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Player Written Story Note Archive

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

Listed By Author Name

Bitter Fruits 1/2
Bitter Fruits 2/2
Zandreya's War: Extinguishing the Balance
The Mirrors
Watering plants and plans.
Song: Devion Deal
The Infinite Night
Musing in the Mirror
Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 1
Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 2
Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 3
Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 4
*The Basic Witch*
{nThe Last Baol: "Planting Day"
The Bramble, the Vine and the Mother
Reflections of Valor
Kender MAMA 1/2
Kender MAMA 2/2
Mirror Prayer, Temple of Nadrik, Gareth Keep
Reflections of Hope
Apotheosis
Self Sacrifice (1 of more than one)
Fueling the Dark Tide 1/2
Fueling the Dark Tide 2/2
{uThe Tide Rises - XXXI
Accompanying The Rip Party
The Tide Goes Out 1/2
The Tide Goes Out 2/2
Rebuilding and Such Black Robe Matters.
My sword, sweet hum it made.
All the Pieces 1/?
All the Pieces 2/3
All the Pieces 3/3
Only Hair
Location - Secret Entrance, Rip, Sand Sea of Kabir Abyad
Rising Tides and Different Days
Whistles and Fireplaces
Be Blessed!
Darker Tides - the empty hourglass
Darker Tides - the empty hourglass II
Affairs in order
Rebuilding and Such Black Robe Matters (POV Epilogue)
A Different Day XVII
Song for the gods of darkness
Self Sacrifice (Two of more than 2)
Quick Trip Home
Mirrors, Reflections and Lofty Goals (Part 1)
Mirrors, Reflections and Lofty Goals (Part 2)
Mirrors, Reflections and Lofty Goals (Part 3)
Golden Reflection
Zandreya's War: The Elves Have Landed
Memoirs of a Masked Man: Vol I - Into the Abyss: X
A Shot In The Dark: Part Six
Self Sacrifice (3 of more than thrice)
Foundations To Build On: Part One
Foundations To Build On: Part Two
The Days After I
My sword, sweet hum it made.
Beer, friends and bye's.
Golden Reflection (True) I
Golden Reflection (True) II
Golden Reflection (True) III
The Hanged Fool
A Day To Frolick
The Child of Light
The Angry Chef
Who's Your.....(April Fools Competition Entry)
Fried Beard
Foolish Reflections
The Everchosen's Day Off I
The Everchosen's Day Off II
A Story About That One Time Liviya Got Evicted From a Petting Zoo (1/2)
A Story About That One Time Liviya Got Evicted From a Petting Zoo (2/2)
Tobryck stops SMASHING ((April Fools))
Bad Egg 1/2
Bad Egg 2/2
Grow your gardens: Tipu Tree Touch
Infinity Mirror.
The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (I)
The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (II)
The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (III)
The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (IV)
The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (V)
The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (VI)
New Thalos Fall
Returning into Chaos
The Ballad of Donimas
A few days ago...
The Gray Goblin - The Capture of Darkfinder's Minion
The Days After II
The Gray Goblin - Another Half-Baked Scheme
Here's Lookin at You 1/?
Possibilities Can be Anywhere
Here's lookin at You 2/?
Second Attempt.
For the Fallen
Gojira's demise
The Gypsy King's death
A Brief Respite
Frost Wyrm's fall
The Purest of Gems
The Gray Goblin - Keeping Althainia Safe
The Hardest Path
The Air Between
Salt of the Earth, or Water
Provincial Matters - First Impressions 1/2
Provincial Matters - First Impressions 2/2+1
Provincial Matters - First Impressions 3/3
What Lies Beneath
Twisted Recovery part 1
Twisted Recovery part 2
Twisted Recovery part 3
Twisted Recovery part 4
Twisted Recovery part 5
Twisted Recovery part 6
Twisted Recovery part 7
Song of Raije
Crossroads Tales
Healer?
Healer Seeker: Part I
Healer Seeker: Part II
Healer Seeker: Part III
Healer Seeker: Part IV
He lost count around fifty or so...
Self Sacrifice (4 of morethanfive)
Draconic Free Time: A Fluff Story ( Conversion Hopeful Series )
Upon the Walls
May They Never Fall
May the Heart Never Break
Time and Choice 1/2
Time and Choice 2/2
Knight Watch
A trip to the workshop
The rose not forgotten.
Daily Life in the Vallenwoods
Ants and Shrooms
Time for a Change - Wargar food menu ( I )
Rumours of Petals
Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 1
Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 2
Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 3
Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 4
Zandreya's War: The Scouting Mission
Zandreya's War: Althainia Makes Ready
Knit Happens
The Siege of Ravencrest: Arrival I
The Siege of Ravencrest: Arrival II
The Siege of Ravencrest: Arrival III
The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience I
The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience II
The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience III
The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience IV
The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience V
The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night I
The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night II
The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night III
The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night IV
The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night V
{uThe Tide Rises - Living Night {u(XXXI{u)
{uThe Tide Rises - Living Night {u(XXXII{u)
Solace Denied (I)
Zandreya's War: Her Wrath
Purgatory's flaming fields
Purgatory's garden
Purgatory's skeletons
Purgatory's Queen Mary (End)
The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War I
The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War II
The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War III
The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War IV
Empty Room





Writer: Sidorinath
Date Wed Mar 9 09:18:17 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Wed Mar 9 09:33:51 2022




Writer: Akheag
Date Wed Mar 9 12:04:57 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Mar 9 15:00:07 2022

To All Baol Lavinah ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Bitter Fruits 1/2



Piknim Cracklespark first encountered the arboren named Baol at a spring
planting festival west of Arkane. Fascinated by Baol's ability to fuse
flowers to the woodwork of her body, Piknim lent the considerable contents
of her pouches and pockets to the task of making the arboren absolutely
fabulous for springtime.

The kender provided an endless stream of flowers: blood rose, purple rose,
grandfather lily, violet orchid, ivory asters, red arcotis, blue snapdragon,
white dogwood, and many more. Baol had fused with no fewer than seventeen
different flowers by the time Piknim relented, and bystanders had lost or
won blue diamonds wagered upon how many flowers the kender mage could
produce on the spot.

Baol tucked the last flower behind Piknim's own ear, much to the kender's
delight.

"Seems like you made a lot of new friends today," Windsoria Rosenplatt
gushed, "First a worm, then a Baol!"

"Sometimes the smallest friends are the best of friends," Piknim replied
with a wink at the arboren.

Baol smiled. Everyone parted with a smile that day.

The sentiment wouldn't last. Sometimes things simply aren't meant to last.


Days later, Piknim found Baol again.

The kender had written a poem for a card to cheer up Sidorinath, her blue
dragon-friend. Even dragons needed a hug from time to time, Piknim
surmised. People from All walks of life, friend and foe alike, were willing
to sign a name to the card. Baol would be the only one to refuse.

"Sidorinath is mean," the arboren told Piknim, essentially. Mean, evil,
wicked, cruel, take your pick.

"Maybe she wouldn't be so mean if more people helped to cheer her up," the
kender argued.

"Baol is afraid of her," the arboren replied, basically. Piknim couldn't
quite remember every word, but she remembered the words that came after.
They stung too much to forget.

Piknim's voice sounded small. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Baol is unsure of you. Baol sees a happy kender, but cannot look inside
the Pik-nim. Baol worries the Pik-nim may be lost."

"I'm not lost," Piknim countered, "I walk a different road than my kin, it's
true. The way is dark, but I know where it ends."

"Baol wonders why Pik-nim went where she did, too," the arboren continued to
press, "Baol knows that kender are strong, and brave, and Baol is worried
that Pik-nim somebody dared Pik-nim to do this. Baol will tell the bull-ies
to go away if Pik-nim needs this."

"Nobody dared me to do anything," the kender explained, "Baol, it's a long,
long story. I came here a long, long time ago. One thing led to another,
to another, to the kender I am now. All of my friends and family are here.
There comes a time when you gotta grow up and make some big choices. So, I
finally made one. We can still be friends. I'm still a happy kender. I'll
still bring you flowers. I'd never ever hurt you."

The willowy arboren would not be swayed. "But.. Baol is unsure of that
too. Not because Baol does not listen or trust the Pik-nim, but because
Baol knows Pik-nim has other friends. Friends that may make her break
promises. It is a thing that happens. Pik-nim could have been witch.. But
where she lived before. Baol understands choices how-ever, and that is
okay. Sometimes the grass will not tell Baol of things, even though the
grass tells Baol All the time that they will tell Baol of those things."

Taken aback, the kender mage finally relented. "This is the first time I've
had to taste the consequences of my big choices when it comes to, you know,
losing friends," Piknim admitted, still wearing her heart on her sleeve,
"Tastes bitter, but I'm the one who set the table. Nobody to blame but me.
Thank you for bein' honest."

"Baol is sorry.. But Baol does not want to lie. Baol does not like to lie.
Not to self, or to Pik-nim.. Or to others. Each pass of the day-star makes
it harder to make friends from the darker or lighter places."




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Mar 9 15:21:22 2022

To All Baol Lavinah ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Bitter Fruits 2/2



Making a new friend could be a lot like picking a lock. Sometimes you
had to work at it for a while, try a bunch of different tools, poke around
until you found the right spots, say a sweet nothing or two as necessary,
but eventually everything would fall into place. Some locks were rusted
through or broken inside, while others were pristine and well-crafted, but
all presented a unique challenge that opened a door for Piknim Cracklespark
to step into somebody's life and make it better. Regardless, even the most
stubborn of locks could be opened.

This lock could not be.

Kender could be endearing at times, but more often infuriating, especially
in the presence of strangers. Piknim had always been irrepressible and
taken the inevitable rejections in stride, for they were many and frequent
throughout her life, by virtue of wearing a topknot if nothing else.

This rejection hurt more than it had any right.

Piknim sat All but alone in a garden shrine to Drakkara, a marble statue of
the Dark Mistress watching over her. The air felt cool and crisp, yet a
dark presence seemed to emanate from All life therein. Delicate purple
flowers spotted a carpet of soft grass that covered the earth. Three short
stone walls skirted the perimeter with thin, thorned vines bearing ebony
blossoms. At the center of it All burned a pyre of unholy flame, tended in
silence by a single devoted priest.

She stared at a gemstone golden suncup flower in the palm of her hand. It
glittered innocently back at her. The flower would have been a gift for her
new friend. Now, she had to resist the urge to wring it into pulp. A
wicker basket sat beside her, filled with wispy dandelions, red-spotted
white orchids, pink peonies, cheery sunflowers, and bluebonnet clusters.
She'd spent All day gathering them without the use of magic, hopping ships
from one continent to another. Didn't matter.

