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Writer: Caecius
Date Mon Dec 5 23:13:12 2011
Writer: Caecius
Date Mon Dec 5 23:13:29 2011
Writer: Caecius
Date Mon Dec 5 23:13:37 2011
Writer: Tyndre
Date Tue Dec 6 10:02:33 2011
Writer: Theya
Date Tue Dec 6 23:12:13 2011
To All ( Storyline Immortal Siccara Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject A New Journey
The swashbuckler sat alone at the bar. The tavern was rather quiet that
evening. Only the regular drunks had ambled in, and even they were quiet -
half asleep at their tables. The barmaid stood behind the sturdy counter,
one hand holding to the mug she was cleaning as her eyes wandered idly over
the patrons. When the glass in front of the swashbuckler remained
untouched, the barmaid frowned, but said nothing. Often enough she saw
heart worn folk sitting in her tavern. It was just rare that they left
their drinks untouched.
A heavy sigh parted the pouty lips of the woman at the bar. Her honey brown
eyes closed as she rubbed her palms over her face heavily and used the same
motion to push her chestnut hair out of her eyes. Crossing her arms on the
counter top, she laid her chin down upon her crossed limbs and settled her
vacant gaze on the sign behind the bar. There was a sense deeper than
melancholy around her - a world weariness soaked deep into her bones until
even her soul was subdued. It was true she managed a smile here and there,
and a laugh, but the moments were growing further and further apart, and
lingering less. She tipped her head to the side and gazed at her right
hand, the gloved fingers squeezing into a fist and then relaxing. Over and
over again.
"How long can this curse last? " she wondered silently to herself. "How
long can a body survive if there is nothing within it wishing to live? "
A heartbeat later, a single, questioning word filled her mind - the curious
inquirey of a kender woman.
"Mate? "
Just like that her heart burst into agonizing pain. She shuddered and
closed her eyes tightly, pretending a chill and refusing to allow the tears
to fall. She had cried enough in her lifetime. She was done crying. Just
as she was done living. And yet her body would not let her soul escape.
Would not let her find the rest she so deeply sought.
As the last drunken murmurs fell away, the last drunk falling asleep near
the fire, the swashbuckler stood up and pulled her ragged cloak around her
shoulders. This drew the attention of the Barmaid.
"Lass, where are ye goin' at this hour? "
"To find someone with answers, " was All the woman said in reply. She
reached up to the blue and silver mask, pulling it securely over her
features. Drawing her hood up, silent steps carried her into the darkness
and out of sight.
Writer: Finwal
Date Wed Dec 7 18:19:23 2011
Writer: Finwal
Date Wed Dec 7 18:45:47 2011
Writer: Finwal
Date Wed Dec 7 19:06:48 2011
Writer: Gurgen
Date Fri Dec 9 03:12:21 2011
Writer: Mezlak
Date Fri Dec 9 16:59:04 2011
To Verminasia All Raije Cayenna RP Religion Imm
Subject The Crusaders Attack: On The Ground
Mezlak maneuvered his pikemen into position. They were well trained,
making the process considerably easier. Their efficency allowed the pike a
brief moment to collect themselves before the crusaders charge came into
view. Mezlak glanced to his side, spying Trallin and his pike. His concern
not that Trallin would be there and ready, but that the units allowed no
space between them for a charge to exploit.
Mezlak turned back just in time to see the crusaders appear and start their
charge. 'Ready, men! For the glory of Verminasia! ' He shouted,
challenging the charging crusaders. This was what he lived for. Mezlak
emptied himself of emotion and focused on his pike and the charging enemy.
The rumble of the ground under the charging horses hooves, the screams from
man and beast alike as the charge hit home, were All distant to Mezlak.
Only his spear and his target matter. He struggled to maintain his footing
as the weight of the horse he skewered drove at him. The force of impact
twisting his body slightly.
That's when he glimpsed it, the downward motion of a sword from a rider that
survived the initial impact. Instinctivly, Mezlak fell away from the swing,
but he was to slow. He had been cut before, but not thids bad. He fell as
his legs quit responding to his thoughts to stand. His hands released his
spear as his arms also nolonger seemed to work.
As he hit the ground, the pain ripping across his chest was asif a distant
memory, as he quickly was loosing All feeling and control of his body. 'My
Lord, Raije, I come to join you. I die happy, in battle. May I continue to
experiance your glory by your side. ' He thought as his vision went black
and he knew no more.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Blood. He remembered that smell.
Is this death? Is this what awaits us?
Slowly, Mezlak opened his eyes. Though blurry, Mezlak made out the sky and
clouds and smoke above him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the
silloettes of people moving about. One of them moving to lean over him.
Good, you're awake. It was touch and go there for a while. You barely
avoided a killing blow. A priest healed you enough that you'll live, but
you'll have a nasty scar.
We won, then?
Quite handily. They are All dead... Good riddence.
Mezlak layed his head back with a small smile. Praise Raije.
Writer: Caecius
Date Sat Dec 10 23:52:14 2011
Writer: Tiamot
Date Sat Dec 10 23:52:50 2011
To All Dragon
Subject A llama's bane
His name is Tiamot and he is superbly armored. There is little that can
incite the rage of such a creature like Him as the llama. Just as the
soflting Slayers feel hatred down to their souls, so too does the White in
regards to this pathetic representation of life. Was this Cliath and
Zandreyas attempt at a cruel joke destined to soil the lands of Algoran or
was it a prank of Devion that had gotten out of hand? In either case, the
White knew He would rather spend an eternity trapped on a Kenders leash than
live amongst the llama born. With the flick of His wrist and a blur of the
claw, the world was rid of at least one of these abominations. Just as the
death blow was dealt and the splatter of blood found root in between the
scales, He knew... Dead llamas smell worst than live ones... And the
blood... It lingers... By Drakkara does it ever linger.
Writer: Sibylla
Date Sun Dec 11 00:18:31 2011
To Fatale All RP | Imm |
Subject Dark Consecration
There was an otherworldly sense to the chamber as she stood within in,
content to wrap herself in its demonic silence.
Shadows and unholy flame licked the rocky walls and there was no scent of
pitch or smoke to dampen the earthen smell.
She lifted her eyes to look up at the stalactite-riddled ceiling and became
aware of the tons of rock overhead. She reflected that once upon a time,
the thought would have made her severely uncomfortable. Now though... now
there was only a smile for the idea of certain death should the cave
collapse.
The expression disappeared mere moments after it touched her pale features
though, as if it had never been. This was the last place Cepralus had ever
stood before her and though it had been to express upon a harsh lesson of
failure, she had reveled in the Avatar's terrible presence. An extention of
Fatale Himself.
A shudder slid through her body, as if something moved sinuously beneath her
flesh to the tune of an unholy caress, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
The floor of the cavern was dry, even but rocky, and those rocks dug into
her knees through her robes as she knelt down and lowered her head.
Blood followed after a sharp gasp whispered through this most unholy of
places and the shadows and flame danced more violently over the uneven rock
walls. She heard each drip as it hit the ground, a personal sacrifice bled
from her own veins, and took in the metallic scent with a deep sense of
pleasure.
Fatale, I take not Your blessings for granted. Murder descends upon the
blood thristy lands and soon, its red will stain the ground, its perfume a
powerful scent to rise and choke All who remain left to oppose inevitable
death.
Her whisper did not echo but moved as sinuously through the cavern as had
the shudder that wracked her body moments earlier.
I will not be stopped this time. And she lifted her black-eyed gaze to
look upon the slab of stone that her body had once adorned, caught between
the tormented void of life and death.
She had business here first though and with blood dripping freely from her
fingertips, she set about to finish consecrating the chamber that had
changed her life.
Writer: Caecius
Date Sun Dec 11 09:45:18 2011
Writer: Caecius
Date Sun Dec 11 09:45:27 2011
Writer: Caecius
Date Sun Dec 11 09:45:32 2011
Writer: Caecius
Date Sun Dec 11 09:45:47 2011
Writer: Amerissa
Date Sun Dec 11 21:58:07 2011
Writer: Joat
Date Mon Dec 12 09:51:53 2011
Writer: Garadin
Date Mon Dec 12 10:38:08 2011
Writer: Theya
Date Mon Dec 12 14:05:02 2011
To All ( Storyline Immortal Siccara Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject Insidious Whispers Part One
Her wanderings had taken her first East. She ambled about the desert
city, a ragged cloak drawn up and a scarf over the lower half of her face.
With her mask on very few paid any attention to the dusty woman as she
stopped to cup a drink of water from the fountain in the square. From
beneath the blue and silver filigree, her honeyed eyes wandered over the
merchants and peddlers. She briefly took notice of a loud squabble toward
the southern section and instead turned north, following the road. A dry
wind whipped about her, tugging at her clothes and magically planting shards
of sand inside her nose and ears. She was starting to miss the snows of
Icewall.
At the northern gate of New Thalos, she stopped only briefly in the shade to
double check her decanter. Secure the magic lingered and that there was
also a loaf of bread in her satchel, she stepped beyond the stone
protections and continued on her way. The journey was not necessarily
difficult. Years of hardening and alterness ensured that the large spiders
and scorpions met her blades before they could come close to her. She took
a grim satisfaction as her steps carried her beyond the blood and twitching
carcasses. One less threat to her and to other travellers who might find a
need to head this way. By nightfall, her silent steps carried her into the
village of the Desert Raiders. A few curious eyes turned her way, but a
subtle shift of her hand pushed her cloak back to reveal the pommel of her
sword. The firelight glinted off of the old, worn metal, but no one
challenged herself as she made her way northward where the most oppulant of
all the tents rested. She paused only briefly in the center of the camp to
watch the dancers around the bonfire, their coins and bells sparkling
amongst the swirling flares of silks and chiffon.
When she finally approached the tent of the chief, two guards eyed her
dubiously and stretched out their arms toward one another, barring the door.
She smiled warmly, her eyes smoldering from beneath her mask as she parted
her cloak a little further, showing off the long expanse of tanned flesh
that her shorts revealed. Both men grinned and nodded, one of them missing
a few teeth. Without lowering their arms, one of the guards pointed to the
swords on her hips.
"Part of the act, gentlemen. Sword juggling. "
And that was All that it took. The guards parted and pulled back the tent
curtain to allow her entry.
Inside she found a lack of oppulance that surprised her. More guards were
stationed within the room, the two captains bent over a rough hewn table
with a large map rolled out. A few markers littered the page, but whatever
battle or strategy they were planning did not interest her. It was not her
fight. Her gaze fell instead upon the much larger map upon the northern
edge of the tent, and the younger man who stood gazing up at it with his
hands upon his hips. He was lean and fit, a crimson sash about his hips and
a scimitar slung across his back. Without even turning around, his deeply
timbered voice lifted above the quiet murmuring of his two guards.
"Remind me to inform my guards of when I ask for entertainment. I cannot
rightly entertain every strange woman who enters my home. Nothing would
ever get done. Do you not agree? " he asked as he turned about to face
her.
Writer: Theya
Date Mon Dec 12 14:17:54 2011
To All ( Storyline Imm Siccara Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject Insidious Whispers Part Two
Despite herself, the swashbuckler felt a small grin tugging at her lips.
At this point, the young chieften had the attention of the inside guards,
their eyes saying they would gladly fight to the death for their leader.
The dark headed young man instead waved a hand to put his guards at ease and
then motioned for his uninvited guest to take a seat. The furs and pillows
were soft, the rest a welcome relief to a long day's journey. As she
settled, she tugged the scarf down from before her mouth, but made no move
to lift the mask from her face. The chieften poured them both a glass of
koumiss and then settled down before her, quietly studying her. She placed
her sword on the ground nect to her, disarming herself politely before she
sipped the stout beverage gingerly.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Chieftan. "
"Certainly. I can tell you are not here for small talk, nor for granting
information, so please, do tell me how I can be of assistance to yourself.
"
A moment passed as the two shared the quiet of their drinks. The crackle of
the small fire within the tent filled the air as a faint yet ominous
presence filled the area briefly, then passed. The woman shuddered and drew
her cloak tighter about her body.
"I come with a story to share with you, and your people. A fable, a
warning, perhaps. "
The young chieftan smiled and eased further into his seated position. He
hid his bemusement and curiosity well, graciously waving a hand for the
young woman to continue.
"Many years ago, a young couple fell deeply in love. They worked very hard
and gave praise diligently, giving generously and loving passionately all
who came within the circle of their lives. One year, after several, the
gods blessed them with a strong son with the father's strength and the
mother's adventurous nature. They loved their child more than anything.
Then one day, the child was taken away by Death, devoured wholly without
warning. "
A frown came over the chieftan's face. Whether it was the woman's rough
voice or the story, it could not be certain.
"The man grieved deeply, but not nearly as deeply as his wife. Darkness
entered her heart, consumed her, changed her nature entirely until only her
physical appearance remained as the woman he loved. And yet he continued to
love her, mercilessly being kind and compassionate. She grieved so deeply
that her heart turned cold and filled with chilled hate until she fled from
him and from All she had known, finding shelter in the Darkness where she
became blinded. It was there that she met two individuals. "
Silence fell again as even the two guards had turned and crossed their arms
to listen.
Writer: Theya
Date Mon Dec 12 14:37:39 2011
To All ( Storyline Imm Siccara Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject Insidious Whispers Part Three
"One was a half-breed, born of an elf and a human, fated to a life of
lies and deception. This man taught the woman some of what he knew. She
became stronger, faster, more talented in the ways of deception. She also
learned that love can be reborn in any heart. The second person that she
met was very mysterious, and very powerful. He tempted her with whispers of
greater power, the ability to never feel the pain of loss again. She
agreed, and the second man placed within her part of his essence. In time
however, people, and things, will change.
"It was not long before her Teacher left her behind in search of something
he refused to tell her about. The Stranger also vanished, leaving her
bereft once again. It was then that the woman's husband found her, having
battled his way physically and spiritually through great trials to rescue
his wife from her own darkness. Through his love and determination, he drew
her away from the Darkness, and back into the Light. "
Here, the woman paused again, wetting her lips with a sip of water from her
decanter. The young chieften shifted, leaning forward a little and
subconsciously revealing his interest in the story.
