond his years.

The Madaur family estate had guards, but their guards were sufficiently
posted around the perimeter. If anyone did manage to make it past the
guards and into the house, they still had the occupants to deal with.
The young man's father was not a man who tolerated weakness. For a
moment, the young man paused in the middle of the hallway. He cringed
at a grim memory, a reminder of the cost of failure.

Lifting his hand, the young man removed a snugly fitted glove of
black leather. There, on his left pinky finger, a ring had been branded
into his skin. The hateful, scarred flesh glared back at him, a reminder
of what failure cost.

The young man pursed his lips together in a thin line and returned the
glove to its place over his hand. Everything in its proper order. He
continued down the hall, passing through double-wide oak doors that led
into a cathedral-like audience chamber. There, seated at the end of a
long table was an older man.

Upon his entrance, the older man looked up at the young man, though his
features betrayed no hint of recognition. His eyes were the same, cold
calculating eyes of the young man. However, the older man was bald, and,
though clearly aged, he had aged well. The intellect and wisdom in his
eyes betrayed a man who had lived long past the normal years of a human
being.

"Madaur." The older man said in a quiet voice that lacked no power behind
it, in spite of the volume. "Mathesan."

Mathesan inclined his head respectfully, offering a quick, curt bow to
the older man, "...father."

"What news?" The older man asked. He rose after a moment, rising to the
impressive height and displaying the same broad, warrior's build that
Mathesan had. He wore no crown at the moment, but the ring on his finger
bore the seal of the crown.

King Marcaus Madaur.

Half man, half mystery. Stories were told in All corners of Verminasia,
and without, about the sort of man that Marcaus was. However, nearly all
of them were simply guesses, embellishments on deeds that may or may not
have happened. It was healthy to have an embellished renown, so Marcaus
rarely silenced those who were wrong. Only when it might seem a slight
against him did he act. Even then, it was easier to discredit someone or
make them disappear rather than show a pure display of brute force.

"I have completed my training, and taken up the books of mentalism."
Mathesan said in reply. He kept his gaze lowered. Not so low that one
might mistake him a servant, but low enough to show respect. In fact, his
gaze was slightly lower than what some of Marcaus' children gave him.
Mathesan was a bastard, he'd never known his mother. More likely than
not, the woman was killed after giving birth. However, Marcaus Madaur
didn't waste opportunity.

"Good." Was Marcaus' only reply. "Anything else?"

"I've joined the Economic Union," Mathesan said, a tinge of pride
coloring that last note, "I intend to bring riches to Verminasia, as
those have before me."

Marcaus nodded once, "See it done."

That was All Mathesan needed. He had ascended, it was time for him to
claim his place.




Writer: Liviya
Date Sun Jan 17 04:25:22 2016

To Mathesan Marcaus All ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Ambition



Madaur.

Liviya chewed on the name, the sourness of it tugging at the edges of her
lips. The newly surfaced brother of hers had stated his intention to cultivate
respect for it in the younger generation. He didn't understand the burden
he was taking onto his shoulders in doing so, but that was no longer her
concern.

What did intrigue her was his parentage. Cameran reacted with disdain
and skepticism, but the young man's blue eyes belonged to both her mirror
and her nightmares. Or, rather, her former nightmares. She hadn't had one
since the day she had told him to take his crown and go to Hell.

Mathesan's name suggested his mother was no one of importance. He was
likely even a bastard, but she knew her father too well to think that the
hallmark of a mistake. Whatever the boy's purpose, it was a deliberate and
calculated one.

She wondered if he too had grown up never tasting free will.

Liviya sighed. This brother, like All of them, she would protect with her
life. She would teach him, if he would listen. And she would save him, if
he would let her.




Writer: Deavryn
Date Sun Jan 17 14:14:02 2016




Writer: Mokla
Date Sun Jan 17 17:02:33 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject Shards of Deceit pt.5



"So you see, Ogmun, it's really quite a simple thing I asks of ya.. No
troubles and none tha wiser."
, Mokla crooned with a grin. Running a
greasy hand over his head and face the half-ogre seemed pensive still.
"Seems so maybes, but gobbos dealins is like making a double batch of
troubles.. Is always enough to goes 'round. Not somethin I'ma liking."
,
Ogmun said with a shake of his head. Mokla leaned back in his chair,
putting a look of surprise on his face. "Ya wounds me, Ogmun. After all
this time, ya thinks I be not lookin ta yer intrests? I was thinkin we had
built a trust just like we built tha Inn.."
, Mokla leaned forward again to
point a taloned finger at the InnKeeper adding "Things so good we forgets
tha hard times?"
"Where did tha money come from when yer ogrekin refused
ta loan to a halfie?.. An who secures tha loan?"
, Mokla said while Ogmun
opened his hands in a feeble gesture of uncertainty. "An ya thinks Nagg
works tha door for the spare silvers ya pay?"
"Day an night he's at his
post, keepin tha wrong sorts out.. Seein to the needs of the right sorts.
I'd offer that gobbo dealins has been right good on ya."
Mokla added
chidingly. The half ogre hung his head shamefully, and plucked at the bib
of his apron considering All this before mumbling, "Well.. Maybe you gots
the right of it.."


"Now don't go thinkin I be lordin it over ya, Ogmun. We partners here, an
when you gotsa problem I can fixes, ya asks an I does. Thats bein partners.
It's just bein I gots a problem an now you can does fer me. Simple, sees?"
Added softly. "It jus be feelin like po.." Ogmun started before being
cut off quickly by Mokla. "Don't even think tha word.. Is not possible an
makes ya seem dim. Even if could, would jus be like scratchin tha part of
an ogre's back he can't be reaching himself. No harm there."
Mokla
interjected. The half-ogre shrugged in acceptance of this and nodded
slowly, while Mokla grinned and reached out a hand to clap Ogmun on the
shoulder. "It's settled then.. I'll let ya know more when tha time's
right. I thanks ya Ogmun, I always knows yer ta be counted on fer bein a
good partner."
Mokla finished.

Wiping his hands on his apron, Ogmun nodded slowly with grin and turned to
head back to his beloved kitchen. Mokla watched him go feeling confident of
the success of his request. Loyalty was never a problem from Ogmun even if
uncertainty could sometimes be if left untended. Looking up at a grunt from
Nagg, Mokla watched the bugbear open the door fully to admit a gangly human,
dressed in grimy furs. Scrambling forward with the assistance of a rough
shove, he reached the table looking around the room with wide apprehensive
eyes. "Well?.." Mokla murmured gesturing with his hand towards the table.
The human quickly fished out two small sealed jars setting them on the table
top. "Just like you ordered, sir.. Ground separately, finer than cake
flour.. Had to seal them with wax as a matter of fact."
. Mokla nodded
and drew out a small pouch, tossing it to the table with a clinking of
coinage. Snatching the pouch quickly the human offered a mealy grin before
exiting.

Hearing a questioning grunt from Nagg, Mokla shook his head. "Nah.. Let
him go. I don't think he'll be wanting to ever come back to our lovely
Mountain... Even when he realizes he shoulda checked in that pouch first."
Mokla called with a grin and sat back snickering to himself.




Writer: Vershae

Date Sun Jan 17 20:45:54 2016




Writer: Deavryn

Date Mon Jan 18 12:03:53 2016




Writer: Deavryn

Date Mon Jan 18 12:49:56 2016




Writer: Deavryn

Date Mon Jan 18 12:57:42 2016




Writer: Jadelyn

Date Mon Jan 18 13:34:59 2016

To Justice Shalonesti All ( Raije Alasdair Storyline )

Subject This conversation's been...



The Amarandus home was unusually empty considering the time of day. But
Jadelyn was actually grateful for the lack of company, save the black
panther sleeping on the chair in the living room. She walked a relatively
empty hall so much as it was that it seemed strange for her to want to be
alone now. There was just so much on her mind, and the soldier of war wasnt
sure having a lot of folks around would help calm her nerves.

Deft fingers combed through crimson tresses as Jadelyn sighed, her focus
turning to the missive she had set on the kitchen table. It had been some
time since she had received it from the Speaker of the Vallens, and she had
not heard from him. She hated waiting, but she had earned the meeting by
being respectful. If she sent another missive now, after being told she
would be sought out, it was likely to be seen as a lack of respect, and the
meeting would be cancelled. Of course, if she didnt send something, it
could be possibly viewed as not having an interest in the meeting at all.

Huffing, Jade moved to the cabinet that held the decanter of rum reserved
for her (and sometimes Rellinath). She was stuck, really. There wasnt much
she could do... Just like in the hall. She thought about how quiet the
place really was while pouring a glass of rum, and part of her wondered if
it was even worth being around anymore. There wasnt much she was able to
do, and waiting around for someone to happen by was trying her patience even
more. Just thinking about it caused Jade to growl before she downed the
contents of her glass in a single go. That just meant there wasnt a reason
for her to be there.

After pouring another glass, Jadelyn turned to the table and looked at the
missive again. No. No, she wouldnt leave. She had started something, and
like hell was she going to give up before giving it her best effort. So, as
much as she hated the wait, she would be patient and hope that the Speaker
had not forgotten her. Maybe shed go clean the Sacrosanct to vent out some
frustration. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.





Writer: Ozleust

Date Mon Jan 18 19:02:17 2016

To All Conclave Liviya ( IMM RP Drakkara Kyri )

Subject New Path (Pt. 8)



Ozleust pugilled his way though the training dummies. He mastered the
fist punching with a staff.

"Now you shall learn another spell."

The Master Shukenja gathered together five training dummies. He tought the
proper incantation and spell to Ozleust. The Master did not tell Ozleust
what the spell did, but to try to attack All of them at once.

"All. Of. Them?"

Ozleust pondered the Master up and down and simply shrugged. Ozleust was
told to do something and he carries it through. He reared together the
incantation and poof, the training dummies evaporated.

Ozleust looked in amazement and had a quizzical face shown to the Master.

"What happened to the dummies?"

"You did that. Your spell attacked All that were foes of you. This...
This is spirit of retribution. This spell will attack All foes of you and
there is a chance that you will also curse your enemies in the same go."


Ozleust felt more power drawn from Drakkara, his veins pulsated as he took 5
more dummies and evaporated them.

"I... I can feel it. I can feel Her power inside of me. This is different
than invocation, but I am able to do much more... Being able to curse my
enemies. This is power... This is protection."


The Master put a shoulder on Ozleust as if the Master have just spoken to
Liviya

"Calm down little Ogre. You are not quite there yet, but you are on the
right path. You will come to full understanding in due time."


Ozleust sighed, eager to join his brethren back in the Towers... Eager to
protect... Eager to serve...