Had the arboren been wrong? No. Maybe that's what hurt the most. No,
she'd been a smart little sprout. Baol would be safe from things that
lurked along dark roads, at least for a while.

Piknim took stock of her keepsakes from the planting festival: gardening
gloves, a dented watering can, a rake, and a trowel. They'd soon be put to
better use. She pulled on the gloves, rolled up her sleeves, and set her
little hands to toil, planting each of the spurned offerings in Drakkara's
garden instead.




Writer: Andreyna
Date Thu Mar 10 00:04:10 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Marauders Chaos Laendyn Thuken Light Darkness Balance Kantilles Zandreya Drakkara Nadrik Xenophon Cayenna Imm Rp Religion

Subject Zandreya's War: Extinguishing the Balance


Andreyna knelt in the fresh soil of her Mother's temple, tending to the
lush garden that grew there. She found that gardening helped to ease her
mind and help her sort through her thoughts.

'I would see this Light grow strong enough to push the Darkness back into
the crevices where it belongs and seal it away forever.
'

'It is upon each of you to step forward, to reveal your hearts before these
mirrors of mine. Five in total, and as each is graced with your light, so
too will it glow and shine upon my Brother.
'

The words of Kantilles echoed over and over in her head. The world was in a
frenzy over the Infinite Night, over Drakkara's desire to Extinguish the
Sun, but Kantilles sought the same. A world without Darkness. A world in
which the Darkness was sealed away forever.

The mirrors were strategically placed. Members of the Light were to present
themselves before them, allowing the Goodness and Light in their hearts to
shine upon Nadrik. Much like the Darkness was empowering Drakkara.

Priest Thuken Stormsmith of Cliath called for the Balance to enter this
fight, on the side of the Light, to fight against Drakkara's Infinite Night-
but was the Light's goals not the same? Kantilles said so Himself. Were
they not trying to seal away the Darkness, were they not empowering Nadrik?


The Darkness was not yet winning and neither was the Light. A battle was to
come, yes, but the Balance was not yet tilted. The Darkness was not winning
as so many believed it was. The Light had plans of their owns, they were
acting, they were building their own power, they were strengthening their
own God- and with the same goal in mind, to Extinguish the Darkness.

Each side would wish to destroy one another, each side would see an end to
the Balance. The elfqueen gently patted the soil around the lilies that
grew before her, lilies were her favorite. The Balance was a difficult path
to walk, they were always pulled to one side or another. They were expected
to aid the Light, they were expected to aid the Darkness, when neither one
wished to aid the Balance. Could they not understand that this world would
not exist without the Balance?

Andreyna looked up as she heard a rustle behind her and a soft clearing of a
throat, 'Majesty, the ships are drawing closer to Arkane. Our fleets will
make land in the coming days
', spoke a Sailor of the Sha'qelas. The Bishop
gave the elf a gentle smile and nodded, 'We will be with the Mother soon.
'

The elves would stay their course. While the Light and Darkness fought to
Extinguish one another, the elves would fight Zandreya's War. They would
continue their battle against the infiltrated Fort. Zandreya's path was
clear, Her storms contiued to build over the Fort, and Her Chosen would be
there with Her.




Writer: Andreyna

Date Thu Mar 10 11:52:12 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Althainia Laendyn Kyrlynn Thuken Zandreya Nadrik Kantilles Xenophon Cayenna Imm Rp Religion

Subject The Mirrors



The priestess tossed a rock, watching it skip across the rippled water of
the river that ran through the Vallens. She had it wrong. It was worse
than she thought. The mirrors were not making Nadrik more powerful, they
were calming his sword hand.

Nadrik was back, he was ready to face the Darkness. He wanted to lead with
the sword, but the rest of the Light still preached their redemption,
forgiveness, love, and mercy. Kantilles had spoken of ensuring the Wolves
did not stray. Stray from what? Defending themselves against the Darkness?


How much longer would the Light continue their passive ways. How much
longer would they allow the Darkness to take a step and another step, and
finally a great leap in pursuing the Infinite Night. Would they still wave
their banners of peace and love? Would they still allow their own to be
murdered and crucified as they watched and begged for mercy?

Thuken called for the Balance to aid the Light, aid them in what? They were
not fighting back. They would continue to allow the Darkness to trample all
over them while they spoke of love and forgiveness. No, Andreyna would not
aid. Shalonesti would not aid the Light who could not aid themselves, who
could not realize that the time for peace was over. Battles could be fought
with honor and justice, it was time for the Light to stand up and defend
themselves. They were always catching up, they were always barely holding
back the Darkness. When would they fight back.

Althainia had offered troops to aid the Vallens in the war against the Fort.
Shalonesti could always depend on Althainia- their strongest ally. Though
they were the Empire of Light, Andreyna often did not pile them in with the
rest of the Light. The Althainians were more sensible, they realized that
sometimes you had to actually act, you had to actually defend yourself. The
Vallens would aid their dear friends in any way they could, they would aid
Althainia, but the Light? They needed to step up and realize that
forgiveness and peace were only getting them slaughtered.




Writer: Felkur

Date Thu Mar 10 14:20:23 2022

To All Imm RP

Subject Watering plants and plans.



He sat upon the padded chair of his desk. A few organized books, quills
and inks of different quality rested organized in a corner. He unfurled a
scroll upon the dark, polished wood of the old desk. He had patrolled the
city proper for a few days in a row now. This included inspecting the
bramble and applying water to it given Timmels ball of water he had so
graciously given to him. He also uttered a few spells. Fireproof for
instance. Well, thats about what he expected. After a moment he pulled a
wand from his hoard and tried to zap the plant as well, blessing it at least
for a little while. He shrugged and left.

At his desk, within the grand, comfortable room that was his as Wizard, he
stared upon the smooth, polished surface of the dark wood that was his desk.
A tidy group of quills, inks, scrolls and books outlined the edges of his
desk, but were tidy and had an order to them. The center of the desk, as he
gazed down, reflected his face for a flash. There would be more to be done,
patrolling and otherwise, changes to be made. Subtle, but overdue. He
began to write, hands deftly finding the supplies to do so.




Writer: Brustin
Date Thu Mar 10 16:48:26 2022

To All Devion ( Imm RP )

Subject Song: Devion Deal



Brustin, sitting in his little hole in the wall

that was once the Bloodlust clan hall. He digs

and into the floor and digs into the north wall

attempting to find the vault and the store that

was there. Dug and he dug, and began to sing:


It was ten days ago in a pub. Night was near.
I was on me fourth pint of their best Dwarvish beer
When a thought quickly struck me of All I hold dear.
So I went on outside to see if anyone wear near.

I've told more the truth than I've told fib or lie
And I hope when you find me in the hills where I'll lie
That it'll always be said, that I died satisfied.

Well, I took both the good and the bad in me life.
And I made the most of it with real home nor a wife.
And I had no known kids, neither both a girl and a boy.
And I know I've had the gift of enjoy.

I've told more the truth than I've told fib or lie
And I hope when you find me in the hills where I'll lie
That it'll always be said, that I died satisfied.

As for friends I've had many I ne're walked alone,
And a few were like family just as much as me own
They helped in times troubled and made happiness known.
And they gave me a young heart I've never outgrown.

I've told more the truth than I've told fib or lie
And I hope when you find me in the hills where I'll lie
That it'll always be said, that I died satisfied.

Well, the evening was leaving and the sun said goodbye.
I thought of me past and I smiled with a sigh.
Oh, I had no regrets nay a reason to cry.
So I drank me beer down 'till the glass All was dry.

I've told more the truth than I've told fib or lie
And I hope when you find me in the hills where I'll lie
That it'll always be said, that I died satisfied.

Brustin, continue to sing and dig, with the hope one day
all would be found and make this hole he is in back into
the dungeon he once saw.

Muttering to him self in a low tonned voice:
"I've tried to be good, and I've tried to be bad, no matter
where I go, the gods always seem to be mad."

With a little engergy left, he continued to slog with shovel
in hand, attempting to dig down again. Loosing All energy to
continue.




Writer: Timmel

Date Thu Mar 10 16:50:42 2022




Writer: Symantha

Date Thu Mar 10 17:29:14 2022

To All Drakkara ( Cayenna )

Subject The Infinite Night



The black sands stretched on endlessly and along the divide between the
restless aphotic waters and the shore, dark waves struck with vengeful fury.

She walked with an unhurried gait, her shoulders straight, her chin lifted,
while fair features caught in a resolved expression. The blustery wind sent
her curls streaming behind her and her robes to snapping where typically
they only whispered.

She watched the clouds ahead as low banks of them streamed before her in the
sky, each spanning the ominous spectrums of black and purple.

A storm was not simply brewing, it was about to burst.

A rush of wind brought a sprinkling of red rain and its strong metallic
scent. She was undeterred. A bolt of pure white lightning struck the sands
suddenly before her, still she walked on. Thunder cracked in warning, loud
enough to be painful, but she did not flinch.

She could see what was ahead, even if the waves did obscure the path from
time to time, and she wanted it. There was no doubt in the set of her
stance or stride, or in those who walked All about her though she could only
sense them yet.

Steady stride turned into a graceful courtly dance without warning, a hand
in hers and around her waist while they spun circles through the unsettled
surf. A waltz to the sounds of violence All around, his eyes a molten blaze
that set the world aflame around them both. She knew this one and felt a
fiery delight at the crimson promise.

With the storm rushing before and behind, she lifted her gaze to the sky to
find neither cloud nor star. Only the Night, only the Black Moon. Only
Her.

{u ++--{u++




Writer: Agapitos

Date Thu Mar 10 23:36:18 2022

To All Kingdom Clan Knighthood ( Nadrik Kantilles Xenophon Religion )

Subject Musing in the Mirror


It was an alien feeling to be shaken to the core.

It simply did not happen to men like him. More glib minds and tongues would
quip that some are merely built different. That the world's burdens simply
never rang true because they lived with a foot in some grander vision of the
world, utterly detached from the real and the material. In some ways,
perhaps, that were true. His sense of scale, of perspective, and of
morality stood in contrast to his peers. It was not a point of pride.
Simply fact. That simple assurance kept his world grounded, nuanced and
reasoned and yet utterly confident.

That agony, however, sunk like a blade.

It was beyond mortal limits, beyond mortal compare. Its scale dwarfed even
his own inflated sense of perspective, reduced his world to a grain of sand,
a spark in the tempest of Darkness that clawed at every fiber of his being.
There was pain. There was fear. There was loss. There was cruelty beyond
measure and torture that would shatter the hearts of lesser men.

Even still, he felt that his had cracked a little.

