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Writer: Finneas
Date Sat Nov 24 17:57:53 2018
To All Arkane Imm Immortals RP Meete Kruglar Caixina Zola Sierus
Subject A man in the woods (I)
The voice of Princess Meete rang out in his head, 'Deckhand, would you
return to the city? '
Finneas made his way back to Arkane and entered the Haven where several
others were gathered. The princess had noticed a disturbance in the city
and asked that the guardsmen identify its source. They searched within the
walls as masterful flute playing rang through the streets and alleys until
Kruglar found some footprints near the west gate. Forming a search party,
several Arkanians followed the trail west which lead north of the bindstone
to an emaciated man.
The man concluded his song and greeted the group as they arrived in the
clearing. An unfamiliar pool of dark water lay still and silent in a
depression in the ground next to him. He explained that he had been
bartering with the local children who had brought him small bits of food in
return for gold and gems as he produced a chunk of amethyst from the pool.
"I am hungry but cannot hunt. I am thirsty but cannot drink," he said,
requesting larger animals than the children offered as they were not enough
to sustain him. "In return, I can provide you that which you desire." An
omnious offer at best.
The Arkanians brought a horse and a yak to the man insisting on nothing in
return. The disheveled, emaciated man revealed a grin of blinding white
teeth and accepted the reins of the animals. He made his way toward the
dark pool of water and began to descend into it, leading the animals in
behind him. Thrashing and screaming in protest as they touched the water,
they appeared to unravel as a thread being pulled away from cloth as they
were lead ever deeper into the pool. Finneas covered his ears at the
unpleasantry until it was over.
The emaciated man was gone and the forest was silent once more but the pool
remained.
As the discussion about the man began amongst them, Finneas and Caixina
noticed that there was now a small necklace chain laying at the edge of the
pool. Finneas walked over and fished it out of the waters with his sword,
revealing a black and gold amulet.
He picked up the amulet and inspected it closely with Cardinal Zola to find
the shape of an aboleth with an unusual amount of eyes. Finding nothing
immediately amiss, the group resolved to study it further and returned to
the Haven of Arkane.
Writer: Finneas
Date Sat Nov 24 20:01:02 2018
To All Arkane Imm Immortals RP Sierus
Subject A man in the woods (II)
Back at the Haven, the Arkanians disbanded to their duties and left the
amulet in Finneas' care. He thought to deposit it in a safe place until
there was time to study it further and began toward the bank. As he walked
down main street, his mind continued to turn to the amulet and he pulled it
out once more to observe. It sat heavy in his hand, its many eyes gazing
back up as he stared down at it. He paused a moment and reconsidered his
instincts - surely it would be safer to keep it close at hand. He tucked it
away in his pocket and made for the shores near the port of Arkania to clear
his mind.
The cool breeze washed over him and the waves gently lapped at the sand as
he strolled down the shoreline. The peace he sought came only for a moment
before his mind snapped back to the amulet. "Surely such a thing is of the
sea," he pondered in his head as he pulled it out of his pocket and studied
it once more. "Does it call to you," he questioned quietly as he dipped the
hand holding it beneath the waters. The amulet did not appear to react
visibly, however, Finneas felt a deep warmth come over him despite the
coldness of the sea.
"Ah, it would seem you may hold some secrets yet then," he thought.
With fresh curiosity now driving him, he traveled to the port of Tropica via
the portal in the Haven. Greeted by the warm, humid air he made his way
toward the tropical waters to see if it spoke to them differently. Turning
his gaze out to sea. He noticed a few aboleth moving with the shoreline in
the distance. Reflexively, he held the pendant within his gaze of the
creature to confirm his suspicions.
"Yes, that's certainly what you ar--"
His thought was interrupted by the aboleth abruptly stopping its movement
and fixating its gaze on him. With a thrash of tentacles and churning
seafoam the creature began quickly toward the docks. Two, three, four --
more unseen creatures continued surfacing behind it as it thrashed its way
onward at him. Finneas turned to dry land and broke into a sprint in search
of cover.
He raised Sierus directly: "General! We have a situation, I need your help
at the docks of Tropica!"
Writer: Finneas
Date Sat Nov 24 21:26:26 2018
To All Arkane Imm Immortals RP Darsson Kruglar Meete Sierus Silas Symbiath
Subject A man in the woods (III)
As Finneas moved down the tree line trying to find a better position, the
swarm of creatures trailed along with him in the tropical waters. Sierus
arrived as Finneas took cover in the underbrush and suggested they move
deeper inland to avoid the swarm. As they began to cut their way through,
the commotion of the swarm calmed down and it began to part. Finneas turned
his eyes back to the sea and observed the ocean breaking into a roil as a
massive aboleth surfaced from the depths. Its many eyes fixed on him as it
dragged itself ashore and began swatting trees aside with its massive
tentacles. The two hurriedly moved through the undergrowth and positioned
near a meadow to assess their options.
Out of sight, the creature pierced Finneas' mind with its shrieking voice:
"IT WAS STOLEN. RETURN IT TO US. " Even if he wanted to, the amulet had
bound itself to his hand and he could not release it.
"General, I can't let it go. " He attempted to pry the amulet out of his
grasp to no success. "Should we rally the troops? "
Sierus considered their options as the gigantic aboleth continued cutting a
swath through the forest in search of the amulet. It pierced Finneas' mind
again, "IT IS OURS. GIVE IT BACK. " He resolved that anything such an
abomination would want so desperately could do no good in its possession.
Sierus raised a portal to Arkane and put out a call to arms in the kingdom
for reinforcements. Darsson, Kruglar, Meete, Silas, and Symbiath arrived
through the portal and formed ranks with them to rally against the onslaught
of the beast. The creature sprang toward them and the battle raged into a
flurry of tentacles, steel, and magic. Struggling against its mind and
muscle, the Arkanians delivered blow after blow until it was reduced to a
quivering pile of flesh. As the swarm began to thrash the seas once more,
the group stepped back through the portal to return to the safety of the
walls of Arkane to determine what to do next.
Writer: Finneas
Date Sun Nov 25 00:03:21 2018
To All Arkane Imm Immortals RP Caixina Darsson Kruglar Meete Meki Sierus Silas Symbiath
Subject A man in the woods (IV)
Back within the city the Arkanians began to discuss plans to protect the
amulet from the swarm. As the leaders discussed means of keeping it hidden
from the creatures, Finneas thought deeply over the days events. As his
mind drowned out the discussion around him, whether a thought or a voice,
the phrase rang out in his head: The fate of the amulet is yours to bear.
As his attention drifted back to the present, a plan was formed to address
the problems at hand. The citizens of Arkane formed ranks once more and
marched to the site where the strange man was found. The man was gone,
however, the waters of the pool had not yet drained completely. Finneas
hoped that was All they would need.
They marched onward to the port of Arkania and he held the amulet out toward
the waters. The sea churned violently and a colossal aboleth, more massive
and disgusting than the last, surfaced amidst a swarm of lesser ones to
confront them. As the beast lumbered ashore, its limbs dripping with acid,
the Arkanians retreated inland along the road to lure it to the pool.
The emaciated man called out in their minds, "I will help you but the beast
must be weakened first. "
Finneas positioned the pool between himself and the aboleth as the others
surrounded him. The beast screeched out to them, "GIVE ME THE AMULET AND
YOU WILL BE SPARED. "
Meete attempted to coax him into handing the amulet back to the creature but
was unable to break its attachment to Finneas. A huge tentacle slammed the
ground next to them as the creature shrieked, "LET ME HELP YOU RETURN IT. "
A blue glow consumed Finneas and the amulet rocked loose against his
fingers.
Sierus called out to signal him and Finneas threw the amulet down into the
dark waters of the pool.
The creature wailed and thrashed against the group, "FOOLS. I WILL REND
YOUR MINDS AND TURN YOU INTO PUPPETS OF FLESH. " Once more onto the field
of battle, Arkane's citizens stood against the fury of the tentacled beast.
As the clash raged on and both sides wore down as traded blows turned to
traded wounds, the group executed their strategy and drove the beast toward
what remained of the pool. Entering the waters in its weakened state, it
fell prey to the man and protested violently against the pools grasp just as
the animals had previously. A few moments later the beast was consumed and
the pool's surface rippled smooth as if nothing had occurred at all.
The voice of the emaciated man rang out to them with glee about the feast
they had bestowed upon him.
As the Arkanians caught their breath and mended their wounds, the dark
waters of the pool drained away silently and left behind a smooth black
monolith in its place.
Finneas was uncertain of what they had done that day but it appeared in the
end that the man had gotten the help he sought.
Writer: Scribpog
Date Sun Nov 25 21:32:33 2018
To All Malachive Erebaal Imm rp
Subject Sacrifice of the weak
More hearts, more hearts for his Lord. That is All Scribpog thought
about. He did not eat, sleep, or bathe. His Life had become nothing more
than a hunt for life. Two hearts rested within his finger tips. Slowly he
stirred the gasping hearts around in his palm. He was so pleased with
himself but he required more. He reminesced over his day as he places the
two organs at the base of the tree, watching as the roots absorbed the last
of the life out of the two shriveling pieces. All of the dwarves, the
elves, and humans alike who escaped his grasp and ran away in terror. He
grasped at the newly shapen bounty blade that sat within his sheath and
began to make his way out of the hall, his mind shaken with the thought of
all the more morsels of heart that required collecting, each and every heart
that would cease to exist because of his work, All for the will of his Lord.
Writer: Atholdus
Date Thu Nov 29 09:01:59 2018
Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Nov 29 22:09:47 2018
To Rasavadi Gur'geraal Tamaska Jermichael Shadow Eclipse Verminasia All Imm RP
Subject The Highlord's Return
"OPEN SAYSAME! DOGMAN WANT IN!"
The ruckus was proceeded by the smell. Troll was unmistakable and she had
to struggle not to grimace as she made her way out from the temple nearby
where she had been in meditation and toward the gate. It wasn't hard to
find the noise-some being but she paused within the shadows of Verminasia's
wall to better observe the situation.
A hulking being was hammering on the Verminasian gate, Tamaska stood to the
other side looking unhappy and...Rasavadi was rolled in his cloak on the
ground.
The oddities surrounding the whole situation bade her keep her distance,
though she made her way around it to stand by Tamaska.
"Should I be...concerned?" She asked of the Guardian, whose ears
twitched at the query and the yinn set hands on her hips with an irritated
growl.
"The Highlord is injured but he seems in no immediate trouble." Was the
response and Nymaya turned again to observe Rasavadi. "The troll won't let
me get close to check on him."
The Highlord did indeed appear to be injured, weakened, but was aware
enough.
"What does it want besides...in?" She ventured at length, a frown
drawing across her brow at the continued bellowing of the troll.
"Jermichael." Was Tamaska's answer.
It was then that Nymaya noticed guards peeking around and over the sides of
the city's wall. It was impossible not to notice the ruckus.
"I guess someone should find the Dark Lord then." She muttered to herself
and set her hands on her hips as well.
Tamaska's nod was somewhat absent but in agreement nonetheless.
Writer: Nurisa
Date Fri Nov 30 18:24:19 2018
To All Grunsap Drevok
Subject Astral Nomad Chronicles: Nurisa to the rescue
Nurisa is teaching, when sombody came into the building shuving pepole to
the side. Nurisa said"o my goodnes what is hapaning!" And then she saw a
giant ogar is in the building. So Nurisa yells "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" As
loud as she can! Then every body screamed but when the giant ogar reached
her he said "come with me and when we reach what we need pleas c create
sirios on them!" Nurisa said "ok." And there they went.
Writer: Yevoa
Date Fri Nov 30 21:34:47 2018
To All Luther Kavitha Yevoc Katie Twinsen Tesla
Subject Down the rabbit hole she goes
"Yevoa, why must you always stare at me like that?"
"Because you always have the best stories in the village, Grandpa. You know
so much!"
The Shalonesti elf elder chuckled as his young grand-child stared at him
adoringly. It was hard to remember that he could have been this innocent at
one point in his life.
Yevoa leaned towards him, her eyes flashing with wonder and mischief.
"Grandpa, I haven't been allowed to ask you where your brothers and sisters
are, but I want to find them! They're probably just as neat as you, and our
village could use them!"
Elder Luther winced. He didn't bother trying to hide it. He knew All too
well of how incredibly perspicacious Yevoa could be even at such a young
age. He squared his shoulders, realizing that the time had finally come to
open this jar of worms.
"I only had one sister." He paused, waiting for Yevoa to jump on him with
questions, but she froze at the words. Had this not been such a painful
memory, he would've smiled in spite of himself at how she'd immediately
clued in on what he'd said and how he'd said it. So immensely clever for
her age.
"Yes, her name was Kavitha. She was the most important person in the world
to me. She took care of me for a time when my father and mother....
Disappeared."
Yevoa's eyes narrowed. Luther stared in amazement at the energy he felt
from her. It'd been so long, but he could've sworn he saw an aura emanating
from her.
"They didn't just disappear, did they Grandpa?"
He frowned at the blazing fire in front of them, unable to meet her eyes.
"Your insight is too much for me, little Yevoa. Yes, you're right. They
didn't disappear."
"But you told me before that your mom and dad were gone. Did they die?"
Luther closed his eyes.
"Yes," he said tersely.
Yevoa closed her eyes as well, a moment later they shot open.
"What happened to my great aunt, Kavitha?"
"She-"
"Did she die too?!"
Luther sighed and looked up at the majestic trees of the Shalonesti forest
surrounding their village. It'd been so long since he'd had to think back
on his old life. Back then, he'd never thought he'd find redemption, but
thanks to Kavitha, he'd learned how to obtain power in the shadows. After a
human's lifetime of trying, he managed to disappear into obscurity, and he
then managed to return to Shalonesti. Back to a normal life. A home where
he felt loved, like he belonged. Such a dream had escaped his father and
his grand-father. Only his great-grand-father had known such a life, and
that was as far back as his sister's efforts had uncovered of their lineage,
very nearly back to the beginning of the Shalonesti forest itself.
Luther stared at Yevoa, seeing the bewilderment and hunger for the truth in
her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was because of her innate abilities or
because he finally felt like she'd grown up enough to hear the truth.
Something that no one else in the village dare seek out, lest they find out
the horrible truth. What this humble, nondescript branch of Shalonesti
elves were truly capable of, or at least, *had* been capable of. He
silently hoped as he saw two new generations grow that the bloodline of
insanity had been diluted after so much time and so many generations. He
drew himself up on the log he sat on and faced Yevoa.
"Your grandfather, grandmother, and aunt All died in the same way at the
exact same spot in Algoron. Only one particular way was powerful enough to
claim All three of them so easily."
Yevoa's eyes didn't waver from his.
"They-"
"They killed themselves, Yevoa. I watched each and every one of them die by
their own hands. My father because my mother left him. My mother because
she learned that she caused my father's death, and my sister because my
father returned to haunt the.... Our old home."
Yevoa stared a long time at the fire before speaking.
Writer: Yevoa
Date Fri Nov 30 21:40:18 2018
To All Luther Kavitha Yevoc Katie Twinsen Tesla
Subject Down the rabbit hole she goes Part 2
"They killed themselves, Yevoa. I watched each and every one of them die
by their own hands. My father because my mother left him. My mother
because she learned that she caused my father's death, and my sister because
my father returned to haunt the.... Our old home."
Yevoa stared a long time at the fire before speaking.
"So your sister wanted to run away from the curse of your parents, just like
you did."
"In a way. She wanted to remake the... Our old home and remove any traces
of my father. She shunned our family name of N'kla and became a Ka'vanth.
She kept my last name a secret from everyone."
"You keep talking about your old home. I know that you haven't been in
Shalonesti your whole life. Where is your old home?"
"It's... Gone now."
Yevoa stomped her foot angrily. "Come on Grandpa! I'm not a baby anymore!
Where is your old home, I want to know! You've just told me that your
entire family died there!"
Luther N'kla looked at Yevoa for a long time without moving or saying
anything. Finally, he stood up and walked over to his tent. Yevoa looked
down dejectedly, wondering how she could've said things differently.
Moments later, Luther reappeared, wearing black robes that covered his
entire form. From within the robe, he produced a shimmering stone and held
it in his right hand.
"I've not trusted anyone with my true identity in a long, long time, but you
are right, little Yevoa. You should know where I come from." He paused.
"Where *you* come from."
Without hesitation, Yevoa stood up and strode to him. For the first time in
her life, she felt the pull of destiny calling.
"I'm ready Grandpa. I'm not afraid!"
Luther grunted in surprise at her out of the corner of his eye, energy
beginning to swirl around his hand.
"Oh... You will be. You... Will... Be."
Writer: Iler'yx
Date Sun Dec 2 06:30:34 2018
To All Terces Theudoric Imm Rp
Subject The Day-Star Rises
With a sigh of resignation he pulled the hood of his ebony robes up and
moved through the portal. The hint of the coming day-star was already like
agony in his veins, every second causing wracking pain, yet he endured. It
was the cost of the journey. Spreading his scarlet-orange wings he began to
travel west searching for just the right one.
Casting small spells of farseeing as he traveled he sped onward towards
their keep. He found them of course at the crossroads, standing vigilant to
protect against those who would bring harm. He landed nearby with his arms
wide and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement and respect. It must have been
missed or misconstrued as he was immediately set upon, it was a struggle not
to immediately lash out in retribution but he restrained himself. Flexing
his wings he launched himself above their heads and called out his desire to
speak with the one.