In due time...




Writer: Ashbie

Date Mon Jan 18 20:15:06 2016

To All Verminasia Marcaus Aybel Immortal Roleplay

Subject Fa'Do



Ashbie looked down at the table for several moments in silence.

Upon the carefully stained wood were tiles made from some sort of
animal bone. They were roughly shaped into long rectangles with images
engraved into shallow depressions, painted black.

Though the bone tiles were not the least bit tidy by themselves,
they /were/ arranged neatly on the table. A sprawling grid of tiles
went out in every direction, but each tile was placed snugly against
another tile. There was a sort of uniformity to the chaos.

"Bah, bloody hells. What did I miss this time?" Ashbie half-muttered,
half-asked. Her eyes flicked up to an older gentleman sitting across
from her at the table.

"The same as before. You look only one step ahead. You do not plan,
you do not have plans for your plans. You react. You lose." The man's
words were hard, but his voice was not. It was a soft tenor with a
healthy richness that came from a lifetime of speaking.

His hair was the only wild thing about him, however. Disheveled and
untidy, it was a white mass on top of his head. His beard, also white,
was neatly trimmed. His blue eyes gazed at Ashbie from behind perfectly
rectangle spectacles.

He was dressed modestly, but neatly. Carefully trimmed white robes with
a pale blue silk lining. He appeared humble, but Ashbie knew he was
anything but.

"Ya going to keep giving me the same advice again and again?" She asked,
not hiding the frustrated tinge to her tone.

Without hesitating, the man replied, "Yes. The same as before, when you
were my first mate. I'll keep giving it again and again until you learn."

Of course it was natural for the man to bring up their past relationship.
Back in those days, Ashbie had seen him like a god. He cut an impressive
figure against the terrifying storms of the sea. Standing well over six
stretches in height, he had a trim, but muscular build and he'd had salt
and pepper hair then. He commanded men as easily effortlessly as
breathing. At the time, she'd wanted nothing more than to be like him.

Then she'd become captain of her own vessel, and while his lessons had
ever been on her mind, she discovered that she could be someone else. It
was, perhaps, the most important thing he'd ever taught her. Except he'd
never taught it to her.

Sahmian Brid. The 'd' being silent. He'd never been modest about his
skills as a Pirate Lord. If anything, he intentionally tried to mold
new captains into his image. Imitation being the highest form of
flattery. Ashbie couldn't fault him for that, vanity seemed to be
part and parcel to being a pirate. She'd been just as vain, still was.

Reaching out, Ashbie scooped up the tiles and deposited them into the
a small black leather bag.

"How long are ya stayin'?" She asked, though her gaze moved to look
out the large picture windows in her room. The sea was never far, it
was always there when she wanted to look at it. Timeless, unchanged.
Yet also chaotic and wild, untamed.

"As long as I need to be. No more. No less." Sahmian replied. There
was, perhaps, a touch of smugness to his tone, but only those who knew
the man could sniff it out.

"You're stayin' to teach me Fa'Do?" Ashbie asked, shifting her gaze back
to the older man with an inquisitive look.

"No." Sahmian said. "While I'm here, you will learn Fa'Do. But I stay
until you've learned something else."

"Piss on that. What is it then?" Ashbie demanded, some of her natural
fire kicking into her brown eyes.

"Patience." Sahmian said. "If you're truly going to transition into
the life of...." he looked around for a moment, then smirked, "all
of this... then you need to know how to play the game."

"Fa'Do?" Ashbie asked, he was beginning to confuse her.

Sahmian shook his head. "No. Politics." A slow grin appeared on his
rugged but handsome features.

Ashbie rubbed the bridge between her eyes and above her nose and sighed.




Writer: Vershae
Date Tue Jan 19 01:48:58 2016




Writer: Korrin
Date Tue Jan 19 13:29:34 2016




Writer: Ozleust
Date Tue Jan 19 18:54:39 2016




Writer: Vokard
Date Tue Jan 19 19:05:37 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject Recruitment Day Part 1 of 2



Hordes of Darkonin citizens amassed in the tunnel leading to the newly
established recruitment office. Scores of goblins mingled with their larger
cousins and many half ogres. The even larger full blooded ogres shouldered
all others aside, having no need to wait behind those weaker than
themselves. They plowed through the crowd like ships slicing through waves,
heedless of the smaller forms bruised and knocked into the tunnel walls.
Seeing a clear opening in the pecking order, many bugbears also began
jostling forward with hobgoblins close behind.

Standing in what could not rightly be called a line, but a seething horde,
Vokard waited to enlist in proper service of Mount Darkonin. Armed in
battered, but serviceable, steel plate armor, he carried his few possessions
about his person in a complicated system of wyvern hide harnesses and
straps. His most favored mace in easy reach of his left hand and a steel
kite shield in a catch across his broad back.

The needlessly rough shouldering of the ogres as they past only somewhat
phased Vokard. The whole world had a pecking order, whether one wanted to
see it or not. Even an intentional stomp on his greaved foot brought scant
reaction beyond a reflexive curling of his lips into a snarl. Today was for
the kingdom and he had his rage well bridled. Even though Vokard was larger
than most bugbears, some began to jostle around him. Again his lips curled
back in a snarl that revealed the long yellow teeth in his fearsome maw.

Deciding he had best stake his claim or face the consequences of being
thought weak and passive, Vokard threw out his vambraced arm, the armor only
adding to its considerable size, and clotheslined an overly ambitious
hobgoblin who was trying to rush past. With a loud burst of air escaping,
the smaller goblinkin collapsed backwards onto three goblins. Any potential
hostilities that may have ensued were stifled as a particularly raucous
line-jumper pushing into the chamber at the end of the tunnel came flying
back out at the end of the massive fist of a giant ogre guard. Howling
laughs and taunting hoots erupted down the length of the waiting throng.
The sight quieted Vokard's rage and brought out a great laugh of his own.




Writer: Vokard
Date Tue Jan 19 19:22:00 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject Recruitment Day Part 2 of 2



Some time later, Vokard marched into the recruitment office. A roaring
fire crackled in a great hearth across the way. A cedar table was placed
before it, stacked with papers and a stream of goblin scribes wearing the
tabards of Darkonin castle staff scurried back and forth. Prompted by a
reverberating grunt from the giant ogre still in position at the door,
Vokard quick stepped towards the table and the two figures seated there.
One was a hobgoblin that could only be described as ancient, with only a
slight down of gray hair on his orange scalp and a jagged scar running
vertically over his right eye socket which was glaring empty. Obviously he
felt no need for the vanity of an eyepatch and the many scars over the rest
of his still muscular frame hinted at a long life of conflict. Beside him
was a female orc that Vokard was fairly certain he had seen directing some
of the new construction.

Without preamble the hobgoblin barked, "Name?" "Vokard." The orc began
jotting down the response, showing a clear aptitude with writing. "What can
"you do? " Accustomed to a military roll call, this question perplexed
Vokard.

Erm... Am can dig stone blocks... Uh, Am can work forge. Vokard know how
to shape metal-" While he was stuttering through his response, a quick elbow
was passed between the recruitment officers, followed by a nod at his left
arm and a few quiet words. More confused than before, Vokard stopped mid
sentence to glance down at the copper band the Armsmaster had hooked to his
vambrace. It bore a variation of the symbol over the threshold of the
training cavern and he had no idea what to make of it.

While Vokard was puzzling over this, the hobgoblin barked again drawing his
attenion forward. "You are a Brute in the Darkonin Military! You are
assigned to an advanced scout unit until further notice. Report to the scout
scout master in the Hollow! Move out!!"

Vokard slowly blinked his bloodshot eyes at the recruitment officer, trying
to decide whether "Brute" was a compliment or a rank of some sort. His
thoughts were again interrupted by the gravel-grinding growl of the giant
ogre behind him. "You still here? I said- MOVE OUT!! " The hobgoblin
shouted.

With a start, Vokard managed a hasty salute and dashed back out into the
tunnel, burying under his armored bulk anyone that didn't have the sense to
shift out of the way.




Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Tue Jan 19 20:37:41 2016




Writer: Hyllae

Date Wed Jan 20 10:54:25 2016

To All Shadow IMM

Subject an experiment



"This will not last forever, only so much can be done," the gypsy drawled
"things such as this can never be hidden for long. A week, a month, a
year... I cannot say. A strange thing you ask, but your coin is good"

"Fine, do aet. I'll worry 'bout how long it lasts" Hyllae had never liked
gypsies much. Their chaotic transitory lives. With no true purpose or end,
what could their existance possibly mean? But deceit, trickery, these are
their stronger points... Certainly not Hyllae's.

The wagon stank of smoke and spices, a cloying sweet smell that just barely
failed at masking the scent of other more noxious items within the wooden
box. Whatever it took, she would see this mission through. Hyllae would
have truth and purpose at whatever cost.

"Don't forget this, for what good it will do you." The shrivelled woman
handed a dark medallion wrapped in a bit of cloth to Hyllae. As their hands
touched the old gypsy moved with surprising speed and clasped her hand, "You
didn't ask me to, but i've seen your future this will not end well."




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Jan 20 11:14:11 2016




Writer: Vershae

Date Wed Jan 20 13:57:59 2016




Writer: Vokard

Date Wed Jan 20 16:21:14 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject Scouting Assignment Part 1 of 2



Steam rose from his wide, black nose with every breath as Vokard rode
across the tundra in loose formation with the rest of the scouting unit to
which he had been assigned. Their mission was to map the perimeter of the
Neverwood, seeking any outside force that might explain the troubles within
the forest and to locate a suitable site for a lumber operation to fuel
Darkonin's expansion. Mounted on wargs of varying sizes, the scouting team
was a diverse group consisting of two goblins, a half ogre, a true ogre, and
the leader, a smallish hobgoblin named Skrunk.

From the outset, as they marshaled in the nearly completed tunnel that lead
from the Hollows into the uncharted territories north of Mount Darkonin,
Skrunk had made it perfectly clear that he was in charge of the unit. The
rest had not even bothered speaking to Vokard for the first leg of the
journey. Paralleling the course of the main expeditionary force, they rode
late into the night before Skrunk called for a halt and to make camp. The
goblins promptly disappeared into the gloom, their dusky clothing mottled
with white giving them great cover for scouting. Vokard understood their
roles in the unit, though his own and that of the rest was still somewhat of
a mystery. He had expected to be moving coal and forming metal rods. A
place in the army did make sense given his long training with the
Armsmaster, but an advance scout?