"For a time, things went well. The man and woman started their life over in
a new land, with renewed purpose. Something within the woman made her grow
tired. She slept more and more, until her husband finally convinced her to
see a physician. The physician could do nothing. So the woman travelled to
see a shaman instead. There, she was given a revelation that tore at her
heart. The Gift of the Stranger remained within her, warring with the
newfound Goodness within her heart. As the nature's warred, they sapped her
strength and took their toll on her body. Very soon, she fell into the deep
sleep of those of the Other Realm. While her body was ravaged slowly in
slumber, time took its effect upon the man who loved her. The Gods, pleased
with the man's sacrifices and heart, gently drew him into the Heaven's while
he slept. When the woman finally awoke, frail and aged beyond what she
should have been, the news of her loss struck her so deeply that she though
for sure she would die. But she did not. "
Shifting in her seat, the young woman adjusted her cloak about her and
waited for one of the guards to fuel the fire, banking it to his
satisfaction. When quiet had fallen once more, she continued her story.
"A couple weeks later, a knock came upon the door of the small cabin that
her husband had built. When she opened her door, her Teacher entered and
gazed upon her in shock. No more was she a young, ravishing woman, but a
sickly old crone. They spoke for some time before her Teacher finally
withdrew a small vial from his coat and placed it upon the table. He
instructed her to drink the contents, warned her to not ask where he had
obtained it, and warned her that she may not like the results. Thinking
only of the new life she could have, she accepted the new Gift. Within
days, the abuse of the Stranger's gift upon her body had been removed, her
woman's body restored to its prime. Yet again, the woman found herself
alone. Almost. "
Finally, the trained expression of the chieftan shifted, a singe brow
arching upward.
Writer: Theya
Date Mon Dec 12 14:53:08 2011
To All ( Storyline Immortal Siccara Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject Insidious Whispers Part Four
Before the chieftan could speak, the flap of the tent opened and one of
the outside guards poked his head within. The two men spoke in an off
dialet of Thalosian for a few moments. The guard then nodded and withdrew,
closing the tent once more. The chieften then returned his attention to his
guest with an apologetic smile.
"Please, my dear, do continue. I apologize for the interruption, " the
young man said.
The young woman simply smiled in return from beneath the countours of her
mask and nodded.
"Of course, Chieftan, " she said before her voice began to flow evenly once
again.
"The woman found that the Darkness in her heart had been reawakened fully,
though the Goodness had not perished. Rather than a subdued warring of her
heart, her mind and spirit now engaged readily within the wars that errupted
inside of her. Most prominent of All within her were the memories of all
her loved ones - lost or taken long before her. In her mind, taken long
before their time, as well. She began to work for both sides. She would
help one side plot an assassination, while leaking a few pieces of
information to the other side. While not a large role, she played a key one
in the chaos that began to plague her world. One day, as she wandered the
streets, pain again in her heart over her losses, a young boy's voice filled
her ears. She was introduced to the child, the future ruler of her
homeland, and her heart immediately swelled with love. The young boy
reminded her so much of her loved ones, and, for a very short time, brought
her peace and comfort. "
"The boy grew too quickly, becoming a strong and courageous young man. The
shadows of her past and her heart quickly broke her when her own hand had
lead the young man's enemies right to his doorstep. She went to the young
man's father and revealed everything. She told him her story and revealed
everything she knew about the attempt that would be made on the boy's life,
begging his father to save his life. For a time, her reveleation worked,
and she slept a sleep drawn from relief, regret and remorse. When she work
again, the assassination had been carried through. Not only was the young
ruler gone, but soo, too, was his wife. New grief errupted within the woman
so profoundly that no more rest could be had for her. The Gifts she had
been given plagued her. She was older than many she knew by two and three
times, but her body remained young and fit. Despite her wish to pass into
the afterlife, she could not. Death denied her at its doorstep and
continually pushed her back into the realm of the living. So the woman
began to search. She hunted for a way to end her solitary, endless
existence and ease the burden of her heart. And she continues to wander
still. "
Silence passed uneasily and eventually the young chieftan nodded.
"An excellent story, with many morals, " the young chieftan said. "Now, I
must ask you: Why share this with me? "
Writer: Theya
Date Mon Dec 12 15:10:16 2011
To All ( Storyline Immortal Siccara Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject Insidious Whispers Part Five
"I would like your help, " the woman said to the chieftan.
"Ah, a trade, is it? A story in exchange for a night with the chieftan? "
the young man jested boldly. The look in his eyes said he would not at all
be opposed to the bargain, but the woman held up a hand, palm forward to
stall the chieftan. She simultaneously shifted, bumping her sword lightly
to remind the young man she was not entirely unarmed.
"I am seeking information on the strange elixir the woman drank. I want to
know where it came from, what it was, and if there is an antidote, " the
swashbuckler responded plainly. "Thalosia's lands are as ancient as anyone
can remember, filled with history and lore. While the people in the city's
embrace progress, those living amongst the Dunes retain their heritage - and
their memories of the old stories. "
A silent stare down began between the young man and the young woman. The
black gaze danced with the honeyed one and whatever the young man saw made
his decision for him.
"You will stay with us for three days. In that time, our Elder will return
from her meditations in the desert. Share this story with her and I am
certain she will be able to help you. " A strong, calloused hand rubbed at
the neatly trimmed goatee upon the young chieftan's chin. "Would my guest
be polite enough to offer a name? "
A moment of silence passed and then a small, wry smile tugged at the woman's
lips.
"Umi, " she said. "You can call me Umi. "
*****
Later that night, after the red and white moons had risen high into the sky,
the young swashbuckler rose from the furs slowly and wrapped a robe around
her naked form. Her long, chestnut hair spilled down her back, the ends
bouncing with small ringlets against the curve of her spine as her silent
steps carried her from the tent and to the sands beyond the camp. Despite
the cold of the night, the layer of sand under her soles was still somewhat
warm. Once the fires of the camp had faded into twinkling lights in the
distance, she found herself standing on a small, rocky ridge. Off in the
distance, bedded deeply within the darkness, she knew a sparse forest would
turn into a verdant one before dropping at the sheer coast line.
Within the chill night winds, her robe and hair whipping about, she knelt
down and closed her eyes, pressing her palms into the unforgiving stone
beneath her. That was when she heard the faint, hissing whispers. The
words were needle sharp against her mind, creating a wrenching twisting in
her gut, but enchanting her so that she strained All the harder to hear
them.
"Sweet Child... Do not stray... Follow the dying sun... Come to Me... My
dear, Sweet Child. "
Writer: Nathalos
Date Tue Dec 13 06:14:28 2011
Writer: Salainn
Date Tue Dec 13 13:44:17 2011
To Shadow All Necrucifer ( Immortal Religion Lanival )
Subject Seeking Answers (1)
Tangled jungle brush parted before the lone figure as he trekked through
the untamed wilderness of Tropica's rainforest, a black armored man who
hacked his way through the dense foliage as he worked inexorably toward his
objective. The entrance was well- concealed- he knew it must be so- and it
did, indeed, take the better part of an hour searching an isolated part of
the jungle before he discovered the moss-covered entrance he sought.
Another forceful swing and the curtain was swept away, allowing the scent of
decay and sounds, sounds that did not belong, to reach the ears of Salainn
Illithi.
The young knight frowned, pausing inside the carved stone archway. Beneath
the thick leather of his gloves, he noticed a trail of carvings, an
intricate series of figures and runes that, he knew, told a history of
sorts. He took a single step down the stairway that led into darkness,
focused intently upon the sounds that emanated from the shadows. Nobody
should have been here, in this sanctuary. It was ever a safe place, a
sacred place watched over by the man who had sworn to guard it. But with
its passing.... Salainn shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. There
were intruders at the entrance to the Abyss, and his father was no longer
there to repel them. He would take it upon himself, now, and then seek to
learn more of what he came to discover.
At the base of the stairs, the hallway widened dramatically into a great
room that extended back farther than the pitiful light could illuminate.
Salainn slipped about the corner of the stairwell, more silent than his
heavy midnight platemail would have otherwise indicated. Careful steps took
him to one of the many thick supportive columns that dotted the great hall,
and the dark knight pressed his back to one, the carvings pressing against
the back of his head as he closed his eyes to focus once more. A dull
crackling, as though wood on a fire, reached him, as well as another sound,
a familiar one. It was the sound of stone across metal, a whetstone drawn
across a blade. A gloved hand going to the sword at his belt, Salainn slid
around the column and advanced, stalking through the shadows as a dull
source of illumination finally met his gaze, a flickering light that lived
only within an isolated corner at the far end of the room.
A grim nod was the young man's only response as he strode forward, the sound
audible now as his movements shifted his armor. Drawing his sword, he
rounded the column in a fluid motion, 'Intruders of this place, you have
cast your lot. Burn in He-' his voice caught in his throat as the armored
figure silhouetted in the fire turned, his grizzled face barely illuminated
as cold, grey eyes fixed upon the younger man. Lanival Illithi gazed back
at his son with contempt, his words dripping with equal ire 'To the
contrary, son. It is you who is the invader. '
Writer: Salainn
Date Tue Dec 13 13:46:30 2011
To Shadow All Necrucifer ( Immortal Religion Lanival )
Subject Seeking Answers (2)
Salainn looked at his father with equal parts shock and dread, his
analytical mind reeling from his father's presence, alive, in the flesh. A
sound diverted his eye for a moment, a shuffling that came from the gait of
a thickly-muscled orc dressed in tattered black robes. A skull's likeness
was painted on his ugly visage, and he leered at Salainn, revealing nasty,
uneven teeth and fangs, 'Das right, Shadow whelp! I here wit da guard! '
laughing gutturally, he turned to the grizzled, elder knight, 'Kill 'im. '
Lanival turned to regard the orc for a moment and, to Salainn's deep- seated
horror, moved to oblige, unslinging the kite shield from his back and
drawing the broadsword of marked regality that had so identified the former
Dark Lord of Storm Keep.
Lanival's first swing seemed clumsy, hesitant, and years of combat training
did what Salainn's mind was too hazy to accomplish on its own. His sword
arm seemed to move of its own accord, rose-embossed longsword batting aside
the broadsword's swing with a powerful parry, his free arm unslinging his
own kite shield. The two combatants paused for a moment, seeming as though
two reflections, one distorted by time's ravages. Then the moment passed,
the elder coming down with another powerful overhanded swing that Salainn
turned aside, lifting his shield to catch the blow as he lashed out with his
own blade, catching the elder knight on the underside of the arm.
Lanival's rent arm dropped to his side, broadsword clattering on the stone
floor as a dark fluid dripped from the torn links of chainmail. Its acrid
stench filled Salainn's nostrils with sickly sweet smell of decay. With
revulsion, he realized that the man before him did not bleed, but instead
oozed a necrotic fluid. His fury crystallized into an icy stare at the orc,
who laughed again as he strode into the darkness, his escape covered by the
undead knight, who seemed to quickly recover as his wound closed of his own
accord. 'Yes, Salainn. I have died, and have been returned to guard this
place from All who would disturb my animator. ' The young knight set his
jaw, gaze stony to hide the remaining conflict in his mind as he focused
once more on the thing that had been his father, 'Step aside, Father. Allow
me to do what you should have, would have done in life. This is a most holy
place, by your own admission. I would not have come, myself, if the need
were not dire. '
The undead shadowknight chuckled, a rare, sarcastic laugh as his gruff
visage studied his son, 'And what would that be, my son? ' The grizzled
veteran took careful steps around, never presenting a weakness around his
shield as his steps carried him to the hilt of his broadsword. 'I have come
to discover.. The Black Winds. ' the young knight's statement seemed
almost a confession, the admission of ignorance nettling him as the words
fell like iron bars. Lanival snatched up his weapon, his focus dangerously
intent upon Salainn as his expression turned to one of displeasure,
distaste, 'I see. You have disappointed me, my son. I was mistaken about
you. You have failed to cut down an obstacle in your work toward the
Prophecy when you had the chance, and have failed to understand a basic
truth of your position. You have failed. '
The words struck something deep within Salainn, precision wounds that
simultaneously enraged and demoralized the shadowknight. His thoughts
turned inward for a brief moment, a twinge of sadness gracing his
consciousness that was quickly blotted out by the savage blow that came
toward him, a lightning-fast slash that he could barely deflect in time.
Lanival's fury became a torrent of cunning stabs and slashes, each timed
perfectly to nearly slip under Salainn's guard. Salainn was hard pressed,
even with shield and sword, to keep up, turmoil slowing his thoughts and
reactions as he was forced onto the defensive, losing ground step by
reluctant step to the unholy juggernaut his father was known to fight as.
Writer: Salainn
Date Tue Dec 13 13:49:05 2011
To Shadow All Necrucifer ( Immortal Religion Lanival )
Subject Seeking Answers (3)
Another quick thrust slipped under the young knight's guard and tore the
midnight chainmail on the outside of his leg, searing pain lancing through
his body as blood spilled from the wound. Lunging forward, he hacked at the
hand clutching the weapon that cut him and succeeded in batting it away from
Lanival's grip once more. The elder knight did not pause, however, and
instead drew back his arm, mailed fingers balled into a fist, and drove a
vicious right cross into Salainn's face, staggering him as blood spilled
from a split lip and cut cheeks, metal studs tearing skin as the young man
fell backwards, weapon slipping from nerveless fingers. Stars danced in
front of his vision as he scrambled backward, each movement of his right leg
sending another spear of agony through him. Kneeling, he murmured a soft
prayer, an unholy aura suffusing him as his most serious injuries began to
close of their own accord, muscles repairing and skin reknitting itself over
his cut lip and slashed leg.
'Even now, son, you hesitate. You have failed to cast aside that which tied
you to the world. You refuse to give yourself wholly to the Prophecy, and
it is for that reason that you have failed God. ' Lanival picked up his
weapon once more, kicking Salainn's longsword into the deep shadows away
from the flames. Salainn slowly rose again, testing the weight on his
injured leg before deeming it satisfactory, despite the small twinge still.
He reached up to his right shoulder, drawing his own broadsword, the design
closely matching his father's as he set himself in a combative stance once
more, watching his father's movements closely. He had no words to deflect
his father's accusations now, the softest part of him buried beneath layers
of faith and ire directed toward the creature that had animated this horror.