Ever seeking to find a peaceful way to move forward but not foolish they
lowered their weapons, keeping them ready if necessary. He nodded their
willingness and again landed with arms out. Their conversation was brief
but promising, he had chosen well his elect almost divinely appointed to
hear such and offer aid. Research would be necessary but there was hope.
He nodded in understanding and vowed that he would submit to whatever steps
may be necessary. They parted, he to return to his tower, they to their
keep.
The burning day-star climbing into the sky just beyond the horizon shone on
their backs as they rode away and, though painful to endure, brought warmth
and light to his face.
Writer: Drevok
Date Sun Dec 2 23:08:51 2018
To All Grunsap Nurisa
Subject {nAstral Nomad Chronicles: The Arrival | Chapter 3
Agony. Pain.
For the longest time, these were the only sensations I had. I had no awareness of my senses or body, just plain, unadulterated pain.
Then suddenly, I felt an incredible rushing sensation, and for a moment the agony was replaced with an overwhelmingly cold, rushing sensation that was the greatest feeling of relief I've ever experienced.
After another moment, the agony returned in full force like a ton of bricks, and All awareness succumbed to the pain once more.
Again, the rushing sensation returned with so much force, I felt certain my death was finally upon me...
As the feeling of cold ebbed, I found myself feeling nothing at all.
After a long while, I finally realized that the pain was gone. Then I realized I was realizing things again. Then then sensation of my body returned, weighing me down as reality came to bear.
I croaked a weak cough and laboriously opened my eyes, immediately regretting it as I squinted at the bright blur. As the blur began to coalesce, I noticed with a start that something...someone...was leaning over me. Panic filled me, and as I tried to move, I felt a hand on my chest. Then, I heard someone speaking. A young woman it sounded like.
"Zxnsx, zzz yzxzznx nnnn zzn znnz nxx."
I winced and closed my eyes again, my mind slowly moving into gear. I remembered lying in a tent. With effort, I remembered the giant humanoid sitting near me, trying to talk to me in some incomprehensible language. Then I remembered how natural it felt to not understand such a creature, as I wasn't from this world. The creature then thrusted a...heart from some sort of creature into my face, making an eating gesture with his hands. I remember being so hungry that I finally took a bite and immediately felt ill.
I opened my eyes again and saw the woman still leaning over me, concern furrowing her brow. For some reason, seeing her blue skin and pointed ears didn't frighten or concern me at all. Maybe it's because she could've almost passed for an Aevan...
Judging from the concern on her face, the smell of herbs, and the intricate weaves of symbols into her robe, she must have been some kind of primitive healer. I started to feel panicked, wondering what kind of horrible nonsense she was trying to do to heal me. These shamanistic, voodoo types are always trying to-
She closed her eyes, and her entire body began to...glow very brightly. For a moment, I felt a slight tingling sensation that passed very quickly, and then the glow was gone.
I blinked. What the zark was that?!
I wasn't the only one who was bewildered. The blue woman/creature/thing also blinked in confusion, staring at me strangely before her body began to glow again, her eyes closing with concentration.
This time I felt nothing at all, and as the glow dissipated, the blue woman/creature/thing looked at me keenly, clearly disturbed that something wasn't going as she expected.
"Xnnxx! Zxnsx nnn yzxzznx nnnn zzn?"
I shook my head at her, managing a weak smile.
"Sorry sweetie pie, that mumbo jumbo isn't going to work."
Her face contorted into even more confusion, and she turned to look at the source of light. My eyes adjusted, and I saw light pouring out of the entrance to the tent.
Then I saw the giant humanoid standing at the entrance, a look of utter stupefied helplessness on his face.
'So', I thought. 'He's still around. Guess he's the curious type.'
I managed a sigh, not sure if I could withstand the pain of sitting up. Hell, I only live once, might as well try.
"Znnzz! Xnnxx, zxnsx nnn yzxzznx!"
"Look, I'm not going to die lying down," I groaned. "If you're going to do voodoo nonsense on me, at least let me die on my feet from leeches or blood-letting or whatever you types do."
Reluctantly, she took her hand off of my chest, and I began the arduous process of heaving my sad carcass up off the sand. I looked at the giant and blue woman long and hard.
"Well," I sighed, "I guess this is as good as it gets. I never did choose my worlds very well."
Writer: Nimiane
Date Mon Dec 3 09:38:34 2018
Writer: Nimiane
Date Mon Dec 3 09:47:28 2018
Writer: Carrionmaw
Date Mon Dec 3 10:41:50 2018
To All Shadow Verminasia ( Necrucifer Scorn )
Subject A Black Wind
The ancient wyrm surveyed his domain from his perch high atop the
weathered peak, his scales glistening with the moisture of snowmelt.
The land stretched out beneath him, mountains giving way to valleys and
hills, aged and venerable forests, fertile plains, swamplands, and his
draconian eyes could make out even the desolate sands of Ivory and the
secret they held.
He mused to himself that once he could have seen Verminasia from this perch,
but that was long, long ago when he flew the skies known by a different
name, instead of the crude descriptor the Shalonost imposed upon him, useful
and fitting as it was.
Unfurling his mighty wings he swept from the peak, circling lower until he
came to land upon an escarpment. Traversing the dark passage, he went down
deep into the heart of the mountain. He wound lower still, through the dark
until he reached the heart of the Maw itself, the orange glow of the lava
flows cascading wild shadows across the wyrm and the towering figure that
was always there.
Lowering himself upon the outcropping he peered into the liquid stone as it
pooled beneath. Ever present throughout the world, the cycle of creation
and destruction played out before his eyes in miniature scale. The molten
rock would be forced up from the bowels of Algoron, flow along its
undulating route and slowly cool. In the process, igneous rock was formed -
and if instead the pressure were too great and the mountain were to erupt,
volcanic rock in its stead. But lower still, some of the molten stone would
fall away. It would fall a great distance, plunging into the depths known
only to the few who have been tormented within and returned to speak of it.
Down beneath him the Abyss was at war.
--*--
The sibylline voice came to the Priest within the foundry, the place where
Gohdam's shield was melted down, forged into a Hammer, and a covenant
was made.
The Black Wind was not a torrent or a gale, but a Whisper.
And when God speaks, you listen.
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 12:56:06 2018
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 13:08:46 2018
Writer: Nimiane
Date Mon Dec 3 16:01:16 2018
Writer: Nimiane
Date Mon Dec 3 16:07:08 2018
Writer: Faythe
Date Mon Dec 3 18:11:55 2018
To All Xenophon ( RP Imms)
Subject Amulet, Dreams and Wonderings
Such odd dreams... So real, yet almost not... What was that place? A
castle.... A Monolith... A stronghold.... Caves.... What was it? What
lived in there...
She wondered each time she awoke with the images fresh on her mind, before
they started to fade slowly, leaving only traces behind. Faythe was curious
about the Monolith in Arkania, wondered if that was what she was seeing in
her dreams. The place pulled at her curiosity, which beckoned her to visit
it while no one was around to question her presence there or worry she would
trigger some disaster.
She didn't feel the impending doom the others seemed to feel, she couldn't
explain it, but she didn't sense anything.... Chaotic, from her amulet.
Wasn't this an old amulet, she always had? She wasn't sure.... It was
precious, unique, important, she needed to keep it safe, keep it with her.
They didn't understand, they wanted her to get rid of it, but she just
couldn't, knew she shouldn't.
What does it All mean? She felt, deep inside, that more was to come....
Fatale, Dread Lord, what did it All mean?
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 19:53:04 2018
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 19:53:14 2018
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 19:53:25 2018
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 19:53:33 2018
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 19:53:36 2018
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Mon Dec 3 19:53:41 2018
Writer: Jermichael
Date Tue Dec 4 20:59:43 2018
To Rasavadi Gur'geraal Tamaska Nymaya Shadow Eclipse Verminasia All Imm RP
Subject The Highlord's Return
"OPEN SAYSAME! DOGMAN WANT IN! "
Jermichael strode toward the sounds of pounding upon the gates of the dark
city. He approached the massive gates, which seemed to rock every few
seconds. He waved a hand, motioning for the guards to make way and nodded
to the two knights with him to release the lock and open the barrier.
The knights quickly pulled open the gates and the Dark Lord raised his head,
taking in the size of the Troll before him. The beast breathed heavily and
snarled at the sight of Jermichael. The two knights started to withdraw
their blades, and Jermichael shook his head, "Stay your blades. "
"I am Jermichael McCord, Dark Lord of Storm Keep."
The Troll, who had opened it's mouth to yell something, stopped and tilted
it's head to the side a moment, then looked down at the rolled heap on the
ground, then back to Jermichael. Jermichael followed it's gaze, and reached
up to remove his helmet. ".. That appears to be the Highlord.." , He
stated flatly.
"DOGMAN" the beast stated with a nod, an almost smile playing across it's
massive face.
The Dark Lord gave a quick nod and took a few steps forward, "Well then,
pick him up, and follow me" Jermichael stepped past the Troll and the
Highlord, and shook his head at the sight of several guards lying nearby.
"Damnable Trolls.. He stated as he passed Tamaska, then lifted his helmet,
placing it back upon his head.
Writer: Yevoa
Date Wed Dec 5 02:16:01 2018
To All Luther Kavitha Yevoc Katie Twinsen Tesla
Subject The Dark Ritual, care what you wish for, You may get it (1/4)
"Wizardess, the ritual is nearly ready!"
The young elf clad in black robes couldn't help but smirk at the irony of
the title she'd chosen for herself and of the anxiety of her minions doing
the dirty work. Something inside her stirred with intense pleasure at their
discomfort for the task at hand.
"Goooood...." Yevoa cooed in an unnatural voice. She closed her eyes,
whispered a few words, and disappeared in a teleportation spell. She and
her assistant remanifested at one of her most familiar places in Algoron, a
rock outcropping near the Esquire Parkway in Verminasia. A small band of
black robed figures encircled what would've looked like a few nondescript
stones lying in a pile on the ground.
These were no ordinary stones. It'd taken nearly a decade of combing
through the texts revealed by applying her deceased grandfather's work in
order to find the stones that had once held the sacred energies she sought.
Her eyes narrowed at the thought.
Energies from him.
She stepped next to her minions. "Begin!" She barked hoarsely. "Create
the CIRRRCLE!"
The black robed assistants obeyed, stepped closer to the stones, and raised
their hands as they began murmuring incantations. The stones began to glow
in response, and a spherical shell of energy enclosed the group. Yevoa
turned and looked almost... Wistfully at the crackling energy of the
translucent sphere that had engulfed them. The light from the sphere
illuminated the dark and twisted visage her face had become, making her
virtually unrecognizable to her family from the Shalonesti village if they
were to see her now.
Not that it mattered. They were All dead now, and she was the reason.
Writer: Yevoa
Date Wed Dec 5 02:18:38 2018
To All Luther Kavitha Yevoc Katie Twinsen Tesla
Subject The Dark Ritual, care what you wish for, You may get it (2/4)
"Wizardess, are you sure we should do this?" Her assistant asked
timidly. "In All my days, I've never seen anything like this."
The young, twisted elf regarded her elderly companion. He too was shriveled
from a human's lifetime of applying dark magics, mostly in some dank corner
of a forgotten dungeon. Her obssessive research of her great-grandfather's
legacies had led her to exterminate entire bands and their keeps in order to
find their secrets, and in an unusual act of mercy, she'd freed him of his
life of serving bandits and let him live. She'd never demanded his
subservience, but it came automatically, as he knew potential when he saw
it. Between the two of them, it was only a matter of time before other
lesser acolytes joined them, All in the name of power.
She grinned to herself. Power. She'd discovered the dark secrets of her
family, and if there was one word to describe their essence, it was Power.
Like the mysterious spirit that burned within her now, her ancestors had
burned with incredible power, and she was determined to steal it from them.
Her gaze intensified on the stones.
Just like she'd stolen it from her grandfather, and now her
great-grandfather was next.
The stones began to catch fire in the most unnatural way, the blaze becoming
so hot that its flames turned to bright white. Her assistant and the black
robed acolytes cringed at the blaze and averted her eyes, but the young,
darkened elf just stared emptily into it. From reading her family's ancient
texts, she knew this was nothing compared to what came next.
The flames exploded outward, engulfing the encircled acolytes. They opened
their mouths to scream, but their spirits left their bodies before they
could react, turning into small white wisps that surrounded the ever growing
blaze. It was nearly upon her and her assistant now. He turned to her,
finally ready to betray his terror to her.
Writer: Yevoa
Date Wed Dec 5 02:22:27 2018
To All Luther Kavitha Yevoc Katie Twinsen Tesla
Subject The Dark Ritual, care what you wish for, You may get it (3/4)
"Wizardess, this sequence is already running out of control! If we don't
stop it now, it could-" as he did the arcane calculations in his head, he
recoiled in realization. He turned to her nervously. "Are you trying to
take over the world?"
She laughed. The sound echoed off of the flames, and she laughed louder and
louder, until it sounded like a hideous chorus of monstrous glee that
resonated with the pulsing energies. As she laughed, her assistant could
see a reddish aura beginning to emanate from her. As the aura grew, her
laughter became deeper, lower, and more... Demonic. Her face was changing
into a hideous, unrecognizable form. It was then that her assistant
realized that Yevoa was losing herself to something. Something that had
waited a long, long time for this.
"THIS world?? This world is a pitiful excuse of nothingness that isn't
worth spit! To claim it would make me a king of ants. No... I am here to
claim what is rightfully mine, the spirit of which has no limit. It has
rebuffed me for ages, across space and time, but NO LONGER!!! The essence
of the Nethril, the Chronomancer, the N'klas, the Nicos, they are now MINE!"
Yevoa's hands remained at her side, but the reddish aura around her body
intensified and began to take on a humanoid form, loosely bound to her. The
aura grew a multitude of hands, All outstretched to the enormous white
flames. The flames began to pull toward the hands, and the assistant could
see the tendrils of energy being sucked out of the flame into the red aura.
With every passing moment, the amount of energy being pulled increased by a
hundred-fold, then a thousand-fold, a million-fold...
"Incredible," the assistant managed to whisper in a trance as his eyes
became blinded by the energy. "Just absolutely incred-"
The giant white flame flashed outward and then withdrew into its core by a
few feet. Confusion mired Yevoa's face. The flame flashed and retreated
again. The red aura reached out, its arms growing in length. Yevoa roared
like a furious beast.
"NOOOO!!!! YOU CANNOT ESCAPE! YOU ARE MINE NOW!! LET US SETTLE THIS,
N'KLA! I HAVE THIS CHILD, AND NOW I WILL HAVE YOU!"
The white flame flashed in response and retreated further still into its
core, becoming so bright that the stones at the center of the circle began
to melt into a puddle. The reddish aura contorted and grew into long
tendrils from Yevoa's form as her knees buckled and her eyes rolled into the
back of her head. The white flame continued withdraw into itself faster and
faster as the red aura grew to give chase. The puddle that was once the
stones lifted up like a small glass ball into the air. The red aura's
tendrils had expanded to completely surround the flame, poised to drain all
of the white energy at once...
In a flash, All of the white energy imploded on the glass ball, causing an
incredible shockwave that knocked Yevoa and her assistant to the ground.
They struggled to stand as Yevoa shook her head as if coming out of a daze.
The assistant blinked and looked around frantically. The red aura was
nowhere to be seen. All that remained was the glass ball, quietly humming
and glowing with an intense white energy. Yevoa blinked as she stared into
the ball. She took a step toward it. The assistant turned to her in
surprise.
Writer: Yevoa
Date Wed Dec 5 02:28:45 2018
To All Luther Kavitha Yevoc Katie Twinsen Tesla
Subject The Dark Ritual, care what you wish for, You may get it (4/4)
"Wizardess?? What are yo-"
"It's... Calling me." Yevoa said in a small voice becoming of a young elf
girl. The assistant reeled. In All of these years of serving her, he'd
never heard her pure, unadulterated voice before. She took a step toward
the floating glass ball.
"Wizardess, it's too dangerous!"
She took another step.
"Please, I beg of you! Let us cancel the incantation and bury this device!
It will only destroy-"
He stopped, his hand falling to his side in bewilderment. As she stepped
closer and closer to the orb, her face began to melt. The demonic, twisted
visage that he'd become so accustomed to was shifting, smoothing itself into
something more... Elvish.
As she reached within arm's length of the orb, the energy of the orb pulsed
brighter and brighter still. A burst of energy blew her long, black robes
off of her body, and the assistant gasped. As he watched her naked form,
her shriveled, twisted body began to straighten into a tall, erect posture.
All of the scars of self-mutilation that he'd seen her perform so many times
were evaporating before his eyes. What remained of her white, frazzled hair
began to grow out and darken. Her discolored, patchy skin that had been
subjected to so many acid burns melted together into a smooth, almond-green
consistency. As the metamorphosis of youthfulness neared completion, she
turned her head back to see him, her dark-red eyes melting into a brilliant
emerald color. Her face seemed to shift as well, from her characteristic
permanent scowl to a softer, more gentle tone with her forehead and chin
longer and more prominent than he'd remembered from before. She gazed upon
him as if this was the first time they'd ever met...