Ithin the hour, the goblins had returned to report the area clear around
them and the camp was set with half of a boar skewed over the fire. Skrunk
addressed the group, "I know no one wants a daylight march, but given the
nature of the reports from Neverwood, there is more shelter in the light
than in the shadows. We break camp before first light and be under the
outer boughs of the forest by dawn." With that, he stalked into the night
beyond the light of the fire, taking the first watch himself.

Vokard settled down until his turn for guard duty and again considered the
advice the Armsmaster had given him just before he departed on the
assignment. "I hear you will be venturing to the Neverwood and the valley
beyond it. Dark things are said to lurk in that forest. Things against
which common steel will be of little avail. " The Armsmaster paused to tap
a knuckle against his mace. "Remember your lessons! A mace for a creature
of stone, a blade for a golem of flesh. Ensorcelled weapons for beings of
the elements. Cold iron or divine power for beasts called from the pits.
Such a shame our alchemist is... Gone. A truesilver tincture on a blade
can wound many things."

The night passed uneventfully, and the scouting group was mounted and
traveling before first light. As predicted, the dark edge on the horizon
soon resolved itself into the ancient boughs of the Neverwood. The dynamic
of the group quickly became apparent with the goblins taking point as
scouts. The ogre was also a seasoned tracker and able to pick up even a
faint set of tracks in the snow swept plain. He and Vokard relayed
information between the goblins and the remaining two members while staying
alert to deal with any threats. Skrunk broke out his stores of parchment
and charcoal and began mapping the terrain while the half ogre gazed into
the distance with a vacant stare, sometimes watching over the scouts,
sometimes scrying their flanks and the blizzard that howled on the far side
of the forest.




Writer: Vokard

Date Wed Jan 20 16:25:07 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject Scouting Assignment Part 2 of 2



As the day progressed, their survey continued skirting the western edge
of the Neverwood and working around it while taking note of the adjoining
areas. While they encounter no trouble through that day or the next,
puzzling signs became more and more common. Game was plentiful on the
tundra, but the animals no longer sought the foliage of the forest, relying
instead on the lichen and scattered brush. There were no clear trails even
though rumor said nomads roamed these plains. Even digging beneath old
layers of frost did not reveal any trails. With so few true sources of
lumber on the tundra, such a large expanse should not sit undisturbed.

In the afternoon of the second day, the scouts reported a true rarity in
frozen north- a mineral spring that was neither frozen over nor tainted with
poisonous compounds. Unfortunately, it sat just inside the boundaries of
the reportedly haunted woods. The scouts shouldn't have even been deep
enough under the canopy to find the spring, sheltered as it was beneath a
rocky overhang. After much discussion and an augury done by the half ogre,
Skrunk decided to move the unit into the lee of the woods. One of their
objectives was to find a suitable lumber camp location, and a ready source
of water was something to lay claim to in any environment.

They breached the forest in careful formation. The scouts shifting through
the growing shadows with Vokard and the ogre following shoulder to shoulder
many paces back and shielding the other two members. Tense minutes passed
as the unit thoroughly surveyed in widening circles around the spring.
Minutes turned into hours before the command was given to establish a camp
against the stone outcrop that thrust into the partial clearing around the
pool and partially obscured the sky. No obvious threats had been found.
Indeed, nothing had been found at all. What snow had managed to fall
through the dense canopy had not been disturbed this season. No bark was
scuffed by the passage of animals, no branches snapped by the passage of
someone lacking woodcraft. However, none of this alleviated the tension-
the pervasive aura that pressed down on them All like a dark, heavy burden
on the soul. Vokard felt as though he stood on an old battlefield and said
as much which earned him a scowl from the hobgoblin. The half ogre seemed
especially agitated, mumbling incessantly with his eyes twitching around
constantly.

Once a huge bonfire was roaring and the camp was established with their
backs to the stone overhang, two sentries were set and the rest settled down
for the night. Vokard drew the final shift, so he hunkered down on the
forest floor, only bothering to remove his helmet. He felt too uneasy and
exposed to completely disrobe. The night was oppressively quiet, even
seeming to mute the crackle of the logs in the fire. Eventually, Vokard
managed to drift into a fitful sleep.




Writer: Korrin

Date Wed Jan 20 16:40:55 2016




Writer: Korrin

Date Wed Jan 20 16:44:20 2016




Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Jan 20 17:38:22 2016

To All Darkonin ( Sunny IMM RP )

Subject Visions


She waited for the task master to give her more work. She tried to be
patient, watching as his beady eyes shuffled papers, cleared his throat
obnoxiously, spitting onto the floor. The Witch gave a long suffering sigh.
She was definitely grounded, which caused some ire and impatience to her.
She tried to quell it, taking in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

The truce was moving along. The Neverwood was being further explored. More
were coming to Darkonin with every week. The Mountain progressed. The
Witch paid close attention.

Losses and gains, the Mountain seemed to be balancing out as she encouraged
the prosperity of the Darkonin's people. Something niggled at the back of
the Witch mind. She could not keep still

She finished a job and moved to the temples to give sacrifice and praise.

It was good.

Her tension eased, breathing in the different ambiance of each sacred place,
bleeding in worship as she cut herself and offered praise. The Witch let
everything go which she could not control. Her mind opened to what would
be.

The Witch walked through the Mountain, looking around, future voices echoing
throughout the caverns. Her dark eyes blinked slowly as a vision of what
may or may not be flooded her senses. Her aura sparked around her, yet the
sights and sounds made her sharply inhale. Business, people crowded around
her, merchants hawked their wares, amiable arguing, loud haggling. The wind
pinched her, chill, abrasive, for a moment she closed her eyes.

Upon opening them, everything was as it was. The silence from the cacophony
of noise before was deafening. The Witch turned, looking around her, her
arms instinctively drawing in to hug her slight frame.

The Witch shivered, not certain if the vision was sent for good or ill.




Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Jan 20 17:39:43 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Wed Jan 20 17:39:50 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Wed Jan 20 17:39:58 2016




Writer: Zola
Date Thu Jan 21 02:02:21 2016

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Verminasia Darkonin Immortals Fatale

Subject X A New Game X


There was a myth, predating Serpantol, that if the Reaper came for you,
and you wished to live a longer life, you could challenge him to a game of
chess. They said the very first chessboard emerged from such a challenge,
the pieces carved from the bones of the dead.


It was folly of course. No matter how long you tried to prolong your life,
eventually it would end. Playing games with death couldn't prolong it, only
prolong your suffering. Then again, if you enjoyed that sort of thing...


A gloved hand reached down, and advanced a black bishop forward. It knocked
the white pawn in its way... Out of its way.


The game was going unusually well for Zola, a mediocre player at best. He
enjoyed the game but was never the best when it came to long-term strategies
required for flawless victory. Instead, his opponent was usually the far
better player. But tonight they were off their
game, and the Deathscythe
was taking full advantage of that fact. Another move carelessly made,
another bit of their defenses breaking as he continued his slow, methodical
advance.


While he was most assuredly enjoying their game, his mind was also running
over his latest project, a chance to expand upon the church and spread the
faith in Lord Fatale and the Dark Pantheon. It was easily one of his most
ambitious endeavors, yet he was
making use of multiple pieces... Pawns, if
he went by the chess analogy... To see it come to fruition.


His Queen took the board, and effortlessly cut a bloody swath through the
white pieces opposing her.


This game he was winning, but there was a bigger game in motion he was a
part of. A new game. And like this friendly little match of chess, he
intended to win that one as well. Come Hell or high water.





Writer: Vokard

Date Thu Jan 21 15:59:12 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject Night Terrors Part 1 of 2



Some hours later, in the blackest part of the night, something cold and
hard stuck Vokard's head. A muffled growl rolled past his lips as he
shifted, not quite awake, until another impact more fully roused him.
Blinking blearily around, another object cracked him on the snout snow
packed around a stone. The heat of anger rapidly burned off the residual
languor of sleep as Vokard rose to his knees seeking the culprit. To his
surprise, the rest of the camp was awake, the painful snowballs the work of
a goblin scout just beyond the perimeter of the firelight who was even then
gesturing frantically for everyone to take up their arms. Vokard had barely
donned his helmet and unslung his shield from behind his back before a great
bellow shook snow from the trees and the ogre member of the group fell
backwards into the light, beset by what appeared to be living shadows.

Three of the creatures swarmed over the ogre's huge form, ripping and
tearing. Hefting his mace and presenting his kite shield in a wall before
him, Vokard roared a challenge and shield rushed the shadow fiends from his
companion. The sensation was not at All what he was expecting. The
shadowstuff the things appeared to be made of offered little resistance and
they seemed ready to simply flow around his shield. Vokard did manage to
shove them back and went into a defensive combat sequence. The first sweep
of his mace swished clean through a shadowy arm. To his dismay, his
opponent's arm reformed and flowed past his blocking shield, umbral claws
seeking a gap in his pauldron.

Anger began to seethe causing Vokard to go into a frenzy- powerful sweeps of
his mace, bashes with his shield and frenzied snaps of his maw. The shadows
chilled his entire head when he finally caught one between his vicious
teeth, causing him to recoil. A deeper chill gnawed at the heat of his
growing rage. His efforts were showing only minor results, the shadowfiends
reforming a little slower yet coming on relentlessly. Feeling blood oozing
from the edge of his gorget, Vokard realized that while he might win at this
battle of attrition, it wouldn't leave much for the victor to celebrate.
Hearing a shout from behind him, Vokard sheathed his mace and retreated,
grabbing the ogre, who was only then regaining his feet, by the collar and
hauling him back beyond the fire.

"Magicks! Big Magicks! Magicked blades!" Vokard bellowed as he
approached the group, feeling the cold claws of their attackers close behind
him. Apparently having already come to the same conclusion, the half ogre
raised his hand and a lightning bolt split the air, leaving behind a sharp
scent of ozone as it tore through the shadows. Skrunk dropped his bow and
drew a sword from a scabbard, red flames immediately shrouding the length of
the blade. Leaping to the attack, the hobgoblin went into an impressive
dance driving back the advancing creatures. There was no sign of the goblin
scouts. Fumbling with the straps of his harness, Vokard drew a stone case
from his pack. He wasn't certain he could wield this weapon, but it was his
only ensorcelled armament. With a growl of denial he opened the case and
grasped the hammer of living lightning within. The power thrummed up his
entire arm, causing him to tremble. The coals of his rage were stoked by
this insult. He was the master, not the weapon. Howling his rancor into
the night, Vokard turned with an overhead smash, the crackling mace blasting
right through a shadowfiend, its electricity jolting and sparking through
the interior of the shadow until it burst and dissipated.