'You do not know, cannot know, my son, because you have failed Him. The
Black Winds do not grace the faithless, the worthless. Your life is
forfeit, coming here. ' The construct spoke again, lunging forward with a
powerful strike that Salainn turned aside, the young man lashing out with
his shield to batter his father into submission. Lanival responded in kind,
both kite shields colliding with a scape of metal as both men strained
against each others' strength, slate grey eyes meeting over the edges of
their shields. The struggle continued for a long moment, both mens'
utterances mere grunts of effort as they fought and failed to overcome one
another. Suddenly, the younger knight drew back, All resistance fading as
he slid back a step. Lanival, his balance thrown so forward, followed
clumsily and was rewarded with an armored knee impacting his midsection,
blunt force carrying through the heavy iron plate that sheathed his upper
body. The undead knight did not falter, however, instead rising as both
shield and sword fell to the ground, fists entwined to bring a punishing
hammerblow to the underside of Salainn's jaw. There was a crack as mail met
flesh, and another gout of blood gushed between Salainn's teeth as they bit
deeply into his tongue.
Blackness danced at the corner of the young knight's vision as he kneeled,
dazed, as Lanival loomed above him. His eyes closed, and when they reopened
the elder knight bore now his broadsword, the gunmetal blade refusing to
reflect the dying light of the fire. His lips moved, but Salainn could not
hear them. He was dimly aware of the shape of the words, the familiar
command given unto All enemies unworthy of salvation. 'Burn in Hell. ' The
dark blade came up, and Salainn's eyes followed, training screaming to move,
but his body refusing to cooperate, rooted to the spot by some force,
disbelief, or perhaps the ironclad will of the Dark Lord's presence. The
swing began to fall, and time stretched as though elastic.
Writer: Salainn
Date Tue Dec 13 13:51:42 2011
To Shadow All Necrucifer ( Immortal Religion Lanival )
Subject Seeking Answers (4)
The young knight's mind seemed to race, acknowledging in its final
moments the most minute of details, the hardened features of his father's
visage, the arc of the blade that seemed destined to claim his life. He
closed his eyes and inclined his head, thoughts turning to a final prayer to
Necrucifer.
Then... A breath of air. A caress of cool wind that slid across his cheek
as a whisper danced at the edge of hearing. The word almost did not
register, but swiftly burrowed into the core of his being, a command that
gave life to his numb body. 'Fight. ' His shield came up, the blade
glancing off of the plate's leading edge, and deflected the worst of the
blow. Lanival's blade continued its diverted arc, slicing through chainmail
and biting into the flesh of Salainn's upper arm. Blood spattered on the
stone, but the pain only served to rouse the young knight further. His
shield fell as his gauntletted hand pressed to the wound, bloodied lips
forming the words to another orison of healing. Dark power washed over him
once more, relieving the agony that his ruined tongue provided and repairing
the worst damage to his arm. Blood still seeped from the cut, but the
damage was merely superficial now. Salainn could once again obey the voice.
He could once again fight.
Lanival appeared taken aback at Salainn's recovery, retreating a step as the
battered, armored figure of the Master of the Rose regained his footing,
casting a baleful gaze upon the undead monstrosity. A building current
seemed to surround the young knight, a growing current of air as a choir of
voices seemed to murmur words unintelligible. Salainn said nothing,
reaching for the small sheathe on the inside of his left arm and drawing a
long knife, jaw set once more as he advanced on his father. The voices
continued to speak their message unintelligible from their overlapping
commands, though the intent echoed deep within him, 'Your father is dead.
This is but a shell housing a fragment. Cut it down. '
Dark fury coursed through his limbs, granting clarity of focus as he
sidestepped another attack by Lanival, the blade slicing through air as the
young shadowknight stepped into the undead's guard, a punishing fist
cracking hard against Lanival's chin, shattering bone and splashing necrotic
ichor on the leather-bound hand. The undead staggered back at the blow,
growing less intimidating in Salainn's eyes as his knife lashed out,
piercing Lanival's arm at the elbow and slicing through chainmail on the
other side as the blade erupted through the tanned flesh. Viscous black
fluid dripped from the blade as Lanival's sword fell from nerveless fingers,
clattering as he wrenched his wounded arm from Salainn's grasp. He reached
as though to remove it, but another devastating blow to the head rocked him
backwards. Salainn instead wrenched the dagger free, the blade trailing
ichor as it whipped about, carving a groove across Lanival's brow as the
young knight pressed an unrelenting offensive. Ichor slid into the elder
knight's eyes, obscuring his vision and reducing his defense to an almost
childlike level of skill as the younger man rained precise blows, delivered
and withdrawn faster than the unholy regeneration could keep up with. A
final strike from the dagger slid into the elder man's thigh as Salainn
slipped about him, a rough kick taking out his knees as the last of the
ichor obscuring his eyes cleared. Lanival Illithi fell to an upright
kneeling position to see his son standing over him with his own broadsword,
an ironic echo of their position just minutes previous.
Writer: Salainn
Date Tue Dec 13 13:54:14 2011
To Shadow All Necrucifer ( Immortal Religion Lanival )
Subject Seeking Answers (5)
From the shadows, the orc peered into the fading ring of light cast by
his dying fire and watched with horror as the dark-limned shadowknight drew
back his blade, the whispering winds All but a gale that encircled his
being. Salainn Illithi met his father's gaze as the Black Winds uttered
into his soul an order that brooked no dissent, one of the voices of the
choir a deeply familiar voice, one that the young man had heard not minutes
before, denouncing his very existence, 'Kill him. '
The voice of his father was the final sign, the last tie binding Salainn to
the walking, talking mound of flesh that kneeled before him. With a grim
nod, he thrust forward and pierced armor, flesh, and bone, striking the
corpse of Lanival Illithi's black, putrid heart. A single dribble of ichor
fell from the lips of the corpse as it smiled grimly, echoing the features
of his son. 'Thank you, Salainn... For freeing me of this wretched..
Torment.... Now... All of my soul may serve... God... Listen for the
voices... Upon the Winds... They are portents... Signs of.. ' his voice
seemed to waver as the corpse lost more and more power, the echoing
facsimile speaking upon the Black Winds growing stronger and more clear,
'The present.. The future... Signs sent by Him to guide the faithful...
Take them to moments... Of import to the cause.... Heed our words... And
serve... '
The last trembling words fell as the light finally faded from Lanival's
eyes, the corpse sagging back as Salainn brought his foot up and planted it
upon his father's armored chest, pushing down as he tugged the elder
knight's blade free. Ichor dripped in thick ribbons from the blade, and the
old knight's crown fell from his head as he collapsed fully, points breaking
against the stone as it rolled away into darkness. 'It is done, Father...
Thank you. '
'NO! You fool! ' the guttural voice echoed as the orc sprung into the
light, running for the shadowknight as he brandished the knight's own
longsword clumsily, a torn sleeve smoldering as the creature used it to
protect his hands from the fury of the unholy blade's refusal to be wielded.
Salainn turned his head, eyes flashing with cold hatred as he sidestepped
the poorly-timed swing and drove his left fist into the orc's ugly snout,
shattering bone and sending the monstrous humanoid sprawling.
Salainn gazed down at the orc, who was overcome with a primal sense of
terror. There was something far more sinister than a single man's ire in
the slate grey eyes, a presence that sought a single desire. Formless
shadows flitted about his armored presence, bolstering his strength and
granting him a stony nobility that was undiminished by the caked blood on
his armor and chin. Like an obelisk carved from the stones of old, the Heir
to the Purists leveled a leather-clad finger to point squarely at the
wretched creature that dared defile one of the last Purists. A single word
that echoed with the raw fury that transcended generations, a deep-seated
loathing that dripped in the single syllable echoed as the orc's terror
reached fever pitch, trying to escape the irresistible command. 'Die. '
A burning star of pain erupted behind the orc's eyes, but he was no longer
aware of such things, not fully. Blood streamed from his ears, eyes, nose,
and mouth as his organs ruptured, obeying the unholy word against their
will. Blood hemorrhaged into his brain, shutting down his faculties save
one, a dull awareness that his life was over and that a strange heat seemed
to be overtaking him, not a physical pain but something that quickly began
to sear his being to the core. He wanted to scream, tried, but could not.
Blood flooded his lungs and choked his breath, though his ruined brain could
not command him to inhale anyway. Blackness swallowed him, and the orc knew
only torment.
Writer: Salainn
Date Tue Dec 13 13:58:43 2011
To Shadow All Necrucifer ( Immortal Religion Lanival )
Subject Seeking Answers (6)
Salainn looked down at the ruined orc dispassionately, the power and fury
that had overtaken him fading to mere wisps as the voices receded to dull
murmurs at the edge of his consciousness, 'Burn in Hell. ' He nodded to
nobody, satisfied that he had found what he had come for. He kneeled beside
his father's body, laid his sword upon his chest and folded his hands over
the weapon's hilt like the kings of old. Rising, he ventured into the
darkness' cool embrace and kneeled to gather the glinting crown and the
broken flanges that had fallen away from it. This, he kept close to his
chest. This last item would be his, a memento of his father and a promise
to his spirit. The crown would see use once more. Returning to the body,
he knelt and closed the elder knight's eyes before pulling him into his
arms, rising with his father's body draped across his forearms. Turning for
the entrance, he began to walk slowly, the final journey of Lanival Illithi.
He would be returned home, interred alongside his brothers in arms. Salainn
gritted his teeth as the stairwell approached, ascending slowly toward the
dull light of the rainforest above. He would be taking his father home at
last.
The young knight whispered to himself a small scrap of dogma, a mantra that
he had thought written into his very soul years hence. With each
repetition, the burden he carried seemed to lighten as guilt fell away,
reaffirming his faith.
'Death is patient.
It flows both from without and from within.
Be vigilant in All and skeptical of all.
One who follows the heart finds it will bleed.'
Salainn entered the light of the jungle, blinking away the glaring
brightness. His father's tale had ended, and his was to continue. He, like
the body in his arms, was a man, flesh and blood. Grimly orienting himself
northward, he began to retrace his old path, accompanied only by the
whispers on the Black Winds. His body would die, he accepted this, but in
faith, he would join the midnight choir that whispered to him now. All
things wither and fade, he mused, but staunchest faith that speaks
eternally.
Writer: Kestian
Date Tue Dec 13 22:21:44 2011
To All Althainia
Subject You leave for a little while and....
So here I am again, back in Austinian's temple, site of All my unanswered
rants against the universe. Austinian, my friend, you are really screwing
this one up for everyone.
These people dedicate themselves to the Light, the least you could do is
protect them. Hell, just a little something, damn. But nooooo, you
continue to let good people get stomped All over.
Nothing new there, really.
I know, I know. Non-interference, blah blah blah. Try interfering. I know
first-hand how liberating it is. Beats the living hell out of watching good
people die.
But I know you arent going to do a damn thing. Its up to us "little
people". But you can do one thing for me. Its simple. Give these to
Kaedinn and tell him to practice. I'm coming for my cookies.
I laid my deck of cards and a dozen cookies on the altar, wiping away a
single tear as I remembered a little boy that I tried to corrupt by playing
Blackjack for his cookies.
Little brat wiped me out.
Writer: Domacius
Date Wed Dec 14 14:21:25 2011
Writer: Telaim
Date Thu Dec 15 15:07:40 2011
To Marauders All ( imm Necrucifer )
Subject Immediate Punishment
Telaim chuckled softly to himself as he read the missive. All Marauders
are to report in or be punished. Well that would bring people running back
to their posts. Publicly posted too. Wouldn't that bring the new recruits
in? What a crew this latest incarnation of the Marauders produced too. The
silent Highlord apparently so high as to not talk to anyone. The
"shadowlord" whatever kind of rank that was, who's emphasis was underlining
immediate before the word punishment. Then you had the general who couldn't
even speak common properly. At least he had a working sense of humor
though.
The half-elf priest ran his hands through his hair and murmured a prayer to
Necrucifer for patience and wisdom. He thought Valdaglerion's crew was a
motley one? Maybe he should move back to Verminasia, or try out that
Abaddon place? He shrugged to himself. Time would reveal things. Though
maybe "immediate" punishment would be preferable to a slow lingering one he
was suffering due to the idleness of the Fort? Whoever said he wasn't an
optimist?
Writer: Tazent
Date Thu Dec 15 21:49:18 2011
Writer: Dontay
Date Fri Dec 16 07:51:46 2011
Writer: Calendra
Date Fri Dec 16 08:05:06 2011
Writer: Maithion
Date Fri Dec 16 21:54:21 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Fri Dec 16 22:21:49 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Sat Dec 17 18:11:27 2011
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Sun Dec 18 01:10:04 2011
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Sun Dec 18 01:34:06 2011
Writer: Telaim
Date Sun Dec 18 11:10:06 2011
To Marauders All ( Necrucifer imm religion )
Subject Say Nothing
Well an amusing day to say the least. Start a simple conversation of the
intellectual prowress and religious alignments of the various races and he
got threatened by the orc, reprimanded by the Sentinel(which was quite the
effort given how he just stands like a stone statue in the temple) and
ordered to be silent by the Shadowlord. Who knew the Marauders, the big bad
warriors who conquered all, were such a pack of cry babies?
He ran his hand briefthough through his beard as he chuckled. His left hand
of course, his right hand still hung uselessly from his right arm only
reminding him of it's existance with the occasional throb of pain. Be
quiet? Say nothing? Well he could play that game with his fellow Marauders
and never let it be said he didn't follow orders. He allowed himself a
smile. The real interesting part of it would be if anyone would even notice
or just take it as another quiet day at the fort, full of laziness and
inactivy.
Until then, he had free portals at his beck and call and a place to sleep
while he continued his training as a priest of the Dark Father. Whoever
said he wasn't an optimist?