And she smiled for the first time in decades.
The naked elf girl's eyes didn't leave his as she reached out and touched
the orb.
In an instant, the orb exploded. The last thing the assistant saw was
Yevoa's transformed face showing utter shock and surprise before being
engulfed in the explosion. He only managed one more word in his final
moments.
"What-"
The blast lashed out in every direction, and the ensuing cloud engulfed the
city of Verminasia in dust. For a brief time, the cloud could be seen as
far away as Arcane's battlements. When the dust, ash, and soot finally
settled, there was nothing left south of Esquire Parkway in Verminasia...
Except for a small crater amongst the rocks.
Writer: Meete
Date Wed Dec 5 06:08:58 2018
To All Imm Immortal Austinian RP
Subject Charity work.
Meete taps gently with her nail like claws fully aware of the risk coming
with her schedule. The city prepares for conflict in a battle ready stance.
So many could suffer. Looking over her list set on her desk with before
setting off. Visit the clerics, temples heal those suffering best she can.
If they can fight let them fight for they're home if not see them healthy
flee and be safe. Next, the poor areas in the city see they're fed provided
what we can battle the harshest to those with little. Next the schools,
orphanages children have a unique strength and courage All their own show
them you believe in them. I am certain the men doing working hard but
seeing their Princess might help morale. Speaking to a servant in waiting,
'Prepare the horses, send my schedule to the guards we leave the moment
they're ready.
Writer: Vincent
Date Thu Dec 6 08:06:01 2018
To Shadow Verminasia All ( Ampersand Necrucifer Storyline RP )
Subject The Nullstone: The Night of Exile Pt. 1
"And so the flock exiles the shepherd, willfully woefully - ignorant his
identity. The hubris. "
The current High Priest of "Hell" gurgled an obscenity as the monologue came
to an end, his words garbled under the choking duress of the hand tightly
clasping his throat. Hoisted into the air and well above his captor's head,
his was a prime view of the scene of rampage that lie on display.
His desk had been hewn in half, its black stone fractured into slabs. The
items resting atop it just a short time ago were strewn about the office,
scattered by the force. Those lavish decorations and antiques lining the
path to it were likewise vandalized if not outright destroyed.
Streaks of blood marred the portrait behind him that of his immediate
predecessor - but it was otherwise intact. Soon, perhaps, his likeliness
would be painted there, balefully watching over his successor.
Yet when the thrashing had ceased, the High Priest turned a blind eye to all
the carnage. He hadn't time to lament the mayhem, for once his eyes settled
they were met with a familiar gaze.
The Human eyes from whence it came did little to hide the nature of the
beast behind them. Though it was the hand of a man which grasped him so,
before the High Priest's heightened vision was projected the terrible
countenance of the demon's true form.
"Xaran'xaxes..."
The name was uttered as one would hiss a profanity, guttural and familiarly
full of contempt. No word or gesture of acknowledgment came from the
ruinous visitor. Instead, the High Priest was answered with a bellowing
command.
"SURRENDER IT."
The archfiend felt the flesh of de Vere's palm reverberate from the
malicious and guttural, yet impotent, growl rumbling in the lesser devil's
throat. Nonetheless, a lustrous black stone came produced from the High
Priest's person and was willfully woefully exchanged for his relative
freedom. Following a release none too gentle, the High Priest sat back
against a slab of his former desk and heaved a sigh of relief.
"Why didn't you just kill me? " The denizen of Hell sneered, dusting debris
from his robe. His next sigh was one of grim realization. "Now I have to
take you to court. " The punishment for his cowardice, it seemed, would be
met with a fate worse than "death."
Writer: Vincent
Date Thu Dec 6 08:07:45 2018
To Shadow Verminasia All ( Ampersand Necrucifer Storyline RP )
Subject The Nullstone: The Night of Exile Pt. 2
The comment spurned a snicker from the greater demon, whose attentions
were focused on the hellish rock in his hand. Rolling it between leather
sheathed fingers, he could not help but to discern the similarities between
this stone and the one he had ultimately prized. His musings would have to
wait, for this flesh-bound form required asylum and the sun would soon rise
over the Arkanian continent.
"Spare us both. I plead guilty to All charges."
The humor came as dryly as the arcane words which followed. In an instant
the hellstone flared brightly and vanished, giving way to a shimmering
portal. Through it the storm had gone. The High Priest sat unmoved, now
free to take in the destruction wrought from his initial stubbornness and
aggression.
During the lightless hours preceding dawn within the Verminasian capitol,
beneath the ruined bridge south of Sabre Street, the vagrant which called
this "shelter" home prepared to sleep after a long day of panhandling and
inebriation. His pre-bedtime routine was simple, but held in great esteem.
It wouldn't be a proper day's end without a final swig of life's few
pleasures.
Suddenly the peaceful dark of night was pierced by a hellish glow. All
matter of rubbish tumbled down their mound of filth as a nexus to some fiery
place rose from the riverside trash heap. Frozen in place with bottle in
hand and jaw agape, the bum looked on as the swirling gateway produced... A
man?
The two exchanged stares for a moment before the new arrival nodded, greeted
the squatter with a nonchalant "good evening", and just as casually
disappeared into a cluster of shadow cast by the lunar light. As promptly
as it appeared, the portal closed shut behind him.
Left again in solitude, the hobo turned a quizzical look to his bottle for
answers. With none to be found, he abated his curiosities with a shrug and
proceeded the nightly task of drinking himself to sleep.
Writer: Zola
Date Thu Dec 6 18:03:33 2018
To All Bloodlust Arkane Immortals Fatale Rhien
Subject X Yellow Doom X
So this was the so-called perpetrator. The Man in Yellow, as he was
known. He did not seem so impressive as All that. In fact, judging purely
from outward appearances, Zola might have even admitted he found his sense
of fashion quite suitable. Robe, cowl, hood, hiding All but the features of
a man he could only presume was on the older side of middle age. And as the
beggar has said, bore eyes of a most perfect shade ofdull ochre.
But outside of the physical appearance, there was something about him that
made the Deathscythe uneasy. He did not seem dangerous, though his power
was obvious enough. To say nothing of his audacity. Breaking into the
Vaults of Arkane to pilfer a possession was no easy feat. To say nothing of
simply whisking away the General with a wave of his hand.
No, it wasn't danger, though this man was clearly dangerous. Perhaps it was
not him, but what his coming seemed to portend. Talk of another, a greater
threat, on thehorizon. Something rising.
Fear had been an unknown emotion to Zola long before he'd died, and even
further removed once he'd ripped out his own heart and put it elsewhere for
safekeeping. Yet the hollow cavity of his chest did seem to stir with some
emotion now. Some nameless dread. Something was coming. A storm or
catastrophe of similar nature. And it was related to that monolith rising
out of the ground.
And it seemed to be heading for Arkane.
Writer: Sylanna
Date Fri Dec 7 04:39:01 2018
Writer: Symantha
Date Sun Dec 9 05:42:39 2018
To All Shadow Zayk ( Necrucifer Imm RP Religion Ampersand ) Rasavadi Tamaska
Subject Before His Altar
There was a heavy feeling in the room.
The shadows were still, as if a breath had been inhaled but had yet to be
released. The air held tension like a balloon and she felt watched within
the silence that, at first, assaulted her ears.
She stood by the altar, feeling the depth of night on the Keep like a
shroud, and a slow trickle of Novice and Knight alike met her there
eventually. Many knelt in silence but some approached, seeking blessings
and she offered them. The altar top was cold to her fingertips and that
chill deepened with each prayer, with every draw of divinity that she
summoned for these men and women.
The chill was not relegated to the altar room though.
It seeped with the shadows, gripped the black marble and granite, the onyx
and steel, with a certainty that had many locked in their thoughts. But a
query met her in more than few gazes.
Was this a sign?
As much as she wished to credit All His devout with certainty, not just in
the Prophecy but in Necrucifer, it was uniquely mortal of anyone to find
themselves with questions.
Many of them had witnessed Necrucifer's fall but to their questing hearts
she answered; "He returns. Not simply from the Black Moon - upon which His
throne sits - but from the very clutches of death, for He is not dead where
His essence persists. He bled upon Algoron, within its very fabric has He
been woven. Believe and no matter what comes, you and He will know that to
the end, you were true to your oaths to Him before this altar."
In every word, she channelled the lessons of the Exile. Submission,
resolute devotion, humility and strength of purpose. Unity.
Despair, defeat, shame, bitterness. These emotions had gripped each and
every one of the soldiers then. She had watched it happen, how it had shown
in their eyes and caused so many to stray. A Novice only and she had known
then and there what her path had needed to be.
Now, it was betrayal. Not All that different, though it had brought with it
a sense of hopelessness and encompassing frustration. Even she, in the
darkest of hours, had known it.
This moment though, it was for bolstering and she was not disappointed.
Every gaze that met hers reassured her that not one soul here would fail to
remember why they had passed through the black gate of Storm Keep.
It was a marked improvement and though the ominous hush returned when each
soldier departed, she was left feeling certain. It was a certainty that,
upon rising to depart, she met in the dark eyed gaze of her husband.
Writer: Meete
Date Sun Dec 9 06:25:48 2018
To All Imm Immortal Austinian RP
Subject Early Morning Bells.
{nPost in the Churches and Center of Arkane in every known language:
Arkane was born in struggle for FREEDOM. In blood and toil of All smallest
to largest the gentle to merciless we declared in ONE voice we make OUR
STAND HERE. We decided of very race and every faith that EVERY threat of
mortal monstrous or deity we will FIGHT here. Arkane faces dire threat once
again. Make preparation for those wearing blue, white, yellow WE STAND HERE
against every adversary. Gather arms, prepare your weapons and armor, be
prepared for battle. If we should remain vigilant steadfast to our cause
with bravehearts and Arkane's Ironwill I no doubt in our victory. Untill
that day we stand victorious we ready against any who dare try and beseech
Our Arkane. The Princess nods to a waiting Priest as bells of All kinds
start choirs loud echo's to every conner of Arkane.
(Continued from Charity Work):
Visiting Clerics and temples Meeted help heal the injured and the sick.
While quietly preparing the meeting Priest and cleric's of the danger to
come. Reading those too sick or ill to moved.
Visiting Orphans with a bright smile. Meete would be kind and gentle heart
as she always been. All Arkane Snowalker Pride. Preparation had been made
for they're every need Meete adopted them All education, food, clothing
never be a need. Saying to them. 'We're Pride of Arkane. With a kind and
carefree smile to each of them.
Writer: Ithelim
Date Mon Dec 10 21:14:03 2018
Writer: Zola
Date Tue Dec 11 07:27:35 2018
To All Abaddon Bloodlust Immortals Fatale
Subject X Re-Forging the Edge X
In the deepest, darkest bowels of Hell, there were those with great skill
at crafting. While many might believe the Darkness capable only of
destruction, nothing could be further from the truth. They were also
intensely inventive at coming up with means of fashioning new items...
that caused destruction.
Manuvering his way through legions of sinners and their tormentors, Zola
found his way to a black iron anvil at the center of the hellforge, from
which some of the most horrific weapons were created. Balors mauls, etc,
etc, and others. True, the forge did not often receive commissions from the
living realm above, but in this case, they were the best suited to meeting
Zola's request.
Approaching the demonic smith, who turned with a snarl at Zola's
interruption, he set down the bag he'd carried down here with the demons
payment. Not mere coin, but something far more precious. Scowling, the
horn-headed monstrosity plucked up the bag and peered inside. Satisfied, he
snapped it shut and added it to his other treasures.
"It is finished then?"
"It is," replied the brute, setting his red hot hammer aside and grasping
the object on the forge with a pair of blackened tongs, plunging it into the
nearby cooling waters. A horrific scream filled the air, like someone had
just slain an elf maiden. Behind his mask, Zola grinned, anxious, even
eager, to hold the weapon.
Finished with the forging, the smith held out the weapon to the Cardinal of
Blood, who took it with a reverent movement, bowing his hooded head and
giving thanks to his Dread Lord. The metal was still intensely hot, even
through his gloves, and seemed blacker than the night sky, forged of an
adamantium alloy fused with darksteel and arcanium. Stronger than any
individual metal and with an edge keener than any sword or knife forged by
mortal hands.
With a joyous howl, he swung the scythe around, and the shape blade burst
into flame, wreathed in glorious hellfire. It was perfect. It had finally
been repaired.
Which meant the Deathscythe was back in business.
Writer: Leomire
Date Tue Dec 11 18:53:00 2018
To All Geirhart Finneas Arkane Abaddon ( Xenophon RP Imm Religion )
Subject The Black Monolith - The Big Hunt
Leomire lay concealed within the underbrush. He's watched this monolith
and the surrounding area for weeks now, since he was first shown the pool
that had been cleansed near the Althainia tribe. Study was always the key
when hunting. To be successful, one must know their prey. The more
dangerous the prey, the more study was needed. He'd studied the earth from
the pool. He spoke to the spirits. Asked the spirits for their help. This
prey was from their world. This prey was old.
He would hunt this prey.
Many had their own theories, and Leomire was no different.
One thing Leomire was sure of was everyone was running around trying to find
the way to hunt this prey before they even knew what the prey was. Everyone
of the furless wanted to be the hero. They ran around like young cubs.
Not Leomire. He was more patient. When hunting you got one shot. He would
make his shot count.
Writer: Finneas
Date Tue Dec 11 19:02:57 2018
To All Arkane Boof Maccus ( Imm RP Xenophon )
Subject The Black Monolith - Search for the cult
Some days had passed since the monument had sprung up. Many had come to
gawk and probe at it but still none seemed to offer much in the way of
explanation. Theories and speculation ran through the circles of gossip but
all Finneas could feel was the very real threat of insurgents within the
walls of Arkane. There was a group behind these events and he would
continue to search for them regardless of how uncertain he was that it
mattered now.
Day by day he made his patrols through the streets and each day he came up
empty handed. Until a useful tip came from the members of the dungeon that
a strange woman had been found. Together, Boof and Maccus brought him to
question her. Before they could even begin Finneas spotted the contraband
in her possession. A yellow sign - same paint as the symbols mockingly left
around the city.
That was All the confirmation he needed.
Writer: Ithelim
Date Tue Dec 11 22:41:00 2018
Writer: Maithion
Date Wed Dec 12 02:24:32 2018
To All Lagertha Vincent Vershae Xenophon Fatale ( Imm Rp Religion )
Subject Buried Insignificance
She was his rock, his unliving comfort. What was warm was now cold but
the same to him. Just slightly different and he was at her side, and she
was always at his. She asked to share the burden but Maithion knew better.
Lagertha did not need to feel what he felt, but he would show her.
His icy hands held her cold ones loosely at first, images of the past days
coming from his mind into her own. The feeling of unease, the demon
screaming on the inside of the body to leave at once, but the undead did
not.
His mind showed the woman some unknown, unnamed thing, a brief glimpse then
nothing. Chilled fingers tightened around his wife's hands. She sensed his
fear while at the same time Maithion's mind played over what he could
remember. The sound of people yelling as he couldn't move, grounded in what
felt like shackles of mountains, keeping him in place then being torn away
and falling back. He could do nothing. He couldn't speak, couldn't move,
his mind and body pierced by some unfathomable thing, something that buried
itself deep in the vampire's core and now waited.
His body began to be controllable again, the weight lifting some with each
passing moment, he feel over on his side, and drew a dagger out of his vest
and was going to cut out what he felt but was stopped. Voices and faces
were muffled and blurred as his mind started to piece itself back together
and he sat there. Sat there on the ground, away from the spire and wept
tears of blood.
His eyes clinched shut and his body trembled, Lagertha pulled away from his
grasp and lifted her hands to cup the elf's cheeks, 'Maithion! ' Closed
eyes jerked open and she could see what he felt was real then pulled him
into a tight embrace, whispering words of comfort and trying solace.
'I can not unsee, or unfeel what is there. It watches me and -- it angers
me that I feel this way. ' His body shivered again, Lagertha knew why now.
His wife went to tend their child, leaving Maithion to think in the garden
of snow, the place that gave them both comfort, but not much was had for the
man. His mind and body began to compose itself again and he thought about
questions that gave answers, and those answers gave more questions. Why was
he and others like him who have been in those tainted woods felt these
things? They were not common to feel among the kindred. He straightened
his vest and went to be with his wife, seeming composed but burrowed in the
man was that feeling. Hidden deep and waiting. He, perhaps most of All of
those demons who walked in the guise of mortals wanted to know, and wanted
to know so very badly.
Writer: Lothaw
Date Wed Dec 12 14:22:21 2018
To New_Thalos All ( imm rp Xenophon )
Subject Reading Between the Lines
Sultan Lothaw Ka'tel paced slowly amongst the books of the Thalosian
library. His fingertips idly ran across the spines of some volumes as he
blue eyes flicked this way and that. It was a lot of collected information,
and he wasnt even sure if what he was looking for would be in here. In fact
hed bet against it, but still the effort must be made. Given the fixation
his predecessors in the Sultanate had on the ancient realm of Serpantol, it
wasnt impossible however. The libraries did hold more information than any
one person could expect to sift through in a reasonable amount of time. As
if spurred by that thought, the head curator approached the Sultan,
obediently bowing.