Writer: Vokard
Date Thu Jan 21 16:04:04 2016

To All Darkonin Euterah Mruz Mokla ( Sunny Imm RP Mencius )

Subject Night Terrors Part 2 of 2



Finally on even footing against their opponents, the scout unit battled
ferociously through dozens of the shadowbeasts before the last of one was
forcibly dispersed. Panting heavily, Vokard slumped against the stone
outcrop while the half ogre moved slowly around applying a pungent poultice
to only the worst of the injuries. Just as calm seemed to return, one of
the missing goblins burst into the clearing at a hectic sprint, waving his
spindly arms in terror. Not far behind, a giant form emerged from the
forest. Over ten feet tall, the being looked like a mass of soil, branches
and vines All pressed together into a vaguely humanoid shape. Two glowing
points of dark red light pulsed with malice in what passed for its head.

Finally seeing a solid target, the ogre rushed forward with fearless sweeps
of his battleaxe. Vokard marshaled himself, seeking a second wind after the
last battle. Suddenly an impossibly huge moose galloped by, nearly knocking
Vokard off his feet. A deafening crash ensued as the shaman-turned-moose
collided full speed with the beast. The transformed shaman's mighty antlers
tore deep swaths from their foe while the ogre hewed into a leg with his
axe. As Vokard began his own charge, he noticed that the flesh of the giant
turned into numerous tiny, insect-like creatures as they were separated from
the main form. Swarming over each other, they attempted to reform and
rejoin the beast.

Not wanting an extended conflict so soon after the last fight, Vokard
hustled forward and began smashing the smaller clumps, the intense lightning
of his mace shocking them apart. Some of the disjointed things fled into
the night while others puffed out of existence. A heavy impact accompanied
the snapping of bones as the strange giant flattened the ogre to the ground
with a huge fist. Sorely injured by the assault and leaking tiny,
indistinct beings from slowly closing wounds, the beast was not out of the
fight. It launched the transformed shaman across the camp with a sweep of
its leg. Rage enfolded Vokard like a mantle. The limp form of his ogre
companion and pained baying of the shaman caused the blood to pound in his
ears. His neck and hip ached from the bloody gouges torn by the
shadowfiends. His shield arm drooped from fatigue.

As his anger mounted, Vokard moved beyond his pain, beyond his fatigue. The
fury coursed within him, granting him strength and he made a last stand
against the beast. Soil and branches blasted out of the giant's torso with
each swing. Narrowly getting his shield in front of him, Vokard went
sliding back several feet from the force the retaliating blow. Not even
feeling the shock and numbness in his shoulder from absorbing the blow, he
shield rushed back in whipping his mace through a rapid assault. Just then,
the hobgoblin stepped from the shadows and leaped from the outcrop, his
flaming sword leading. He landed with a brutal stab in the back of the
giant's head, igniting the flesh and opening a deep wound. Seeing a chance
for victory, Vokard embraced his rage and renewed his assault while the
scout leader continued stabbing and tearing at their foe's head and torso.

Without warning, the beast collapsed into a swarming mass of little figures,
some igniting from the residual flames and lightning, but most retreating
into the forest in an undulating wave that continued to try to reform into
larger shapes.

Without warning, the beast collapsed into a swarming mass of little figures,
some igniting from the residual flames and lightning, but most retreating
into the forest in an undulating wave that continued to try to reform into
larger shapes. Ogre's body to the flames, they collected their mounts and
rode hard for Darkonin. Their mission was a failure, but perhaps what they
had learned and the partial maps would be of service to the Mountain.




Writer: Mercerion
Date Thu Jan 21 16:27:19 2016




Writer: Vershae
Date Thu Jan 21 23:47:26 2016




Writer: Takeri
Date Fri Jan 22 11:57:35 2016

To All Abaddon Damion Lilya Korrin Simani ( Gragos IMM RP )

Subject The Baby


Always the hunger, it would be with her forever, she believed. Somehow
it had changed with the pregnancy. She was voracious, insatiable. She felt
as if she could eat an entire herd of animals. Damion was ever kind to her,
even since she had started eating quote unquote regular food. She could not
get enough. She worried something else new with the knowledge of growing
child within her.

She gnawed on a particularly tough piece of cow's tongue, thinking over the
last few weeks, before she finally felt something stirring inside her. She
prayed for this. Why was she apprehensive? She ate a fruit salad and then
munched on a raw heart.

Takeri got up, her usually spidery grace hampered by the growing bump. She
frowned, her smooth brow creasing and absently itched her belly. It seemed
to her the child was growing exceeding fast. She countered that she did not
pay attention to time as it should be. Perhaps, this was her problem. She
needed to stay in the moment. When it did not matter much time was so
tedious.

It did not matter to her or Damion. They would go on until the end of time.
They were not exactly mortal. A thought crossed her mind, would it matter
to the child?

She ate a plate of barbequed wombat, eschewing the bread and then a platter
of chilled horsemeat and a kender thigh, dwelling on the thoughts inside her
head. Letting them formulate and process, before she spoke her anxiety to
her Lover. Lilya knew. Lilya would help her. Her brother would help her.
Damion would understand her. She took a breath, out of habit, to give a
wistful sigh.

She became still as stone, lapsing into silence, trying to stay in the
moment that was and will be.




Writer: Euterah

Date Fri Jan 22 17:02:42 2016




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sun Jan 24 09:51:21 2016

To All Conclave Ba'buh Musen Laiton ( IMM RP Kyri Drakkara )

Subject New Path (Pt. 10)



"Now it is time to teach something new."

The Master gazed at Ozleust as he focused on the task at hand. The Master
bowed his head and put his hands together. He muttered an incantation and a
strange figure appeared. This figure... Was missing a nose. Ozleust
chuckled a bit to himself, but then he felt this gaze as if Ozleust's
thoughts were being read.

"What's so funny?"

The stoic figure was standing there and not once cracked a smile.

"I... I... Nothing. Nothing is funny."

Ozleust stammered at his words and looked at the Master for some more
information.

"This is Yan Luo... He was an ancient king. Some say he was completely
consumed by darkness and can be summoned with the right power and he will
aid in vanquishing your foes."


Ozleust nod in understanding and he looked back at Yan Luo.

"Who did you follow? Who did you pledge your faith to?"

Yan grinned as he looked at Ozleust and slightly gestured Ozleust to come
forward.

"Drakkara"

That one word... Sent chills down Ozleust's spine. He contemplated for a
moment and he realized something...

He was almost ready...




Writer: Clarissia

Date Mon Jan 25 01:32:53 2016




Writer: Phylip

Date Mon Jan 25 08:52:30 2016

To Abaddon ( Fatale Imm rp All )

Subject In the darkness of Abaddon



Phylip looks up at the sign hanging from the rat hole they call a bar and
walks in. He is dressed as he feels, reclusive, dangerous, and mysterious.
Walking over to a table in the corner, he takes a seat, the wall to his
back. The inn is exactly what he expected. Noisy, filthy, and the clientel
a mixture of gamblers and thieves. He places a gold piece on the table,
the coin immediatly calling the attention of a barmaid. Sauntering over
she takes the gold, slipping it into her bossom. 'Don't get much gold in
in here mister, what you havin'? Without looking up phylip orders
a stew and coffee. With a hmph the barmaid dissapears into the kitchen.
Not two minutes later, four men surround his table. This is what he was
after. The gold piece attracted other attention, the kind of attention he
was more interested in.

'Mighty fancy ain't ye. We think ye cin buy a roun' for the whole place
cain't ye. Phylip still doesn't look up, his face shrouded in shadow
he speaks softly, knowing they couldn't hear him 'Buy your own drinks'
The burlier man grabs the table, sending it crashing to the floor as the
room goes deathly quiet. All eyes turned to the corner as Phylip remains
in his chair. 'Wha' was tha' pretty boy? To fancy to speak up? Maybe
you just need taught some manners! As the man steps forward Phylip
kicks his foot out catching the man's knee with a sickening crunch. With
a howl of pain the man crumples like a sack. The three others draw their
weapons and charge forward as Phylip begins muttering. Before the man could bring his sword down his eyes go blak, his body going slack as his blade
lowers. Turning he slams his fist into his buddy's throat. Stepping over
his crumpled body he finally looks up. The last man seeing his face pales
and drops his dagger to the floor. His hands raised in surrender he starts
to back up. As phylip walks slowly towards him, he speaks again, this time
loud enough for All to hear 'Pretty boy I believe is what you called me,
yes? Does the son of the Inquisitor look like a pretty boy?' Still
walking backwards towards the door, the man shakes his head. Fear shining
in his eyes. Just as he turns to grab the door, Phylip moves with
lightning speed, draws his dagger, and slits the man's throat. Wiping his
blade on his thigh, he looks down at the man as the life bleeds from his
throat and eyes. Sheathing his dagger, he turns to the other men.
The man with the crushed knee was alive, but will never walk again without
a cane, and he had soiled himself. Leaving him on the floor, phylip turns
to the spelled man. Leaning into him he whispers into the mans ear.

Without blinking he walks over to an oil lamp, taking it from the wall. Shielding the flame with his hand, he walks out into the middle of the street
and douses himself with the oil. Looking into the inn, into the eyes of
the young man, almost pleadingly. With a nod from Phylip, he sets the flame
against his tunic. Bursting into flames, the man's shrill screams bounce and
echo from the alley, sending them far into the city of Abaddon.

With a smile, Phylip replaces the hood over his head, returning his face
to the shadows. Dropping a small sack of silver on the bar, he walks out
into the fire bright night, the screams of the dying man echoing in his
head.




Writer: Zxirkin

Date Mon Jan 25 18:23:21 2016

To Darkonin Vershae Euterah Mokla Smax Vokard ( Sunny IMM RP All )

Subject The Northlands : Neverwood - A Grunts Visage


Zxirkin stood in the ranks of the Mountain's army. The orc had come to
the mountain only days ago so his place was just a few paces from the front.
Spear fodder some would say, but no matter. He had faced far harsher
circumstances. The horn blasted across the ranks as the Supreme General
rode by and the march started. Marching in formation allowed for one thing
only. Reflection. His life had taken many turns in his near nineteen
winters. Slavery in the fields of Tropica, the hot sands of the Desert
Jewel, now to the icy Mountains of Darkonin. Of the lands he traveled
though, this was home. With his own kind. Slowly the column pressed on
through the mountain peaks and valleys. Looking to the west a huge forest
presses itself to the sky, dark and forboding. Then, just as abruptly, it
is gone, replaced by yet another small mountain and a tunnel. The Hollows.
This visage was All too familiar. The broken, defeated looks, the downcast
eyes, fear and anxiety rolling off them like steam. As the Army makes camp,
he grabs his polearm and begins his watch as the sun sets over the horizon
promising a frigid night and empty belly.