This was the pain of a God. A fraction, an iota of it. A heartbeat of
years of abuse and torture. It was intolerable. It was an instant scar
that marked his heart and soul to glimpse upon it. It was terrible and
awesome, a glimpse into the private existence of the Most High. The more
callous would have been humbled to be given such a glimpse, no matter how
terrible the vision.

He simply could not shake the weight of what it portended.

To have endured years of this, when this breath of experience had nearly
shattered his own exalted will. No mind, no heart could escape unscathed.
Coupled to the redoubled loss, to have a life so scarred traded for a life
unsullied, a Sister for Her Brother, an Innocent sacrificing for a Warrior.
The lines of logic began to draw themselves in his head as he stood before
the alabaster mirror. His own reflection, in some ways, was meaningless.
It was, like so much else, an echo of time past. A borrowed likeness, a
loving homage. Within his eyes, however, he continued to see himself, and
within that connection, he ruminated.

No soul could go unscarred. No will could go unwavering in the face of
this. No pride, no compassion, no love could go untested when those who
were meant to be protected were made to sacrifice for those meant to be the
first offered in the face of the Storm. The Sword and Shield within a
single man, the Paragon, the Warrior, the Vanguard. Raije's equal.
Mencius' better. To have that artifice stripped away, to be shown
helplessness and torment and then to see one whom was to be defended instead
give Her life...

'No such thing could ever be made to happen again... '

Though he spoke aloud in the presence of others, debating, reasoning, and
searching his own gaze in the alabaster mirror, inwardly he prayed. Whether
such a thing could ever be heard, it could never be said, for the ways of
the Gods were ever fickle, and even in the presence of Their Great Works, so
little was understood.

'Father upon High, bearer of my Reason and Guiding Light, hear me, your loving Son...'




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 10:56:15 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 11:09:54 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 11:32:45 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 11:32:55 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 11:41:22 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 11:41:34 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Mar 11 11:45:32 2022




Writer: Rahma

Date Fri Mar 11 22:08:32 2022

To All New_Thalos Lothaw Thasgerd immortal Zandreya Taliena Siccara Kantilles Nadrik

Subject Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 1



"Grow your gardens."

The druid had not spent a lot of time in Kadiya's Temple in Althainia
before. First of all, it was in Althainia, which was always a touch too
cold, humid and gloomy for Rahma tabib Qadira of New Thalos. Secondly, she
was not one to overspend time in temples. They were nice to see, visit,
pray, leave an offering, and then leave for work. She had tried to spend
some extra time praying to Nadrik at His temples these past few weeks, and
discovered how little extra time she had.

The curious doctor had genuinely liked reading the teachings on display in
the Temples of Nadrik. It seemed to her that the teachings and religion
were more vast and wise beyond what was typically displayed in common
culture and worship. However, Kantilles, in his uncanny and cunning ways,
saw it fit to put His magic mirror in Kadiya's Temple. So that is where she
now sat. This serene space she now inhabited opened up to the surrounding
gardens, inviting in the peace of nature and life. As she rated temples,
this was quite pleasing.

"Grow your gardens."

Her Lord Husband, Thasgerd O'Shannahan, General of the Crown, Paladin of
Austinian, recent Kantilles magic makeover winner, had correctly guessed at
the use of the mirrors when they were first placed. A way to reflect and
communicate, commune even, with their gods. Primarily Nadrik, who Kantilles
seemed worried about. This seemed a fortuitous gift, exactly what her
prayers had been seeking. Nadrik's ear, to provide Him with hope, comfort,
inspiration and healing in these dangerous times.

Yet now that the ordinary doctor and stubborn adherent to Siccara's dead
faith had a tool to gain the ear of the God of Honor, what should she say?
What true tale of good deeds could she tell? What song could she sing that
would be worthy of the consideration of the God of Honor?

A tale of good deeds, right action, dignity and leadership. Honor won
through years of toils and oppression. Wisdom learned through a life well
lived. A hero seeking to keep the world whole. She doubted Nadrik was as
simple and narrow as commonly depicted. He would take joy in properly
followed traditions and rituals. He would be considerate of local culture,
so long as the actions were just and good. She was certain she'd read
something very much like this on His Temple walls. So into the mirror, she
told the God of Honor of the tree growing ritual she had performed on the
recent spring holiday.




Writer: Rahma

Date Fri Mar 11 22:09:56 2022

To All New_Thalos Lothaw Thasgerd immortal Zandreya Taliena Siccara Kantilles Nadrik

Subject Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 2



"Grow your gardens."

The twist to the first planting ritual she performed this spring was the
dark elf aiding in the task. She'd not given so much care to her own elvish
heritage in her own life, as this outcast from Shalonesti society had given
to his. It seemed one of the world's many injustices that she had generally
spurned and ignored the very elven culture Sultan Lothaw Ka'tel revered. A
people and way of life he was not allowed to be a part of due to the
accident of birth.

When her Order had shipped her off to Tropica to serve in her youth, she
came to know and live with a number of wild elven Sisters and colleagues
from Mebn Ehlweb. They absorbed her into their way of life, taught her the
songs and rituals of their elven tribe. There was no saying no to the elder
elves. It did not matter that she did not know her elvish father. Nor did
they seem to care that he could have been shalonesti, dark, or hardly elvish
at all. The fact she came from a desert city and not a forest tribe, also
irrelevant.

Perhaps it was these things that made it All the more important to them that
she participate in proper elvish activities, and learn elvish ways. In
their eyes she was an elf that needed healing. She needed to live in
harmony with nature, sing to plants, learn from the animals, prepare the
herbs and medicines, and stop running around with human boys. She never
abided by her elvish Sisters on that last point.

From her wild elven Sisters she had learned the ritual and song she used for
urging tree seeds to sprout and grow. This simple, primitive, but potent
ritual was what she would teach the Sultan. Soon after the rip had been
torn in their sky, the Sultan had the notion in his mind to plant a rare
silver star acorn Zandreya Herself had gifted him. So they had done
recently with the aid and blessing of Monsignor Tief, a crowd of New
Thalosians and allies, and the thundering approval of Zandreya. The acorn,
however, had its own plans and had not sprouted yet. It stayed sleeping in
its pot, tended and toted about by the Sultan.

The spring planting holiday seemed the perfect moment for the ritual, and so
they agreed to meet then to do it. This was after many assurances that yes,
the Sultan should be singing to the acorn, and no, his singing could not
possibly be bad enough to make it hide away in the ground forever. He was
an elf, for goodness sake, and elves sing. She felt a touch of amusement,
the roles now reversed, with her insisting as her wild elven Sisters had
insisted to her, that this was normal, proper, what elves were made to do.
The pointy eared, dignified Sultan surely met these qualifications.




Writer: Rahma
Date Fri Mar 11 22:11:12 2022

To All New_Thalos Lothaw Thasgerd immortal Zandreya Taliena Siccara Kantilles Nadrik

Subject Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 3



They met upon the consecrated ground of the Common Square in the evening.
The New Thalosian sun cooling from the day, and the shadows growing long.
The Sultan had brought his potted acorn, a constant companion these days,
and the needed ritual offerings. He showed off his finds, explaining them
all. A lantern lit by fireflies from his garden for the element of fire. A
wispy puff of dandelion in seed for air. A brown magic mushroom that
creates a rose upon consumption for earth.

Finally the Sultan displayed a glowing ball of water for the element of
water. That one he'd been disappointed in, selecting it less for personal
reasons and more practical ones. The glowing balls of water from the
Shokonese shrine had proved potent in power, and they had made use of them
in the rip with good effect. She smiled encouragingly at him and reminded
him that Brother Tim had happily fetched it for him, and a gift from a
friend held its own power.

In the fading day they said their prayers to their Goddesses. They silently
beseeched Zandreya and Siccara's memory for life and healing, and then
started the ritual. A pair of city elves invoking a druidic rite kept by
the jungle wild elves to sprout a tree.

Across many cultures, whispered and sung in the circles of the druids of the
world, was the ancient belief that trees are ancient beings. An old race
that predates the firstborn races of the world. A lifeform that connects
the land with the heavens. This ancient primordial memory must have been
what had inspired New Thalos' elven monarch to heal the sky of his kingdom
with a tree. The solution seemed rooted in every elven legend or story ever
sung or woven.

So the part elven druid and dark elven lord sang the ancient elven words to
wake the acorn to join their song, to grow in their grove. The dignified
elf lord placed his offerings upon the correct places on the circle. His
voice unpracticed, but sincere. His song grew and blossomed as the ritual
progressed. Yet as the song and ritual circle closed, the acorn still
slumbered, quite content.

They stood in quiet contemplation of their work for a time, letting the
light fade to twilight. She knew that the ritual did not always take right
away, but the tree would grow later, and be in fine health, free of disease.
Still, inwardly, she felt that tinge of disappointment, even though her
logical mind chided her for that. She worried how the Sultan might take
their failure to wake the acorn on this day when stars and the hour did
align so perfectly.




Writer: Rahma
Date Fri Mar 11 22:12:41 2022

To All New_Thalos Lothaw Thasgerd immortal Zandreya Taliena Siccara Kantilles Nadrik

Subject Grow your gardens: Tree Temple Tale 4



The worry was short lived, for glancing aside at her assistant druid for
the eve she could see the small smile upon his face. Perhaps he knew her
secret disappointment, that very human impatience she carried, because his
next words were of encouragement and certainty.

"I suppose even the most magical of seeds take their proper time to grow,
alas. Still, a fine way to ring in the spring and new season of life. A
tree of stars to shelter us from the storm of the sky... It would be most
fortunate timing. It could be the growth of this tree of stars will be
symbolic of Algoron reclaiming its skies as the rip inevitably wanes
,"
reflected the Sultan as he considered the sleeping acorn in its pot, and
surrounded by offerings.

"Ours isn't the only plot to seal the rip," he confided to her, "The world
is coming together on this it would seem. Though ours seems to be the only
one where life triumphs even in the darkest of places. I think we've
already proven that, no matter what else happens
."

She smiled at the wisdom and kind words. It could have come from an elven
druid king in a storybook. Perhaps the ritual had not inspired the acorn to
sprout in song yet, but it seemed to have a positive effect on the song of
Lothaw the elf. In this way the Goddesses of nature and healing had
delivered on their prayers, giving New Thalos what it needed to heal the
sky.

"Grow your gardens."

This was the story she told to Nadrik in Kantilles' magic mirror sitting in
Kadiya's Temple. The spring air of Althainia was damp and cool, but fresh
with life and promise. This was a song of hope and life overcoming evil.
A song of a monarch tending their domain in a way to aid their people and
all the world. A song of an elf lord of a disgraced house winning back a
portion of lost honor. It seemed like a story that Nadrik would like. It
just needed an ending with the sky healing and a beautiful star tree growing
and peace and prosperity for her people. She asked Nadrik to become a part
of that story.