"What can I do for you today, Sultan?" The head curator inquired.
"Im looking for information about Carcosa," Lothaw replied with a slight
frown, "If one of the cartographers can find its location, that might be
helpful."
"Carcosa?" The curator drawled out, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "I cant
say Ive ever heard of it."
"Nor had I, in fact I wish I hadnt" Lothaw replied crisply, "However its
location, or any supporting text about it would be of great use."
"I shall have the staff search the archives at once, Sultan" the curator
declared.
"Good." Lothaw replied, taking a quill and quickly sketching out a circular
symbol that had become All too familiar, "Finding the meaning behind this
symbol might be of use. If you need a more detailed example, there are
plenty in Arkane."
"Arkane..." The curator drawled again, "Oh yes, I have heard something
about that."
"Yes, this is about that." Lothaw replied, "Id just as soon this problem be
dealt with before it gets around to pestering New Thalos."
"It shall be done, Sultan." The curator stated, "We shall let you know if
we find anything."
"Thank you," Lothaw stated with a polite nod, he started to turn to leave
before turning back at a final thought, "Also, any references to a book
called the Great Grimoire. Better yet a copy if one exists. But focus on
Carcosa and that symbol first."
The curator nodded his assent and began taking notes on the task before him.
As he went off to get his staff to work looking for what the Sultan sought,
Lothaw shook his head. He doubted the book would turn up, it sounded too
Arkanian to be found in a Thalosian library but you never knew. If this
search turned up something of value, hed have some options to act upon.
There was too much posturing without any actual plans going on already.
Writer: Faythe
Date Wed Dec 12 15:46:04 2018
To All Abaddon Arkane Meki Zola Finneas Maccus Maithion ( Xenophon Imm RP )
Subject Recalling Events, When Predators attack Strong Prey
She sat at the Garden as she often did, listening to the news trickling
in, watching the Hanging Willow tree's sinewy branches swaying in the
breeze, her thoughts miles away, remembering the visions she had seen when
she had collapsed by the mound. Some of it was coming to her more clearly,
the verses of Carcosa as the voice had recited them so deep inside, it
wasn't just in her mind, but in her heart, in her soul that she heard the
words.
She had seen but a vision of the city that would be, but not a clear enough
image that she could recall it... But the man... He seemed almost like
Yh'till, a resemblance of sorts... Except not exactly, she could recall the
figure, the horns... Or was it a crown of horns or antlers... The face...
She couldn't describe it, had never seen such before. His eyes, they could
see so deep into her, know All her secrets.... That gaze stole her breath
away. Yet, she felt no fear, he'd open his arms in such a welcoming
embrace.
When she came to, things seem disorienting, confusing but she felt so
strong. She opened her eyes and blinked to adjust her vision, finally
hearing the squabbling people that had gathered around her. Maccus right
beside her, already asking her what had happened, even quietly in her mind
he asked 'Car... Cosa? ', had she spoken the words out loud? She must
have if he was asking about it. She stood with Zola's help then backed
away, watching everyone as they All stared at her, everyone talking at the
same time, asking questions, spouting their own remarks and theories. Some
demanding her amulet, others saying the place was closed to outsiders, on
and on they went.
The Arkanian Midshipman told the killers of the Dungeon about his experience
with a similar amulet, drawing attention to the one she wore, telling the
men how the amulet seemed to speak to him. Faythe took steps back as she
watched them, power swirling through her, making her feel more confident,
stronger. The voice in her heart spoke to her, guided her, protected her.
Maccus demanded to know about Carcosa, slowly advancing towards her. She
took steps back, the voice in her heart resonated inside her, 'He is
unworthy. '
They advanced on her, flanking her on either side like she was some prey
ready to be snatched up by the predators from the Dungeon. Her fingers
wound around her axe, her incantation ready at her lips, she would show them
she was no defenseless prey for them. Yh'till's voice was strong, filling
her with such power, that the moment the killers pounced, she was quick to
hold them back with a slash of her axe and the blast of her fire spell. She
fought against them, deflecting their grabs, avoiding Finneas' dropkick,
keeping herself just out of reach as she used her spell of flight. Then the
voice guided her again, and she willed her power to point at her assailants,
sending each far away with blasts of yellow power.
Oh, the power was so sweet, using it against her attackers each time they
came back with their intent on taking her down, on questioning her. She
could have destroyed them instead, could have burst them apart where they
stood, but chose to simply cool them down. Her attention turned to the
Arkanians, Zola raised a hand, ensuring her that no one in Arkane would
attack her and Meki reaffirmed the words. So she shared just a little of
what she knew of why this was the location for the Monoliths, never stating
more than what was known.
Slowly she felt the power diminishing, knew it was time to return home,
heard Yh'till's voice one last time before she landed back on the ground and
took her leave from the Arkanians. Even now with days gone by, she could
still feel some of that power inside her.
Writer: Geirhart
Date Wed Dec 12 17:57:41 2018
To Xenophon Meki Sierus Zola Finneas Faythe Imm All Religion
Subject Confusion
The priest took a sip of his drink and looks about the Fellowship. He
had been here for a few hours, watching. The yellow man had said that there
were signs that the cultists used to identify each other. He wondered who
these people were, they must look like normal people yet they are worshiping
a Monolith and this Carcosa.
'I suppose Malachive followers also look normal too. ' he thought.
He hadn't received any new insight since the day after Faythe and the yellow
man flew away. He knew that something was off, the voice in his mind nagged
at him and made him question how honest that being had been that night. He
had been peaceful but there is someone wrong with All of this. The voice
had said there was nothing wrong with Power in and of itself but how we use
that power. Right now, that power was converting the land unnaturally, it
was influencing the minds of others, it was being shared with Faythe. Yet
he knew that the lure of power is always used to ensare. Faythe had used it
to defend herself, rightly so from Zola's description but there was a
purpose to it.
He turned away from that memory, he could do nothing against the power of
the man and now the host to his power, that was clear. However the cultists
could be dealt with. Perhaps even information about the grimoire could be
gained. However the leads here were slim. His joints hurt from sitting so
long. He admitted, a part of him thought this a problem for others. So far
no one was hurt, the vampires didn't like it, and the aura of the man was
missing. Why All this work for a problem that wasn't obviously evil or an
issue for Althainia?
The voice in his head had warned him, evil can be deceiving, it hides in
plain sight. Not All monsters look like monsters. So the old man ordered a
meal as the sun set, alert to the new patrons entering the inn. No, he
would see it through to the end and would protect anyone that needed it.
Life would be preserved even if he didn't know what he really faced.
Writer: Maithion
Date Thu Dec 13 03:51:45 2018
Writer: Telthian
Date Thu Dec 13 13:52:03 2018
Writer: Tragak
Date Thu Dec 13 20:47:00 2018
Writer: Tragak
Date Thu Dec 13 20:50:18 2018
Writer: Finneas
Date Fri Dec 14 07:22:49 2018
Writer: Finneas
Date Fri Dec 14 08:17:14 2018
Writer: Finneas
Date Fri Dec 14 08:32:07 2018
Writer: Finneas
Date Fri Dec 14 11:13:06 2018
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 15:19:16 2018
To Ithelim Cassandrea Shadow Verminasia All ( Ampersand Necrucifer Storyline RP )
Subject The Nullstone: Tavern Crawl Pt. 1
The archfiend did not spend his time in exile idly.
From the dawn of his return to Verminasia, he would devote the day's
entirety haunting one of the capitol's more popular establishments. There
he would provoke discussions pertaining to merchants, rare finds and
oddities, upcoming auctions, and other such trade talk.
Though the banter would shift to accommodate the diversity of the target
audience, no conversation was absent mention of a carved black stone
entwined in precious metals.
As the last crimson rays of sunlight sank below the horizon, the demon
gathered the puzzle pieces he had accrued throughout the day and departed
under cover of darkness. Following a scattered, incongruent trail of rumor
and hearsay, Xaran'xaxes only took pause from his pursuit to regain the
scent or upon the imminent threat of daybreak.
The cycle of day and night, discovery and pursuit, would continue for weeks
without relent. The archfiend had first cast a wide net for his prey. As
he meticulously meandered the Arkanian continent, combing through many a
brothel, tavern, and inn, the snare tightened.
Eventually, the name "Mucky" Jobte Rentser came to the surface, a lucid
gemstone amidst the silt and debris.
Though he was of course present for it, it was not the demon who had
initiated relations with this mortal maker and shaper of glass, but Vincent,
the erstwhile co-inhabitant of this Human form.
Early in his stewardship over the Verminasian Death Marshes, the Baron had
hired Rentser to help restore the once abandoned acropolis that would become
Castle de Vere. Born within the province and fiercely proud of his home,
Jobte had eagerly agreed to ply his craft for the spirit of patriotism - in
addition to a generous sum of gold.
The two held no more than a professional relationship, their business
concluded once the work was done, so it was with some surprise that Mucky
Jobte greeted the unexpected return of his former employer.
De Vere's questions were pointed, lacked the fluff of social courtesies, and
were as atypical as his sudden arrival.
For the glass merchant, how the Baron knew of something so minuscule and
fleeting as a wager placed on some pretty rock - stranger still why he even
cared about such a thing - were curiosities easily satisfied by coin.
Jobte spoke freely at its offer.
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 15:22:47 2018
To Ithelim Cassandrea Shadow Verminasia All ( Ampersand Necrucifer Storyline RP )
Subject The Nullstone: Tavern Crawl Pt. 2
The stone's description was too identical to his prize to be coincidence.
A carved black stone, encircled by strands of copper, silver, and gold held
in place by an engraved brass bead.
That it was carried - and wagered in a card game - by a Half-Elven,
apprentice herbalist came as surprise. Did the child even know what it was
he had? It was All the better if he did not.
Despite it's bearer's evidently innocent nature, the nullstone and he who
carried it proved difficult to find. The number of young Half-Elves on
Arkania alone were too many to count. Those that could be mistakenly
identified as either of their parents' lineage numbered greater still.
Though finite, the material plane of Algoron was still vast. Without his
scrying orb, the search for a metaphorical needle amidst a continent sized
hay field was an undertaking that would require more than his eyes and ears
alone.
So it was upon his return to Storm Keep that the fiend enlisted the aid of
the Crimson Rose. Even then, bolstered by their numbers and considerable
reach, the quest to locate one half-breed among tens upon tens of thousands
proved an exercise in futility.
Perhaps later than it should have, the ineffectiveness of searching through
traditional means became evident.
Much like the water of a river's current, Xaran'xaxes began to plot a course
around this obstacle born of limitations. He was a creature of predatory
nature and relentless ambition. Necrucifer's reign would not be stopped by
so paltry a thing as an elusive rock.
In his growing desperation, the archfiend looked to an Abyssal ritual of
sight for the solution. It had successfully led the hunter to his prey many a
time within the Infernal Planes, but to his knowledge it had not been tested
within this realm.
Would it work? Would "he" survive it?
For his conviction, guile, and expertise, Xaran'xaxes called upon the shadow
mage Ithelim Nyiodail to conduct the ritual. Dutifully in agreement, the
Master of the Rose needn't have been distracted by such questions or
burdened by the possibility of disastrous failure.
At this point, what else was there to do but try?
Training and preparation required, the duo set to task.
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 23:31:31 2018
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 23:31:35 2018
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 23:31:41 2018
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 23:33:25 2018
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 23:33:33 2018
Writer: Vincent
Date Fri Dec 14 23:33:38 2018
Writer: Ptithimir
Date Sat Dec 15 15:06:52 2018
Writer: Leomire
Date Sun Dec 16 23:51:37 2018
To Meki Arkane Althainia All ( Imm RP Religion Xenophon Zandreya )
Subject The Black Monolith - A Hunter Withdraws
Lemore walked through the long grasses of the savanna he called home.
Normally this land would calm him and let him find peace just entering the
long grasses. Not this day, however. This day he was filled with a rage
that would not subside.
He'd been asked to help hunt a prey stalking the Arkane tribe. He'd left
his duties to the Althainia tribe, and the Great Mother's realm around there
to help the man he'd called his brother these many years. Then to be
ignored at every turn, was insulting. The last straw was to be told no to
his plan to try and turn an advantage for the cult stalking the Arkane into
an advantage for the Arkane. How was Leomire supposed to hunt this prey
when his own supposed brother would not let him do what he needed to do.
How was Leomire to track this prey when he was denied a way to find tracks.
Well now he was done with it.
The problem was not the Althainia tribe's, so it was no longer Leomire's.
The spirits take the man who used to be as a brother to Leomire. Maybe the
Arkane will come through successfully, but Leomire no longer cared.
What angered him most though, was no matter the outcome, Leomire had lost
another family.
It seemed Leomire was destined to roam the lands alone.
He had no idea what to do now. He needed to ask the spirits, but not
tonight. The rage he felt was no way to start a conversation with the
spirits.
Writer: Leomire
Date Mon Dec 17 17:12:19 2018
To Meki Arkane Althainia All ( Imm RP Religion Xenophon Zandreya )
Subject The Black Monolith - A Hunter Withdraws II
Leomire packed. He packed more than he'd ever packed before. He was
headed deep into the Savanna. There was a place deep in the savanna where
the barrier between the spirit world and the real world was thin. There is
where he would ask for help. Did he need to return the the hunt, and if he
did how did he return? If he did not return, does this mean his time with
the Snowalker was over? The spirits would guide him.
He would be shown a sign.
Writer: Kaladon
Date Tue Dec 18 21:03:39 2018
Writer: Kaladon
Date Tue Dec 18 21:42:29 2018
Writer: Faythe
Date Wed Dec 19 00:19:20 2018
To All ( Xenophon RP )
Subject Secret Meetings
After her talk with the Caretaker, the Inquisitor sent a missive to both
the Steward and the Quartermaster, asking for a private meeting with them
both. After sometime, they both sent her missives and a meeting place was
established, a place where they could speak in private without
interruptions.
They spoke of passed events, of things currently happening, of things to
come. She told them of her meeting with the man in yellow, of the cultists
and Carcosa. They All came to an agreement to somehow find and stop the
cultists. And the Inquisitor agreed she would speak with the Caretaker
about the men's desire to speak with him.
The Steward left after some time, and the Quartermaster remained to ask a
few more questions, they spoke for a bit longer before parting ways. She
would speak with the Caretaker the next time she saw him, and see if she
could have those two join them for the conversation and help put aside their
doubts.
Writer: Finneas
Date Wed Dec 19 14:23:37 2018
Writer: Finneas
Date Wed Dec 19 14:58:58 2018
Writer: Geirhart
Date Wed Dec 19 18:34:04 2018
To All Faythe Finneas Xenophon Imm Rp
Subject Secret Meetings: Power
The priest retired to his Guild after the meeting. His mind running over
all that was discussed. He had to admit, in All this he was the odd man
out. Many of the players in this event knew each other. He found it a tad
ironic how many of Fatale's faith were involved and how many disliked each
other. Just goes to show that faith can only unite so much.
As he thought upon it, it was odd that the three had met as they did. Each
one had an original connection to this event. Almost as though chosen and
now it was coming around again. Further odd, each person was a
representative of a ethos. A trinity formed by this man, Yh'till. Now
requested to assist in an event about to occur by the will of two forces.
However the man in Yellow said the Cultists were a threat.
This wasn't incorrect, they were but which was the lesser of the two evils?
Something was going to cross over it was just a matter of who would summon
it.
The priest took out a map he had bee working on. He spread it out on a
table in the guild and looked it over. His prior thoughts on the cultists
were wiped away. His idea to Meki wouldn't have worked. He didn't find
them in the taverns. It was squarely on the Quartermaster now.
As he surveyed the map he circled a small village in the far north, farther
than Shalonesti. Then he circled some ruins on Arkania.
Lastly he went continent by continent. He searched for something. It
wasn't Tropica or Icewall. Then he saw it, gap in the forest.
He knew that Yh'till appreciated power and to the priest, knowledge was the
greatest. It was time to see if he could find some for himself.
Writer: Elathan
Date Wed Dec 19 21:15:42 2018
Writer: Kaladon
Date Thu Dec 20 09:33:30 2018
To All ( imm Cayenna rp )
Subject Quest for Knowledge II
The day started out as any other day starts for Kaladon. He did his
normal routine. As he was questing and gathering, he saw Finneas. As they
chatted one thing leads to another and they decided to explore the tavern in
the Great Forest. As they sat in the Tavern, the conversation lead to the
cult, the monolith and All that is part of it.
That is when the conversation turned to Maithian, Kaladon questioned what
did he see. Finneas says 'He spoke similar to the beggar but without all
the raving. Something looking at him, watching, seeing him. Seeing
*through* him, into him. ' Finneas says 'Said it felt like it was still
there inside.. Watching him' Finneas made mention of a warning from
Vincent. Finneas says 'He is convinced that this man draws power from the
force of chaos itself. Not the man Malachive or the clan with him but that
original power the gods could not destroy but only contain' Finneas says
'And that that is why the aboleths were so interested in the amulet.. That
they are of the same essence' Finneas says '"That which seeks to undo" I
believe is how he put it' Kaladon is interested in this Vincent and what
other warnings he might have. But no more information was forthcoming.