Writer: Mathesan

Date Mon Jan 25 23:48:51 2016

To Verminasia All Marcaus Liviya Immortal Roleplay

Subject Dinner (1)



Mathesan lifted a hand and lit one of the many gas lamps in the room, the
rest followed shortly after until the entire room was lit with a dim but
sufficient glow.

The room in which he was standing was a small but well-stocked and
equipped kitchen. It was his kitchen. Growing up a Madaur meant that
many things were given to Mathesan and he wanted for nothing.
Nevertheless, those gifts were from father and family and he did not
feel ownership over them.

This kitchen, however, was his. It was built with money he had earned
in a particularly difficult trade agreement. It was nothing new to
discover that villages near one another often had deep disagreements
with one another. Whether there were disputes over ancestral land,
resources, or anything else that might plague a society to the
mundane irrationality that led to its own self-destruction, there was
always some reason for group A to hate group B. It was usually a
mutual feeling.

Through negotation, a few bribes, and a well-placed lie, he had managed
to get the son of one village leader to marry the daughter of the other
village leader and thus a trade pact was made. In the negotiation,
Mathesan had managed to secure himself a cut of any trade made between
the villages. He made regular visits to collect his due, and was
usually treated to feasting by both village leaders.

Navigating his way through the kitchen, past an old wooden table that
served as an island, Mathesan stood in front of a tall ice-box. The
large object was made of arcanium-alloy steel and held a spell of
permeating cold that kept its contents chilled and fresh.

Like the gas lamps in the room, there was a small rune on the front
of the box: A stylized 'M' laid over a second 'M' of the same style. The
two latters were surrounded by a perfect circle and, at the top of the
circle, a diamond shape joined the two halves.

Mathesan passed his hand over the sigil which glowed red momentarily,
an exact replica of the mark briefly making an appearance on the back of
his hand. There was an audible clicking noise and the ice-box began to
open.

Looking inside, Mathesan saw a number of neatly wrapped bundles. Each
bundle was bound by hemp string and wrapped thoroughly by brown paper.
There were bundles of varying sizes, some could fit easily into the palm
of Mathesan's hand, while others would take his hands and arms to carry.
Reaching inside, Mathesan sifted through the bundles, finally settling on
one that was roughly the size of one palm. He checked the label, and,
satisfied, set the bundle on the short counter beside the ice-box.

Next, Mathesan made his way over to the small pantry built in to the
kitchen. He grabbed a bag of Markon flour and one ostrich egg from a box
labeled Camaraenaus.

Pouring out a small mound of flour, Mathesan sprinkled some freshly
ground salt and then made a small basin in the center. Working with his
hands, he quickly formed a ball of pasta dough, then let it rest beneath
a wooden bowl.

Next, Mathesan took out a cast-iron skillet and some red wine. Taking the
bundle, he unwrapped it, revealing a carefully preserved lump of meat with
skin on one side. The label on the package said "cheek; human; male; 24;".
The handwriting was neat and precise, indicating a highly organized mind.
The meat was perfectly butchered, revealing a talent for extracting the
most meat from a fresh kill.

Mathesan put the cast-iron skillet over a stove, and, using one finger, he
lit the burner underneath. Pouring in some red wine, fresh basil, a touch
of dried oregano, and some garlic, Mathesan let the mixture reduce over
the low flame. Taking out another cast-iron skillet, this one much larger,
Mathesan poured nearly half a bottle of the red wine and got it simmering.

The next half an hour was a blur in Mathesan's memory. He acted on
instinct and intuition, relying on memory and skill. He danced before an
audience.




Writer: Mathesan

Date Mon Jan 25 23:50:53 2016

To Verminasia All Marcaus Liviya Immortal Roleplay

Subject Dinner (2)



However, the audience wasn't there and the dance was one in which
Mathesan barely moved. He swiftly chopped up aromatics and threw them
into the red wine that was now simmering on the stove. He returned
to the pasta dough and began to roll it out. He made sure it was flat,
then cut it into sheets and flattened each of those. He cut more
sheets and continued the process until he had thinner-than-paper
sheets of pasta which he then cut into fettuccine. It was a rustic
pasta, but it would suit the dish.

The cheek was now room temperature, Mathesan slid the meat into the
pot simmering with aromatics and red wine. He checked his reduction
and took it off the heat for a little while. His movement was increasing
now. He shifted over to a basin where plumbing allowed fresh, clean
water into his kitchen. He filled a pot with the water, then set it
on the stove. Another point of his finger and a large flame began to
lick at the pot, provoking it to heat up.

More ground salt. Oil from south-Althainian olives.

The mixture swirled in the water, not quite settling, always restless.
Like Mathesan, it moved. However, his movements were ordered and
measured, never chaotic. Eventually the fresh fettuccine was cooking
in the boiling water. The reduction was placed back on the fire to
warm slightly.

Mathesan drained the other skillet of its red wine, storing it in a
container to be used in a reduction for another time. The aromatics
tumbled out into a colander along with the tenderly braised cheek
meat.

A plate was taken out, and then the pasta was drained with the
fettuccine adding to the aromatics and the cheek. With deft fingers,
Mathesan arranged the pasta on the plate. Next he arranged the
carrots, onions, and potatoes in with the fettuccine and decorating
the edges.

The cheek was transferred to a cutting board where Mathesan sliced
up the tender meat and then places juicy slices over the vegetables
in pasta.

Last was the reduction. The garlic was removed, but the other
herbs remained. A sprinkle of parsley, a whole basil leaf set off
to the side.

Dinner was served.




Writer: Euterah
Date Tue Jan 26 15:39:01 2016




Writer: Crelius
Date Wed Jan 27 06:07:47 2016




Writer: Crelius
Date Wed Jan 27 06:23:47 2016




Writer: Phylip
Date Wed Jan 27 12:22:32 2016




Writer: Mercerion
Date Wed Jan 27 16:57:34 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Thu Jan 28 12:24:10 2016

To Darkonin All Mokla Grulgon Glixkle Vitriosablet Mruz Brakal Kinzea ( Sunny Imm RP )

Subject The Hollows: Hope


The Inlaid design at the door, pointed out by her Titan Mokla Warchylde
revealed so much more about the Hollows history than she expected. Here was
what she sought for the Mountain. The Witch Queen touched the thin metal
inlay, tracing the ogre with its cudgel, the white ice-goblin, the greenish
goblin, their teeth bared in deference to what the world handed them. This
was the foundation of the Mountain, not her, but the combined strengths of
kith and kin.

People moved past her. The life here was so much different, like a palpable
energy that rushed and filled her with anticipation. The Witch's dark eyes
moved over the people, the ice goblins with their strange almost furry
presence, the Ogres towering over the other folk, the goblins like herself
all moving about their business. To the crude market or to work or to home,
she saw their hard won freedom and the Witch was pleased.

Words were full, but action needed fulfillment, the Witch decided.




Writer: Daeymon

Date Thu Jan 28 20:17:23 2016




Writer: Thaydius

Date Fri Jan 29 14:46:09 2016

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Another Morning



The morning had that faint dew lingering on the grass as it stood tall
and uncut between the wooden homes built among the burgeoning fields of
growing crops. Stone had been reserved for foundations, wells, walls and
one building that sat in a little clearing beside a few apple trees while
the early sun peeked from the edges of the horizon with thin beams of light.
Above the doorway to this communal structure was a marking of white paint,
resembling a hand with rays extending as if to signify a glow or brightness.


Inside, there were maybe a dozen beds with linens and furs, sturdy and
functional to grant rest to the men and women that lay within their warm
embrace. Toward the end of the long room there was a modest altar lined
with the careful and dedicated woodwork of a crafter. Far above it,
surrounded by stained glass, was a symbol of Siccara watching over the
contents kept therein.

Out yonder in the fields, Thaydius was set on one knee, brushing the glowing
palm of his hand over the back of a cow, bulging with pregnancy, eyes shut
as it tilted its chin upward with elation. He had a thick robe over his
masterfully crafted chainmail and worldly regalia. The garment was one he
had fashioned during his days of fighting a plague in Algoron, years back.
Upon it was nothing more than a symbol of Siccara. The edges of the sleeves
had started to get tattered and worn in his travels. To him, the fully
grown cow seemed like little more than a puppy as he projected the essence
of Siccara inside of him to bless the baby calf while it developed.

He walked among the swaying blades of grass and drank in the mixture of
colors being offered in the fleeting sunrise. Soon, he would have to make
his way to another village just like this one. And then another. And so
on. There were hundreds of them now, cultivated after years and years of
his existence. They were his people. They were All his people. All he
wanted was to protect them. To grant them the richness of the White Moon's
blessings. His endless eyes set down upon a piece of tiny parchment in his
large and powerful grasp.

It was the same thing he had seen endless times before. A man, a mortal,
proclaiming to find great purpose in what was depicted as a brave struggle
against aberrations. He looked around at All of the things he had
apparently spoiled. He thought for a moment about the thousands and
thousands and thousands of mortals he had watched over for his mother. This
was the part of Algoron he did not mind failing to hear about as he
continued his work as the white hand. He thought back to the words of his
Mother, as she appeared to him and spoke, how she told him that the mortals
would need him. Simultaneously, he knew that everything these mortals put
before themselves they watched die gleefully. That they would pummel him
with stones until his soul was destroyed and proclaim him a monster of some
sort or another.

He gently released the slip of parchment, letting it drift into the vast
span of space between his elevated hand and the ground. As if prompted, the
wind picked up and drew it into several flips, end over end, as it careened
into the sky and away into the distance. He looked up at the White Moon, as
if trying to make eye contact with his Mother, who he knew was watching him.
He'd do whatever he had to, heal people or fight monsters or show love or
even be stoned to death, if that was what Austinian willed. Because it was
important to him. His family had shown him how important it was.




Writer: Rellinath
Date Fri Jan 29 15:37:22 2016




Writer: Rellinath
Date Fri Jan 29 15:44:02 2016




Writer: Mokla
Date Sat Jan 30 12:38:51 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Hollows : Shortage


"Two carts a day." , Said the tall hobgob officer, "Every day since I
was posted. Food, clothing, trade goods, and gravel for the path."
Mokla
looked up from the royal ledger to peer at Dkom with a puzzled expression
which faded to a nodding gesture of acceptance. Mokla could find no reason
to doubt the officer whom reports had noted as dependable and duty-driven,
especially when combined with the numerous ledger entries confirming "two
carts" leaving the depot and arriving as scheduled. He knew of the Queen's
desire that the Hollow folk lack for nothing, this would be no Dolund'ir,
and found it hard to accept that the estimates of the population could be so
far off as to cause the long food lines and threadbare appearances of the
folk here. "Definitely a problem.." , Muttered Mokla softly with an added
curse, as he pinched the bridge of his nose and a frown settled on his face.