Writer: Euterah

Date Sat Mar 12 18:50:09 2022

To Darkonin All Cayenna Derigimus (RP storyline)

Subject *The Basic Witch*



To fight at all, the gentle soul must cloak themselves as wolf in sheep's
wool. It was a harsh lesson taught to a young girl through many seasons.
That girl became woman and continued to learn from error and triumph. She
was once again Queen. Euterah woke with a startled, fleeting wisps of a
dream making her groggy. She stirred from the furs and stretched stiff from
anxiety. Though she learned of the results before she slept, she still felt
restless.

The Witch Queen began to formalize plans.

She knew there would be those that left, knowing that the Mountain was
stable once more. There were other agendas to complete. There were many
irons in the fire, at this time. The world was moving. Darkonin needed to
move with it or be left behind. There was a great inspiration within her to
see the Mountain prepared for this forward motion. She needed to complete
some of the Mountains plan within this next season.

Her mind moved faster than her scribing, finally she had to put All aside.
She blinked eyes and tried again to stretch, working out tension from her
tight muscles. The Witch Queen needed a diversion. She quit the library
and sought Madame Chanul to discuss making uniforms for the soldiers, far
easier for her to relax there with All the ruminations of the madame that
try to organize her own mind for working public relations.

While the Madame droned on about fabric and color, thread and stitch, the
Witch Queen listened, eventually falling into a glazed stupor that halted
the busy mind. She watched as the Madame began mocking up a cape with
Darkonin crest emblazoned, her eyes filled with uncommon emotion. She
blinked, obscuring her face with her scarf. It was pride that swelled her
heart. A fierce determination of love for All the people of the Mountain
and outlying lands to see those things she believed would come to pass
finished.

The Witch rested on the giant arm of the Madames overstuffed chair. Her
lips curled into a rare smile the genuine joy reflected in her brackish
gaze.




Writer: Baol
Date Sat Mar 12 22:42:19 2022

To All Lothaw Rahma Timmel Tief Andreyna Laendyn Kyrlynn Thasgerd Zarina Fynix Zandreya ( Imm RP Religion )

Subject {nThe Last Baol: "Planting Day"


It was a good day, one where many great speakings were had- and the
day-star was hot. As the day-star sleeps now, and the moons take over the
skies- Baol walks quietly along Elm Street. As the arboren passes doorway
after doorway, she pats her pineapple that is now fused firmly on her left
shoulder while scanning for something called an "add-ress num-ber". She
knew the one she was to find, but the trick is to truly find it and not get
lost along the way.

The arboren passes by a few citizens, giving them a smile or wave- whichever
comes to her first. These gestures and walkings continue on for a few more
paces, Baol's eyes looking here and there for the correct number she is
after.

'Ba-oooooooooool! ' A half-elven girl practically yells the arboren's name
as she rushes up! The child does what could only be considered a "happy
dance", her bright hair bobbing wildly as she does so!

Baol smiles and gets down on her knees, making audible thumps as her
woodwork legs collide with the cobblestones. She stretches her arms out
wide, hands open. 'Baol has been looking for you, friend Senna. Baol is..
Worried though. It is late.
'

'Mom thinks I'm still at school, silly! School stopped uh... Well... I
forgot when it stopped. But why are you down this way?! Did the great
speaking go well?
' The elven child gives a strong hug, wrapping herself
tightly around Baol's core.

Baol stands with ease, lumbering up to her feet while holding Senna close.
'Baol thinks it went well. Baol is happy. Baol is taking you home now..
But Baol must ask for Senna's help again with the woodshavings.
' The
arboren is short, sweet, and to the point. A first to be sure.. Many know
this arboren to be quite long when speaking.

'Awww but I want to go play! Let's go cut the grass! Let's go doooo
stuuuuuff. School was boring!
' Senna looks up at Baol as the arboren
shuffles the child about in her arms. 'Do you need me to write something
again? Or read? Mom got me a new storybook that we can go get! Can I meet
your Queen-Friend? Come on, I don't wanna go hoome yet!
'

'Senna must go home. Sprouts need their rest. Baol is already in trouble
with Senna's mother for last time.
' Baol grumbles, looking rather
displeased as well. Her vinework and woodwork ripple lightly as the pair
make their way further down Elm Street.

'Fiiiine.. The speakings did go well right? You look grumpy. ' Senna
looks around as she's carried home. She reaches up and pats the pineapple
in Baol's shoulder. 'Hi pineapple! '

The pineapple shudders as it's touched, and Baol smiles softly. 'Senna
should be more... Careful. Pineapple is not happy. Pineapple is foc-used.

'Oh. Okaaaay.. So what do you need me to write? Do I have to do it in
cursive again? I hate cursive! It's hard!
' Senna flails her arms upward
a little, clear and apparent childhood troubles being presented.

'Yes, Senna must write in the cur-sives again. Baol will get yelled at if
Senna does not study. Baol would like Senna to write a nice woodshaving
about... About.. Well Baol will tell as we go home. Baol's plan will
happen.
' The Arboren holds Senna with a single arm, now using her free
hand to pat at the child's head. 'Senna was right. Baol can help many
things.
'

The child sticks her tongue out with a small smile after. 'Told you so! '
The elf laughs happily as the pair make their way further down the street.

Yes, Baol was indeed "told so", or so the stone-city gesture goes. It would
seem, that the last Baol would be of great help to others. From issues big
and small, to studies about bad handwriting. Even though Baol cannot read,
she can help. Lorthanil would be pleased that the last Baol carries on.




Writer: Andreyna

Date Sun Mar 13 01:03:56 2022

To All Lothaw Rahma Timmel Tief Laendyn Kyrlynn Thasgerd Zarina Fynix Zarina Baol Cayenna Xenophon Imm Rp Religion

Subject The Bramble, the Vine and the Mother


The blackberry bramble floated in the air before her, no roots, no soil,
no water fed it- it wasn't natural. Amethyst-colored wisps swirled all
about it, dancing and twirling around the bush- it wasn't natural. As the
elfqueen continued to study the magical bramble, the same thought occurred
in her mind over and over- it wasn't natural.

A chill came over the priestess, she pulled her cloak tightly around her,
but the cold air still seeped through, shivering her to the bones. This was
Drakkara's domain, not Zandreya's, not Sebatis, not Kwainin, Cliath or any
other God other than the Dark Queen.

Below the Rip, in the world of mortals, a tangled green vine hung down from
the sky, dangling toward the ground. This too was free of soil and water,
this too was not natural. Those caring for the bramble and the vine wished
to call upon the Mother, thinking that She had blessed or would bless the
bramble and the vine, thinking that She would accept these plants into Her
world. They were not natural.

Andreyna had tried to explain this to the crowd that had met that evening,
she tried to explain that the Mother may not accept these two beings,
despite them having life. Vampire were 'alive', but they were not natural.
The blood tree that nearly destroyed the Vallens had been alive, but it was
not natural. Zandreya accepted neither.

The Bishop did hope that the Mother would lay Her blessings upon the vine
and bramble, but she could not shake the feeling, the fact, that these were
not natural, and bramble was set in the middle of Drakkara's domain. Alive
or not, Zandreya was the Goddess of Nature. Nature was natural. This was
magic and set within the Rip of Drakkara.

Andreyna knew her opinion of the bramble was not met well. It was stated
the Zandreya's Monsignor believed that She would accept the bramble as Her
own. Her Monsignor was very wise, and Andreyna had often sought him for
advice, but the Bishop could not help but wonder if the gnome was wrong
about this one. Nature was cycles, it was harmonious, it was not magic, it
was natural, and it certainly was not within the realm of Drakkara.

But still, as promised, the Bishop would pray.




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Sun Mar 13 10:04:34 2022




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Sun Mar 13 10:12:17 2022




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Mar 13 14:28:57 2022

To All Nadrik Light Immortal Religion Xenophon Cayenna

Subject Reflections of Valor



The footfalls of the Emperor echoed off the walls of the various temples
within the Church of Light as the Emperor made his way through the pillars
and towards the alabaster disc which was the reason he had come. His chain
mail armors tinking softly as the interconnected links brushed against
eachother.

As the Emperor walked through the church he was reminded of the searing
light he had born witness to just hours past. The intensity of the the
light, and its ability to scatter any darkness. It was not as strong in
this church, as it was in person, but the church was made by mortals, not
the divine.

He remembered the force of the tempest, and the cacophony heralding the
arrival. The light breeze in the temple, and the muted hymns and prayers
were a poor representation, but once again. Mortal.

As Mercerion set his two, cerulean eyes ipon the alabaster disc, he
remembered the stormy blue, and the lifeless gray, and how they blazed with
purpose, with a scintillating wrath.

It was not something the Emperor could ever forget, nor find compare in any
part of Algoron. For many long years, he had heard the call of his God.
Many times he had earned favor, some times he had earned ire. The Emperor
had always kept hope through the imprisonment, that he would hear Nadrik's
call directly again.

This hope magnified when he had led an army onto the black moon. The Light
and its allies came together, and at the vanguard was the man who reflected
into the alabaster disc right now.

When the Light broke the lines of the Dark upon the moon, and eyes were laid
upon the Usurpation, and the Sacrifice, and Nadrik was whisked away alive,
Hope turned to reality for the Emperor.

Valor and Justice had done the impossible. He would not only be reunited
with his God someday, but they had beaten the dark in their own dowmain.
Tempered with wisdom, empowered with love, Valor had won the day.

That Valor was accompanied by a great and terrible cost. The loss of the
Sister. This was a life freely given, in protection of another. This
Sacrifice could not go unspoken, but it was in this musing before the disc,
that Mercerion found a description for it he had failed to consider before.


Siccara, while sacrificing herself, showed perhaps the truest form of Valor.
For what could be a better display than to stand against the sum total of
Evil, and act with love to save those you love?

It was a bitter taste, to loose Siccara, but the realization came hard to
the Emperor. Any one of them would of done the same. And this is the
burden his Lord beared. That any one of them should have had to, instead of
Him, and on His account, no less.

The Emperor's hand ran over the fiery sword clasp of his cloak. A symbol
long ago taken up when Surine'del, the Seraph, would take that appearance.
The symbol was present upon the Armor of the titan that appeared in that
meadow.

In All his long years, Mercerion had never met his Lord face to face before.
Spoken word and manifestation sure, but this was Him. In the flesh, alive,
and with a purpose. The time had come now, to employ the sword. It had
been too long, too much inaction. For too long had the Light relied upon
the Word and Shield, and Drakkara had capitolized. She had made All of
algoron pay for it.