They seem to conversate more on chaos magic and if they can research more on
the subject. After they leave the Tavern, Kaladon when back to his house to
check his tomes on any information on the subject. Nothing of note was
found. Kaladon did a limited search of some texts around and yet he has
came up with nothing. So he was left to ponder what is the meaning of this.
Writer: Finneas
Date Thu Dec 20 14:12:29 2018
To All Faythe Geirhart Kaladon Xenophon Kwainin RP
Subject Secret Meetings: Faythe to Faith
Finneas' mind swirled after the meeting with Faythe. So many answers all
at once; so many answers he wanted to believe but was unsure if he should.
The man and his city purported to be no threat to Arkane and despite wanting
to drink from that cup of sweet nectar Finneas remained skeptical. Geirhart
had suggested to seek guidance from his god as others had: caution from the
light and silence from the dark. Perhaps the father of balance would reveal
whether Carcosa was in his plans or not.
The next day, he had just arrived at the temple when Geirhart hailed him
once more. Finneas invited him to join and they discussed the information
received from Faythe. The surprises, it seemed, were just beginning. The
squeaking of a cart crept through the temple doors as they spoke; along with
a librarian behind it. Finneas had queried her about the cult and its
beginnings and it seems the answers had arrived. Ever diligent, she had
crossed continents to bring him the information directly as she had
discovered there were other, more suspicious types seeking the same records.
Finneas and Geirhart listened to her consultation before bidding her
farewell and working to secret the books away in the shelves of the
abbey. Finneas had learned All he needed to but Lord Kaladon would
surely want to pour through them. He finished his prayers in silence and
set off to prepare.
Writer: Symantha
Date Fri Dec 21 03:17:16 2018
Writer: Kaladon
Date Fri Dec 21 12:52:43 2018
To All Xenophon
Subject Quest for Knowledge III
Kaladon rolls out of bed and he just sits on the edge looking at the
forest before him. He thinks that it is so peaceful here that he might just
lay back down in bed and watch it some more. His thoughts draft to the
events of recent and before he knows it he is up and dressed and walking out
the door. He checks his missives and strolls around Arkane. One of his
stops is of course Zari's S. D. For a well deserved milk shake. After all
one does need to keep up his strength in this day and age.
A voice calls out to him to meet him in the place he showed it. It is a
secret yet not so secret place. When he goes there he sees Finneas. After
the greetings, Finneas mentions that the shadows have eyes. To which,
Kaladon invites Finneas to his house.
After the two get settled in, general conversation about their personal
lives follows. After sometime the conversation turns more serious. Finneas
relays to Kaladon what the meeting was about when they was conversating
before and he was called away. Kaladon knew that Finneas and Geirhart as
summoned by Faythe. Now Kaladon was to hear what the meeting was about. He
remembers telling Finneas to take detailed notes. And now he gets to hear
what was said.
His name is Yh'till. He is the caretaker of a city named Carcosa. It is
what rises outside of Arkane. It was mentioned that the city of Carcosa was
coming into this realm but faster then excepted. Due to the cult, and it
was unsafe for both cities. But Carcosa wants to be at peace with Arkane
and its coming here will not hurt Arkane or the surrounding areas. Carcosa
is a city that is suppose to have existed long ago but is someplace now.
Carcosa was a city of magic or so it is told. The name Prazhul came up and
something possibly about him being a Necromancer but it is hard to tell. It
is possible that Yh'till has the book and the cult has some missing papers
but more research into this needs to be done.
After that general conversation was had. One thing was mentioned was tomes.
Kaladon was drooling when he heard of these tomes. Finneas even offered to
take him to them. Kaladon didn't waste any time in getting his traveling
items together. Kaladon pulled out his traveling backpack and put in
rations of food, water, three legged stool, sleeping furs and anything else
he might need. He then grabbed his traveling cloak and walking staff and
was ready to be lead to this Monastery. After an overly long travel in the
jungle, Kaladon took the lead. He may have taken the long way around to it
but he did find it at last. After Finneas showed him where the tomes was
hidden, he set up his items and got to work reading the tomes. Finneas
excused himself but Kaladon barely noticed.
Kaladon wondered "Could this be what they was looking for? Or another dead
end?" It didn't matter to Kaladon because he wasn't going to let this
possible lead go to the waste side. He also relished in the fact of reading
old tomes that have not been read in probably over a century.
Writer: Leomire
Date Fri Dec 21 20:17:56 2018
To All Arkane Althainia Geirhart Finneas ( Imm RP Religion Xenophon Zandreya )
Subject The black Monolith - A New Hunt I
Leomire had just finished packing and was starting to step off for his
hunt. His hunt for his own answers. He had stepped away from the Arkane
tribe's hunt. It was their's and the chief had made it clear he was not
really looking for Leomire's help. Whether it was intentional or not,
Leomire had shrugged off that hunt. He had other duties.
First, his new home. The savanna he had been blessed to find near the
Althainia tribe. It was a gift from the Great Mother. Like one of the
sacred trees, vallenwood the furless called them, that tradition held only
grew where the Great Mother placed her hand upon this world.
His second duty was to look after the rest of the Great Mother's realm.
Ensure the balance of nature. Hunt down those that would upset that
balance. It was a task that often drew him far from the realm of the
furless for long periods of time, but it was his.
It was preparing for one of those long hunts, and the hunt for answers he
had prepared for now. His first stop was a place deep in the savanna that
was now his pridelands. It was a place of the spirits. It was there that
his hunt for answers and direction would take place.
Just as he was departing though, word got to him that Geirhart of the Arkane
tribe wished to speak with him.
He listened to Geirhart, the man had become Leomire's friend after All so he
deserved to be heard out at least before Leomire departed.
Leomire was surprised at the developments in the hunt for the cult that
stalked the Arkane, but it was no longer his problem. And, just as Leomire
was resigned to leave, Geirhart made him stop. It seems a few others had
come up with a plan. A hunt was being formed, and they wanted Leomire's
help. They wanted a hunter.
So, being asked again, Leomire said he would help his friend Geirhart and
the others that were part of this small party.
A few quick plans were made with Geirhart and Finneas, and as Leomire saw
it, they had two opportunities.
A quick hunt leaving in a few days. Try and catch their prey off guard. It
was a good tactic, if you had some idea what you were hunting was not to
dangerous. The safer bet, as Leomire saw it, was to wait. The signs
pointed to a few weeks delay providing the best opportunity for a safe and
successful hunt. Well, as safe as this prey was likely to make the hunt.
So, now Leomire prepared to depart deep into the savanna again. This time
to prepare for a hunt. A hunt that he may not return from.
Writer: Leomire
Date Fri Dec 21 20:45:13 2018
To All Arkane Althainia Geirhart Finneas ( Imm RP Religion Xenophon Zandreya )
Subject The black Monolith - A New Hunt II
Leomire had made good time. He found the place he had been searching for
early in the afternoon. A few hours earlier than he expected. The spirits
were strong here. The space between the real world and the spirit world was
thin, almost non-existent, here. This was the best place for what he had to
do. He had spent the rest of daylight gathering wood and preparing the
site.
As night fell, Leomire started the fire. It quickly grew high and wild.
The pile of wood was taller than Leomire, so there was plenty of energy here
now to direct his prayers to the spirits, and through them to the Great
Mother, Zandreya, and to his ancestors. The flames grew too twice the
height of the pile, Leomire wouldn't be surprised to hear the glow could at
least be seen in the stone camp of the Althainia tribe.
As the flames reached their peak, Leomire threw the bundle of sage and other
herbs into the fire as he was taught so long ago growing up on tropica.
He then drew the two long swords that hung at his side. First he drove the
tip of the sacred blade of his old pride, Sredreeowrrmgrauhrahrrdr or
Stormguard in the furless tongue, into the ground so that it stood, handle
in the air. Then he drove the tip of the blade he had had forged after the
death of his pride, Brrllahshraerhprhuhrrryhk or Blazefury in the furless
tongue, into the ground a pace from Stormguard. He then laid his bow on the
ground in front of both swords, no weapons were allowed in this ritual, but
removing them was part of the ritural.
He then picked up the old staff he walked around with, and held it aloft
over his head as he began to chant quietly. As his chant fell into a beat,
Leomire began his dance around the fire. He continued this dance around the
fire, his chant continuing the whole time, asking the spirits for their aid
on the hunt. Asking them to show him the trails not seen or smelled.
Asking them to keep him and his hunting party from notice of their prey.
The dance was the traditional dance All the hunters of his pride did before
they would start a great hunt in the savanna. The dance was as old as his
people.
Leomire changed it a bit this time, however. This prey was deadly.
Probably more so than any prey he had ever hunted, and in ways Leomire
likely could never imagine. So as the fire began to die down, Leomire added
his own twist. His chant fell into a prayer to his ancestors. Preparing
them for his arrival, and preparing his soul to find them and not remain
lost between worlds.
Using the last bits of light from the fire, Leomire turned to the paints he
had laid out. He first reapplied the symbols on his body that would draw
protective spirits to him and focus their power into the spells of armor,
shield, sanctuary, and other spells to aid and protect him in battle. He
then went to the special paint he had prepared. It was a swirl of black and
white. This he covered his face in. This, he had been taught, was his
death mask. It showed the world his soul was prepared for what may come,
what comes to all. It marked him as unafraid of death, for now Leomire knew
his soul would find peace with his ancestors.
He was now ready for the greatest hunt of his life.
Writer: Rasavadi
Date Fri Dec 21 20:49:37 2018
To Verminasia Shadow All Imm RP Cayenna Scorn
Subject Awakening
Rasavadi woke drenched in the sweat of fever dreams. No longer was he
bundled in a carpet outside of Skull Keep though, nor was he in the d'Aerthe
library, or Eclipse's outpost in New Thalos. Looking around for reference
he discovered he was in the Verminasian Stronghold, but not being tended by
the usual cleric who manned the apothecary. Sleeping in a spartan chair
nearby was Tamaska. The hours or days of worry evident upon her face.
"Awake I see, Highlord. " Came a confident, yet concerned, voice from the
shadows. Rasavadi could not determine the form of the stranger, but they
were dressed in cleric's garb and probably female.
"How long have I been out this time? " he questioned.
"Hrm, good question. All in all, probably a couple weeks. The troll was
unable to tell us how long it was before the demon brought you to him, nor
how long it took him to bring you home to us. "
"Last I remember was being rolled in my cloak outside Skull Keep. It was
probably quite entertaining. "
"It was I assure you. " Zerella chuckled. "This came for you both a bit
ago, but I did not wish to wake the Guardian. " She said handing a
parchment sealed with the mark of the Keeper. A glint off an archaic,
ancient signet ring momentarily blinded him.
"Nymaya, gone to find Narsh I assume. " Rasavadi surmised aloud while
opening it. "It is well you didn't, this comes as no real surprise. "
"No it is not."
Motioning to her ring Rasavadi questioned, "Still keeping tabs on things eh?
"
"Of course, a Keeper's duty never truely ends, and the Eclipse never dies.
" Motioning towards Tamaska she continued, "I was interested in your keeping
of the Guardian position began by Highlord DarkShade. Such seemed
unecessary to me, but I served in another time I suppose. "
"The position of Guardian was retained because there is a purpose to it even
if DarkShade missed it. He said sternly. "The Brotherhood part of the
Eclipse was forgotten, or at least paid lip service to, I wished to see it
return above All things." Seeing Tamaska stir in response to his commanding
tone he quieted down. "The Eclipse as you knew it, and I was raised upon,
are gone Keeper, and we will be better for it. The mistakes of our parents
and peers will be corrected. " He said whistfully at nearly a whisper.
"Speaking of which, why are we not still near Skull Keep? I know my
companion was to cosign me to the care of Dark Lord McCord. "
"You, as I understand things, were doing well until he tried to have you
brought into Skull Keep. Doing well until the wards put into place by the
Purists did their work at least. "
Grumbling slightly in understanding he started to get up from his cot,
gracefully like a drunken gully dwarf.
"Highlord you must rest! " Zerrella hissed.
"Help me to my feet, and get my polearm, or I will tear the walls down
trying. " Rasavadi dead panned. "Then you can explain to the Crown why
their remodeling was undone. "
"Bloody yaenni. " She cursed while handing over the polearm and helped him
to his feet. A quiet, but not quiet enough for yaenni ears, supressed,
snicker could be heard.
"Keep laughing Guardian, " he said in a poor attempt to be stern, "I'm sure
the Queen has some stables to be mucked out. "
Lending Rasavadi her arm she aided the cleric in getting him to his feet and
turned to Zerrella, "He never lets me have any fun. "
Smiling at the banter between the two Zerrella's face turned serious. "You
two will need to speak with the Crown soon. The Black Wind still blows, and
a voice from the tombs calls for the Highlord. "
Writer: Babooja
Date Sun Dec 23 09:18:54 2018
Writer: Babooja
Date Sun Dec 23 09:27:59 2018
Writer: Babooja
Date Sun Dec 23 09:48:32 2018
Writer: Babooja
Date Sun Dec 23 09:56:39 2018
Writer: Maithion
Date Wed Dec 26 02:08:53 2018
To All Fatale Xenophon ( Imm Rp Religion )
Subject An Overdue Hunt
The sound of fine arcanium being drawn along a whetstone filled the
temple of Fatale. Slow, precise, methodical strokes, too many to count then
an inspection of the dagger's edge before being housed back in the killer's
vest and another drawn. The process repeated.
Maithion's time sharpening and honing his instruments were not to center his
mind or being. His mind and being couldn't be centered. Some being he saw
from touching the spire in that wretched city that was being unearthed on
the continent of Arkane pierced his core. Every time he closed his eyes he
could see it, tentacles, a leering eye, watching the vampire's every move,
hearing every word spoken, making the ash-skinned elf fearful, and that fear
was turning in to anger.
He mentioned before to a few from Arkane that this cult, these people who
have been one step ahead the whole time needed to be found. He knew what to
look for, signs, yellow signs with design. Any yellow sign woul mean they
were around. Maithion found one, and his wife along with others took the
life of a huntress who belonged to the cult who were trying to speed the
arrival of Carcosa had a sign on her. Maithion saw one by the well in the
kingdom of Arkane, and was informed that the bank clerk had one, but was
being used to get on the inside by this plague of a cult.
He knew others did not understand what he had seen, or recently physically
felt. Some thought it was the work of the cult's magic, but he knew better.
He felt he was being hunted, something on a larger scale stalking the apex
predator. He felt what was seeing him had a connection to Carcosa.
Whatever this thing was, or connection to the ancient city did not want the
undead there. He was given the warning to stay away and his kind would be
left alone. Something was hiding there.
Words had not come from any in Arkane about finding cultists to Maithion's
ears, and he grew tired and restless. He would find them and he would get
answers. He would hunt them with Lagertha, he would hunt them alone if
needed. He promised Meki that torture would not be used, but Maithion was
being tortured in mind and body. Niceties were over, and he knew other ways
to get one to speak.
He finished the last blade of the many that layed in waiting in his vest to
be used and sheathed it, then rose from a pew in the shadows of Fatale's
temple and said a prayer in a whispered hush.
He would do what he did best, find and hunt prey.
Writer: Eilenstred
Date Sun Dec 30 22:33:38 2018
Writer: Kaladon
Date Mon Dec 31 12:10:37 2018
Writer: Kaladon
Date Mon Dec 31 12:19:10 2018
Writer: Paxx
Date Wed Jan 2 08:10:37 2019
Writer: Mercerion
Date Sat Jan 5 22:52:56 2019
Writer: Shaunna
Date Mon Jan 7 06:57:10 2019
To Nordmaar All Imm
Subject The Voyage Home
The voyage was slow and steady on the merchant ship, Sea Mage. While the
name of the vessel is nearly as old as time remembers, she doubts that there
is any piece of this ship from its maiden voyage. The crew of this merchant
ship has a harmonious movement as each member from deckhand to captain knows
the role to performed from completing this voyage many times over.
Such is the place she found herself now, on a merchant ship bound for her
home kingdom. She knows the reason for the summons and the need to abruptly
depart from her father's side, yet she had a pain of guilt as she boarded
the merchant ship and left her father in that foreign land. This is not to
say that she thought her father to be weak, but for as long as she was old
enough to sail, she had been at his side while he sailed from land to land
trading goods. The guilt was more that she would no longer have that time
with her father again.
Now, alone on the merchant ship with her thoughts, she contemplates what is
to come for it was her mother, the Queen, that summoned her. Her thoughts
wander back to the lessons that she struggled as a young child to learn from
the tutors her mother provided. During the seasons of the long nights, she
spent many hours near the hearth fires with her wax tablets and lesson
books. These lessons were designed to aid her as the daughter of the Queen,
yet as a child, she would have instead been doing something else on the
family estate such as riding her horse through the estates remote rough and
rocky terrain. What good those lessons did, she will soon learn.
Calls of "Land Ho!" followed by the bustle of the crew brings her out of her
thoughts. As the Sea Mage reaches the port, she gathers her belongings to
disembark and present herself to the Queen and the next adventure in her
young life.