A short journey back to Darkonin gave him time to think on matters and by
the time of reaching the gates he knew his first destination should be the
depot from which the supplies originated. Along the way he paused to watch
as a supply cart passed by in the other direction. Noticing his interest,
the driver offered a brief wave and flashed a grin, his brightly dyed, flame
red hair hanging in dreadlocks which swayed as he turned to look once more
even after passing. Mokla noted both the covering over the piled high goods
and the increased pace of the cart. Mokla continued on to find the depot
bustling with activity. Supplies for the Northland Army, supplies for the
Hollow, and supplies to local vendors created a chaotic dance of loading and
unloading. Weaving his way through the maze of carts he came to the open
office window. Perched within the open window an ogre man sat, pouring over
a ledger through spectacles designed for a much smaller head. Tracing a
line with his finger as he mumbled to himself, his other hand slid beads
strung on a wire back and forth. He paid no notice as Mokla stood at the
window.

Mokla coughed once to gain notice to no avail. He then reached out a
taloned finger to slide one of the beads the ogre moved, back along the
wire, saying nothing. Without looking up the ogre's hand dipped under the
counter and emerged with a sturdy looking maul he rested on the ledger.
Mokla sighed and said, "Must we always play this game, Vigo? You see me
standing here plain as I can see the top of your balding head."
"Three
casks of milk... You owe me for three casks of milk."
The ogre grumbled
in ogrish. "We had a deal and the vest on your back speaks of it being
kept."
, Mokla replied in the same tongue as he tugged at the front of the
yeti pelt, "Why the hard feelings now, Vigo?" The ogre finally looked up,
pulling the stretched spectacles from his face saying, "One pelt, one cask..
Not three you stole."
Mokla sighed shaking his head, "One fresh cask was
the deal, trying to push off near soured goods seemed out of charector for
you.
It just took me three tries to find a fresh one is all. If you knew
who it was for, you would hardly argue the matter. However, keeping in mind
the value of your friendship I will make good by helping clear your name
from the rumors of graft and greed going around."
Said Mokla. A scowl
settled on the ogre's face at the idea and his grip on the maul tightened.
"It seems the Hollows deliveries are short every day.. Some call your work
sloppy.. Other's an outright thief."
Mokla said in hushed tones, "I know
this to be untrue and we must prove it soonest."


The ogre raised a questioning eyebrow then nodded, saying "Ledger tells
all.. All asked for.. All given. Ledger never lie."
, And slid the
ledger around for Mokla's inspection. Mokla quickly scanned the entries and
nodded, mentally checking off each item before pausing to look up.
"Everything appears accounted for except the gravel." Mokla said. Vigo
scrunched up his face and looked at Mokla quizzically, "Gravel?!? Head goes
soft? Why takes gravel to caves? Gravel come from cave.."





Writer: Mokla

Date Sat Jan 30 15:48:48 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Hollows : Shortage pt. 2


Mokla fought off the urge to grimace and fume as the ogre's obvious point
sank into his brain. It was an oversight that should have screamed at him
from the start and his ire fueled his resolve to see the problem corrected.
"You are correct Vigo, I knew you would confirm the fact and prove you are
still master of All the dealings within the depot. Between us we'll surely
prove the accusations to be the lies of dung-brained idiots."
Mokla
reassured. Vigo grunted to himself and nodded self-righteously, muttering
about gobbos and the importance of ogre-sense as Mokla nodded and turned
away, making for the street with clenched teeth and an angry stride.

Stopping in the middle of the street Mokla looked back at the departed depot
and turned to follow the road leaving towards the Hollows. Chiding himself
for slipping, the game now afoot was one well-known to him and his opponent
would soon realize himself over matched. Passing through the gates it was
short work to find the point where the cart broke the trail, poor attempts
to disguise it were left wanting when the repeated passage of such heavy
loads took their toll on the ground. Moving carefully along the trail, wary
for any sign of others, he reached a pile of fresh cut brush. Moving it
aside revealed the expected entrance to a small cave, fresh drag marks on
the floor of the low opening. Stooping till the entry opened up, he raised
a guiding jewel whose radiant light revealed the cache of goods stacked
haphazardly along the walls. Nodding sagely to himself he exited the cave.


It was a simple matter to gather his crew and set the ambush for the
profiteering cart driver. The only difficulty was overcoming the sense of
irony that he should make an example of the driver for deeds he once thrived
at himself. By the time he presented the carts, overflowing with the stolen
goods, back to Dkom the surety of his actions had settled in place of any
doubts. "What of him?" The officer asked motioning to the bound and
gagged driver. Mokla shrugged looking out over the Hollow folk, "Give him
to them.. It was them he stole from and seems fitting their justice he
faces."
Mokla stated meeting Dkom's eye.

The crowd's adoration and cheering of the Queen as she helped pass goods out
to her new people settled the matter in Mokla's mind. This scene worth any
effort or price. The smile upon the Queen's face as evidence to her glee
fixed in his mind and surely a cherished memory. Mokla turned to the cheer
from the nearby playing field as flame-topped head passed through the hoop.
Mokla grinned to himself at the idea of how easy doing the "right" thing
came to him. Another influence of his Queen no doubt.




Writer: Yudith

Date Sun Jan 31 00:19:52 2016




Writer: Euterah

Date Sun Jan 31 18:11:46 2016




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Jan 31 22:07:40 2016




Writer: Nierwyld

Date Tue Feb 2 09:05:11 2016

To Conclave White_Robes All Kyri Kantilles RP Religion

Subject Guardian of the Magi



Nierwyld flit through the keep, sneaking past the bottom row of guards,
up the staircase, squeezing through the cracks in the doors until he was
near the higher level of the tower. He gripped his blades tightly and
engaged the lone sentry, taking him down quickly with a big surprise of
pixie dust.

Quite honestly, he had never really understood why they fell asleep, maybe
they just inhaled to much of the dust. Come to think of it, he never
understood anything of his own dust. Just was what it was.

He shook his head and waited, but not for long. Soon the Magi of the
Conclave were appearing out of thin air. Rumptin, Laiton, and someone else
whose name he couldn't quite remember. Another pixie though.

"Poor pixie," he thought as he slipped into the shadows, watching over them
as they prepare themselves for the battle ahead. "Content with casting
their magics, never knowing what it would be like to engage the enemy blade
for blade
."

Soon enough, though, he was given the signal and his thoughts returned back
to the task at hand. With a smirk, he flitted through the cracks in the
doors and tried to enter the keep lords portal, but he was caught by the
guards and engaged!

He saw the other magi make it through and knew, at least, he had given them
that. He quickly disengaged with the foes and was able to sneak past them
once more, slipping into the portal.

He must have escaped the attention of the Keep Lord, for he was able to sit
back and hide in the shadows, watching over his Magi, waiting for those who
would come defend it.

The Keep Lord was wearing down, his movements more staggered as he began to
wane beneath the onslaught of the power of the Magi. With a flash, a lone
defender appeared and engaged his poor Magi. They had to die. Like a bat
from hell, he engaged the crusader, striking out fast and hard. His magi
turned their magics to the defender and soon, they were dispatched, with
Rumptin landing the final acid blast.

It wasn't long before the Keep Lord fell to his knees and gave his support
to the Conclave.

Not one of his Magi had perished. Not one even came close.

He had done his job. Nierwyld J. Foxrun, Guardian of the Magi.




Writer: Nierwyld

Date Tue Feb 2 09:09:33 2016




Writer: Damion

Date Tue Feb 2 10:18:53 2016




Writer: Cassidy

Date Tue Feb 2 12:28:40 2016

To New_Thalos All (Siccara Imm RP Rolus)

Subject A Joyous Moment



After the Crownguard had helped her into the manor and left her under the
care of midwife and maids, Cassidy is helped up the stairs, the midwife's
assistant running ahead to get things ready. Cassidy enters the room with
her entourage and is helped out of her clothes and into a bathrobe, as the
large bathtub is filled, preparations on their way. The Headmaster of New
Thalos, walks slowly back and forth, whispering silent prayers to her
Goddess. The water ready, she removes her robe and steps in with help from
the maids, then the long process of child birth begins.

Minutes seems to pass into hours, her strength nearly giving as she pushes,
gritting her teeth together, tears rolling down her cheeks. Encouraging
words come from the midwife, 'Push, Lady, come on, just a little more. '
Cassidy's azure eyes open as she gazes up, a warmth filling her body, giving
her strength and peace, 'Thank you, Mother. ' she whispers to her Goddess
as she gives one final push.

________________________

The happy mother reclines on her bed with her new bundle of joy, the little
baby wrapped in a white blanket. Little fists waving in the air, a dark
curl flat against her little forehead. Eyes as blue as the clear sky in
spring, gaze at the Headmaster as she whispers, 'Hello, my little love. You
are so precious, I love you so much, my Syeira.
'





Writer: Glixkle

Date Tue Feb 2 14:35:47 2016




Writer: Glixkle

Date Tue Feb 2 14:53:03 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Tue Feb 2 15:27:27 2016




Writer: Euterah
Date Tue Feb 2 15:31:59 2016




Writer: Glixkle
Date Tue Feb 2 16:12:45 2016




Writer: Mokla
Date Tue Feb 2 19:04:16 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Search : Refuge


"You've done well Glixkle, you've done what others could not... And we
will not forget."
Mokla said. The Queen's affirming nod to the shaman
echoed the appreciation for his efforts, as All three stared down at the
strange symbol sketched on the parchment. Turning to the crowded shelves in
the library she tugged at a large tome and dropped it on the table raising
dust from it's ancient pages. "Perhaps you'll find something in here. It's
filled with translations in ogrish and common beside symbols I cannot
decipher."
The Queen said. Nodding to the Queen, Mokla gently opened the
brittle pages to the bookmark the queen had left. Symbols of a style
resembling the sketch covered the pages in long columns. After scanning
several pages of the book, Mokla shifted his gaze back and forth from the
book to the sketch. "I may have something.. Close" Mokla said, his brow
furrowing at the slight difference between the two. He noted carefully the
additional curling slash evident on the sketch but not on the page, tracing
it with his talon. "What's it says?" Asked the shaman peering over.
Mokla spoke the ogrish word without looking up from reading from the book,
to which the shaman replied, "That's being a word?" . Looking up and
pausing a moment, Mokla looked to him and said, "Roughly.. It works out to
"Everhold"


The three looked from one to the other before Mokla shrugged and offered
"Sounds like a place.. Or a fort maybe?" . Shrugging, his eyes were drawn
again to the added mark on the sketch, and added "Or.. It could mean
something completely different"
Sighing, the queen said "It would be nice to
have a yinnish speaker.. But it seems they are as few as the Yaenni
themselves"
to the nodding hobgobs. The sentiment ran over and over in
Mokla's mind, as the shaman stood to leave, offering any further assistance
he could. Lost in his own thoughts, Mokla remained silent for several
moments before the queen asked "You have thoughts? You are too quiet."
Mokla nodded slowly as a realization settled him on a course of action. "I
may be able to find something,, but it will take time."
Mokla replied.
"Time we don't have.." The queen countered as Mokla nodded his agreement.
"That's why I need to go now.. And no, you cannot go along. I won't risk
you on what may be a fool's errand."
Mokla stated firmly. "Hardly fair.."
The queen retorted. Mokla shrugged and grinned at Euterah, "Fair or not..
Those are the terms. I will return, I made you that promise before and
intend to keep it."