As Mercerion looked back into the disc, he began to pray. Pray that the
family would see that the Shield and Word were no longer enough. That
because the drew the sword, it did not mean it was All they would use.

No one facet could save algoron, or wrest it from Drakkara's corrupting
grasp. It would take them all, like when they stormed the Moon. That Valor
would be needed once again.





Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Mar 13 19:34:18 2022

To All Verminasia ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Kender MAMA 1/2



Piknim Cracklespark struggled to cram her baggy black robes, pouches,
bags, and packs into a wooden locker, but the door wouldn't stay shut until
she threw her shoulder into it with a high-pitched grunt. That's when
another dizzy spell hit. Ever since Sebatis had taken her balance, as well
as her Magic, the kender had suffered from frequent bouts of vertigo that
left her All but useless. She had a fix for that, of course, but the
would-be solution had the potential of causing more problems than it sought
to remedy.

The kender mage wobbled over to a serving table and poured hot tea from a
kettle into a black ceramic mug that read "#1 Villain" on one side and
"Property of Shadow Keep" on the bottom. The strange brew, a potent blend
of Iolanthean black lava salt, ginger root, star anise, lime oil, bat brain
jelly, and chartreuse Nightcap fungus, smelled All kinds of foul and didn't
taste great, but it kept her eyes clear and head on straight, if only for a
short while. Unfortunately, consuming in excess of one mug per day had the
potential side-effect of turning one's intestines into goo and making her
bleed from many more places than she wanted to think about. She took small
sips, just in case it mattered, but shivered and suffered All the same.

She drained the mug in a couple of gulps and tugged open a sturdy iron door
that led to a chamber of glass panels spanning wall to wall, ceiling to
floor. "Hi ho, Mama! Did you miss me," hundreds of Piknim reflections
queried All at once, truly the stuff of nightmares. She stood within the
Mirrors of Arcane Martial Arts, affectionately called MAMA by the Citadel's
magi. Students and faculty alike used it for solo practice of combat magic.
The mirrors, when properly calibrated, were enchanted to reflect arcane
force back at the caster. The Citadel's official dueling club made frequent
use of it.

Piknim had been a member of the dueling club during her time as both
apprentice and Magi. Wand dueling, once a popular sport, had fallen out of
style long ago, further and further relegated to the dusty halls of arcane
academia. A real shame. Wands were one of the only arcane tools she ever
truly excelled at in her pursuit of magic. After all, wand technique hinged
primarily upon two characteristics: speed of mouth and manual dexterity.
She had some serious skills.

Once a kender thief, or finder as she preferred to be called, Piknim had
been All but incapable of wielding traditional magic and focused almost
entirely on training with wands for years. As such, she held an edge over
races as naturally gifted with them as she, such as tinker gnomes. In fact,
she remembered only ever losing a match point to one such gnome. Her usual
overconfidence led to a careless lapse in judgment, and one well-timed
barrage of command words in rapid-fire gnome-speak were All it took to zap
the wand right out of her hand.

Piknim knelt and popped open a long mohogany case. Inside were a pair of
wands wrapped in purple velvet: one of aspen, fine-grained and white, and
another of hornbeam, hard and gray. She preferred to dual wield wands, an
unorthodox fighting style far different from when she dual wielded daggers
as a finder. A wand user could only intonate so many command words, and
only so quickly, which meant that wielding a pair of wands didn't
practically result in more spells or attacks for most duelists. Rather, it
afforded a user more versatility. She could attack with an aspen wand,
specifically crafted for evocation and martial magic, while deflecting or
absorbing attacks with the hornbeam wand, more well-suited for abjuration.
Also, two wands meant twice as many charges. Wielding multiple wands
violated standard tournmanet rules, but she wouldn't be dueling her peers.
She'd be fighting for the Darkness.

Sebatis had stripped the very magic from her core, making wands the best
option again. Life had come full circle in the least likely of ways.




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Mar 13 19:38:59 2022

To All Verminasia ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Kender MAMA 2/2



In the after-action report for Operation Teacup, a plan to rescue one of
her besties, Eevelline, from a particularly sticky situation, Piknim came to
see the scope of her limitations. In her current state she'd be useless at
best and a liability at worst. That left her with a choice to make. She
could carry on like an irresponsible kenderkin, wallow in self-pity and do
nothing about it like a sad-sack, or adapt and overcome like a goddamn
winner.

Piknim once heard Dark Lord Telthian say, "Trial is clarifying. It strips
away the vestiges of the unimportant and reveals what is necessary." He
didn't say the words to her directly, but they popped back into her head
with every bump along the long dark road to Drakkara's service. She made
the memory an integral part of who she wanted and needed to be, a mantra
every bit as constant as the heavy arcanium link hung about her neck.

Across Algoron, those of the Light were looking at themselves in Kantilles'
mirrors, telling happy stories, and growing stronger. Well, Piknim had more
mirrors, a better story to tell, and plenty of room yet to grow.

Piknim slotted evocation and abjuration runes into an alcove by the door and
recited a scroll to calibrate the mirrors, which began to glow softly and
emit a low hum as she padded to the center of the chamber. She flicked the
aspen wand expertly and uttered a command word. A bolt of purple force shot
towards her own reflection, a direct hit that ricocheted back at her. She
turned on her heel, almost imperceptibly, letting the bolt whiz by to
richochet off the mirror behind her. This time she deflected the bolt with
a flick of the hornbeam wand. The bolt richoted a third time before
fizzling in mid-air. "Still got it, champ," Piknim said with a wink and a
grin. Hundreds of Piknim reflections winked back at her.

Soon those reflections were tumbling about with inconceivable speed,
ducking, dodging, and vaulting as Piknim hurled command words like they were
taunts until as many as five to seven bolts were richocheting in all
directions at once. She worked like she played, hard and wild and free.
Even the sting and sizzle of an occasional missed deflection felt like a
reward, adding to the thrill of adrenaline and driving her forward.

Forward, that is, until the effects of her medicinal brew wore off All of a
sudden and the vertigo struck. She stumbled once, enough for three bolts to
impact her body, knocking her to the floor. Another bolt hit, then another,
while the sixth and seventh fizzled. She lay there, catching her breath as
her world spun and wounds smoked. The purple bolts hurt, but the shame and
frustration hurt so much more. The kender gritted her teeth climbed onto
all-fours, still too dizzy to stand. She glared into the mirror. The
blurry image of a stranger glared back, its pale skin beaded with
perspiration, eyes bloodshot and hung with dark circles, cheeks slightly
sunken, topknot a mess.

The dizziness finally faded enough to stand. Piknim wobbled from side to
side as she wandered out of the Mirrors of Arcane Martial Arts in a stupor
to pour another mug of tea.




Writer: Maccus
Date Sun Mar 13 21:22:53 2022




Writer: Geirhart
Date Mon Mar 14 08:40:50 2022




Writer: Geirhart
Date Mon Mar 14 10:31:08 2022




Writer: Geirhart
Date Mon Mar 14 11:08:24 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Mar 14 12:23:37 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Mar 14 12:42:20 2022




Writer: Symantha
Date Mon Mar 14 15:51:07 2022




Writer: Symantha
Date Mon Mar 14 15:51:16 2022




Writer: Timmel
Date Mon Mar 14 16:29:21 2022




Writer: Raimbaut
Date Mon Mar 14 16:35:42 2022

To All Imm RP

Subject Mirror Prayer, Temple of Nadrik, Gareth Keep



He was in front of a magical mirror. He did not even own a mirror, let
alone reflect upon his reflection or reflections of other reflections that
he could have reflected upon before. Even so, he was surprised. He did not
recognize the man looking back from the mirror when he caught a glimpse at
the right angle against the illuminated disc. He looked in his eyes, upon
his face, the wrinkles, worry. Though, he could still still see the man he
remembered. The self image that always existed in his mind, and he smiled,
dismissing the thoughts of how he looked. He knelt, laying his weapons down
at his sides as he simply prayed. He prayed for union, friendship and the
relationships that endure hardship, for those are what give you strength.

Today I pray, reflecting upon the past. Let us have compassion for others
and the hardships they endure. Without compassion, we cannot bring forth
unity amongst ourselves, against our enemies, for they will see the folly of
our division.





Writer: Thasgerd
Date Mon Mar 14 18:10:04 2022




Writer: Bragin
Date Mon Mar 14 18:46:23 2022

To All ( Austinian Kantilles Nadrik imm religion Xenophon )

Subject Reflections of Hope



Even picking the right mirror hed talk to was something Bragin thought
about. Symbolism was important to him, and Bragin felt All the mirrors has
their purpose, and All the mirrors should be used. In the end the young
enchantor settled on the mirror in the central part of the Church of Light.
To him this one represented the various factions and ideologies of the light
coming together. The mirror floating in the middle shone both with light
and displayed the ordinary reflection of Bragin.

"Well," Bragin begin in a nervous voice, feeling self conscious about
speaking to a mirror in an empty room, "where to start?"

It was a good question. The silence hung in the serene temple for several
long moments as the enchantor mulled that over. Mister Kantilles had made
these mirrors so tales of mortal good could reach which brother. Having
seen Mister Nadrik, Bragin couldnt doubt there was a lot of anger in the god
of honor. Sure there were disagreements in the Light, but was the divide
big as everyone was making it? Bragin was relatively new to the show, but
all this just seemed to be about methods and not the ends. But the right
tool, for the right job as he read it.

"Um, I wouldnt even be here if for the compassion of others." Bragin
confided to the mirror, "I was in a bad place, caught up with the Malachive
mess I was. It was a hard and hurtful time and many just delighted in being
cruel to me just to show how tough they were on Malachuve."


"But" Bragin paused to take a deep breath, "there were many who reached out
to me. Who saw the best in me, who wanted to give but a single moment of
comfort in a seas of pain, who looked out for me. People like Mister
Geirhart, Miss Shilo, Mister Thasgerd, Miss Rahma, Mister Timmel, Miss
Rahynia and so many others. I learned a lot about people during All this.
Who are really friends and who are only with you when things are going their
way. Its been painful, Ive made mistakes, but Ive learned and Ive grown as
a person."


Bragin stared at the mirror. Did it seem to shine just a bit brighter as he
spoke to it? He removed his glasses to clean them on his tattered robes and
replaced them. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. There were so many
sources of it here.

"Um, I guess if I only got cruel words and the sword, I mightve ended up
somewhere bad. At the very least, I wouldnt be here where I am now."

Bragin said quietly, his words hanging in the air, "I worry a lot about how
everything will turn out, but Im here and Im doing my best to help with
everything, to make things better and give people like me a chance to bring
out the best in themselves too."