Writer: Xelin
Date Sun Dec 18 12:59:40 2011
Writer: Maerliya
Date Sun Dec 18 17:17:14 2011
Writer: Tief
Date Sun Dec 18 18:46:01 2011
Writer: Biem
Date Sun Dec 18 20:11:07 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Mon Dec 19 13:22:12 2011
Writer: Aelthran
Date Mon Dec 19 14:39:50 2011
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Mon Dec 19 16:46:14 2011
Writer: Niena
Date Mon Dec 19 18:06:23 2011
Writer: Alerio
Date Tue Dec 20 09:16:36 2011
To Kaerlia Arkane All ( Zandreya Imm RP )
Subject Large lessons from tiny ceatures
A lone winged figure sat upon a branch high atop the great tree in
Arkane. From his vantage, he scanned the coastline and pulled an apple from
his bag. So far his journey had been fruitless, unless you counted the
apples he had gathered. Alerio was supposed to be meditating on Zandreya,
seeking some sense of enlightenment but All he had managed to do so far was
fly around and admire the scenery. Staring down at the wildlife scurrying
around the tree, he shook his head and sighed. 'Maybe I'm not cut out for
this... I don't even really know how I'm supposed to go about this whole
thing. ' A sudden flash on inspiration interrupted his thoughts. This was
supposed to be a spiritual journey, he might as well try praying. Alerio
placed the apple on the branch next to him and dipped his head in prayer.
Moments later he looked up again, picking up his apple and rubbing it on his
tunic. He tossed it up in the air a few times before shaking his head.
'What did I expect? '
As he raised the apple to his mouth to take a bite a wind blows from the
west, sending a chill down his spine. Alerio furrowed his brow and looked
east. Was that supposed to be a sign, the answer to his prayers for
guidance, or was it just the wind? 'Not like I'm doing anything useful
here. ' Alerio tossed the rest of his apple towards a group of chipmunks
and jumped from his branch, spreading his wings and turning east. Alerio
enjoyed flying over the ocean; when the skies are clear you can see All the
way to the curvature of the world. He dipped low as he left Arkane's shore,
running a hand in the water before shifting his wings to take him higher.
After several hours, he began to see land in the distance. 'Seems as good
of a place to meditate as any else. '
The next several days passed uneventfully. Fruitless meditations left Alerio
increasingly frustrated and his focus on the task at hand was nearly gone. Sitting
in a tree on the Yotaoko trail, he noticed a four-leaf clover. 'Maybe that will
change my luck.' But, as he moved to drop out of the tree another figure caught
his eye. Alerio watched as a rabbit scurrying through the field happened upon the
clover and began to nibble on it. 'Interesting... let's see if you've anything to
teach me my furry friend. And, if not, rabbit's feet are supposed to be lucky and
it has been quite some time since I've had real meat.' Alerio watched the rabbit
for hours as it finished his clover and moved around the field and finally back to
its burrow. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the entire
meadow. Alerio doubted he would be seeing the rabbit again tonight.
Alerio settled into a tree outside the rabbit's burrow, waiting for its return.
Night fell and rose quietly, Alerio waiting vigilantly All night for his tiny target
to show itself. Finally as the sun made its return, the rabbit poked his head out
and cautiously sniffed the air before resuming its romping in the fields. For a
short time, it seemed to be another fruitless day and Alerio began to grow tired of
the little game he had started. Landing in a tree, Alerio rummaged through his bags
for a survival knife. 'Well, you may not have been the key to enlightenment, but at
least you'll go well with these potatoes...'A high pitched screech gave an All too
late warning. Alerio looked up just in time to see a hawk dive from the sky and
scoop up the rabbit. 'My, my... It seems rabbit is off the menu.'
Writer: Alerio
Date Tue Dec 20 09:19:24 2011
To Kaerlia Arkane All ( Zandreya Imm RP )
Subject Large lessons from tiny creatures (Part 2)
Tracking the hawk proved to be a much greater challenge, though having
wings tends to help when following something that flies. The hawk took its
catch back to its nest, with Alerio following. As it landed, a tiny figure
began to stir and squawk in the nest. A baby hawk cried eagerly for its
mother and was rewarded with regurgitated rabbit. As Alerio watched, a
smile crept across his face. Perhaps this was what he had been led to see.
One of Zandreya's lessons stated that we have something to learn from each
and every one of her children. Here he had been surrounded by the beauty of
nature All this time trying to find some message, but he was overlooking so
many of her children he could learn from. Zandreya was speaking to him the
whole time through the animals and even the plants, but Alerio was not
listening. 'I understand now. I was being foolish, wasn't I? ' Almost as
in answer, the mother hawk squawked. She was staring at Alerio, and he at
her. Perhaps if either had been less absorbed with the other, one could
have stopped what happened next.
Alerio's eyes widened in shock as an arrow pierced the mother hawk's breast,
pinning her wing and causing her to cry in pain and fall from her nest.
Alerio's wings snapped open and he leapt from the tree, but he was too slow
and the hawk hit the ground before he could reach her, dead. 'Hands off,
winged one. That was my kill, good and clean. ' The voice was followed by
a middle aged man, stepping out from the brush. Alerio watched in stunned
silence as the man scooped up his kill. 'Though if you're hungry, I'd be
willing to share. ' Alerio shook his head, unable to find words. 'Hey now,
you're not angry that I killed a bird are you? ' The hunter motioned to
Alerio's wings. 'No, no... I just... ' A shrug finished Alerio's
sentence. The man returned the shrug and turned, disappearing into the same
brush he came from.
Alerio stood there for several minutes. Was this part of the lesson?
Zandreya was trying to teach him that he could learn from All oh her
children, not just the civilized races. But what lesson was there in this?
The obvious answer was that death is natural, but this just seemed...
Cruel. A tiny cry interrupted his thoughts. Alerio looked up. The baby
hawk was still there, its mother killed before its eyes. Alerio flew up to
the nest, landing on the branch and looked down at the tiny, winged
creature. It looked up at him, crying softly. There was no way Alerio
could leave it here to die. He reached down and gently scooped up the baby
hawk, a whisper of a thought entering his mind. 'Nature is often beautiful,
but can sometimes be cruel and deadly. Our actions influence this balance,
and it is we who must take responsibility. ' Alerio looked down at the
squirming hawkling in his hands. ' Alerio smiled softly at the baby hawk.
'And I must take responsibility for you. ' The young bird tilted his head,
squawking in return.
Writer: Xelin
Date Tue Dec 20 11:26:46 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Tue Dec 20 11:56:47 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Tue Dec 20 11:57:07 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Tue Dec 20 11:57:16 2011
Writer: Sayeeda
Date Tue Dec 20 12:13:22 2011
Writer: Maithion
Date Tue Dec 20 13:21:06 2011
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Tue Dec 20 22:14:41 2011
Writer: Aionden
Date Tue Dec 20 23:44:10 2011
Writer: Aionden
Date Wed Dec 21 00:16:23 2011
Writer: Taevarth
Date Wed Dec 21 00:25:12 2011
Writer: Blaithyn
Date Wed Dec 21 01:49:17 2011
To All Marauders [ Raije ]
Subject Midnight Training
The shift of the blanket was quiet and soft. At first she moved only to
snake out a hand and toss a new log onto the fire. Then, as she laid
staring into the flames, a strong arm draped over her waist, she grew
restless. How many nights had she lain awake wondering when she could
return and begin her own life in earnest? Now, she was living it. Now, she
could feel the strong, secure warmth of the man behind her, his hot breath
spilling rhythmically upon the back of her neck. It brought a true smile
upon her.
Rolling over slowly, as not to wake him, Blaithyn pressed a kiss to the
hollow of his throat, her hand slowly guiding the heavy limb off of her.
Free of the relished heat and protection, she slid from the bedroll and
padded to the forgotten carriage where she had hung her uniform. It was
only a matter of moments to slip on the slacks and jacket, securing them in
place. A few more heart beats and she had her boots in place and her sword
strapped comfortably to her hips. Before she turned to leave, she listened
carefully. His breathing remained even, but whether he was awake or asleep,
she could not discern. She turned and strode away.
A subtle shift of the moon revealed the passage of time as she travelled.
She walked familiar paths, finding some of them had been changed greatly in
her years away. Arkania had new scars now - crafted by nature and the
denizens of the world both. Eventually, she came to a field filled with
strange, crystalline creatures that presented themselves as a decent
challenge. Drawing her sword, she approached cautiously before she began
the unpracticed dance of her training.
In time, she grew weary. Physically, she was on the verge of true
exhaustion. Pushing her body hard took a toll on her mind to remain alert
enough for combat, and when the risk grew great, she retreated. Outside of
the fields, she knelt and wiped her bloodied blade upon the ground, saying a
small prayer to Raije in the process. Then began the long journey back to
the camp just northeast of the Fort. On the way, she paused as she heard
the babble of water. She veered off of her path long enough to stop and
wash her uniform, and herself, to remove the sweat, grime and blood. Her
wounds were already healing and she imagined they would fade within the next
day.
When she returned to camp finally, she undressed fully. Even her undershirt
found a place upon the frame of the carriage to dry. She buffed her arms as
she padded back to the bedroll to settle back in and smiled to herself as
the one she left gathered her close in his sleep. Her eyes closed as his
face pressed into the soft curves of her chest and a sigh left her lips.
Her reason to fight. Her reason to return time and again from the field of
battle.
Before the gentle curtain of darkness enveloped her and drew her into sleep,
she wondered if he truly understood how much he meant to her.
Writer: Maithion
Date Wed Dec 21 03:26:11 2011
Writer: Maithion
Date Thu Dec 22 06:09:48 2011
Writer: Guaxe
Date Thu Dec 22 11:21:53 2011
Writer: Leomire
Date Thu Dec 22 15:27:54 2011
Writer: Leomire
Date Thu Dec 22 15:48:59 2011
Writer: Tiamot
Date Thu Dec 22 16:44:44 2011
Writer: Aelthran
Date Thu Dec 22 16:46:03 2011
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Thu Dec 22 17:16:15 2011
Writer: Aionden
Date Fri Dec 23 00:25:12 2011
Writer: Vivikah
Date Fri Dec 23 19:10:19 2011
Writer: Aerahan
Date Fri Dec 23 21:02:08 2011
Writer: Vivikah
Date Sat Dec 24 11:21:43 2011
Writer: Aerahan
Date Mon Dec 26 10:30:56 2011
Writer: Aerahan
Date Mon Dec 26 10:33:12 2011
Writer: Vivikah
Date Mon Dec 26 20:11:32 2011
Writer: Kalgan
Date Tue Dec 27 18:17:16 2011
To All ( imm rp )
Subject Kalgan's ramblings
Sitting atop the northeastern watch tower, Kalgan could see most of
Arkane. 'See All these peoples, they no so bad... Even the elflings.
Can't we just stay here? Can't we stop and make life here, just you and me?
' Turning slightly he takes his gaze across the eastern road, and the
bindstone of the Dungeons of Bloodlust, as a guard walks by on his rounds.
'You know we can't, You here Him calling us, but do we answer? No! We
can't stay... We will only stay until it is time for us to take our walk,
then we will go. ' Arguing with himself, Kalgan tries once more to change
his own mind 'but, we can do what the Master says easier if we stay, then
noone will be trying to kill us while we doing Master business.. ' Kragan
nods as he says to himself 'Yess... Yes that would be better.. We will
think on this some more and see what we will do... '
Standing, with a glare to the guards snickering at him in the corner, he
opens the trapdoor and leaves the tower. Grinning to himself as he watches
all the elflings walking around the city, he makes his way to the haven.
{'CBesides, tastey as they may be, I like the elflings here, specially that
pretty one we helped earlier.. ' Kalgan grabs a horn and yanks on it hard,
make himself stumble. 'Stupid, you don't call food cute! Just because we
said we won't eat any of these elflings, doesn't mean we can't eat other
elflings. Now shut up, there the King. ' Walking past the King, Kragan
picks a cot and lays beside it to rest for the night, muttering obsceneties
to himself.
Writer: Aerahan
Date Tue Dec 27 18:29:46 2011
Writer: Maithion
Date Wed Dec 28 04:50:21 2011
Writer: Vivikah
Date Wed Dec 28 11:38:26 2011
Writer: Vivikah
Date Wed Dec 28 12:55:11 2011
Writer: Amila
Date Thu Dec 29 14:49:49 2011
To Arkane Samiliat Camille Kassia All ( Imm RP Scorn )
Subject Amila's Farewell - Part 1 of 2
Taking a shallow, shuddering breath, Amila clenched a simple quill in her
shaking fingers and stared down at the parchment before her. Laying the
black stained tip against the creamy blankness, she had the thought that
this would be her last time seeing that lovely contrast.
First of all, to my dearest children,
I am sorry to have to tell you like this, so terribly sorry for keeping this
from you for so long. I have lived a full life and have I no regrets but
that I must leave you three behind. You must take care of one another, my
darling little ones. Do not allow the differences in age separate you,
Samiliat, from the twins. No matter how wide and long our family tree has
been in the past, one by one the branches are breaking and falling away -
lost to age or to an unfair fate. I wish for you three to remember your
father, remember your aunt Launy, your cousins and uncles and aunts who went
before us... Remember them and be as they were, always there for one
another and for Arkane in her times of need.
Remember that I will always love you.
Amila cringed as a coughing fit struck her, quickly raising her quill from
the parchment to save it from being ruined by the attack. The coughing had
come to call more often these last few days, and while she was no longer a
healer, she knew that she did not have much time left to finish this last
message herself. Straightening her spine, she settled the nib back against
the parchment as soon as the fit passed.
Secondly, to my precious Arkanians,
Those who know me, or know of me, I am sorry to leave you so suddenly, and I
am terribly sorry if I have left anything undone. I am just so very, very
tired. It has been an honor getting to know and love each of you, and to
leave as I am saddens me, but I know that we will meet again in the
afterplace.
Those who do not know me, I am sorry to not get the chance to meet you, to
see you grow as a part of this glorious Arkane. I beg of you, become her
strength and support one another as she will support you. Know that
Arkane's strength is the strength of one Arkanian lending aid to another,
and that with each hand and heart held out to touch that of your fellow
citizens you help to make a richer and more brilliant future for yourselves
and for the whole of Arkane.
I trust in each of you to protect the city to which I have given the whole
of my life, to protect the people in it, and to keep it a place where all
are welcome.
I wish you fair skies, calm seas, and rich growth, my dears.
Love always and ever,
Lady Duchess Amila Anangeline Stormflower Wood
Writer: Amila
Date Thu Dec 29 14:50:40 2011
To Arkane Samiliat Camille Kassia All ( Imm RP Scorn )
Subject Amila's Farewell - Part 2 of 2
Amila closed her eyes as she set the quill on the bare wood of the desk,
beckoning to the messenger boy she had called to her side. Taking another
shuddering breath, she folded the parchment in thirds and looked at the boy
before returning her gray gaze to the creamy folds of paper.