Writer: Mokla

Date Tue Feb 2 19:57:43 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Search : Refuge pt.2


Entering the bar, Mokla caught the attention of Jumpo and leaned over to
be heard over the noise of the crowded place. A nod from Jumpo and
directing finger led Mokla's gaze to a back table where an ogre lay with his
head down on the table. Striding over, Mokla pulled at the back of the
ogre's collar and looked into his bleary eyes. "Turgo... It's time to pay
the piper my friend."
Mokla crooned in ogrish with a grin and added, "I'm
needin a guide.. Just so happens you're it."
The ogre blinked to focus on
the face before him and grunted out "Where?" Gripping the ogre's face to
keep him focused Mokla said "I need to find the Yaenni refuge." The ogre
snorted and leaned to set his head back down on the table. Raising him back
Mokla shook the ogre a bit until Turgo blurted out "Why go there? They
moves round lots.. Hard to finds.. Not liking sees Turgo no how"
. Mokla
nodded and added "I know this, but I know if anyone can find 'em it's Turgo
and that's why I wipes debt and pays too."
The ogre's eyes opened and
focused, "Pays?" , To which Mokla nodded. "One hitch.. We needs goin
now.. And finds refuge before sundown. You don't even have to go in..
Just get me to it and you've earned yer pay"
, Mokla said to the ogre who
finally nodded agreement.

After finally getting the ogre on the trail, several hours of tramping over
seldom used and often snow choked paths left Mokla in awe of the ogre's
stamina, even half drunk. By the afternoon though, the ogre proved a wise
investment as the refuge camp was sighted. Taking him down the final trail
within a short walk of the camp, the ogre received his pay and turned back
leaving Mokla to approach the lookouts cautiously and openly. Empty hands
and grin visible Mokla called out to the sentries in common with a word he
hoped held value here. "Parley!" He called out as the sentries surrounded
him cautiously. Seeing no comprehension he called out loudly again, and a
small yinn female broke the ring to peer at him. "Talks of what, Gobboman?"
She stated in defiant tones. "Talks of knowledge.. Talks of learning,,
talks of rewards"
Mokla told the female slowly pulling the parchment from
his cloak and unfolding it carefully to display it along with the blue
diamonds in his other hand. Moving her eyes from Mokla to the parchment and
blues then back again the female nodded to the sentries and said "Kylith"
then waved for Mokla to follow.




Writer: Mokla

Date Tue Feb 2 20:54:03 2016

To Darkonin All (Sunny Imm RP)

Subject The Search : Refuge pt 3


Following the small female through the camp amid the stares and glares,
Mokla was led to hastily constructed lean-to and directed inside. The
simple structure was populated by several aging yaenni in positions of rest
who looked up to peer at Mokla as he entered. Holding out her hand for the
parchment and diamonds Mokla offered, she turned and presented both to one
of the elders. The elder looked over the paper then poked another who took
and peered at it also. A short rasping exchange of speech ended with nods
and shrugs. They turned their speech to the small female who turned to
Mokla saying "Elders ask what is learning you want?" Mokla crouched down
to peer at the elders and said "I need to know what's written.. The meaning
of the symbol.."
Mokla said softly. "Others call this symbol "Everhold"..
What is this place?"
, Mokla continued. The small female interpreted his
request to the elders while he waited patiently watching her gesturing
hands. The elders reactions were varied. One peered at him strangely,
others shook their heads, and one made a gesture of knocking his knuckles
against his head and chuckling.

Stifling his irritation at the sense he was being mocked, Mokla waited as
one of the elder females uttered a few words to his small female who turned
to him and said, "Kylith speaks to you." Mokla turned his attention to the
withered yinn who held up the parchment and pointed to the symbol.
"Yyth'awlak", the elder rasped tapping the parchment. "Ithalak.." Mokla
imitated drawing a look of scorn as the elder dropped the parchment to clap
her hands sharply. With an iritated scowl the elder repeated slowly "Yyth..
Aw.. Lak"
. Mokla repeated the syllables slowly getting a nod from the
elder. Turning to the translator, he asked again "Alright, so what is the
place? What's it for?"
The female glanced at the elders gauging them
before spitting out a short bit of speech. A few elders snorted and others
turned away to their own prior activities. Only Kylith continued to stare
at him, before speaking to the small female, then she too made a dismissive
gesture. Mokla smirked and turned to eye the translator saying "Well?" .
The translator grinned at him and said "The Elders think you foolish.. Like
ogre. Yyth'awlak not name for place. Yyth'awlak is name for person..."





Writer: Hyllae

Date Wed Feb 3 06:59:35 2016

To All Shadow Imm

Subject Discovery



Hyllae shivered a bit as the Lord Templar left. The Hall of Statuary had
an ominous tone to it. The history and tradition were undeniable, even
though still modern history.

Her hand drifted into the folds of her cape, pulling back out the simple
stone medallion concealed with in. Warm to the touch, and heavy, it was a
constant reminder around her neck. For All its simplicity, it drew
attention... Too much attention. Drawing it up and over her head, it found
a new home in pouch at her side.

What had she hoped to find, discover? There were monsters, yes. She passed
one particular daily in the darkened hallways, giving it wide berth on her
trips to the library. Yet largely the concepts and traditions are what one
would expect of an order of knights. Not far from what she herself
practiced her entire life. How much of it was lip service? The Lord
Templar's words about the yinn left hyllae uncertain as to their committment
to purity. Therein lay the problem, what comes first prophecy or purity...
Are they not the same? What price should be paid for either?

Whatever she had hoped to find... It must be done soon. No cantrip lasts
forever.




Writer: Pomacanthus

Date Thu Feb 4 07:04:18 2016




Writer: Pomacanthus

Date Thu Feb 4 07:05:48 2016




Writer: Mercerion

Date Fri Feb 5 00:23:27 2016




Writer: Kyljrin

Date Fri Feb 5 21:59:12 2016

To All Althainia Immortal Zandreya RP

Subject "And No Sooner:" a Brimming Ballad (Pt. 1 of 5)



Maybe it's the way he is. Maybe it's the way the world is. Maybe it's only
the way Luck shuffles her deck. Maybe it's how she flips her hand in caprice.
Maybe it's just a subconscious panopticon, where he is both warden and pris-
oner.

His dreams, have he any, are his to shape and his own to mold circumstances
unto, but reality is a mistress of atrition isn't she...

Some shatter a pair of knees just to pay what impartial circumstance demands.
Others get by with mere scrapes for accruing 'debts' deeper than that. Where
is the 'why' and 'what-for?' Is there even a reason to that rhythm in its
warped parity? Absent the answers, Kyljrin ceased bridging gist over the
senseless rapids that'd flow under the pelting, jagged hail of contingency.

Baldrin and Gaela Cralm. An adorable storybook couple for five years hence
from their late teenage years. Brimming a ballad post their betrothal in a
blissfully shared sixth year. He was a bard, and she a druid. Both in wor-
ship of Zandreya, the latter was the more devoted of the two. Kyljrin was
born a Cralm; and our little cliche filial dynamic over which romantics swo-
on progressed uneventfully, yet happily; in a home at New Thalos.

Predictably unremarkable for the better it All was, and the Cralms weren't
wealthy, but they didn't lack for a flexible abundance. Baldrin's talent and
skill in witted assonance, seamless half-rhyme and clever word-play drew
invitations from the esteemed and disregarded alike for offered payment. Nor-
dmaar and Verminasia is where the bulk of his earnings came from. A mix of
bids for satire, panegyrick and econium. The remainder of his earnings came
from humble little villages that could scrape enough for a eulogy. Sometimes
though, when the whim struck Baldrin, he'd perform for free at those collect-
ions of 'cropfield-and-cruck' houses. Then part he'd them with a complimentary
tale of love or adventure.




Writer: Kyljrin

Date Fri Feb 5 22:38:45 2016

To All Althainia Immortal Zandreya RP

Subject "And No Sooner:" Warm Anecdotes (Pt. 2. of 5)



Back in New Thalos, the peculiarly beautiful and meekly intelligent Gaela
would nurse and mother Kyljrin. Hushing his infant cries for 'dadda' whenever
they erupted, tenderly remarking that father was away performing to the enri-
chment and intellectual stimulation of many. "{pYour father is away uplifting
the decrescence of others' spiritual malaise,
" she'd sometimes say. "{pYou and
I are his motivating crescendo.
" A bond between mother and son,plus a burge-
oning appreciation for his father developed overtime as Kyljrin grew.

Of course, there was no room left for neglect to set in. Baldrin never trav-
eled from one city to the next without staying a while with his wife and son in
New Thalos first. It would happen though, that as time would pass, it was
Gaela's influence that took the deeper root within Kyljrin. He became inter-
ested in the Goddess Zandreya and his mother's trade. Though, he really only
ended up making serious application to himself regarding a reverence toward
Nature, and worship toward the Provider, Protector and Avenger of it. Kylj-
rin would learn academics from his father, Baldrin, and play rhetorical or
lyrical word games with him. Often though, Kyljrin would break established
rules on a whim, freeing the restraint placed on the word pools agreed upon
by father and son.