"Is that going to be everyone?" Bragin asked, "Probably not. But there is
power in love, mercy, compassion, forgiveness and even redemption. Ive seen
it, its affected me. Its made me a better person. Im very grateful to the
people whove come to be my friends and the chance Ive been given."


"As for All this business between compassion and valor? Sword and shield?"
Bragin queried, "Im new to things but, I dont think any divide is as big
as people make it out to be. I dont really even think it exists. We just
all need to get on the same page, do what needs to be done, and move forward
together. As a family as I heard it said."


Bragin took a deep breath. Was it a beam of light reflecting off his
glasses or did the mirror shine again? Well, bit by bit the religious
skeptic that was Bragin was coming to believe in miracles and hope.




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Mon Mar 14 18:48:45 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Mon Mar 14 19:04:30 2022




Writer: Thaydius

Date Tue Mar 15 00:29:35 2022

To All ( Religion Imm )

Subject Apotheosis



The vast mountains of Icewall carried hundreds of tons of pure ice with
which Thaydius painstakingly sculpted a sanctuary. It was beyond him to
accomplish anything in secret due to his circumstances but the sheer volume
of elemental control and favorable territory kept hunters at bay. Many had
taken refuge in the sanctum away from the increasingly dangerous and chaotic
world. They had replaced the flock comprised of his Mother's practitioners
in the years before her passing, and he found some semblance of a purpose in
being a protector.

But Algoron was being broken apart. The land itself was being gripped by
the invisible hand of discord and scarred through the malevolent energy
gathering through the cosmos. A young world had once endured a great many
wounds as a result of the catastrophic wars waged between Gods and Dragons
before the influence of mortals. It was a world that Siccara healed through
her incredible gift. One of many stories of her capabilities that shaped
his understanding of the responsibilities of the power he inherited.

He had toiled on the surface of Algoron for hundreds of years in the pursuit
of the rescue of Nadrik. The divine family of Light had never more than
spoken a few lines to him in the whole while and the reality of the distance
between him and them set in over the seasons. After his Mother died, he was
as alone as he had ever been. From one edge of Algoron to another he
wandered in search of the errant essence that had scattered over the whole
of creation. It returned to him and fed the inner light within his soul,
but like All the other power deep inside him it was locked away as was the
condition of every Giant on Algoron.

God or not, he was young in Algoron. The light of Algoron was not divinity
or energy but the love and positive energy in mortal's hearts. He looked
upon the world with fresh eyes and saw incredible beauty. His Hope never
faded over the ages. Even after the death of his friends, his mentors, and
his own mother he only ever believed in the notion that Algoron would find a
brighter path. He shifted through space from the frigid wastes of Icewall
to the quiet backroads of Althainia and approached the solemn halls of the
Church of Light.

Through the guise of the boy, the blue-eyed Son of Siccara, he approached
the mirror and looked over the side of his face with its pristine flesh and
perfect symmetry. Then he turned his chin and looked at the side of his
face that hid the thousands of battles and conflicts that had almost taken
his life and dragged him into the void time and time again. Not since his
Mother passed had he shared a single word with the White Moon. But it was
time.

Uncle. Grandfather. Either of you. Any of you. The essence of Siccara is
deep in my heart. It yearns to be free. It must heal the wounds set upon
Algoron. You know it is impossible for me to accomplish this while my mind
is locked away. I understand the purpose of these limitations. I am asking
they be undone. For so long as I am the Healer I am bound by my essence and
compelled by my soul to commit to the values I built over my entire life.
Please, I beg of you, let me use this gift.




Writer: Piknim

Date Tue Mar 15 10:02:31 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Tue Mar 15 10:02:41 2022




Writer: Gidion
Date Tue Mar 15 21:17:12 2022




Writer: Justian
Date Wed Mar 16 06:40:21 2022

To All Crelius ( RP Malachive Scorn Imm Admin Religion )

Subject Self Sacrifice (1 of more than one)



"The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of
others."


Justian paused his incessant polishing of the symbol of CHAOS, as the words
floated out of the air. He peered about, but neither saw nor sensed anyone
with him. He frown slightly, strange sounds often visited the Warp, was
this any different? He clenched his well-worn polishing rag, which seemed
to grow only softer the more he used it, and continued polishing.

The words would not leave his head. There were few who woke with any
regularity. The Knight of Ruin and on occasion the Butcher. Crelius had
spoken to him about a request... Perhaps it was time to do more than mentor
Compatriots who already knew the Truth. It was time to find new blood to
invigorate the Cause.

He put up his rag, pulled writing materials from the shelf, and clopped over
to the Tree made of Horn. The centaur was muttering something to himself as
he scritched and scratched on the parchment. An orc came up to him, placing
a hand on his side to get Justian's attention... "The best way to find
yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others!"

The orc was taken aback for a moment and before he could respond, Justian
returned to his writing forgetting the orc was even there. The orc stood by
for a few moments pondering how to react to this turn of events, but as he
did the phrase, "The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the
service of others." Began to fill his head. Maybe the best way to find
himself was to do for others... The orc wandered off lost in thought as he
repeated the phrase with barely a pause.

"The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others!!"
Another hapless Compatriot was treated to enlightenment, this time by the orc...
Murmurs became rumbles. Shouts of "The best way to find yourself is to
lose yourself in the service of others!!!" Echoed in the Warp...




Writer: Tylwyth

Date Wed Mar 16 11:23:02 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Mar 16 11:39:30 2022

To All Symantha Lavinah Shadow Verminasia ( rp imm Cayenna Drakkara )

Subject Fueling the Dark Tide 1/2



Twilight had given way to midnight, or so it seemed, and before the wide
eyes of a diminutive kender spanned a world of sparkling diamonds strewn
haphazardly throughout a velvet black sky and across miles of what appeared
to be equally black shallow lakeland. The black sands stretched on
endlessly and dark waves struck with vengeful fury upon the shore. There
were no trees, rocks, or landmarks in this part of the Rip, but only a
living night that spanned as far as she could see.

A chill wind whipped about Piknim Cracklespark's body, billowing the black
robes and sweeping her topknot back. The overwhelming awe and sense of
wonder that clutched her tight since she traveled to the Rip had inevitably
turned into the familiar intractable pout of a sad kender, only to darken
into the unfamiliar mien of a devil in disguise, still disturbingly
child-like, but contorted by hate.

"Seh-bay-tis!" Piknim nearly spat the name into the sand. She could see
the the sky brimming and boiling with arcane forces, the wells of unordered
power that roiled like shadows on the sand, but she couldn't feel it. She'd
come All this way and found the moment of a lifetime, but the chance to dip
her tiny fingers into a wellspring of dark magick and taste the power she so
desired had been stolen away by her former patron. Had she begged Sebatis
to release her from His auspices? Yes. Did she still hate Him for it?
Yes. In that moment, with nobody to witness her tantrum, she hated everyone
and everything.

The kender mage much preferred hate to sadness. Sadness felt heavy and
worthless, an unnecessary weight in one's pack that suppressed the call to
adventure. Hate, she had discovered through time, could be channeled into
something worthwhile like change. It could be consumed as fuel to drive one
forward when sunshine and rainbows simply weren't enough to keep going.
Hate could be hazardous as well, though. Hate could consume. It could get
you to your destination, surely enough, yet blind you to All the little joys
along the way, so much so that any victory achieved through it felt hollow,
like a cliff at the end of a long road.

Piknim's ire faded as suddenly and sharply as it had come, for even if she
could not feel the magic of this place as she wanted, the surreal beauty
filled her with giddy glee like a gnomish derigible about to burst. She had
time to kill before Lavinah arrived and the journey truly began, so she
didn't squander it. She knelt and prayed to Drakkara, giving thanks for the
Infinite Night around her and invoking good fortune for the journey to come.
She sat upright to scoop sand into a small jar for her curio cabinet. She
sketched the storm, unlike any she had ever seen, in her notebook with a
charcoal pen. She fed her black pony, Amethyst, a carrot plucked from the
community garden near Arkane.

At last, and for the better part of her time spent waiting for Lavinah, she
wandered the shore with reins in hand in search of something more to take
with her as a memento, though the barren stretch offered no signs of life.

Until it did.




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Mar 16 11:43:23 2022

To All Symantha Lavinah Shadow Verminasia ( rp imm Cayenna Drakkara )

Subject Fueling the Dark Tide 2/2



A solitary conch shell, black with purple striations along the spire, lay
half-buried in the sand. The kender mage couldn't help but pick it up, her
expression one of bewilderment, awe, and utter delight.

Such a strange little thing, All alone on a shore with none other of its
kind to be seen. How did it come to be here? Had it tumbled randomly
through a dark gash in the planes and washed up on the shore against all
odds? Had a divine hand placed it there? Shells began in a myriad of
pretty colors, but some turned black after spending too long buried in mud
and muck. Had natural forces turned its surface black, or had it been
thoroughly transformed, inside and out, by the primeval Darkness around it?
Did the shell even care, or had it simply been caught up in a great
adventure?

Piknim held the conch shell to her ear and listened to a the faint echo of
some far-off place and the roil of thunder as lightning split across the
nightmare-scape of the Rip. She blew on the tip, but it produced no sound
that she could hear. Regardless, the conch had an interesting story to
tell. Into her pocket it went. Perhaps one day it would be a bauble on a
chain, or likely misplaced in a pouch like so many other keepsakes.

Lavinah would be here any minute, the kender hoped. Piknim had intended to
wait for her until morning and then set off, with or without. Venturing
forth into a foreboding nightmare-scape of living Darkness under a
primordial arcane storm to almost certain doom didn't scare Piknim in the
least, but not having a friend to share in the adventure would be lame.

She popped open a brass pocket-watch of gnomish design. It ticked
persistently, All the little gears and parts functioning as they should, but
the hands of the watch refused to budge. Maybe time had no definition here.
Maybe the pocket-watch had spent so much time in her pockets that it became
more pocket than watch. She popped it shut with a click and a small shiver.
The Rip gave her goosebumps and she loved it.

The kender mage glanced up and squinted as a flicker of movement in the
distance caught her eye. A tall, dark figure glided across the sand, closer
and closer, so thin as to be emaciated, like a wraith. A barefooted wraith.
Piknim's smile cut through the Darkness like a tiny ray of sunshine.

Lavinah Nether'vyr, priestess of Dragoth, had joined Piknim Cracklespark's
party.