'I need you to make sure this makes it to the right hands, child, I will not
get a second chance at it.'
The boy nodded, tears glistened in his eyes as he watched the old woman's
age spotted hands drip sapphire colored wax onto the parchment and seal it
with her mark, a half bloomed rose encircled by the symbol of eternity. He
had seen many such parchments, many such seal imprints, in the five years he
had worked for the duchess.
'Ye'll not have to worry, Duchess. Ye've taken care of me, now I'll take
care of ye. Gods All bless you, ' the boy said as he took the parchment in
his hands, along with the customary gold coin. He bowed to the woman, a tear
dropping silently to the floor before he straightened and ducked out of her
room.
Amila nodded and got wearily to her feet, her movement more of what one
might call a shuffle than a walk as she made her way to the bed in the
corner of the room. It was a big bed, more suited to when the children
would run in during a storm to cuddle together with her in it than to an old
woman alone, but she would not have to worry about that anymore. She would
not need to worry over anything anymore, her weary days over after so very,
very long.
She would miss them all, but she would watch over them as she could, and
she would pray even in death that the Gods would protect her children and
her people. After so many years doing the same in life, why should death
change that? As she settled into bed, weakly tugging the coverlet up to her
waist, she whispered with her last breath, 'I am sorry to leave you all
behind.'
The whispered words shuddered, and Amila's body stilled, never again to move
as it had in life. But it was a good life.
Writer: Aerahan
Date Thu Dec 29 18:04:44 2011
Writer: Aerahan
Date Thu Dec 29 18:07:11 2011
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Fri Dec 30 00:50:14 2011
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Fri Dec 30 03:07:34 2011
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Fri Dec 30 03:09:54 2011
To All Fatale Immortal Religion Abaddon
Subject To Know True Loss (III)
It was a curious thing. Z'Quarus did not recall how he had gotten to the
side of the Crone's bed. Looking around he was startled to find the
entirety of her room destroyed. The Crone was never known for being
slovenly. Perhaps it was bandits who had ransacked the building? For the
life of him he could not recall why he was kneeling before her lifeless,
frozen form or why he held her wrinkled hand so delicately. And why was the
fur upon his face wet with moisture? Surely it was not snowing outside and
the Crone kept her roof well thatched.
It was so easy for him to shut everything out. He had trained for it from
the beginning. No words or deeds could cut someone who felt little.
Who was this minotaur sobbing before the bed of someone who had received
Fatale's gift? Such behavior was unbecoming. Those who were true followers
of his will should accept Death for what it was. Fatale's reward. There
could be no mistaking it. The scarred face and the blood soaked bandages.
Z'Quarus sat cumpled, sobs wracking his body, his shoulders heaving as he
opened himself to grief that he had hardended his heart to long ago.
He had lost much during his time upon Algoron. Friends, family, minotaur
kinsman, comrades in arms. But this was different. The loss was too much.
The pain was immense and the tears would not stop their flow.
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Fri Dec 30 03:13:50 2011
To All Immortal Fatale Abaddon Religion
Subject To Know True Loss (End)
As he stepped from the cottage and set it ablaze with a few flicks of his
hand Z'Quarus reflected on the letter he had found:
---
Z'Quarus. It is no doubt you who found me. No others would have dared come
to the cottage of an old woman who they feared would cut out their hearts.
You always knew better than the rest, old friend. You saw through to the
heart of why we worship Fatale for the truth that he is. If you for a
moment think there are things that I could still have taught you.. Well..
You are correct. There are many things that I could still teach you. But..
There are many more that you could have taught me.
There is one lesson that I do hope you learn through All of this. The
lesson of true loss. For it is only through this that we truly understand
the will of our Master's gifts. Grieve me, Z'Quarus, but do not lose sight
of what is truly important. In All you do, learn and seek Him. Leave this
place a better man than you came here.
Congratulations on your new post within Abaddon. His servants need you and
you need them. Know, that you would not have been appointed had not the
powers that thought you worthy. Do not let them down. In His name always.
In His name always.
---
Z'Quarus slipped through the shadows once more, his emotions still raw. He
almost felt sorry if anyone crossed his path. Tonight he was the hunter
looking for prety to thank Fatale for the lesson he was taught by the woman
he had known for so long.
Writer: Tief
Date Fri Dec 30 18:54:50 2011
Writer: Ghroat
Date Fri Dec 30 19:11:36 2011
Writer: Vivikah
Date Sat Dec 31 12:31:09 2011
Writer: Ghaeldan
Date Mon Jan 2 02:54:08 2012
Writer: Vaedryn
Date Mon Jan 2 06:17:48 2012
Writer: Tief
Date Mon Jan 2 19:12:48 2012
Writer: Zarghott
Date Wed Jan 4 17:37:51 2012
To All Darkonin Ogre-Father Necrucifer Religion RP Imm Dunnikin
Subject Vision of the Seeker
The frigid winds raged up the frozen slopes of the mountain top. A
sturdy Ogrish figure sat upon the rock as if opposing the winds that sought
to blow the unmoving mortal down but to no avail. Frost coated the ogre,
layering atop his heavy fur clothing and grisly face but still unmoved as if
to move would be admitting that the the winds had won the day.
The ogre glowered over the snow-coated country-side as if it were an animal
ready to be conquered. These were the last moments of his journey as a
Seeker, he thought to himself as he surveyed the only world he had ever
known. And if these were to be the final moments of his vision-quest, then
what labors of wisdom had he gained? These were the questions that ran
through his mind.
One God to rule them all, and Necrucifer is His name.
These were the words he spoke aloud atop the mountain. These were the words
that rang true above All others. If there could be only one string of words
to sum up the entirety of His Church, then no truer words had been rung.
"One God to rule them all, and Necrucifer is His name, " he repeated again
out loud.
His vision-quest had shown him many things, although he knew now more than
ever that these things were already known to him, already seen, already
spoken and heard. The vision was a world where All would know the Power of
the Ogre Father, and the wrath of the Giant-Ogre Son.
The winds slowly began to fade until there was only a whisper remaining. As
the winds died, a thick veil of clouds began to materialize and gather just
below the mountain peaks that now stood out like islands piercing the
cloud-covered planes above the world below.
With the winds at rest, the ogre felt renewed and victorious over the
elements, and so he stood up, and slowly made his way down the rocky stone
path leading into the mountain's carved hallows.
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Thu Jan 5 15:53:15 2012
Writer: Xelin
Date Thu Jan 5 17:14:08 2012
Writer: Maerliya
Date Thu Jan 5 21:59:21 2012
Writer: Xelin
Date Thu Jan 5 22:46:35 2012
Writer: Emylae
Date Fri Jan 6 06:46:14 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Fri Jan 6 11:57:53 2012
Writer: Leomire
Date Fri Jan 6 14:52:27 2012
Writer: Llorana
Date Fri Jan 6 20:56:14 2012
Writer: Aionden
Date Fri Jan 6 21:21:34 2012
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Fri Jan 6 23:58:44 2012
Writer: Llorana
Date Sat Jan 7 01:17:22 2012
Writer: Nom'amor
Date Sat Jan 7 17:16:28 2012
Writer: Asrar
Date Sat Jan 7 18:01:03 2012
To Shalonesti_King Shalonesti ( All Necrucifer Zandreya Imm Admin Religion )
Subject Life goes on - a story of the Unknown - pt 1
The pain has not returned, not since Necrucifer spoke to her, and cursed
her. Standing, Asrar peers over the Vallenwoods of Shalonesti. Nothing.
No feeling of love for the forest, regret from something missing in her
heart, anger for what was taken. Just emptyness. A void. Turning from the
balcony, she makes her way through the tower to the portal room, making her
way through the portal to Arkane's port, boarding the Black Crane. Arriving
at the port of Dojia, she makes her way through the forests of bamboo to the
small village of Tokaiyo.
Finding rest in a small tea shop, she slips her blades into sheaths at her
waist. Taking a cup of tea from a waitress, she sips it quietly, nodding
that she is where she needs to be.
Writer: Tief
Date Sun Jan 8 00:05:20 2012
Writer: Vivikah
Date Sun Jan 8 08:47:59 2012
Writer: Vertuk
Date Sun Jan 8 15:44:35 2012
Writer: Kestian
Date Sun Jan 8 22:32:26 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Mon Jan 9 17:06:01 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Mon Jan 9 23:55:22 2012
Writer: Emylae
Date Tue Jan 10 18:47:42 2012
Writer: Tief
Date Tue Jan 10 20:06:01 2012
Writer: Aionden
Date Tue Jan 10 20:40:10 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Tue Jan 10 21:28:13 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Wed Jan 11 16:25:06 2012
To Fatale Abaddon All Imm
Subject Nichifors Quest - The Deserted
Seir made his way through the silent halls at a steady pace, his long
cloak trailing behind him upon the cold stone floor. The hood of his cloak
rested, much as it always did, over his head, shrouding his face in shadow.
The torches upon the walls flickered as he passed, the flames dancing
merrily as they lit the way to his favorite place of Worship.
He thought back to earlier in the day, when Nichifor Prodan approached him.
'What do you think of desertion, Novitiate? ' The Master of Quests asked.
He had no way of knowing that particular question would turn the eyes of
Fatale upon him, for such was the way the God of Death worked -
mysteriously. Upon answering the question, Nichifor entrusted the Novitiate
with a quest. A quest to dispatch the Deserters. A handful of his brethren
joined him.
The party had set out to explore the bog north of Abaddon, and soon they
came upon the small structure in which the deserters were hiding. The
Novitiate accepted a torch, hurled it at the dwelling, and uttered a few
words of power, which caused a beautiful firestorm filled with flickering
flames of red and orange to envelop the small shack, forcing its residents
out.
He heard the arrow before he saw it - and even with the Countess's urging,
did not move away quick enough. The arrow embedded itself in the Priests
shoulder, forcing him back a step. Those of his party then went to work. A
dagger sailed gracefully in the air, thrown by one of his brethren. It
struck the archer in his throat. As the now corpse fell from the ramparts,
two more deserters, sensing their sanctuary was ablaze, hurtled out of the
door and towards the small party.
They were slaughtered.
Writer: Seir
Date Wed Jan 11 16:45:03 2012
To Fatale Abaddon All Imm
Subject Nichifors Quest - Completed
"Deacon Vai'Kel. Welcome." Whispered the Priestess who stood before
the doors of the hall which lead to the Worship Chamber of Fatale. Seir
stopped and offered a smile, still unaccustomed to the new title. "Fatale
guide you." He replied, stepping through the twin doors which were opened
for him.
He moved to the Altar of Fatale, removing the hood of his cloak. Settling
down upon his knees, Seir closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled
slowly, forcing his heartbeat to slow, forcing his body to calm. His mind
flickered back to the bogs of Abaddon, when His lord annointed him. He
recalled the blood pooled around his feet, how it shimmered and crawled up
his body, forming a line of thin thread. He remembered how it spun and
crossed and shaped itself into the symbol of Deacon and embedded itself
within his cloak. He breathed deeply once more, and prayed.
"Prince of Veneration, Sovereign of Purity, accept this offering given in
your glory. As You have so gratefully given of Your very essence to impart
Your blessings upon Your faithful, so to shall I return a portion of my
acquisitions to Your feet in praise and gratitude. All that I possess, all
that I earn, and All that I have accomplished is done by Your allowance, to
be claimed at Your whim, and treasured until such a time as it is given to
You. Accept what I now give in thanks for Your generosity, and know that
ever shall I treasure what is gathered in Your name."
From a sheath hidden within the folds of his cloak, Seir withdrew a small
jewel encrusted blade. Without hesitation, he placed the blade flat upon
the skin of his left arm and slowly drew the blade upwards, severing a piece
of flesh. He then placed this before the Altar, and let drip from his
fingertips more of his blood unto the piece of bloody meat. Mumbling words
of power, he set the offering on fire before bandaging the wound and climbed
to his feet.
"I walk Your path, My Lord, and I know it has just begun. Guide my feet
that they do not stray, my hands that they strike true, and my tongue as it
speaks Your praises. I am yours to command. Amen."
Writer: Maithion
Date Wed Jan 11 17:12:20 2012
Writer: Maithion
Date Wed Jan 11 17:45:19 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Thu Jan 12 12:45:32 2012
Writer: Tief
Date Thu Jan 12 18:06:58 2012
Writer: Alyka
Date Thu Jan 12 20:55:08 2012
Writer: Nymaya
Date Fri Jan 13 00:23:42 2012
Writer: Leotie
Date Fri Jan 13 15:29:59 2012
To All Althainia Scorn Immortal
Subject Before the Walls of Terror (Kwars)
The air was chilled, swirling around in the mists of the surreal swamps
surrounding Abaddon. In spite of the dreary, cold setting, there was a
liveliness to the swamp that hadn't been seen in some time. Even with the
general mood depressed by the spirit of the place, Leotie was warmed by the
torches and campfires and the presence of others.
It was dangerous to be here, but Leotie wasn't going to be fighting. She
was attached to no specific unit. Instead, she hoped her status as former
Chancellor would allow her to bring hope and cheer to the soldiers before
the walls of that terrifying city. Rumors had already circled around of
men fleeing, tents left deserted without a word.
It was in Leotie's nature to brighten the atmosphere of a place. Short
in stature, especially for an Ariel, her wings were of a bright-yellow
color, and there was a certain bounce to her step. Despite being smaller
than most, she was almost always noticed wherever she went. Through her
experiences growing up she'd learned to divert that attention back on
others.
She could make people smile most of the time, and she'd already managed
to pull a few smiles out of the soldiers she'd entertained thus far. She
sang with a high, sweet voice. She'd danced All her life and brought fluid
grace to a new level of artistry. She'd learned how to heal, and it was
a driving passion of hers. She'd learned how to lead, how to organize, and
she loved it. But, at heart, she would always be an artist.
In a way, she was still healing, albeit indirectly. She was healing wounds
of the soul that had already begun to open before the battle, wounds that
would cripple these soldiers in a fight if they weren't mended. Soon,
Leotie knew she would be healing physical wounds as well, she decided that
she needed to see the trauma tents and make sure they were in order.
Leotie glanced back at the tent she had just left from. Drawing her cloak
more tightly about her small frame the hints of a smile played across her
lips as she heard laughter, the campfire seemed to burn a little brighter
than she'd left it.