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 7 13:22:51 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 7 17:45:10 2019
Writer: Mercerion
Date Tue Jan 8 04:33:07 2019
Writer: Scribpog
Date Tue Jan 8 14:55:03 2019
Writer: Scribpog
Date Tue Jan 8 14:58:00 2019
Writer: Scribpog
Date Tue Jan 8 14:59:28 2019
Writer: Scribpog
Date Tue Jan 8 22:14:06 2019
Writer: Geirhart
Date Wed Jan 9 19:12:54 2019
To Xenophon Faythe Finneas Kaladon Leomire All Imm RP
Subject Living with a Lich: Day 1
' Priest, I am awake! Get me out of this pouch! ' yelled the skull into
Geirhart's mind.
Geirhart rolled over in his bed hoping to get some sleep. He had been
working on his craft All day and his body was tired.
'Priest, do you sleep? Wake up or I swear I shall overflow your pockets
with ectoplasm! ' threatened the lich.
Geirhart yawned and responded, 'I am awake Master Prazhul, no need to ruin
my clothing. One moment. ' Walking across his small room, he took the
grinning skull out of an inner pocket.
Geirhart looked at the skull, with it's glowing eyes and small horns waiting
for it's next command.
'Alright, let me have a look around. I wish to see my new home. ' ordered
the ancient mage.
Geirhart lifted the skull and rotated it about, showing off his simple
lodging.
'Hmm, seems small, drab, and in need of repair. If I had a guess, this is a
room in an inn of some sort. Does the Church of Austinian not have lodgings
for their ranked priests? The chest I was trapped in for centuries seems
larger than this! ' chided the lich.
'Careful, I can put you right back! However, at the moment this inn suits
me. It is close to the temple, cheap, and doesn't pester me like an old
maid. ' said the priest.
'By the look of the window and your attire, it must be night. Take me out,
I wish to see the stars. '
Grumbling, Geirhart put on his heavier robes, rubbed his eyes and trudged
out into the night. It was a slightly cold evening but the stars shown
brightly and illuminated the sky.
'Show me the sky and each of the cardinal directions. I wish to get my
bearings. '
Stifling a yawn, the priest did as he was told wondering what the mage
wanted.
Priest! Where are the stars of the Gods? I see holes in the night where
their constellations would be! ' exclaimed the curious lich.
Geirhart began to retell the story of the God Wars and Malachive. His
recount following the God of Chaos' birth and the return of Drakkara.
'So.. Drakkara is Queen.. Well perhaps she needs a new God of Black Magic?
I am something of a master in magic.. ' mused the lich
'Careful, the last Necromancer who thought to take up her role was
dismembered and his living head placed on a monolith. Didn't end well. '
'I see, well she's probably a horrible person to work for anyway and I sense
my time to rest has come. I will refrain fron soiling your shoes tonight!
The grinning skull's eyes went dark and Geirhart put the skull gently back
in his robes. The sun began to rise so Geirhart stayed to watch it for a
moment before heading back up to his room. As he laid back down, the priest
had his first fear that perhaps releasing this Lich was not the best idea.
Writer: Kaladon
Date Wed Jan 9 20:21:59 2019
Writer: Scribpog
Date Wed Jan 9 22:33:36 2019
To All Julthax Fidlo imm rp Malachive Chaos
Subject Depression and the Blood Tree
Scribpog walked the halls of the warp slowly, each step heavy with
sadness and heartless movement. He walked past the lines of men who moved
about their ranks. In his mind they were angry with him, looking down upon
him, and casting him as a disappointment with the gift that was within his
hand.
He approached the bloodtree and his shadow casted out as his arm extended
and palm showed the large, faint beating heart. It was the one he never
thought he would offer to the Ivory tree, it was his own. Death consumed
him before he was cursed to walk again. He dug the organ from his own chest
and ravaged the corpse in his failure. His own blood covered his person
from head to toe. He was ashamed as he knelt and fed his heart to the
shambling tree. As he looked away and made he way out, he heard the sound
that he never wanted to hear again, the blood tree absorbing his own beating
heart. Never again would his heart be an offering. The dwarves would pay.
Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Jan 10 16:23:08 2019
To All Eclipse Rasavadi Tamaska Narsh ( Imm Admin Storyline )
Subject Lost City - Frayed Threads
The chair was old leather but comfortably worn in.
Its scent was familiar and that was welcome but the weighty subjects on her
mind All but obscured any luxury to be had there.
Her left elbow was couched on the padded arm and between her thumb and
forefinger she gripped the bridge of her nose, contemplating the stirrings
of a headache alongside the ache in the stub of her pinky finger.
Beyond the nearby window the clouds scudded quickly past the moons, veiling
the stars and whipping feather-light snow into a frenzy. It would be a full
blizzard soon that would immerse the entire countryside in the firm grip of
winter.
She closed her eyes briefly on a rise of strong, unpleasant emotion but to
the insistent flicker of the fireplace, she opened them again. Her gaze was
as glacial as the weather while she considered the flames, feeling the aged
old draw to the Song in the sinuous dance before her.
The years had not simply been unkind and she was, for lack of any better
term in the moment, at her limit. That was why she needed to try to find
Narsh, that was why she needed to grasp this thread and follow it. She'd
had to give up so much, she wasn't about to give up on one of her last
friends, though her hopes were not high.
Faith was in short supply, though the truth that hid within her was far more
insidious, but rather than dwell she rolled her right shoulder and let her
thoughts divert. The call to attend the ruins of Dae'Tok had gone out
again. The Highlord of Eclipse had only just returned from a taxing
journey, one she knew All too well, and though her wounds from the last bout
on the doorstep of Dae'Tok had All but healed, she was not enthused at the
idea of another journey there.
That Narsh had yet to return from that place had left her with a growing
sense of finality.
Unable to sit still any longer, aware that the weather wasn't about to get
any better, she grabbed up her already packed belongings and departed.
Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Jan 10 22:58:46 2019
Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Jan 10 23:20:19 2019
Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Jan 10 23:34:39 2019
Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Jan 10 23:39:47 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Fri Jan 11 08:54:36 2019
Writer: Telthian
Date Fri Jan 11 12:42:33 2019
To All ( imm religion necrucifer )
Subject Lost City - The Foundry - I
-*-
Days had turned to weeks which dragged onto months since the bulk of the
Knights and soldiers returned to their keeps or Verminasian lands, leaving a
modest force to man the frozen redoubt. Though much of its construction had
been complete, structures of wood and stone nestled between the battlements
of raised earth and ice provided little comfort.
Soldiers either become accustomed to hardship or they are not long for this
world.
The men and women comprising the Wardens at Eastdrift were a hard lot. Some
had served in the Marauder army under command of the former
king-turned-tactician, ably fulfilling their duty as the territories were
pacified. And again they shed blood when Raije's godly hosts stormed
Ironclad, decimating a third of Raije's armies before the Wargod ended the
battle with a personal display of might.
They were defeated, but how many could claim they brought a God to do
battle?
Now they held this stretch of frozen terrain. Pushing back roving packs of
the Ghul that ventured out from the ruin of the lost city. The wind cut
through these peaks, an embodiment of the cold bitterness felt within the
servants of Necrcucifer themselves. Turning to find some solace from the
wind, the warden spit a curse and turned from the rampart.
His heavy footfalls preceded him as he tread down the stair and into the
bailey below. A few paces and he stood shoulder to shoulder with comrades
he had fought and bled with over his years, having the good fortune to enter
into middle age together. Not All of their brothers and sisters were so
fortunate. The others raised their heads to turn their eyes from the flames
of the bonfire before nodding in stoic greeting.
Writer: Telthian
Date Fri Jan 11 12:47:53 2019
To All ( Imm religion Necrucifer )
Subject Lost City - The Foundry - II
The glow of the fire was a false promise of warmth in this frigid and
damned waste. Extending his hands closer to the flames did little more to
warm them. They were content to stand together in silence. All of them but
one, a younger man from the provinces.
Some little piece of land within Atslomme, he had said. The cold, the dark
days and nights, the skirmishes with ghul that probed at their defenses and
tested their discipline, All of it he could tolerate.
The man's question put an end to their silent vigil. 'How much longer can
it possibly be? What is he even looking for out there?' The words spilled
from the youngest amongst them, perhaps ill-advised, but belied an earnest
concern.
The veterans shared a look before paying their comrade's question any
response.
They knew the King. He was unassuming as a man, but they had fought beside
him, and witnessed for themselves the inhuman synthesis of resolve,
patience, and dispassionate brutality possessed only by monsters. The King
had pushed them hard in the campaigns, harder than their bodies knew they
could endure, and for it they were rewarded as victors.
Spitting into the fire, the old warden had little to say. The Priestking
never claimed to be much of a healer but when he took a spear to the gut it
was the king that saved him. Even visited him after, once.
But when Verminasia was challenged in the by the Del'Nichis it was the King
that fought for them in the arena, choosing to speak with the metallic voice
in his hand rather than from a pulpit. It wasn't until then, when
kingsblood pooled in the sand, that even those in Verminasia knew what the
King really was.
The question hung in the air frozen in place by the chill. Producing a
weathered flask, the old warden took a long pull, savering the rich burn of
the whisky on his palate before passing it to the boy from Atslomme.
'Reckon he's up there trying to find a way to keep us All from getting
butchered by the Witch, lad. An if th'King thinks something's out there in
the ruins to that end? Well, then that's where we'll be headed.'
-*-
Writer: Telthian
Date Fri Jan 11 12:51:36 2019
To All ( imm Religion Necrucifer )
Subject Lost City - The Foundry - III
There exists a fine line between consideration and hesitation, my child.
The former is wisdom. The latter is fear.
-*-
The cold was almost a bitter comfort in a world where everything else
had changed.
The wind whipped the loose unpacked snow back and forth as the gale twisted
around the formation of jagged rocks and ice descending down from Eastdrift
into the snowplain below. Icewall had grown no kinder in the months that
had passed.
Only a few souls cut their way along these trails each week, the scouts
performing little more than token patrols to conserve both strength and
resources. The going was slow, but, gradually the redoubt fell away off in
the distance, shrouded behind a curtain of white. Shouldering his supplies,
the old warden pulled the dense, thick fur mantle close about himself as he
approached the ruins of the foundry.
The low curtain walls had long since toppled in on themselves in areas,
producing a jagged and uneven image, like fingers jutting up from a palm,
the covenant's foundry itself cradled in a hollow at the center. Ahead, the
priest-king raised a hand, halting their march. Unease roiled the warden's
stomach, and he barked orders to the others to fan out and survey the site.
One by one the other guardians returned. After a few gruff exchanges he was
satisfied there was no sign of the Ghul and began to make temporary camp,
such as it was.
The dark priest would need time to breach the covenant's entrance, and the
old warden would make damn sure it went uninterrupted. He was not surprised
to find it was an unusual construction. No, not a simple gate or door.
Everything about the hinterlands of Dae'tok was unusual. Set within the
center of the crumbling courtyard lie what the King described as an iris -
though presently it resembled a coarse disc of frozen metal.
Taking his position at the flank, the old warden drew his sword, letting it
lie across his lap and watched as his King began the tedious task ahead.
Writer: Finneas
Date Sat Jan 12 18:08:22 2019
To All Geirhart Faythe Kaladon Leomire ( Xenophon RP )
Subject The Great Hunt: Five by Land and Five by Shadow (I)
As the sun's orange hue crept warmly over the far horizon, Finneas felt a
deep rumble in his gut that told him the time pursue the cult again was
drawing near. Having spent days with Kaladon pouring over the tomes brought
to them by the librarian they were certain that their leads to Serpantol,
however tenuous they appeared, were certain to bear some fruit.
Finneas and Kaladon rallied to Leomire in hopes that the spirits would share
the same sentiment that it was time to move. Leomire obliged that the day
was fortuitous and the three of them awaited Geirhart's awakeneing to join
them. As the hours passed, a cold chill crept along their spines and made
them increasingly more uneasy until it was clear the time was at hand.
Finneas contacted Faythe in the hopes of rounding out the party and the lady
obliged.
Swiftly, the group headed into the Shalonesti woods and cut their way
through the thick brush toward the ruins of Serpantol. The tomes had spoken
of Prazhul's imprisonment by the Order in times long past and it was written
that he was confined there even after death for fear of some continued
threat. As they approached the ruins of the city, Leomire took the lead to
search for clues. Fresh, familiar tracks confirmed to them that the cult
had indeed been through recently.
Writer: Finneas
Date Sat Jan 12 18:22:04 2019
To All Geirhart Faythe Kaladon Leomire ( Xenophon RP )
Subject The Great Hunt: Five by Land and Five by Shadow (II)
Having scavenged the ruins before, the tracks heading toward the keep
suggested to Finneas that an especially enchanted prison cell he knew of in
its dungeon was likely to hold what they sought. He took the lead and
guided the party toward the keep from the city. As they approached its
walls, the wind carried to them the cacophony of wailing spirits from
inside. Clearly something had riled them into severe agitation.
Finneas pressed on and drew the group down into the musty, grime-ridden
hallways that wind deep into the earth below the keep to its dungeon.
Drawing near the end of the architecture the group came upon a sight that
none of them had beheld before: a humming ward of mixed divinity and arcane
power hung infront of the cell door that Finneas had suspected. At the
ground infront of it lay the bubbling, charred remains of an unfortunate
soul that seemed to come upon it prior to them.
The magically inclined of the group began to work over the seal to
investigate and, by great stroke of luck, Geirhart awakened to join them at
the ruins. Finneas set out to retrieve Geirhart to the group and no sooner
had they arrived than the cult had chosen to make its presence known. The
shadows themselves in the corner of the room took form into a group of cult
members brandishing wicked scowls and blades alike.
Writer: Finneas
Date Sat Jan 12 18:47:28 2019
To All Geirhart Faythe Kaladon Leomire ( Xenophon RP )
Subject The Great Hunt: Five by Land and Five by Shadow (III)
As the party flung questions toward the group of cultists their inquiries
were met with nought but a cold voice that turned a pointed finger at Faythe
then Geirhart. "Kill the men. Take those two alive," he instructed his
fellows as the groups clashed against each other in a violent flurry of
blades and magic.
As the battle drew to a close, two cult members lay dead on the floor as the
rest of them fled back into the shadows in cowardice. Inspecting the bodies
gave a clear revelation to everyone that these cultists were Arkanian.
With the threat abated their attention was turned back to assess the ward.
Working around its edges to read the symbols the group began to hear muffled
noises from within the cell. Their questions, however, were only met with
knocks and taps in response. Recognizing that the symbol bore the mark of
Austinian, Geirhart beseeched the group that he should enter to determine
what was going on.
With no other option at hand he was reluctantly obliged. The others waited
in the dank hallway of the dungeon as Geirhart was bathed in light and
seemingly taken into the cell. Calling what he brought back with him
"unexpected" would be a grand understatement. A new charge was theirs it
seemed: to lay an ultimate judgement on Prazhul and his works.
Writer: Finneas
Date Sun Jan 13 07:22:27 2019
Writer: Finneas
Date Sun Jan 13 08:08:16 2019
Writer: Kaladon
Date Sun Jan 13 09:32:16 2019
Writer: Kaladon
Date Sun Jan 13 14:31:11 2019
To All Xenophon imm
Subject Power the Seductive Force II
As Kaladon sat in the chair of his makeshift office, he stared into the
fire in the fireplace. Everything that has happened seemed like another
life he has lead. Like he died and was brought back different yet the same
in some odd way. His upbringing in a purist cult. His banishment from
them. His living in the forest. His joining Althainia. His joining
Arkane. His joining Verminisa. His joining Arkane again. What he did in
each phase of his life, has left a mark on him. But each seems like a
chapter that is closes as a new chapter opens. But will he survive this?
His thoughts drift into the nothingness. He remembers in vivid color the
experience the Monolith showed him. It's power was old, ancient and
possibly predating the Gods? Or was it the same as the Gods? This is a
question that Kaladon can't answer but it haunts him.
Kaladon's mind seems to be struggling to grasp it. Memories of traveling to
Icewall on rumors of ancient runes or Tropica to study old wards dance
around his mind. All of his long years he has always strived to study magic
in any form. Always tried to understand it at it's most basic form. He has
always prized his knowledge of All things magic. Even if he hasn't studied
the books of other professions, he has tried to gain an understanding of it.
Even dreamed of blending them together.
He has even boasted that every part of his being is magical. If this was
the case then why was he rejected so? Or was this the answer he seeked but
yet can't understand? Was there still Beings or places that contained more
power then any, currently living, can understand? It has been a good long
time since Kaladon has seen any Angels or Balanxs or Demons. Have the Gods
withdrawn their own? Are the Gods having their own power struggle and we
are caught in the middle? Does this city have something to do with the
Gods?
As Kaladon stares at the fire a new thought creaps into his mind. This city
has been around for a very long time. But for some reason it went into
another realm. Could this city...... Hold the key to immorality? Could
this be the reason why the city does not like Vampires? For they are
immortal too? But there are similarities to vampires. To many questions
and not enough answers.
What if I touched it again? What would it show myself? I shall be better
prepared for it? Or will it crush myself? Or is this how it starts? One
with questions and seeks answers but gets caught up with the power? Could I
be following in the footsteps of those before myself? Or could I be
different? It did choose myself to show this too?
Kaladon stares at the fire letting his mind wonder.