Writer: Maccus
Date Thu Mar 17 02:29:43 2022

To Shadow Verminasia All Drakkara Cayenna

Subject {uThe Tide Rises
- XXXI


Two days of march. For two days, he was stuck within his thoughts. Each
one racked at him. Each one, a spike driven deeper into the bleeding heart
he was known. A grimace beneath the mask, a hand was coming up to clutch
over his heart as he began to prepare himself for what was to come. Now
wasn't the time for the bleeding heart, now was the time for the killer to
shine. A task to be completed and entrusted to do so in a swift, efficient
manner.

What could only be compared to a graveyard stood before him as he approached
the outskirts. Corpses strung onto vast pillars of obsidian-colored glass,
markings where one might be buried beneath stones. One or two more
crypt-like structures encompassed the center within other scattered areas.

The outskirts had been patroled by lightly armored skeletons, some wielding
bows and several arrows in quivers along their hips. Some of the skeletons
were armed with swords, axes, maces, and shields. Deeper into the graveyard
had housed several more festering zombies. They shuffled in a fashion that
could only be described as mindless, though if one observed the pattern,
they could see that the zombies followed a strict routine.

Closer to the crypts, several diabliere floated, observing their constructs
and movement. Ever aware of the surroundings close to the graveyard. Their
claw-like hand emanated various magik's. "Gifts of the Goddes," Maccus
thought. Fire, lightning, ice, acid, earth, and water originated at
multiple points from the diabliere. Then, through it, he saw the one he was
hunting. "Greater" is the word that could best describe how it moved and
acted. Others were almost kneeling in its presence.

Maccus began his last check, examining his weapons first. Curved dagger in
the left, bastard sword in the right. Then the brief preparation. He
secured the mask over his nose and ensured the rest of it across his cheeks,
protecting his face from any residual acid splashing. Then the hood goes
up. It was now or never.




Writer: Kaerick
Date Thu Mar 17 17:52:20 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 17 18:43:57 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 17 18:44:02 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 17 18:45:13 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 17 18:45:17 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Thu Mar 17 19:33:08 2022

To All Symantha Lavinah Shadow Verminasia Piknim ( RP Xenophon Devion imm Cayenna Drakkara )

Subject Accompanying The Rip Party



For her part, the Blue Firstborn took to the sky, keeping close enough to
the mortals to have benefit from the lights of their party, keeping a keen
eye (for there was only one to be keen) upon the landscape.

Although her focus was upon the safety of those below, the Kenderkin Piknim
was given special attention.

She snorted softly when she realized Piknim had Ezrianne's pocketwatch.
Again.

Pulling in her wings, she came down to the ground behind the Kender, peering
forward as Lavinah arrived upon the scene.




Writer: Tief
Date Fri Mar 18 07:04:42 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Fri Mar 18 09:10:48 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Fri Mar 18 09:25:56 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Fri Mar 18 09:37:33 2022




Writer: Rahma
Date Fri Mar 18 11:52:54 2022




Writer: Rahma
Date Fri Mar 18 11:54:39 2022




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Fri Mar 18 13:35:21 2022




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Fri Mar 18 13:35:41 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Mar 18 17:05:58 2022

To All Lavinah Sidorinath Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject The Tide Goes Out 1/2



A diminutive kender held her hand high in greeting and grinned from ear
to ear, a most unusual sight to see on the barren black shore of a plane of
Living Night shrouded in primeval darkness under a burgeoning storm of raw
arcane power. Lavinah drew closer and closer until the unlikely pair were
joined. The elf folded her arms behind her back, inspecting Piknim
Cracklespark with a critical eye.

"Paragon. I trusst All of your.. many thingss are packed?" The priestess
of Dragoth inquired.

All packed 'n ready to go, you betcha! Actually, that reminds me!
Eevelline told me to bring extra socks. Hold on, hold on!" Piknim
exclaimed, turning to rummage in her saddlebags, which were bulging with far
too many items. Finally, she produced a pair of knitted black socks with a
kitschy spiderweb design. "So, I brought you an extra pair too, just in
case!"

Lavinah accepted the bundle with a thin smirk, ever so gracious. "My
thankss." It seemed as though Lavinah never smiled, although Piknim had
caught her in a giggle once or twice. She swore she'd never tell, but only
in stories.

A broad shadow suddenly loomed overhead and a gust of chill wind sent their
clothes billowing. Piknim's black pony, Amethyst, bolted a short distance
as an ancient Blue Firstborn landed behind her and pulled in its wings. The
dragon's formidable tail, long and sinuous, coiled around the kender mage
protectively, or perhaps possessively. Piknim never could quite tell the
difference. She hugged her little arms around as much of the blue-scaled
appendage as possible. Lavinah only smirked. She hadn't so much as
flinched.

"Ladies," Sidorinath greeted them.

The tail's grip loosened and Piknim climbed atop it to gain some high ground
with which to brief the small team on their mission. The diminutive kender
had taken de facto control, but her colleagues seemed content to humor her
or simply disinclined to bicker over an objective so simple even a kender
couldn't muck it up.

"Gotta go fast! Ignore the supply train," she exhorted them, "They're too
slow! We're not stoppin' or sleepin' till we catch up with the main
caravan." The kender mage traced a tiny finger around one of the many runes
engraved upon the shaft of her hoopak, a conjuration sigil, and it flared in
response. She brandished the hoopak like a staff and invoked a command
word. A magical sapphire-blue light erupted around the plush goblin doll
hanging from the fork, bright enough for a dragon to see from the air.

"Undersstood."

"Mmhm. Very well, tiny taskmaster," the Blue Firstborn rumbled with a
bemused grin. Sidorinath unfurled her wings and took to the sky again
without warning. Dramatic entrances and exits were kind of her thing.
Maybe that's why Piknim never had enough time to return Ezrianne's
pocketwatch, which had accidentally fallen into her pocket weeks ago.

In fact, Piknim barely had time to leap clear of the firstborn's tail and
onto the soft black sand. She stumbled to her pony, clutching blindly for
the reins as a bout of vertigo struck, courtesy of Sebatis and possibly
triggered by the sudden violence of motion. The world of the Living Night
plane spun around the kender, as if she were tumbling through a starry void.
The intense dizziness passed quickly, but she still felt a bit cross-eyed
and sick to her stomach.

"We musst depart, yess?" Lavinah's voice cut through the vertigo, every bit
as steadying as a hand upon the kender's shoulder and the closet to it
Piknim could hope to receive.

"Tch! Right. Right, let's go!"





Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Mar 18 19:13:19 2022

To All Lavinah Sidorinath Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject The Tide Goes Out 2/2



The pair mounted up and set off at a gallop. The Blue Firstborn soared
along high above them, majestic yet playful as she crashed through clouds,
dodged flashes of lightning, and rolled with the thunder. Piknim wanted to
be up there on dragon-back, shooting through the living night like a bright
blue comet, but it'd be rude to make Lavinah ride alone on the ground.
Maybe lightning would strike Sidorinath's brain and spark the kind of
epiphany she needed to win over Devion. For All her vivacity and grandeur,
the Blue Firstborn had been put through the wringer lately. Like Piknim,
she had struggled with matters of faith.

It reminded Piknim, in some small way, of Geirhart, a weary old man held
upright by the great strength of his heart. She used to think him
invincible, like a knight in a storybook, but even he struggled or fell to
doubt at times. Firstborn, like her big blue gem, Sidorinath, had struggles
and doubts too, greater still than those of softlings. In fact, the
dragon's greatness only led to a heavier burden of responsibility and higher
expectations. Maccus, more storm than man and the greatest warrior she had
ever known, seemed so crippled at times by self-doubt that he could barely
lift his head, much less a sword.

What of the great monoliths like Telthian? Did the Dark Lord struggle in
secret, or were his doubts simply purged before they could be weighed and
measured, melted to dross by some inner crucible? The molten blaze in his
eyes, so very different from the chill of Isadore's icy glare, hinted as
much.

Piknim's usual struggles were contending with All the stray thoughts and
idle musings that filled her head, like so much junk in her pockets and
pouches, or perhaps hundreds of thousands of pieces from different puzzles
all scattered into a jumbled mess. Poking around with the pieces helped to
pass time on long journeys like this one, but putting together a complete
picture seemed impossible. She wanted so dearly to borrow Telthian's
crucible, if only for a short while, and melt away All the worthless pieces
until only pure shadow remained.

She wondered which pocket he kept it in. She wouldn't want to guess wrong.




Writer: Timmel
Date Fri Mar 18 19:52:14 2022




Writer: Timmel
Date Fri Mar 18 20:03:43 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Mar 18 20:22:13 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Mar 18 20:22:21 2022




Writer: Nikola
Date Sat Mar 19 17:23:23 2022

To All ( IMM RP Cayenna Drakkara )

Subject Rebuilding and Such Black Robe Matters.



A diminutive, but feminine, doll-like figure climbs out of a small and
ornate ebony wood box. It stretches out its body in a feline manner,
yawning as it turns toward the crescent Black Moon shining through the crown
glassed window.

"Good evening Mistress. " it states, almost as a prayer and greeting mixed.


It turns toward the petite wardrobe closet, walking over and opening it with
the wave of its hand, then deftly plucking out a professorial knee length
pleated black skirt, white button up shirt and small black tie. It dresses,
carefully, but quickly, pulling on a fitted black robe, half-cloak and pair
of ebony-red boots.

Dressing mostly finished it turns toward a small chair, there's a table next
to it and a steaming cup of red liquid sits upon, prepared and waiting.

It settles into a armchair, sipping at the cup of tea-like substance and turns
toward the door, waiting...

There's a knock.

"Enter, magus." It states, clearly aware of the visit.

A large dwarfish figure opens the door and enters, he has a rough & tawny
complexion, tall and with a mop of shoulder-length coppery ginger hair
adorning it. A typical dwarf, muscled, bearded and set with a gruff looking
face, the juxtaposition its fancifully adorned and exceedingly precise
dapperlike clothing presents is difficult not to notice. He turns toward
the shorter feminine figure and states without much emotion or reverence,
"Master Nikola, " while giving a half nod.

Nikola smiles, making motion with fingers toward a newly appeared cup,
similar steaming red liquid inside.

"Have a cup, it is the best to start the day. Now, tell me Abraxas, have
you finished preparing the ashes and bodies?
" the one called Nikola asks.


An even toned, but annoyed, grumbling comes from the dwarf, "Yes, Master,
tae ashes o'tae students an' fallen magi 'ave been gathered in ta crates,
an' placed wit'ta frozen pile o'Hordelin' cadavers.
" He continues, a bit
more annoyance in his voice,

".. But didnae think ye'd 'ave mae do et wit'mae own hands. I couldnae
easilae get ta char, dirt an' and half-frozen ichor out o'mae robes.
"

The dwarf wastes no further time, scooping up the offered cup and downing
its near boiling liquid in a single gulp.