There was still so much to be done.
Writer: Vertuk
Date Sat Jan 14 23:23:26 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sun Jan 15 14:28:11 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sun Jan 15 14:30:27 2012
Writer: Maithion
Date Mon Jan 16 01:37:51 2012
Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Jan 16 02:56:55 2012
To All ( Immortal RP Religion )
Subject A road less traveled (Part 1)
It was All a pain-filled haze; resting at the altar, Taszakul carrying
him above the swamps of Abaddon, the Countess's words. For some reason, he
could not remember a moment without the searing pain in his side now. The
pain in his head subsides enough that his eyes can flutter open without
sending him underneath the blackness once again. The familiar surroundings
of the morgue fade into view, and a faint smile touches his lips.
It was not the first time he has found himself within the walls of Abaddon,
weak and alone. Out of instinct, he attempts to call the simplest of magics
into being, one which would quell the nausea and hunger in his stomach. At
once, the memories come flooding back to him as the spark which would
normally fill him with warmth fizzles and All that remains is a harsh
emptiness. The emptiness spreads through him and it is as if he could feel
the thorns piercing his body All over again. He had been abandoned, the end
result of his prayers, sacrifices, and dreams.
Each voice now came back to him, the ones telling him how his path would not
be easy, the ones who condemned him for wishing to be anything more than he
was, the ones who pledged their aid to him. The knowledge that even those
voices were drowned out by the last words uttered to him by Zandreya only
served to intensify the pain and the emptiness he now felt.
'You desire a path for yourself that can not be walked, as such you will
forever be lost to All of eternity.. A shell of what you could have been.
'
The bitterness rises within him at that thought; how could he be anything
but what he is? Why did he have to be the same as the ones who exiled him,
who turned their backs on the sacrifice and work he wrought with little
desire for thanks. He had simply tried to be true to himself, with no
pretenses between his intentions, kingdom, and faith. Yet even with that
knowledge, and the feelings of self-righteousness it inspired, those words
somehow brought anger and shame to the elf.
He felt as if maybe that -is- what She wanted, for him to simply conform,
and to be the voice that would have offered some form of hope for unity.
That perhaps by setting himself apart from the Vallens, and by taking a path
taken only by his Mentor, he had offended his Goddess. Was it arrogance?
Narcissism? How could he know when there was nothing but an emptiness, a
void between him and Her. He had failed in his duties, the first time in
over three hundred years, he had failed. Yet...
Why was -he- the exception? Why was -he- the one who was made to be the
pariah?
Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Jan 16 03:44:48 2012
To All ( Immortal RP Religion )
Subject A road less traveled (part 2)
Kaelowyth could not help but feel some measure of self pity, even before
Nalorak approached him. It was strange, he had to admit, seeing the Watcher
there, for as far as he knew, none from Verminasia even knew what had
transpired. He remembered the human's words clearly now, more clearly than
even his Goddess's, the words that spoke of duty, of putting aside one's own
goals for the sake of others. There was war looming on the horizon, and he
had put himself in a situation where he held no more power than a newborn
babe.
The elf's wounds would keep him within Abaddon for days, and even there he
was not safe, for he knew that the armies of the Light marched upon it, and
escape by ship was nigh on impossible. He had a duty though, a duty to
Verminasia, to the Darkness which had now cost him over three centuries
worth of sacrifice and prayer. He would not quit now, no, the wounds that
his body and mind had suffered served only as a bitter reminder and
motivational force. He would heal, and he would fight. He could still tend
to the sick and wounded, he could still swing a blade.
A wry smile dawns upon his bloodstained lips, the elf moving to slowly and
with great effort, swing his legs over the edge of the couch and onto the
morgue's floor, his hands shakily reaching for the quill and paper he kept
in one of his packs. As ink began to cover the page, the elf thought long
and hard about what he was about to do, for in these coming days he was
playing a dangerous game. He could not give up now though, and so there was
no turning back.
He -would- be accepted in Darkness, and he -would- regain Her favor. He
simply had to be patient. Patient and vigilant. A harsh and bitter laugh
escapes the elf as he finishes writing his words upon the parchment, fanning
it dry and rolling it up. Calling weakly for a messenger, he stares at the
boy who comes to him, the elf's features likely nightmarish - his once fine
and regal features now drawn and hollow, his stark white hair - another
sacrifice gone unnoticed hanging limply to frame his face.
"Get this to the scribe of the Black, Taszakul and to the Dark Lady, Elaynah
Montero. I have need of a boon. "
The boy gives a wide-eyed stare and takes the letter before running off, the
elf giving forth another bitter laughter, this time the strain bringing
about a fit of coughing that flecks his lips with yet more blood, though
soon after a smirk resides there.
"If it is blood that keeps me from Darkness... Then it will be blood I
shall spill. "
Writer: Seir
Date Mon Jan 16 12:05:52 2012
Writer: Tief
Date Tue Jan 17 00:51:32 2012
Writer: Gwaine
Date Tue Jan 17 13:34:54 2012
Writer: Gwaine
Date Tue Jan 17 13:44:47 2012
Writer: Crevyan
Date Tue Jan 17 18:30:35 2012
To Althainia ( All imm rp )
Subject Saving Wildlife
Walking through the city, Cravyan is a little nervous. He knows he's
allowed to be out within the walls, but the Demon has been sighted in the
city as well in the last few days. He knows the Demon would like nothing
better to eat him or something just to get to his mother. Grabbing fresh
biscuits and honey from Kate's, he makes his way into the park. Sitting at
the edge of the pond he shares his biscuits with the ducks for a while,
getting more and more bored with the day. Just as he was standing up, a
hawk burst from the bushes next to him and crashes into the earth. Again
the bird tries to take flight and fails, the tip of one wing askew. Taking
off his shirt so he isn't impaled by the small beak, he tosses it over the
hawk. Immediatly the bird calms. Gathering it in his arms gently, he runs
to the High Priest. If anyone can heal the hawk it is him!
Crevyan says to the High Priest 'Father Father, can you heal him, his wing
is broken! Seeing the boys frantic face, the priest nods, and with a quick
word, mends the wing cleanly. Taking the carefully back to the pond, he
sets him on the ground. Grabbing a corner of his shirt, he jerks it off
quickly and as fast as he can, backs away. The hawk just sits there, its
head cocking to the side. Opening his wings to their full two foot span, he
takes flight, rising rapidly. Crevyan watches happily as the hawk slowly
circles him from a hundred feet. Then the hawk dives. Thinking the hawk
found a mouse, or rabbit, Crevyan watches in awe as the small hawk gets
closer and closer. Then the hawk levels out and gently lands on the boys
right shoulder. Shocked, and nearly scared to death, he just stands there,
unable to even move as the hawk shifts its weight. Its talons gripping his
shirt and piercing his skin a little. The hawk lets out a piercing cry,
then pecks the boys ear, but despite his fear, the bird was gentle. Crevyan
had saved the hawk, and in doing so, had earned its loyalty and friendship.
Writer: Jermichael
Date Tue Jan 17 19:57:59 2012
Writer: Achel
Date Tue Jan 17 23:45:33 2012
Writer: Achel
Date Tue Jan 17 23:49:05 2012
To All Marauders Imm RP Pirates
Subject Fw: Chronicles of the Rum Barrel -- Part 1
| -----Original Message-----
| From: Achel
| To: Marauders Imm RP Pirates
| Subject: Chronicles of the Rum Barrel -- Part 1
| Date: Tue Jan 17 23:45:33 2012
"FIRE! " Smoke plumed from the cannons as they shot across the narrow
waterway between ships. Several smoldering iron balls crushed into the side
of the merchant ship, causing damage to the haul while others shot
daisy-chains into the sails and mast. The ship was destined for the bottom
of the Sh'lanira Belian.
"You know the drill men, All aboard, cut down those who fight, ignore the
rest, pillage everything that isn't nailed down, and return here with your
loot before she cracks in twine! "
The pirates swarmed the limping merchant ship and began their systematic
pillaging of everything in sight. Like a well oiled machine, boxes of cargo
were being shuttled across the gangplanks, along with barrels of powder,
run, and various chests of unknown treasures.
Soon the hull began to groan and the last minute pilfering quickly began to
come to an end, and like well-trained rats, everyone began abandoning the
sinking ship and returning to their own vessel. As they sailed off, the
final remains of the once glorious merchant ship made its decent into the
waters below.
"Alright men! Cargo down below, and the rest is for us! A barrel o' rum
for every man! Make way for the Cove, for tonight, we drink! "
Everyone cheered and scrambled to set course for the Pirate's Cove while
others rolled out heavy barrels of rum and sat them up to be opened.
Four Hours Later....
All hands on deck!
The motley crew quickly assembled on the deck and looked to their captain
for orders. He peered at each of his crewmembers with a swagger before
breaking the eager silence with a bark towards one of the closest sailors.
"Smithers, take this coin purse and go ashore, and don't come back until
you've brought with you the lot of the finest wenches this Cove has to
offer! And don't disappoint the men either! "
Everyone cheered again as one of the sailors rolled out a rum barrel and
began to pry it open as others gathered around with their cups and growlers.
As the lid came off, the sailor gave out a curse in surprise.
Wot the bloodae hell is this? There be a boy in our rum!
Others gathered to see this for their own eyes and sure enough, a small
figure rose drunkedly up out of the rum with a loud belch. "I can
explain... " said the small figure. "But first, I'm no boy, I'm a man of
the Sea! "
"A stowaway! " cried the crew. "String em up! " "Feed em to the fish! "
The captain swept the small figure up in one hand by the collar and yanked
the figure out of the barrel, eying him under a scrutinizing eye.
A bit small, arn't you?
"My name is Achel the Hand, and while I may be small, I am a man of great
ambition. "
The captain eyed the drunk stowaway with a near-angry scowl on his face for
a long moment before bellowing with laughter.
That you are, squirt, that you are.
The captain set Achel down and let out another small belt of laughter, and
soon the whole crew was laughing as they began dipping their cups into the
open rum barrel.
"Great as you may be, " added the ship's captain. "You'll have to earn your
keep around here and now that you've seen the Cove, you have two options,
join us or feed the fish. "
Achel staggered a bit to his feet but hesitated not even a moment's time to
reply. "Then captain Sir, you have yourself a new Cabin Person in your
crew, and one that is.. " *burp* ".. Ready for duty! "
The crew let out another round of laughter and slapped Achel on the shoulder
as they carried on with the evening festivities.
Writer: Gwaine
Date Wed Jan 18 13:13:50 2012
Writer: Gwaine
Date Wed Jan 18 13:18:24 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Wed Jan 18 14:02:29 2012
Writer: Arillias
Date Wed Jan 18 19:29:58 2012
To Knighthood All ( IMM RP Religion Taliena )
Subject The Love Continues...
As Arillias aided in killing of the king salmon to complete his training,
a feeling a divination came over him.
He knew what the sign was.
He returned to the Keep as he usually did, but with a purpose. He went to
the Altar Room and began praying. He was praying of his return to the
Priesthood for Taliena.
Clearing his throat, he prayed like he used to. He called for the Love to
once again come aside him and allow to live Her love through him and spread
to others.
He is on the journey that She put him on, and following her love which
brought him to the Keep, where new love was showed. It was showed by a
commonality of fighting in the name of the light, but Arillias saw
different. He saw that he fought and killed those in the name of love.
Where love can be shown by the blade, so that those against the light will
be shown that their actions are for them to change their ways, living in the
twilight and the darkness.
After his prayer, he got off his knees and returned to his Page tasks.
Writer: Vivikah
Date Fri Jan 20 10:20:13 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Fri Jan 20 15:26:38 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Fri Jan 20 15:29:12 2012
Writer: Pae'lan
Date Sat Jan 21 16:41:30 2012
Writer: Falric
Date Sat Jan 21 19:12:44 2012
To All Knighthood Austinian
Subject A Touch of Familiarity
A young man stood alone in the stables of Gareth's Knighthood, hard at
labor at a particularly unenviable task. He was in no trouble, at least,
not to his knowledge, but mucking the stables was something familiar to
Falric Marwyn.
Held between his gloved hands was a suitably grimy shovel, seeming to almost
date back to the founding of Gareth, if the layers of foulness and the
antiquated look of the wood attested to anything. A pair of barrels stood
near the entrance to the stable area, one already full of waste and sealed
tightly for transportation. Falric knew that the wagon to take the manure
down to the local villages was due within the next few days, and so had
slipped away from the gathering of Knights as they met in the Altar Room to
undertake the calming task alone.
As he worked, his mind found a comfortable place. This was a simple task,
one he had done for years growing up on those same farmlands that would be
receiving the fruits of his labors now. The events of the last few days had
been almost overwhelming for him, his memories a blur of combat and
otherworldly sights and smells he had come to understand was a visit from
the Lady of Healing, Siccara.
He shook his head as he shoveled another pile of muck into the open barrel,
making his way to the last stable in the row, occupied by a particularly
persnickety unicorn he had already been warned about. Setting the shovel
aside, he tried to force an even calm into his voice as he opened the stall
door and stepped inside, offering his palm to the creature, laden with a
sugar cube before he stepped closer and attempted to guide the unicorn to
one of the cleaned stalls, already ladened with fresh, clean hay. This
business was almost out of his ken, he admitted to himself as the unicorn
started and resisted but reluctantly began to make its way to a clean stall,
where it was rewarded with another treat. He was a simple farm boy, born
and raised, he decided. He was a man of simple faith, with but his family's
heirloom at his side and what small gifts he could request of who he had
come to recognize as Austinian.
The business of magic and dragons was like something out of a story, he
mused, taking up the shovel once more and working to clear out the mess
Datai's unicorn had left behind. His shoveling fell into a calming rhythm,
putting those doubts aside for the moment. He was a Page of Gareth, now.
That world of storied monsters and fantastic wizards was his to explore and
protect, so long as the grace of Austinian and the shield of his brotherhood
with those that now named him friend remained strong. A small smile crept
up his lips as he closed and sealed the last barrel, grabbing a pitchfork
and dragging a fresh bale of hay to apply a new layer in the unicorn's pen.
There was a future for him here, he felt. His parents would hardly believe
it when he came home, some day.
He just hoped he could stay alive until then.