Writer: Scribpog
Date Sun Jan 13 14:55:12 2019
Writer: Scribpog
Date Sun Jan 13 23:01:46 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 14 06:15:11 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 14 09:07:15 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 14 09:22:05 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 14 11:10:04 2019
Writer: Paxx
Date Mon Jan 14 11:25:54 2019
Writer: Iler'yx
Date Mon Jan 14 20:30:16 2019
Writer: Shuge
Date Mon Jan 14 20:57:35 2019
Writer: Telthian
Date Wed Jan 16 14:49:37 2019
To All Verminasia Shadow ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )
Subject An Abbott's Prayerbook - I
To truly embrace your purpose with the patience and sacrifice it demands
is to ensure your day will come.
These are grim times. Some say this is a test from God to strengthen our
spirit.
Perhaps this is true.
Or perhaps it is simply a pious lie meant to keep hope alive.
But hope fails. It is strength, it is will, and it is blood that change
this world.
We trusted that the world as it was would never change, but by our own hand.
This despondence is the legacy of that trust. Empires fall, and regimes
change.
Is it better to die a principled death than to make sure we are still
standing when the dust clears? If the truest test of our philosophy is
sacrifice, as Necrucifer spoke, then is death not the option for us?
Or do we fight the long war, suffer the humiliation of defeat and cover
ourselves in cowardice, enslave ourselves to the whims of the disorganized
mess that is the Ebon Tower? The very Tower that TURNED ON US in the battle
leading to Necrucifers death?
And to what end? Does Drakkara now seek a world of Order?
At the height of our power we were betrayed and cast out by our kin.
Bodrum. Omngoten. Boof. Zola - these are names I curse. It is this
hatred that has sustained me through these months. I tend it with
bitterness. I nurture it with a cold determination and patience.
We who secured the shards and led the Darkness until we were betrayed. A
thousand eggs spent, only to buy my Master a death at the hands of his Wife.
The bitter irony. If power alone was paramount then we would have served
Drakkara already. The Darkness is weaker for the loss of Mencius and you,
my Master, and they celebrate it, the fools.
They doubt You. They believe you claimed by death, but you are its Master -
its very Creator.
There will be no compromise. There will be no capitulation. There will be
no false unity.
And so we will fight the long war on our own terms, and in pursuit of your
Return. They will call us mad. They will call us traitors. They will call
us fools.
But in the end, they will meet your judgement.
Consume my soul, Master. Leave nothing but your Will.
Writer: Telthian
Date Wed Jan 16 14:52:41 2019
To All Verminasia Shadow ( imm Religion Necrucifer )
Subject An Abbott's Prayerbook - II
A black sun rises above the multitude of nations as a battalion of
cavalry race across the plains.
Some fall, and are thrown from the saddle. They are trampled and left
behind, and the other riders do not look back.
Bloodied and battle scarred they continue to gallop for their lives. Their
chargers hearts thunder in their chests, their mouths foam, and their lungs
burn as they run at a speed previously unthinkable.
Far ahead on the horizon, the cliffs fall away to the jagged shoreline
below. It is certain death, and yet they race towards it.
For behind them lies the searing black conflagration of reprisal and
judgment. Behind them lies the tortuous screams of giants and dragons
mightier than they might ever have been. Their life is forever snuffed out
and their souls are destroyed.
Everything they are and were is consumed in the Aphelion.
For they were false. Kings, lords, priests, soldiers, bakers, peasants.
They offered only lip service. They shared the tenets. They praised their
Gods. But they served themselves.
No power exists that might save them, for the White Throne is toppled, the
Usurper slain, and the scales of balance forever broken. It could be
dismissed as a fever dream, if not for the twisted faces of the damned,
piled high and cloaked in torment.
The winds of the Aphelion rip at the flesh of the steeds and their riders, a
piercing gale that plate and mail offer no solace against. With every
pounding hoofbeat, hellfire slowly blackens their flesh. Beneath their
helms their eyes burn and their lips crack.
They run for some time. As their horses die the mortals continue on foot,
limping on battered joints. Some cannot continue on, their feet black and
broken and they give in to their despair and madness.
The few that make it to the coastline plummet to their death, dashed upon
the rocks that meet the sea. Indeed, they die. But their souls are not
spared. The crests of allegiance that adorn their miserable bodies mean
nothing.
They meet judgment within the Aphelion and their souls become His.
One by one they die, leaving no bones, no remains. They who were impure:
the cultists, the traitors, the defiant, and the false are forever
forgotten. Like a leaf in an icy world, their memories fade to nothing.
And those who kneel, those who bowed their heads and begged for mercy and
atonement, those who wept and knew the truth - that they were not worthy -
they are spared. They behold the infinite malignity of the past, huddled
together with praise on their lips as Necrucifer returns to Algoron.
Writer: Symantha
Date Wed Jan 16 17:04:21 2019
To All Shadow Verminasia Eclipse ( Necrucifer Imm Ampersand RP )
Subject Small Sacrifices
The night wore on, ebbing into day.
The acolytes moved about the cathedral, the pilgrims came to leave offerings
and prayers. She remained where she was.
Blood dripped with a slow but steady cadence in the cavernous sanctum.
Years ago, during the deepest and darkest days of the Exile, she had been
late to a mass. It had been a small gathering, one she had striven
personally to pull together as a Supplicant of the Templar. Her brother had
drawn his sword when it ended and, in recognition of her error, had bade her
lift her palms upward.
The blade promptly sliced through her flesh and with remorselessness, she
had been ordered to stand before Necrucifer's altar and bleed.
Penance for her failure. Penance for All of them.
For that night and half a day, she bled for her sin and though she knew it
was a small enough gesture in the moment now - she again let her blood flow
on His altar.
She had learned. The Elders, the Dark Lord, and the Council that had
managed to hold on through those terrible days had taught her humility.
Sacrifice. Submission. Penance.
They had All been punished together for hubris, they were All required to
seek redemption as such.
Pain, nausea, the strain of ligaments and muscles, the ache and stiffness of
limbs held unmoving assailed her but it was nothing next to the wrath of the
zeal that kindled inside.
The funnels along the top of the black altar were red, her palms turned down
over each side and her haggard appearance bent over it with reverence while
she alternated between spoken and whispered prayer.
It had given her time and focus though. Time to think and focus toward the
tasks at hand. It wouldn't change what had come to pass but it served to
remind her that she was a servant of the Master of Darkness.
To whatever end, she was His servant.
Writer: Vincent
Date Wed Jan 16 20:38:39 2019
To All Ithelim Shadow Verminasia Eclipse ( Necrucifer Imm Ampersand Cayenna RP )
Subject The Nullstone: The Ritual of Sight Pt. 1
The Ritual of Sight.
For lack of a better name, the gruesome rite ahead of Ithelim Nyiodail was
but an archaic means of scrying. Though finite, the prime material plane of
Algoron was still vast. They may as well have been searching for a
particular single grain of sand within the desert. They had failed to find
the Half-Elf through traditional methods.
Seeing orbs, pools, mirrors and eyes littered the Infernal Planes, though
they were hardly available to all. As a horse was above the means of the
average peasant, these enchanted items were beyond the reach of most lesser
denizens of the realm. Devoid of such a device, the task became much like
traveling on foot: largely possible, but far more hazardous and much less
convenient.
A ritual born of ambition and dark magic, for Xaran'xaxes it was a staple
tool in his arsenal. Its applications were manifold to the inventive mind,
examples of such feats stories unto themselves. In this scenario, the rite
would be called upon to fulfill its basest function: to seek. The spell
would remain unbroken until the caster laid eyes upon their prey or their
prey was destroyed, be it by death or consumption.
The exchange for these heightened senses was a price of eyes, soil, and
blood. Fortuitously few of the ingredients, if any in this mortal's case,
came at the practitioner's personal expense. Untested on the Human
populace, Ithelim instead risked death, or worse, loss of sanity.
Specifically, the concoction called for the following: the eyes of a
creature the same species as the seer-focus, Abyssal soil, and demon's
blood, mashed and boiled under the breath of an arcane verse.
The Shadow Knight Zayk Atennim, then Chancellor of the Keep, had volunteered
to gather the soil. The fiendish instructor had reasoned that Hell would be
an ideal place to collect it. Abyssal debris regularly found its way into
the Nine Hells by way of demonic invasions against the lawful devils.
Though the knight would need to descend to it's lowest levels to find his
prize, by comparison to the rest of the Dark planes it was a relatively safe
venture. The man had weathered worse storms.
To capture or summon a lesser demon would undoubtedly attract the attention
of others nearby, an observation which if investigated could potentially
escalate in importance until it reached the ears of the newly crowned Dark
Lady. It was too great a risk to acquire the reagent. Despite the
restraints of his flesh-and-bone tether to Algoron, the archfiend retained a
measure of his unholy power. He believed his fuel, the mortal blood he had
regularly siphoned and suffused with his dark essence, would have to
suffice.
The eyes would need to be harvested from still-living beings and used before
their "donors" expired. Due to the half-breed's muddled ancestry, they
would require those from a Human, a pure-blooded Elf, and another
intermingled offspring of one such a union. At the shadow mage's behest to
hear as well as see, their ears were also required. Though others were able
and willing, Master Nyiodail proferred himself for the task.
Writer: Vincent
Date Wed Jan 16 20:40:23 2019
To All Ithelim Shadow Verminasia Eclipse ( Necrucifer Imm Ampersand Cayenna RP )
Subject The Nullstone: The Ritual of Sight Pt. 2
From the eve of his arrival, the archfiend had tested the faith and
resolve of his creator's mortal servants. With few exceptions, no question
or answer, statement made, or favor asked was spoken with singular intent.
The fiend was always prying beneath the bezel, analyzing and deconstructing
the mechanisms which made these mortals "tick." Now came Ithelim's time.
The Master of the Rose usually presented with a jovial and sarcastic
demeanor. On the surface he was thoughtful and kind, often times immature,
yet always possessed of unfaltering confidence. This, of course, was a
mask. A ruse employed by the keeper of Storm Keep's intelligence to disarm
the common populace during the performance of his regular duties. One that
was elaborate, well crafted, and adept at concealing his dark and ambitious
nature, but a mask nonetheless.
Like a blacksmith appraising a freshly forged and sharpened sword, the demon
knew this instrument of Evil possessed a keen cutting edge. Of equal
importance, the blade was flexible. He'd not have attained his station
otherwise. What the demon truly held on trial at this time was the blade's
durability.
On whether Ithelim was capable of inflicting such savagery unto his fellow
mortals, Xaran'xaxes had no doubt. The knight would not so easily
disappoint his Dark Master, but would the acts required to obtain these
necessary ingredients leave the metal chipped or would he return fully
intact?
{-
Several days later the knights had returned to Storm Keep. Once gathered
within the central chamber, a stained bag landed at the feet of Vincent de
Vere, casually tossed over by the Master of the Rose.
"Happy Gift Day."
The man's face answered the demon with a smile and the demon smiled back.
It was that time of the year. Ithelim appeared without guilt, his mask
undamaged and unchanged. Yet even for that brief second, as he peered into
the mortal's eyes Xaran'xaxes noted change. The roots of Darkness bore ever
deeper into his soul. He had grown closer to God.
Writer: Vincent
Date Wed Jan 16 20:44:51 2019
To All Ithelim Shadow Verminasia Eclipse ( Necrucifer Imm Ampersand Cayenna RP )
Subject The Nullstone: The Ritual of Sight Pt. 3
Danu mixh visus utra ispektu
Danu mixh canetis utra auxidus
Okulis qiua serspixio
Oribus qiua auxio
Haecc lazgior Imperium Tenebrous
Praevixx mixh qiua praexa quoerer.
"Marron Trent."
Words chanted from the mouths of demons and devils throughout the Abyss and
Nine Hells now echoed throughout the marbled halls of Storm Keep from the
lips of a mortal man. While Ithelim recited the spell, Xaran'xaxes prepared
the ingredients.
Through de Vere's hands the demon crushed the eyes and macerated the ears.
Into the cauldron he dumped the unholy soil, kneading the aforementioned
into it to form a vile mash. In one smooth motion, he wiped the remnants
from his hands against the lip of the cauldron, produced an obsidian knife
from his belt, scraped the cleaned mash from the cauldron lip with the
blade's dull side, and flicked it back in with the rest. With that same
knife, he slit his wrist and poured a measure of his dark essence into the
crucible.
Once the mixture had boiled and the resulting brew cooled, the shadow mage
harvested it into a gourd which he examined tentatively. Taking a whiff of
it, his bowels lurched and further urged him not to imbibe the contents
within.
"Can we add some flavoring to make it more palatable?" Ithelim half-joked.
"No," Xaran'xaxes replied, "but you may chase away the taste afterwards if
you so desire."
The Master of the Rose shrugged and, after a brief moment of consideration,
raised the gourd in toast before consuming its contents. To the mortal's
credit, he seemed to stomach it well. There came a silent pause, All eyes
gathered watching Ithelim with anxious anticipation.
"I don't think i-" he said, breaking the silence.
The knight's mouth remained open as if about to continue, but produced only
a choking noise accompanied by a face contorted in agony. The gourd fell
from his hand as he braced his stomach and fell to his knees. Soon after he
clutched his head, his stifled gasps replaced with pained groans exhaled
through teeth clenched shut as tightly as his eyes.
Concerned, Symantha started to step forward. De Vere extended an arm to
halt her advance, despite the scene of alarm unfolding before them. "It
will pass," he reassured her. She had grown to trust this proclaimed
creature of God enough to not intervene.
For a moment, as the mortal before him writhed in agony, the archfiend
wandered if Ithelim would survive the ordeal.
Writer: Vincent
Date Wed Jan 16 20:53:09 2019
To All Ithelim Shadow Verminasia Eclipse ( Necrucifer Imm Ampersand Cayenna RP )
Subject The Nullstone: The Ritual of Sight Pt. 4
"Ithelim. What do you see?"
At last the storm settled and Ithelim spoke, albeit in hushed whispers.
"Ugh... I'm in a bar.. Tavern.. Thing. It's loud, but not really too
much. Everyone's... There's a large fire.. Roaring... Door opened and
...Snow. There's snow."
"Would that it gave you omniscience as well..." Xaran'xaxes quipped at the
vague answer before continuing, "There are countless such places across
Algoron... Can you discern anything? A language. An accent. A dialect."
"Shhh.. I'm.. Getting used to it... " Ithelim wheezed, briefly breaking
a hand's clutch from his forehead to shoo at the demon's inquiries.
"It's... Nordish. I know this bar now. It's the Viking's Tavern.
He's waiting... Tapping his fingers... There's a drink in front of him but
he's not drinking it. He's waiting on someone. "
A pause. A curiosity-spurned tilt of the mage's head.
"Someone is coming towards him.... They sat down. I can't see inside their
cowl... They're talking about the heirloom.
They're... Planning an expedition north into the mountains. Won't say
what's there...
He pulled out the heirloom to show to the man. Yes, a definite mans
voice... He's urged to put it away. The cowl lit up... It's an ugly man..
Scarred up and down both sides of his face. The other man does... He told
him to put it away rather hastily.
The man is leaving now... They depart in the morning. "
"And Trent?"
"He's just... "
Ithelim jerked violently and fell to his side, grabbing his throat and
gasping, eyes wild and open. The knight was quick to regain his composure,
though bewilderment lingered in his eyes.
"They killed him," Ithelim concluded.
"WHAT?!" Xaran'xaxes erupted with rarely displayed rage. All this effort,
only to have the stone change hands. They no longer had a name to place to
the bearer's face. The ritual would not work without one.
"As the scarred man was turning away... Hands grabbed him, took the
nullstone and slit his throat." Ithelim rubbed at his neck again, "That...
Is such a weird feeling..." He was again himself.
The shadow mage rose to his feet, stumbled over towards and dunked his head
into the nearest fountain. Rising from the water, he wiped his face,
slicked back his hair, and exhaled a breath of relief. The fiend had
likewise cooled, marked by de Vere's regained composure.
Who were these others that knew of the nullstone? Did they truly know its
potential value, or had they other reasons for wanting it? Of greatest
importance, where were they taking it? These questions and more filled the
air and mind alike. As Ithelim recouped, they would deliberate the
possibilities and plan their next steps.
Writer: Thaydius
Date Wed Jan 16 22:25:19 2019
To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )
Subject Conclusions
A delicate speck of light set within his vast palm produced enough
radiant energy to sanctify the entire glade around him. For whatever
reason, its existence eluded the young druid. She was a willowy thing,
young and full of life, who had a white rune in the vague shape of a hand
displayed over her cloth-stitched gloves. Even though he was sitting, she
wasn't tall enough to meet his shoulders, and she asked him the same
question she had been asking for a while.
When are you going back?
Thaydius smiled brightly at the meek elf before his attention turned to the
speck of essence that danced between his stretched fingers. He had found
the effervescent energy days ago and contemplated on it in silence. While
he had kept away from the happenings of Algoron at large, he wasn't entirely
unaware of its trajectory. Drakkara's threats weighed on his mind but
ultimately he concluded he was of no importance to the Goddess of Power. In
truth, he saw her reign as a necessity within the sphere of darkness. For
eons the world had been force fed the sentiment that All the children of
darkness were toiling to build a great throne upon which Necrucifer would
sit and validate their beliefs and their works. That finally they would be
right, and All the horrible things they had done to reach that point would
be justified, and those who had doubted or questioned them would be dealt
with.