"I win!," Kyljrin would gleefully exclaim. To which Baldrin would just chu-
ckle jovially and say, "There are no lasting victories worth any true merit
when you isolate your efforts into the box of your own rules, Kyl.
"

He'd say, "Cheat your way into a woman's heart or the trust of an entourage
and you'll die with nothing more than an abandon fed by your own hand.
"

"You don't necessarily have to 'do right,' but it wouldn't hurt to demon-
strate a few reliable constants-or-so,
" Baldrin would continue, "Victory
is sweet, but don't fear failure. It's how we learn.
"

This stability would cease, though. Baldrin's popularity wasn't without its
share of disdain for envy. Festering in the hearts of bard and noble, alike.
There was a half-ogre named Jacobaal that dwelled a mile-or-so outside New
Thalos. He'd enter the city sparingly. That is, when necessities of susten-
ance were minded. Then he'd leave the city and return to his crudely-built
hut, but not without passing by the residence of the Cralms. He'd also att-
empt casual conversation with Gaela whenever she was out worshipping and pr-
aying in a grove nearby Jacobaal's hut. Conversation they both shared and
sometimes with Kyljrin 'in-tow' to-and-from her devotions to Lady Zandreya.
But that's where verbal interaction would stay, and no further.




Writer: Kyljrin

Date Fri Feb 5 23:03:30 2016

To All Althainia Immortal Zandreya RP

Subject "And No Sooner:" Encroaching Triangle (Pt. 3.. of 5)



A certain bard by the name of Cecel had hired a spy to watch Baldrin and
his family about the time Kyljrin turned five, and it was this bard that
knew what Jacobaal had festering in his heart. Cecel would exploit it to
accomplish a more deliberately extant ambition. Murdering Baldrin.

There was a noble who kept his identity a secret, as well as his where he
dwelled. But he knew enough to gain Cecel's confidence, feeding his insec-
urities but then turning around and blaming Baldrin's shadow for All of it.
Overtime, these casual discussions turned into desires and finally, treach-
ery. Cecel wasn't as talented as Baldrin, but he did have an impressive a-
mount of connections in higher...and sometimes..insidious places. The nob-
le revealed he was the target of one of Baldrin's satires, but didn't divu-
lge which one. Similarly, Cecel was a satire in his own mind, obsessively
comparing himself to Baldrin. The circumstances different, but both lives
would become so much easier if Baldrin were..."taken care of." Lastly,
Jacobaal would have an opening into Gaela's life if something unfortunate
had befallen Baldrin. The triangle of coordinated tragedy was complete.
All that was left..was to have Baldrin walk himself into the middle of it.

So it was, following a fortnight of rest, Baldrin departed Gaela and Kylj-
rin with a kiss to the former, and a pat on the head to the latter. This
particular performance was a eulogy for the death of one of their own. A
no-name obituary in a no-name village, nearby Verminasia. An opportunity
not to be wasted in disposing of Baldrin. Jacobaal had already been inst-
ructed to hang around outside the village, while Cecel posed as a recover-
ing leper. Covered from head-to-toe he was, this eve in Corhaagen village.
Only his nose, mouth chin and neck were visible from underneath the shadow
of a generous hood. He sat in a far corner well away from other pew-warm-
ers...the audience. Baldrin's performance roused tears from all, and
some brief wails were unable to be restrained. Cecel's heart, rotted for
envy, just burned silently. Suspicious for anyone else to sit so far-remo-
ved during a eulogy...but not a "recovering leper."




Writer: Kyljrin

Date Fri Feb 5 23:31:54 2016

To All Althainia Immortal Zandreya RP

Subject "And No Sooner:" Lifeless Rose (Pt. 4... of 5)


At the performance's end, Balrdin flourished a bow and dropped a black rose
softly at the casket's feet. He made his way out, but not in haste neither
without attempting to console those more upset and beside themselves in the
pews. He also felt something wasn't right....all he knew is that this vil-
lage is not where he felt to be. Odd. His way is to linger a night and h-
alf-a-day following a performance. It's just a sound way for bards to help
encourage further business, and spread a client-base.

Business. Last thing on Baldrin's mind. He quickly dropped social pleasan-
tries of departure and hasted out of the humble little village chapel, unst-
alled his horse, checked his left sleeve, pulled a string around his thumb
and kicked into the broadside of his horse. Galloping out of the village,
he passed a substantial distance and entered a strait pass between two clif-
fed hills. On his exit, Jacobaal dug a foot into the ground, heaved his sho-
ulder in place and shifted All his weight forward the moment he saw the nape
of Baldrin's horse, timing for contact with its broadside.

The horse was bashed to the ground and Baldrin fell. Before Baldrin could r-
eact, Jacobaal violently set upon him, pinning Baldrin down with a rage that
rendered Jacobaal's own sensation to pain rather dull. Baldrin moved his stri-
nged thumb forward and a dagger shot into his grip several moments before he
began to lose All feeling, then consciousness..and subsequently...life. Baldr-
in deeply carved something into the small of Jacobaal's back with haste. Sho-
rtly thereafter, the dagger fell from Baldrin's limp hand. The deed was done.
And years began to pass...




Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Feb 5 23:35:01 2016




Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Feb 5 23:44:24 2016




Writer: Kyljrin

Date Sat Feb 6 00:12:39 2016

To All Althainia Immortal Zandreya RP

Subject "And No Sooner:" A Silent Seal (Part 5.... of 5)



By this time, Jacobaal and Gaela had wed, with a child on the way. And
Kyljrin hated Jacobaal. There was no comparison between the brutish oaf and
his father, Baldrin. A slain expectation of Kyljrin's once held to his
mother was only bested by his ire over how he found out the reason they ever
married at all. And it's the fact that he found out Jacobaal had raped Gae-
la after she refused his proposals repeatedly, overtime. With-child, Gaela
decided to wed Jacobaal, to preserve the honor of her deceased husband. That
is, that Baldrin was too cunning and intelligent to place trust into a woman
that'd bed anybody out of a sealed promise of marriage. She wasn't that
kind of woman..and Baldrin wasn't that kind of daft fool; nor were his tast-
es. Rumors can birth from the most unlikely of circumstances. Still, on ac-
count of All this....Kyljrin's faith in Lady Zandreya suffered devastation,
held by a tentative wisp. And the half-ogre would be "no step-father of his."

Then...one night, Kyljrin awoke to a sound of crashing from the floor above,
a ways east from where his room sat. So he crept upstairs and snuck to the
door of the room. Kyljrin waited for a time when Jacobaal's drunken ravings
waxed blaringly loud, and he softly turned a knob and cinched the door open
quitely. Peeking inside, an eruption of hatred gorged his heart and his eyes
clouded a fury of red. Jacobaal was hunched over Kyljrin's mother, Gaela.
He saw a seal that Balrdin would imprint upon wax next to the signatures that
he'd close his letters with. Only letters sent to either himself or his mother
were sealed with it. The imprint of a pouch, spilling gold and crossed by a
mandolin and flute, through which a quill made a vertical descent from above.

In the likeness of a scar in the small of the half-ogre's back.

Kyljrin's eyes narrowed and he silently closed the door, languidly walking
down the stairs. Baldrin's words rang through his mind:

"Cheat your way into a woman's heart or the trust of an entourage, and you-
'll die with nothing more than an abandon fed by your own hand.
"

Kyljrin angrily noted the current absence of one element in that. The meaning
behind the scar in Jacobaal's back couldn't have been lost on Gaela. Yet...
....
...so why..?!?

Dropping the muse, he set to his mind that Luck's caprice would never fall in
Jacobaal's favor. He would end the half-ogre when he was found vulnerable
enough. Then he'd flee to Althainia in efforts to leave the piling cess of
vitriol and disappointment behind. And no sooner....




Writer: Paradia

Date Sat Feb 6 20:14:50 2016




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sun Feb 7 00:23:16 2016

To All Conclave Ba'buh Laiton Musen ( IMM Kyri Drakkara RP )

Subject A New Path (pt. 11)



Ozleust was breathing profusely as he slayed the last gnome of his
training. He made the usual long trek back to his Master, maybe for the
last time. He remembered the last time he visited his trainer and he taught
him a new spell.

This one is a bit tricky, but powerful. This one is spirit of protection.
All of your training has led up to this spell. Sit with me for a moment...


Ozleust sat down on the mat of his master's dojo. He crossed his legs in
his training apparel and rested his hands on his knees.

You must listen carefully what I am about to tell you. This spell is not
powerful because it causes much chaos... No no... This spell is powerful
because it magically protects...

What?

Spirit of Protection... It is a spell that protects those whom the shukenja
has deemed allies. It calls forth the power of past Magi that has fallen
and protects the party from All magical damage.


Much like the antimagic shell of an invoker, but to the whole party?

Quite so, but you must realize expanding this protection to All members of
your party will cause much drain for you. It will take some time to be able
to cast that spell again, so use it when you deem it necessary.


Ozleust and his master exchanged these words in a different manner. They
seemed more like equals than mentor and trainee.

You have grown much in your faith and much in you fighting capabilities
Ozleust. You are ready to protect Her Magi. You must remember... You will
always continue to learn.


Both pupil and master bowed for respect of one another. Ozleust arose and
strapped his staff around him with a bag of rations for the journey ahead...

He was ready to return to Her Magi...




Writer: Hyllae

Date Sun Feb 7 17:01:15 2016

To All Shadow IMM ( RP )

Subject Will and Way



The Library was a respite from the severe and often cold hallways of
Storm Keep. The crimson carpet muffled the movements of the studying
novices, the air deadened and heavy like a thick invisible blanket. The
shelves towered high on each side, the ladders in constant motion as
different books were sought.

Hyllae had gone through a good bit of the history of Storm Keep, but what
she had always returned to was the writings one His Will and His Way. Each
tenant scoured, poked, prodded and tested from several angles until her eyes
swam.

Truly if one exchanged Light for Darkness, it was something one could easily
expect to see in Gareth. Occupants came and went, but the library has
become Hyllaes most frequented place within Storm Keep.

The field was somewhere shed been little as of late. This was a good thing,
on the fighting field there were too many variables beyond her control.
Things she did not want to have to face. She need the proof to support her
opinion so that she could move on, renewed and convinced in her
righteousness.

Her finger trailed over the tenth and eleventh tenets of His Way and
continued reading.




Writer: Fyahy'll

Date Mon Feb 8 07:10:40 2016

To All IMM ( Ampersand RP )

Subject Aftermath



Fyahyll clenched and opened her slightly swollen hand. Still tender from
the hit it was still little compared to the pain in her side. Surely there
was at least one injured rib there.

But neither of these things were the cause for her current state.

She leaned back with a wince and contemplated the way forward. She was no
longer the impatient and fiery young woman from Nordmaar whod run off in
search of a crusade. Things now had weight, consequence...price.

Shed seen war, seen hunger and order is an undeniable necessity. Honor another.
What price is too high for either? Is there such a thing?

Fyahyll opened the wooden cabinet and began removing her armor from it. It
was time to see what had come to pass in Gareth.



 


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