Writer: Gimle
Date Sat Jan 21 22:31:36 2012
Writer: Tief
Date Mon Jan 23 17:48:26 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Wed Jan 25 12:09:02 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Wed Jan 25 12:51:54 2012
Writer: Aeodict
Date Thu Jan 26 01:16:06 2012
To Gwaine Datai Knighthood Nadrik All Imm RP
Subject Little
Little.
Had he been little? Aeodict gripped his head, trying to clear the headache
that accompanied his return. Or was it his regrowth?
He sat, exhausted, beneath a lintel of granite and ivy, a verandah quite
close, and continued to hold his head. What he remembered was illogical,
must have been some sort of fevered dream, he told himself. But then, had
he fallen ill, why would his hosts have left him outside their verandah?
He remembered only flashes at first. He faced a creature which, the way it
towered over him, must have been some form of dragon - only this one was a
body of three segments, one pair of legs upon each. It had pincers around
its mouth. A beast more remoniscent of ant than firstborn.
In his broken memories, he saw himself lunging at this beast with his
polearms here, thrusting aside its pincers there, tumbling backwards as one
enormous, filament-sprouting leg came crashing down towards him. 'No. ' he
said aloud, shaking his head of these visions and pushing himself, swaying,
to his feet.
He lost his balance and fell to his left, arcanium lobstered gauntlet
crunching as his hand braced his fall. 'No! ' he yelled again, his vision
blurring, and more memories flooding his senses...
And he fell into a deep sleep, upon the path to the verandah.
Writer: Seir
Date Thu Jan 26 09:03:40 2012
Writer: Elisya
Date Thu Jan 26 12:54:17 2012
Writer: Rochford
Date Thu Jan 26 20:33:08 2012
To All Shadow Gray_Robes Samcro Ibiza Derigimus Necrucifer Drakkara ( Scorn Quest RP Immortal )
Subject The Chronicle of the Book of Shadows: VII - A New Era
The large cauldron bubbled softly as the pair of magi stood looming over
it.
"Are you ready, my minion? " asked Rochford.
Samcro nodded with anticipation and replied, "Yes, Master Black. Let us
begin. "
Rochford reached into his robe and pulled out a peculiar stone unlike any
other on Algoron. It's surface was unworldly, and as dark as the vacuuum of
space. The moonstone possessed a force that appeared to absorb the very
light that surrounded it, and soon the light within the room began to dim,
as if yielding before the artifact of power.
Samcro strained to take his eyes off of it, but finally looked up to meet
Rochford's wily-eyed stare. It was clear that they were both thinking the
same tremendous power. Samcro began to reach out as if compelled to touch
it but pulled back, knowing what happens when others attempt to touch the
stone.
Rochford glanced at the moonstone in his hands and then back up at Samcro.
He knew that the younger mage wanted to touch it, just as he knew that all
magic-users would, how could they resist such a thing. Finally he turned
back towards the cauldron and held the moonstone close to his torso.
Rochford moved in closer, looking into the cauldron, and began to utter a
short phrase under his breath. Samcro knew the spell that was being cast,
he had seen the older magus chant it several times before in their past
experiments It was a spell from the Book of Shadows, and allowed the chanter
to see the Black Winds. This time however was different, because in the
presence of the moonstone, the spell appeared to intensify.
Rochford's eyes grew wide as if flooded by a world beneath worlds, and
Samcro could only wonder what existed through and beyond such madness.
Rochford remained fixed on the cauldron and gestured towards the black
liquids within it.
"It was here the whole time, " said Rochford.
Samcro came closer and stared at the contents for several moments before
finally shaking his head.
"I see the same as we've always seen after the casting, I see nothing
different. "
Rochford reached out suddenly with his hand and grabbed Samcro firmly by the
arm. It All became clear as the sight passed through Rochford, and into
Samcro. A world beneath worlds flooded now into him, and as Rochford let
go, the sight remained, and Samcro found he could even control it.
A voice came to Samcro like an effortless breeze, one void of All warmth,
and void of All cold. The breeze was a force, and it moved with purpose.
"LOOK INTO THE CAULDRON, " the Voice said to Samcro.
Samcro looked and now he saw what Rochford had seen. Within the softly
bubbling liquid was a presence that moved wistfully, moving as it pleased,
where it pleased.
"HEAR ME, AND KNOW HIS WILL, SEE ME, AND KNOW HIS WAY, KNOW ME, AND KNOW
GOD. "
Rochford gestured for Samcro to hand him something, and Samcro knew exactly
what the elder magus was intending to do. He handed Rochford an empty gourd
and with delicate care, Rochford dipped the gourd into the liquid, and
scooped up a portion of the Black Winds.
While it was only a small sample, it soon grew to fill the gourd entirely,
expanding, and churning within the gourd like a slumbering ethereal
creature. Rochford placed the moonstone back within his robe and the
lighting within the room returned to normal. The pair of magi stared at
each other and then at the gourd.
The sight of the umbra slowly started to fade as well, and once again, the
world as they knew it, was before them, and yet it wasn't. The world was
different now. Or perhaps it was they, who were different, having crossed a
threshold that could not be undone.
They had both changed, and while Samcro was certain that Rochford was in
deeper than he, there was undeniably something different. Neither magi
would ever look upon the world the same way again.
Writer: Elisya
Date Thu Jan 26 22:36:13 2012
Writer: Datai
Date Fri Jan 27 18:49:30 2012
To All Knighthood
Subject Fresh Ideas in Keep Cleaning (1)
I could quite possibly be the worst Shield General ever.
Now I bet you are rereading that statement and wondering who is narriating
this story. Rest assured, it's the same bard it always is, only with more
authority. This may not help you rest assured at all. You may also wonder
whose terrible idea this was. Well, I say Sir Galavant is mostly to blame.
He was the one who called me out on how I was doing All the previous Shield
General's work most the time. I rather like paperwork, so this situation
where I did All the work, and got none of the blame really appealed to my
bardic sensibilities.
But no, paladins have this incredible sense of responsibility, and justice,
or something which wouldn't let sleeping enchantresses and irresponsible
bards lie. So Sir Galavant, and his lazy squire who sleeps in the museum,
went and called me General for a week till Lord Gwaine finally figured out
what was going on and promoted me. After about a year of dodging the arrow,
I finally got stuck.
(That's an arrow reference, Sir Kleft!)
Anyhow, my claim of being the worst Shield General ever is not any sort of
false modesty. Or any sort of modesty at all. I came to this realization
very early on in my career when during the first week of being on the job I
accidentally set a demon loose in the Keep.
Now, I worked quite closely with Sir Suradis LaFortinas when he was Lord of
the Shield, and I can say that clearly I'm doing it wrong. Shield Generals
are supposed to banish, destroy, and or exorcise demons. Letting a demon
loose in the Keep is a lot like dishonoring my sword. Only I don't know
how to use a sword. So it's more like dishonoring my pew. How can I sit on
my pew without shame when I let a demon loose in the Keep?!
You may also wonder whose terrible idea this was. Well, I say Sir Galavant
is mostly to blame. He was the one who did technically use the fake magic
amulet that summoned the demon. I have to concede, though, I totally let it
happen, mostly because I wanted to see what would happen. That and I just
can't say no to a paladin. I actually wanted to invoke it myself and wish
for the locate object spell.
I suspected a high chance of demons the entire time, of course. I'm not
really naive enough to think anyone, benevolent or not, would teach bards how
to locate or identify objects. I figured that the Temple of Nadrik, and two
paladins should be enough to keep things under control. Unfortunately, All
those weird lines and gems and funny prayers Sir Suradis used to make to
contain demons is not just elaborate showmanship. Those chalk out lines do
something, because without any that demon totally got loose on us.
After about a month of tormenting us around the Keep, the demon seemed to
have gotten bored and knocked off All that evil. Things returned to the
normal I've come to expect around here.
Till just the other night, when I was out wandering the forests of the realm
looking for Sir Galavant's missing mace. Why was his mace missing? Well,
while trying to rescue me from a Keep assault that went bad, which really is
the least he can do for me considering All the trouble he's gotten me into, he
tornadoed his own mace. Let me tell you, as much as I may wish for the locate
object spell, sometimes it is tragically non specific.
(Continued..)
Writer: Datai
Date Fri Jan 27 18:55:22 2012
To All Knighthood
Subject Fresh Ideas in Keep Cleaning (end?)
A path in the Forest, you may think Great Forest, but no there are a lot of
forest paths out there in the world. I've seen nearly All of them, except for
the one I was looking for! While Sir Galavant had come to terms with his
missing mace in the nonmaterialistic manner you would expect of a paladin, I,
being a bard, was determined to follow through on the quest to find it. It was
the least I could do for him for almost, but not quite, rescuing me from yet
another bad decision. Almost, but not quite, finding his mace is about All I
managed, too.
Anyhow, I returned to the Keep after communing with Zandreya to pass out on a
pew in the Altar room when much to my surprise and horror there was the demon's
calling card: a golden rosebush. Just like All my bad decisions, here it was
again, back to haunt me! Naturally I did the first thing that came to my mind.
After screaming for Lord Rithor of the Lance to come help, I tried to explain
to the spell bound page about our little demon problem in Gareth Keep.
Apparently that demon is the houseguest that never leaves. The suspicion arose
that it may be after Sir Galavant's soul. This would be problematic for me, as
I depend on Sir Galavant for advice, and I'd miss out on a lot of ideas and
excitement without him around to help me out.
I returned to my personal home to see if I had any books on those chalk out
lines Sir Suradis used to draw on the ground to catch demons. On the path to
the veranda, now this is a very specific place, I nearly tripped over a
sleeping minotaur. This also was a houseguest that I had thought had left, but
apparently is back. I also found I was powerless to move him. Though for
reasons more physical than spiritual. I was pretty sure chalk out lines would
not help the poor lost soul, so I gave him a blue blankie which may or may not
shatter any minotaur pride or sensibilities he has left when he wakes up. I've
been passed out in a lot of places myself, and All and all, my front yard is a
pretty good choice. No one ever brought me a blankie. In fact, the last time
I passed out Sir Galavant just brought me a squire with a bucket of really cold
water.
Unfortunately, sleeping demons are not so easily covered up as sleeping
minotaurs. Which isn't even easy, mind you, as minotaurs are pretty big. The
Keep needs a good, old fashioned, Siccara style cleansing, and as the Shield
General, I have to see it done! Fortunately Lady Massadah has joined the Keep
to help out with this kind of cleaning thing. This is good, as I may need some
other input aside from Sir Galavant's.
Now to start drawing my demon trap! With the fine tradition of Shield Generals
of this keep, it is quite easy to be the worst one ever, but I'm not going to
go down in history as the worst without a fight. I mean seriously, Sir
Amargein is on that list, and he was the one who lost our original lute!
(Chalk out lines)
Writer: Seir
Date Sat Jan 28 02:17:26 2012
Writer: Salainn
Date Sat Jan 28 02:38:02 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sat Jan 28 03:06:37 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sat Jan 28 05:31:58 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sat Jan 28 06:07:06 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sat Jan 28 10:56:18 2012
Writer: Seir
Date Sat Jan 28 11:05:10 2012
Writer: Carradinn
Date Sat Jan 28 21:11:31 2012
To Arkane ( All imm rp religion Zandreya )
Subject Walking into the spirit - A journey of faith
Walking into the small village, Carradinn is struck by the sameness of
everything. The huts, mostly mud brick and topped with palm fronds, are
still laid out in a circle around a central well and firepit. As he walks
in to the village, All life stops. Cubs of All ages run, scattering to
various huts, screaming an alarm. Males charge in from the surrounding
forest, felars grab spears and knives. This is not the homecoming he had
anticipated. Stopping just inside the ring of abodes, Carradinn drops his
meager belongings and waits. From behind a hut in front of him, a massive
wemic appears, towering over even the strongest male. Lowering his tail, he
slouches his shoulders to appear smaller than he is, and takes a step
forward, coming before the male. '{It is good to see you Chief, do you not
recognize me? ' Carradinn asks.
Walking up to him, the chief sniffs, catching Carradinn's scent.
'Carradinn, it has been a long time. I thought I was clear you were never
to return here. '
Mewling softly, Carradinn lowers himself to the ground, bowing his head. 'I
had to come Chief, much has changed, I have changed. I'm here to learn the
Way, where is mother? ' Standing up to his full height the chief roars,
bellowing 'What do you know cub, the Way is for the Pride, for us, it is not
for the likes of you. You betrayed us, left to be among the furless.
Lunging, the chief swipes at Carradinn's head, knocking him across the dirt
commonplace. With effort Carradinn remains on the ground, not rising to the
challenge by the chief. Infurated by Carradinn's lack of dominance, the
chief lashes out with powerfull kicks to Carradinn's body, stomping and
slicing with three inch claws. Just as Carradinn is sure he is going to
die, a voice cries out above the noise. 'STOP THIS, NOW! ' Looking up,
Carradinn sees his mother, clothed in the fur of a black bear. Striding
proudly, she stands before the Chief, blocking his way to Carradinn. 'You
will not stop the Spirits from teaching our people the True Way. Don't
anger the Spirits Chief, or you will curse us all. ' Clenching his fists,
the Chief looks past her to Carradinn, still on the ground and bleeding.
'Fine, but if he steps out of your hut and does not leave, I will kill him.
He betrayed us for the furless, he is not welcome here. Nuzzling the
Chiefs neck, Carradinn's mother bends down and helps Carradinn to his feet.
Carrying him inside she tends to his wounds, speaking siftl as he falls
asleep.
Writer: Carradinn
Date Sat Jan 28 21:30:02 2012
To Arkane ( All imm rp religion Zandreya )
Subject Walking into the spirit - A journey of faith (part2)
With a growl, Carradinn wakes slowly. His whole body hurts, like he was
kicked out of a tree and run over by a herd of minotaurs. Opening his eyes
he sees her. 'Mother? ' Stepping up to him, she nuzzles his neck gently.
'shhh my cub, you've been asleep for three days now, here, drink this. '
Holding his head up, she dumps a foul tasting concoction down his throat.
Coughing and sputtering, he still manages to keep it All down in his
stomache. '{vCub, listen to me carefully. I don't need to show you anything
I haven't already. You know the Way, but you must let go of the past.
'Only when you do this will you be able to speak to the Spirits. ' Opening
his eyes, he looks at his mother, pain, heartache, etched on his face.