His own mother had given her life too recently in the name of preventing the
suffering that Necrucifer brought upon the world. To some degree, one might
suggest that the rise of Drakkara in that vacuum might elicit another
grandiose response in the name of preserving that bright Light established
by the Goddess of Healing. But the children of Necrucifer had been taught
their whole life to do nothing but venerate "Him" and they would accept no
substitutions. They were not particularly well known for concessions or
pragmatics. Whatever the status of Necrucifer, who as Thaydius already knew
was beyond the simple concepts of life and death, a great rift had formed
between the children of darkness.
The Black Throne would always exist. Until the end of time, forces will
fight over who gets to sit upon it and who is right and who will succeed in
their conquest. All of it stood in contrast to what the White Moon was
building and working toward. Austinian didn't cherish some symbol of
status, he promoted the betterment of the lives of his children and in fact
the lives of All mortals. Even without him, his lessons and his power would
guide them and bring love and hope to the world around them. For the first
time since he had learned of his Mother's death, he had finally found that
spark of hope within him.
There's something I need to understand first. I don't think it will take me
long.
With a reassuring smile, he rose to his feet and closed his hand around the
powerful fragment of divine power. When his fingertips touched to the jut
of his thumb he felt a tremendous pulling sensation as the rifts of magic
grabbed him and transported him to a place south of Arkane. Once upon a
time, before everything was carved and given off to nobles, the holy lands
of Kadiya had existed nearby. But in a world of war and spectacle, of
arenas and treasure, he saw an old and historied place and watched the
fragment zip away over the top of the Church of Stars.
Thaydius followed, drifting effortlessly upon his endless magic over the
vast grounds that celebrated his family and spotted a sight that had slipped
his mind for years. It was the great vortex of holy power, where the Father
of Goodness himself had left the world after blessing the world with Love
itself. The little fragment deposited itself in the overly bright storm of
energy that would obliterate the wicked in an instant. An unfamiliar
sensation, hesitation, swept over Thaydius for just an instant.
Warily, he followed the floating light until the overwhelming light consumed
him.
Writer: Thaydius
Date Wed Jan 16 22:25:52 2019
To All ( Religion Imm Siccara )
Subject Conclusions II
Thaydius was far from a pure being such as a true divine god of Goodness
or even an angel brought about by the gods themselves. The overwhelming
radiance was only half of the issue in comparison to the raw force of energy
pushing down on him like a torrent of magic that started to stretch at his
own aura like rushing water. His heart, racing in his chest, tried to
attune itself to the bit of essence that had led him to this very place.
Hundreds of great battles against men and dragons had presented a challenge
to the center of his life and soul but nothing quite like this. But here,
in this radiant light, it made a sort of strange sense after being born in
light to maybe be unborn in that same energy.
He tried to endure the storm for several seconds, but it frantically tore
away the ice and frost over his body and made his cold presence
insignificant. He remembered ascension, perhaps too vividly, as a process
that had felt like it took years, as his mind and body expanded and
stretched, his bones and body breaking to be reformed. But now he was
simply being cleansed, by that powerful light, like weak dye upon a rock in
the pouring rain.
Why? Why this? Why now? More questions raced into his head but that was
the way of his life, so so many questions without answers. For so long, all
he had thought to do was ask whether he had changed the world or not. But
here, as his body was being ripped apart, he finally felt a bit of
inspiration. Maybe it didn't matter if he changed the world. Maybe the
world didn't need to change, or couldn't change even if it wanted to. Like
with the Black Throne, there were things in the world that neither he nor
Siccara nor anyone could change no matter how much power they had. But it
wasn't the world that needed to change it was just the people and people, he
truly believed, could always change.
He started to think of the many mortals he had met and closed his eyes,
which did nothing to mitigate the endless light as his vision stayed a pure
white. As he huddled, the little fragment of light that he had followed
sought him out and affixed itself to his crouched physique. Moments later,
a thousand other little bits of that essence descended from the storm itself
and pressed into his shivering flesh.
The warmth of the radiant light started to dull out of his senses. For a
moment, he considered it might just be like a numbness from some sort of
excess stimulation. When he opened his eyes to try to make sense of the
change in his situation, he saw through the light and out beyond the clouds
and then past the moons unto the end of the stars. After a few silent
moments he stood unopposed by the magical onslaught and looked outward to
the White Moon. With unknown speed and force, he took flight and zipped
like a streak of light across the sky and outward, leaving a white trail
over Arkane for no more than a few moments.
Writer: Nimiane
Date Thu Jan 17 06:53:07 2019
Writer: Nimiane
Date Thu Jan 17 06:53:24 2019
Writer: Nimiane
Date Thu Jan 17 06:53:37 2019
Writer: Nimiane
Date Thu Jan 17 06:53:43 2019
Writer: Nimiane
Date Thu Jan 17 06:53:49 2019
Writer: Nimiane
Date Thu Jan 17 06:53:55 2019
Writer: Zola
Date Thu Jan 17 18:43:57 2019
To All Arkane Bloodlust Black_Robes Immortals Fatale Rhien
Subject X Dark Seas - Fruitless X
As ordered by the King and Queen of Arkane, the Silverwind was taken out
for a number of excursions into the ocean, in order to investigate the
reports of monsters and underwater quakes.
Two such Privateers, off shift and relaxing, struck up a conversation as the
sun continued to set on the horizon.
"Starting to weird me out, mate."
"I know. Bad time to be setting out. Dark clouds in the skies, the seas
restless," the other one replied."
"And did you hear the mission? We're to find out what's causing it all.
Could be dangerous. I got youngin's I need to be getting back to, they
won't appreciate it if their pa is eaten by some sea monster. "
"Talkin' 'bout monsters is dangerous, " he said, casting a look around as
the skies continued to darken. "'specially with what I've been hearin'
about the commander an' all. "
The first sailor looked up a that, surprised at the sudden turn in
conversation. "What're you talkin' about? " he asked. "Don't get a much
straighter shooter than Captain Finneas. "
"Not him, " the other said, casting a glance up at the wheel, where the good
Captain was over seeing ship operations. "He ain't leadin' this mission.
He's answerin' to someone else. And whoever it is... Never comes out of
their cabin. Not durin' the day. "
The two of them shared a look then, and at once glanced westwards. Where a
thin sliver of red marked the departure of the sun. As the old saying went:
red sky at night, sailors delight. But neither of them felt very reassured
by this. And they felt even less comfortable when the door to the Captains
Quarters opened and a shadowy figure emerged.
Arkane's Admiral.
Zola.
Sweeping past the crew, most of whom were veterans and thus ignored him, he
made his way to the bow, peering out at the dark ocean view. By now, they
were nearing Baaren Gaer, where the first reports had come in of undersea
attacks. It was well below the surface of the water, but there was still a
chance the Silverwind would be able to find something to report on.
Thus far, the Privateers have found no direct evidence of anything, though
the popular theory we are coming to is that our enemy may lie beneath the
ocean, instead of above the waves.
For that, they would need a way to get a closer look.
Writer: Zola
Date Thu Jan 17 18:47:38 2019
To All Arkane Bloodlust Black_Robes Immortals Fatale Rhien
Subject X Dark Seas - Submersible X
When the Silverwind returned to dry dock a week later, most of the crew
was relieved to have found nothing in their search of Algoron's oceans. Not
a great sea beast with a multitude of eyes, or else signs of upheaval or
destruction. Everything seemed to be as it had always been. Wind, water,
salt, and sea life.
The Admiral was less than pleased.
Frustrated, Zola disembarked before the Silverwind had even docked, vaunting
over the side of the ship to land on the docks, strolling across them
without even pausing. Sailors working to tether the ship stumbled out of
his way as he swept past them with an ominous hollow breathing.
Nothing could be found above the waves, so they needed to search beneath.
Trusting the Captain Finneas to make the appropriate report to the King and
Queen (and now Marshall, he assumed), he made his way elsewhere in order to
continue his work.
Moving underneath one of the Arkanian piers, Zola sent out the appropriate
summons, then waited. Night turned to day turned back to night, All while
he waited in the shadows of the pier. Finally, as the sun set on the
horizon, a hideous sight came into being, as something stumbled out of the
surf and onto the cold, wet rocks. Something that might once have been
human, but not was a hollow parody of its old life.
Flesh clung to his bones in blue-tinged clumps, exposing organs and muscles
in places where decay had set in. Both eyes were hollow, and his hair clung
to his hair as limp as seaweed.
Not your typical undead, this ocean dweller was a rare type of undead called
a Sea Zombie. Possessing a mean intelligence and a hatred of sailors, they
usually hung out near reefs and other perilous locations to attack them.
The Admiral was in no danger, however. This was what he had summoned.
"You know what I intend for you? " Zola inquired.
The drowned one nodded, water spilling from his blackened lips. His task
was simple enough. To scout out and report back to Zola what he would find
beneath the water. The summoning spell had conveyed his purpose to him, and
they now shared a tenuous link. Zola would know what he knew, or learned
of.
"Then take a walk, " Zola commanded ominously. "And show me what is out
there beneath the waves."
The Sea Zombie nodded again numbly, stumbling back into the waves and
submerging beneath them as it walked out further. Without a need for air in
its necrotic lungs, it would never be able to swim, but it would scour every
inch of the deep beneath the waves until it found what it was looking for.
Or was destroyed. But it was expendable, and Zola paid its safety no
further mind.
He needed answers. The attack on Baaren Gaer was no coincidence, nor was
the Aboleths who'd been involved with the amulets. If this was indeed tied
to the Monoliths, it was a danger to Arkane. While not frightened by the
prospect of danger, Zola intended to be ready for it. For that, he needed
information.
Soon he would have it.
Writer: Finneas
Date Fri Jan 18 17:31:05 2019
To All Imm RP
Subject Elves Adrift at Sea
Perturbed by the recent events with the tremors and now more spires
rising across the continents, Finneas took to the seas to scour for signs of
trouble. His voyage with Admiral Zola around the inner waters some days
before had drawn no new information but the events gnawed at his thoughts.
The hours at sea on dolphinback began to cause his thighs to ache and toes
to numb in the cold, harsh waters. Seeking a respite on the shores of
Tropica he warmed his face with the beaming of the sun as his eyes fell
across the horizon.
'Might as well check on the sea elves since I'm here, ' Finneas thought to
himself as he whistled for his dolphin. Swiftly, they cut through the
waters toward the surface above the city and just as swiftly two objects
came into view on approach. Bodies. Mangled and bobbing in the waves as he
arrived. He lashed them with a rope and towed them back to Arkane to notify
the others.
Writer: Kaladon
Date Sat Jan 19 11:00:26 2019
To All imm Xenophon Cayenna imm
Subject Quest for Knowledge (Fight)
As Kaladon looked down at the list he thought "What is it with
necromancers getting their animated heads place on sticks?" He sighed as he
looks over the list. The events of the evening was wearing on him.
Fighting through the Great Library of History to let Finneas map the area.
The group was large but as the evening drew on it shrank. The hour was late
and the three surviving members was Faythe, Finneas and himself. Golem
after golem assaulted them, but they beat them back. After what seems like
an enternality, Finneas finally mapped enough of the Library that they
started finding new rooms. One lead to the Golem that carried the core.
Emotions and spells ran rapid. That poor golem did not know what hit it.
They walked in, blood covered and golem parts clinging to them, it attacked.
The golem was laughing at them, his core was glowing. It pounded on Finneas
but Finneas expertly dodged and parried the attacks. Kaladon raised his
hand and with the power of the Red Moon stripes its protective spells. Then
he releases volleys of acid blast at it. Faythe swinging her axe also cast
her mentalist spells which reduced the golem to a weeping puddle of goo.
Finneas was attacking with his double laywer's teeth started to strip away
flash and muscle.
It was not anytime before the golem was gasping its last breath. Finneas
yelled out for the group not to sacrifice the corpse to the Gods but it was
to late. Kaladon had already done it. Kaladon smirks as he hands over the
core. Kaladon explains that he is use to checking the corpses because of
his ball of light.
They tried to leave but the magic in the library prevents them. They meet
twin golems and Kaladon lights them up with chain lighting as Finneas's
sanctuary spell stops working. After that fight they laugh and joke that,
that fight was harder then the one before.
Kaladon uses one of his warpstones and cast nexus and they exit and go their
seperate ways. Kaladon continues to search for the missing components on
the list as the others slumber. After some time has past he walks back to
Arkane, looking at the stairway from the Archway. He shakes his head. He
walks into the throne room and looks for the King. Exaustion settles in and
he stumbles back and falls into the King's throne. Sleep takes him quickly.
Writer: Geirhart
Date Sat Jan 19 21:56:14 2019
To All Kingdom Clan Finneas Leomire Faythe Xenophon Imm
Subject Living with a Lich: Day 15
The knuckles on the old man's hands were sore from his long day of
writing. So many questions from the Empress, to Carcosa, to other kingdom
business had left Geirhart at his desk most of the day. The activities and
duties had worn the old man thin as had his new charge. His final writings
of the day were however his most important.
'Priest, what are you writing over there? I can't see from this angle. Is
it about how helpful I have been? ' asked the Lich whose skull was now
infused upon a gilded staff.
'No, Prazhul. It is a sermon I am writing. ' responded the priest.
'Boring! You should be writing about our adventures. '
'It is a sermon on power and it's purpose. '
'Only slightly less boring. Also, you have a wizard of immense power right
here! I should be a part of your sermon! '
'Oh and what does power mean to a skull with an over amplified sense of
importance? '
'I will disregard your insult for now, priest. Power is a tool to reach
unimaginable heights! Look at me, I have crossed planes, found immortality,
and can vaporize a cult from miles away. That option remains on the table
by the way.
'And in your pursuit of this tool, you have murdered, corrupted your
prodgeny, and perhaps fueled the destruction of our world. '
'Eggs have to be broken to be scrambled, priest. If mortals didn't play
with fire we wouldn't have many things we rely on today. '
'Power itself is not wrong. A despot may use their power to keep a kingdom
under their thumb but a kind ruler may use that power to help their
citizens. The problem with power is the corruptive nature of it. People
believe their power grants them a sense of importance that puts them above
others. A good ruler may, in seeking to help her people be more virtuous,
outlaw certain practices or force her people to believe as she in order to
save them. A mage may sacrifice a cult without putting them to trial for
their crimes and offering them a chance to repent. '
'Hmrph, well my way gets results. Restraining yourself may cost lives or
more! '
'And that is the difference, good knows that power is a responsibility and
that its use has consequences. We must take All of it into consideration.
Evil will not, they will wield it as a instrument without caring whom it
harms. '
'Well, I have a powerful spell to prepare in order to save lives! You enjoy
writing your sermon which may only be heard because I saved their ears from
melting off. ' and with that, the flames in the skull's eye sockets went
dark
Geirhart chuckled and turned back to his parchment.
'I shall send word when I return from Arkane. Kiss my grandchildren for me. I love you.
Your father.'
Writer: Scribpog
Date Sun Jan 20 11:09:22 2019
To All Erebaal Geirhart imm rp Malachive
Subject Preperations of sacrifice
Scribpog stood amidst the grouping of corrupted that surrounded him. His
nude form showed between each as they handed him his battle armor. Each
piece shined, lacquered with blood and flesh stains. Large dents covered
the dulled studs as the armor was placed upon his form, each piece fitting
with perfection, as if the armor was made for the massive bugbear.
As his armor fell into place, Scribpog nudged the grouping back with subtle
hand gestures. The men stepped back, and listened as the bugbear spoke.
Each word, nothing more than broken commen, nearly impossible to understand
but the formation took it in as power. They were All in awe of who stood
before them, the bugbear who had become known as a Warbeast by their own
Wordbearer. The bugbear barked orders of the coming battle, the necessity
of slaughter and the death of a man in yellow. His life belonged to the
Warp and none would come between their goal.
As Scribpog's words came to a close, he gestured his arms out to his sides
and raised them, causing the gathering around him to whoop and hollar in
excitement, at the thought of the deaths and destruction that would come on
this day. It was an end to the chains of the gods and a beginning that
Erebaal had promised.
Scribpog stepped back and left through a corridor, making his way toward the
stables to fetch his trusted fish-horse. His thoughts raced as a grim smile
trenched across his face. Erebaal was proud enough of the bugbear that he
was given command of the upcoming battle and there would be blood in his
name. The Blood Tree would have its blood this eve.
Writer: Faythe
Date Sun Jan 20 11:55:30 2019
To All ( Xenophon RP Imm )
Subject Musings...
The amulet remained as cold as death, and the Caretaker's voice had been
absent for so long now. She worried that they might have gotten to him, the
torn sleeve found in the Garden was clue enough that he had been there, the
blood and the upturn earth... The signs of a fight, meant the cultist had
been after him... And the monolith had changed after that, the tremors that
shook every continent and the sea, the new structures, they All happened
after.
She visited each structure, shaking her head as she studied them, frowning.
Too fast... Too soon, this wasn't what the Caretaker had wanted, at least
she didn't think it was, it wasn't what they had spoken of so long ago.
People weren't supposed to worship the monolith, they weren't supposed to
interfere, and now... They had and things were moving out of control.
What was going to happen now? Could they find Yh'till? Could they stop the
Cultist?
It felt as if time was running out and soon... They would know.
Writer: Mercerion
Date Mon Jan 21 03:40:37 2019
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