'That means I must forget you mother, I can't... I won't.. ' Taking an
amulet from around her neck, she slips it around Carradinn's. 'You must my
Carradinn. Take this, it has power, and if you find your way to the
Spirits, there you will find me also. 'Now, you must go while it is dark,
if you are here when I return, I will turn you over to the Chief. Remember
always who you are. You are Carradinn Darkmoon, Defender of Chrystal Bay,
and my Cub. ' With a final look at Carradinn, she walks out into the night.
Picking up his things, he slips out shortly after his mother. Dissapearing
into the forests, he returns to the only home he has left. Arkane.
Writer: Kaerlia
Date Sun Jan 29 15:44:05 2012
To Arkane All ( imm rp religion Zandreya )
Subject Remembering and Learning New Lessons - Part 1
The days that Kaerlia had been gone were very quiet and peaceful. The
seaside was her favorite spot for meditation and although she continuously
thought about the troubles of the kingdom and what lay in the future, she
couldn't help but feel guilty that she was in such a calm place, while her
subjects were back in the city with the inevitableness of war looming over
their heads. On the way to the sea, Kaerlia had stopped by her mother's
burial spot again and had spoken as if her mother was still alive. She had
asked for her advice as she caught her mother up with All of what had
happened since the last time. Her voice had shaken as she spoke of the
possible war and of her intense worry of putting the Arkanian people in
danger.
All around her the small garden was in the throes of winter, the trees bare
and still. Kaerlia stopped for a minute to remember. Winter had always
been her mother's favorite season...
-------
'Kaerlia honey, let's go take a walk! ' Her mother called out as she looked
through the frosted window and out into the dormant garden. Although it had
not yet snowed, the days were deep into the winter season. The branches of
the trees save for the happily evergreen pines were bare, sparkling frost
covered the brown grass in the mornings, and their household fire was always
lit, crackling warmth into their small but sufficient house.
Kaerlia pouted, 'No! I hate the winter. It's too cold. '
Smiling knowingly, Kaerlia's mother reached out her hand to the small girl.
'I'll make you cookies afterwards, ' she coaxed.
Kaerlia thought it over, hesitant for just a second before nodding eagerly.
'All right! ' As the two bundled up females made their way out into the
cold winter's day, the mother mentioned, 'Guess why winter is my favorite
season? '
Kaerlia looked at her mother as if she had just turned into a giant ogre as
her mother continued, 'Because it gives the plants enough strength to wake
up in the spring so that new baby plants can grow. It's so peaceful, don't
you see Kaerlia? '
The human woman's eyes grew almost foggy as she continued her speech, as if
she were no longer speaking with her daughter. 'Everything is so intricate,
everything fits in so perfectly with each other in a complete balance.
Animals that allow each other survive and others that kill what is necessary
so that populations do not overgrow... '
Kaerlia gave her mother a confused look and interrupted hesitantly, 'Mama?
'
Her mother shook her head slightly before smiling down at her daughter,
'Winter just is... It's comforting Kaerlia. Do you see that tree honey?
And it's been here through All the seasons and so many winters. Everything
has to die but others are there for a long time, even when things change.
And when that tree is gone, another will take its place. You can always
take comfort in that. '
Later on in the day her mother made cookies while Kaerlia drew pictures by
the fire but whenever Kaerlia looked at her mother, she could always catch
her glances outside the winter at the garden, as if something was waiting
there for her.
------
Now as Kaerlia listened to the crash of waves on the flattened sand, she
couldn't stop of the yearning for a simpler time when everything was an
adventure. But then she thought, everything was turning out to be an
adventure anyway, from when she had left her mother's house and joined
Arkane until this very moment.
Writer: Kaerlia
Date Sun Jan 29 15:58:44 2012
To Arkane All ( imm rp religion Zandreya )
Subject Remembering and Learning New Lessons - Part 2
Back at her mother's grave, Kaerlia had kneeled down, unaware that her
dress was getting muddy. 'Mama. There is so much happening right now that
sometimes it is hard to breathe. You don't know how wonderful it feels to
be here again. '
Pressing her hand gently against the ground, she said softly, 'I have taken
the path as a Novitiate of Mother Zandreya. I have learned so much already,
from people giving advice. I know that it is a long journey but if I only
help one person and if I only learn one thing, it is worth it. '
Kaerlia continued, her hand playing gently with the edges of her dress. The
sun was dipping into the horizon, the last multicolored streams of light
spreading out across the sky.
'As for my family... Well I do not see them All very often but I still love
them with All my heart. I worry about them... Of course and I know they
have their own lives but I miss them. Oh Mama I miss them so much.
Sometimes it is hard to get out of bed, but I do because there are people
who need me. ' Kaerlia let her head fall gently into her hands, as she took
various deep breaths. When she looked up again, it was night and she stood
up slowly, her knees sore.
Giving a wry chuckle, she shook her head, 'Perhaps I am getting old. '
Finally noticing her muddy dress, Kaerlia spoke, 'Nature leaves its mark on
us, wherever we go. '
Writer: Tief
Date Sun Jan 29 20:52:20 2012
Writer: Zayk
Date Sun Jan 29 23:03:33 2012
Writer: Zayk
Date Sun Jan 29 23:39:26 2012
Writer: Zayk
Date Mon Jan 30 08:08:59 2012
Writer: Zayk
Date Mon Jan 30 08:14:18 2012
Writer: Nydrik
Date Mon Jan 30 09:29:08 2012
Writer: Nydrik
Date Mon Jan 30 09:31:23 2012
Writer: Karyssa
Date Mon Jan 30 15:18:18 2012
Writer: Korivan
Date Mon Jan 30 23:13:15 2012
Writer: Alyka
Date Tue Jan 31 19:06:36 2012
Writer: Elisya
Date Tue Jan 31 23:39:50 2012
Writer: Desirea
Date Wed Feb 1 09:13:05 2012
To Abaddon All rp imm Scorn
Subject Rum memories (1)
Desirea sat in the tavern, once again wondering why no one had ever
designed such a place with every seat in a dark corner. She watched the
unit of knights under her command steadily growing more boisterous as the
evening wore on.
Earlier today, the knights had not been fully focused, that much was clear.
The news of the Althainia/Shalonesti forces' retreat from the swamps had
them All in high spirits.
"Come on, Commander! The invaders are leaving. Can't we relax for one day
and celebrate?"
She pondered the request. It was always a fine line, maintaining discipline
among such men. "Arrayt, gaon an' 'ave some fun."
At one time, the Eidolon had turned to drink for the classic reason, to
forget. What she'd found was that it did the exact opposite, bringing up
memories. Just as it was doing tonight.
Desirea sipped her rum, remembering the day she first took command of her
unit...
-=+=-
The new Commander looked at her mounted warriors, each sitting
ramrod-straight in brightly polished armor, All in a neat row - ready for
inspection. She sighed, silently praying What the hell am I doing here,
Drakkara? She'd asked this question many times before, but it was purely
rhetorical.
She knew nothing of military protocol. Her only battle experience had been
gleaned from watching pirates raiding merchant ships, safely from belowdecks
- the only times she had been safe on that accursed ship. I'll just have to
use what I do know, she thought, and drew a deep breath.
"Arrayt, ya grayt clankin' gits!" The slight elven woman yelled with
gusto. "Wot the bloody 'ell y'fink yer doin', loinin' up loik that? Myking
pritty TARgets fer hARchers? Brayk up tha' loin!"
The knights, most of them burly men twice her size, murmered amongst
themselves, making no attempt to follow the order. She watched them,
waiting to hear a certain phrase. They did not disappoint. There was
always one.
"What did she say?" One of the men asked his fellows, who responded with a
burst of laughter. "What language was that?"
The whip Desi kept coiled around her waist snaked out, curling around the
comedian's neck. She quickly wrapped it around her own saddle's horn and
guided her horse backward with her knees, silently giving thanks for the
hours of training she'd endured to learn the maneuver. The knight fell
heavily from his saddle and lay bruised on the ground, momentarily helpless
under the weight of his own armor.
"Ay SAID," Desirea hissed, "Brayk up yer loin."
This time, the men quickly moved to obey.
Writer: Desirea
Date Wed Feb 1 09:19:48 2012
To Abaddon All rp imm Scorn
Subject Rum memories (2)
"See, the PROBlem wif Fataloites in GEN'rul," the Eidolon lectured as
she rode past each member of her unit, "izzat thay're a'too ready t'dye fer
thayr god." She stopped and flicked her whip at a knight who was
attempting to help up his fallen comrade. The tip landed on his helmet, not
harming him in the least but ringing out like a bell in a tower. "Layve
'im," she ordered, and wheeled her mount about, facing them. "That en't
'ow ya win a war." She paused, then shouted, "'ow d'ya win a war, ya silly
buggers?"
As one, they replied with the age-old aphorism, "By making the other
bastards die for their gods!"
The elf nodded and went on, once again riding among the men. "An' the
PROBlem wif knoights speCIFFikly, izzat they a' want the glory kill. Go
one-on-one wif the biggest, baddest bugger onna fayld."
"That en't 'ow ya winna war, eivver. HesPESHly iffen yer houtNUMbered. So,
t'dye we're gonner work on lairnin' t'cut a swath an' disapPEAR. Stroik,
vanish. Stroik again. Gottit?"
An awkward couple of seconds later, the knights replied, "Yes Ma'am!"
She turned her attention to the lone armored figure, still struggling on the
ground. "Wotcher nyme, sojer?" She asked him, a nearly kind tone in her
voice.
"Barton, ma'am," he wheezed.
"'ow long ya bin onna ground, Barton?" The elf queried sweetly.
"I don't know... Couple of minutes."
Desirea leaped from the saddle, landing lightly next to the prone man, and
whispered in his ear. "Four minnits. Yer a dead man, Barton." She stood
and addressed the rest of her unit. "Barton 'ere's dead. Ennybody tell may
'owcome?"
The seconds ticked by. One knight finally spoke up. "Because he's been
underwater All this time."
"Cor!" Exclaimed the woman. "They tol' may tha' knoights wazza craym
o'tha crop. Glad t'say summa you kin fink." She remounted. "Yer gonner
bay foightin' inna MARSH! A bleedin' SWAMP! From 'ere on aout, don' wayr
nuffin y'canna e'en SIT UP IN! GOTTIT?"
This time the reply was near-instantaneous. "YES MA'AM!"
That's what I need, she thought. They're ready to train under me. Now
let's see if I can make them willing to follow me into battle.
Writer: Desirea
Date Wed Feb 1 09:22:49 2012
To Abaddon All rp imm Scorn
Subject Rum memories (3)
"Ay bin told," she said, "that aych o'you knoights is worf twenny
graound-paounders. Izzat roight?"
Among the staggered chorus of "Yes, Ma'am!" Came a few interjected,
"Thirty!"
"Then lemme tell ya this," Desi replied. "Afore we're done, yer a' gonner
bay worf a HUNNERT. Enny man 'ere wot dies afore 'e's kilt an 'unnerd o'the
hENemay, that man izza deZERTer. Ya gets no burial, no 'onner, yer fam'ly
gets no penshun, an ay'l PERS'nally hANimyte yer BLEEDin CORPSE 'til ya fill
yer quota! GOTTIT?"
The response was practically a cheer. "GOT IT!"
"Arrayt naow! Ditch yer hARmour an' remaount. An' summun 'elp Barton up
afore ay slit 'is froat on PRINCiples."
-=+=-
Desirea smiled into her mug. Yes, they'd follow her in battle. Most of
them would follow her to the gates of hell, now. Some of them might even
live through this war.
I might even live through it.
She made a mental note to reschedule the next day's exercises for two hours before
sunrise. They'd get no warning, because the enemy would not warn them either. We
are not out of the muck yet, she thought. Hope we can All hold our breath long
enough.
Writer: Seir
Date Wed Feb 1 14:58:35 2012
Writer: Elisya
Date Wed Feb 1 15:47:31 2012
Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Feb 2 14:53:16 2012
To All Althainia
Subject No more vodka
Cieran woke up with a start, broken from a deep vodka induced slumber by
the searing pain that was now radiating from behind his eyes. As he sat
upright, rubbing at his temples in a desperate attempt to lessen his
hangover he took a look around the room trying to remember where he was. By
the looks of the barkeep and overall atmoshere, he guessed a bar in
Shalonesti. Why had he come her..... Oh right, to get drunk and forget a
few things, well mission accomplished, "Owwwwww...."
However now that he had sobered up a bit, those things he came to forget
came rushing back to him. "Huh.... Married -and- a kid... Have I really
been gone that long?" As he took some time to ponder this question he
leaned back in his chair, signaling the barkeep to bring over a cup of
coffee. "Great.... I lost to him when I was young, now I lost to him
again. And now you're rigth back where you started, in a Kingdom you used
to know.... Alone." Cieran had been trying to find himself ever since he
left Althainia in the first place, at least now he knew there was no place
else for him to live, now he just needed to work on himself.
So now what he thought to himself. "I guess I do the only thing I can do...
Bury myself in work, what else is there?" He looked to the shiny new IAM
badge on his chest, sighing softly as he stood up from the table..... A bit
too fast and quickly sat back down as the room began to spin around him.
"Right, bury myself in work after a bit more sleep... At least the military
can't forget me, or leave me... Or ignore me." Cieran stood once more and
slowly walked up the stairs to a room, laying down on the bed and quietly
drifting off into slumber once more.
Writer: Archal
Date Fri Feb 3 15:28:23 2012
Writer: Zayk
Date Fri Feb 3 18:38:42 2012
Writer: Emylae
Date Fri Feb 3 20:51:10 2012
Writer: Zayk
Date Fri Feb 3 23:01:12 2012
Writer: Drobsek
Date Sat Feb 4 11:11:35 2012
Writer: Drobsek
Date Sat Feb 4 11:59:07 2012
Writer: Tief
Date Sat Feb 4 20:27:13 2012
Writer: Drobsek
Date Sun Feb 5 02:40:42 2012
Writer: Maithion
Date Sun Feb 5 05:35:40 2012
Writer: Drobsek
Date Sun Feb 5 06:53:33 2012
Writer: Maithion
Date Sun Feb 5 07:17:30 2012
Writer: Maithion
Date Sun Feb 5 07:47:38 2012
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