Nikola blinks, almost annoyed, "You have no idea how much flavor and expense
you just carelessly tossed down your gullet.
" She then laughs, "...
Dwarves.
"

Pulling out a bundle of papers from a small folder Nikola turns, handing it
to the dwarf, "Abraxas, I will have you do more. In these matters you've
been my aide and will continue. These are the blueprints for the Black
Tower's new entry, as well as some room for creativity on your own part.
Should you wish to make more practical usage of our glut in "practice"
rooms.
"

Abraxas takes the bundle of paper, examining and frowning, "Ye seriouslae
tink this bae good enough?
"

Nikola narrows her eyes, a small spark of blackish lightning forming around
them, before dissipating, "Of course not, make your edits and bring it back
for my review. I did not trust a dwarf in matters of creation and stone
work just to ignore the irreverent, but often right, bastards when they have
their say.
"

"And here I thought it was near perfect, " laments Nikola, giving out an
almost playful sigh of frustration.

"Is tha' all? " Abraxas inquires, already moving to leave and get on with
the works.

"Of course, do make use of the still breathing students and magi. If you
need labor, we have plenty of animated husks for you to employ. I will send
the gnomes and dwarves of Thaxanos to you as our foreman, the artisans of
Abaddon and Verminasia will also be at your disposal.
"

Nikola nods the dwarf away, as if it was even needed, and returns to her cup
of ... tea.





Writer: Geirhart

Date Sat Mar 19 19:05:20 2022




Writer: Geirhart

Date Sat Mar 19 19:45:48 2022




Writer: Timmel

Date Sat Mar 19 22:32:57 2022




Writer: Brustin

Date Sun Mar 20 16:34:53 2022

To All

Subject My sword, sweet hum it made.




Brustin, walking around the Arkane streets began to sing
out loud, for All to hear.


Oh...


Through Arkane market, I wandered and prayed
That I'd find me a perfect weapon some day.
Well, I never dreamed when I prayed that prayer
That the sword I longed for was forsale there.

For I loved that sword.

When I held it in my arms that night,
I held it close, and I held so very tight.
And I swore that day forth, I'd use All of my life.
It would shine, when held up against the light.

For I adored saw that sword.

It smelled of the sweetest crafted skin.
And I admit it now it drew me in.
Every swing, I made at my foes created lines of blood,
takeing my breath away.

For I never sheathed that sword.

Oh, the hum it made swung in the air that day.
The last I saw it, it was disarmed from me.
Blinded and cursed, I scream and cried.
And twenty years later, I regretted a day.

For I never saw that sword.

Leaving the east gate, Brustin closed it and continued back
to his hall.




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Mar 20 20:51:16 2022

To All Telthian Geirhart Sidorinath Lavinah Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject All the Pieces 1/?



Piknim Cracklespark sat on the soft grass in Drakkara's garden shrine.
Here in isolation, rather than the more frequented temple east of the city,
her kender antics wouldn't disturb anyone. A marble statue of the Night
Mother, dark and beautiful, watched over her.

She had spoken with the Dark Lord of Shadow that day. The meeting went
better than she ever hoped it might, even though she failed to keep her
emotions bottled up, blathered at times, and interrupted at others, in stark
contrast to Telthian's calm composure and measured dialogue. Still, she
finally understood why many looked upon him as a dark father figure, rather
than the impenetrable monolith that had loomed in her mind before.

The contents of her pockets and pouches, accumulated over the past month or
so, lay scattered about before the kender mage, like pieces of a puzzle.
Her violet gaze drifted over the them, recalling the origin and signficance
of each in turn as Telthian's words echoed in memory with a weight that made
every sentiment linger.

* "Our paths have not crossed much save through the exploits of these
trials, but I have witnessed you - both now and long ago."

She picked up a sacrificial dragonbone kris, handling it with a reverent
touch. A gift from the Dark Lord, its jagged blade radiated dark magic and
hummed with promises of blood yet to be spilled in Drakkara's name. It
looked much too wicked to be wielded by the hands of a kender. Piknim set
it aside for the time-being.

* "An heirloom, but not one to be kept in a glass case and pontificated
over, but to be put to use. Perhaps I will tell you its story too, one
night when we are All weary from exertion in the Rip."

She unrolled an old, gray crocheted blanket. Geirhart had draped it about
her shoulders during her trek to the moonlily fields at the start of her
dark road to Drakkara's service. It had been with her for every step of the
journey, a constant comfort. Piknim spread it out on the grass, a clean
space upon which to organize her keepsakes. She added to it a big pair of
shiny brass scissors, a souvenir from the ribbon-cutting ceremony for
Geirhart's chapel.

* "Good men and heroes would take your pain from you, they would shelter you
so you never experience it and deprive you of your potential."

Piknim placed a bizarre black and purple conch shell on the blanket. She'd
found it on the shore of the Living Night plane. It shouldn't have even
been there, All alone on a bleak, barren stretch of black sand with none
other of its kind to be seen. She wondered what sort of strange story it
had to tell.

* "The darkness has always moved around you in some measure and you were
carried on its current until this point."

She regarded a pair of treasured prizes with a bright smile. One hand held
an ivory tiara set with sapphires from the hoard of a Blue Firstborn, while
the other held a bright blue second place ribbon from Ezrianne's
all-you-can-eat spicy hot-wing eating contest. She placed them upon the
blanket delicately.

* "Far better to be strange than some banal, uninspired thing.."

Next, a pair of gardening gloves from the spring planting festival. Then, a
dried bundle of dubious purple-veined herbs. They were the tools of shared
toil and a bounty of corruption, the spoils of Lavinah's schemes.

* "It is part of our shared purpose, is it not? To find not only what lies
in dark places but the darkness that can grow in others."

She picked up a broad feather of jet black and scarlet. It had accidentally
fallen into her pocket during Chancellor Symantha's sermon at the temple of
Drakkara outside Thalos. Piknim tried to return it later, but the
Chancellor insisted she keep it as a memento of the occasion. She added the
feather to the tokens dangling from the fork of her ebony hoopak.

* "This tide is what we have sought for an age, and you are here to help
harness it."

* * *




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Mar 20 21:22:12 2022

To All Telthian Maccus Eevelline Abraxas Aurielle ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject All the Pieces 2/3



Piknim cradled a poorly-folded origami frog in her hands, a fitting
souvenir from Mervhin and Garivelle Lichtbaum's puppet show. It had been a
splendid collaborative story, in which evil won in the end, that reminded
her of the unity promised in Drakkara's Vision. The guests included friends
and allies from Abaddon and Darkonin. All of them had made Piknim's dark
road more bearable, in ways large and small.

* "You have many who will be beside you when the time comes."

She picked up a heavy arcanium link, which felt lighter than it ever had
before. It came from the obelisks in the Rip. The forging of those chains
amidst a jagged tear in a storm-ravaged sky had been eerily similar to past
daydreams that helped her through the worst of times as a kender in the dark
city.

In those daydreams, she found redemption by betraying the bad guys in the
Light's darkest hour, stealing the big evil artifact at the last minute,
making a mad dash to freedom, and saving the world. That dream had died
with nary a whimper. Drakkara had better plans for the kender mage, it
seemed. She clipped the arcanium link to the chains about her neck where it
belonged.

* "This world is brutal, and we have been made brutal by it."

She ran her tiny fingertips along a length of rich, midnight-blue cloth with
elaborate stitching, taken from one of the last original Eclipse banners.
It held a special signficance to Maccus, who bound part of it to her in a
ritual. She'd felt stronger and more determined ever since. She tied the
strip of cloth around her left wrist where it belonged.

* "This world is imperfect. It is steeped in blood and so are we."

She held aloft a fragment or pure crimson aether from before the Cataclysm.
A present from Eevelline, it thrummed and swirled with power. The gnome
told her she must decide when and where to use it. Piknim hadn't yet
determined the fragment's full nature or properties. They could very well
be infinite.

* "This is your true beginning, a transition from past to limitless
potential - but not an end."

She grinned irrepressibly upon rediscovering a misshapen locket of melted
silver coins. Abraxas has given it to her. A toy to be used in pranks, it
produced the sound of obnoxious laughter whenever she popped it open.

* "I appreciate the strange, it makes us unique creatures."

Piknim chortled and shook her head as she held up a stale Ithersean
blackberry danish. She tossed it onto the blanket with a scatter of flakey
crumbs. Aurielle again. The young kender magess had a lot of spunk.
Piknim hoped to mentor her one day.

* "I always search out those with potential, darkfinder, and especially so
when it rises in curious places."

The kender mage marveled at a deep purple crystal, one of the only keepsakes
left to be counted. Piknim had found it during a hiking trip to Amethyst
Falls. Supposedly, the crystal contained the dreams of an Amethyst Dragon.
It reminded her of happy times and held the promise of adventures yet to
come.

* "The Dark Queen has given you Her boldness. I know you will carry it far
and wide."

* * *




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Mar 20 21:26:42 2022

To All Telthian Maccus Baol Geirhart ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject All the Pieces 3/3



Finally, Piknim opened a hefty leather-bound journal to a page with a
charcoal drawing of a slender obsidian pillar rising from a patch of
moonlilies. It looked like a grave where part of somebody might be buried,
or perhaps a monument to a triumph. A black moonlily had been pressed into
the pages.

* "That seed of darkness, that fiery spark has waited for its time and it is
upon you."

She turned the page. Another charcoal drawing. It depicted a knight in
blackened armor standing on a rocky promontory with a storm raging behind
him. Several lavender roses were pressed into the pages.

* "There is no space for doubt."

She turned the page. Another charcoal drawing, though only half-completed
and abandoned. It depicted an arboren with elfin features. A blue
snapdragon had been pressed into the pages.

* "And those who doubt you, who malign your fervor will find their mistake
painful."

She turned the page once more. The final charcoal drawing depicted an old
man in simple robes standing under a willow tree. A ruined white moonlily
with but a single petal left clinging to the core had been pressed into the
pages.

* "But it is that road you are on in the darkness, to embrace that pain and
struggle, that will give you the strength and will to shape the world as we
wish it to be."

Piknim retrieved the sacrificial dragonbone kris she had set aside.
Everything had come full circle, beginning and ending with it. The weight
and heft of the weapon felt at home in her hands, as though she had truly
been born to wield it. All the pieces of the puzzle were assembled before
her, with Telthian's words holding them together. Enough worthless pieces
had been purged and the rest finally fell into place. A complete picture
emerged and Piknim seized it.

* "It is not a thought you hold in your mind and convince yourself of, but a
feeling within the marrow of your bones that this is who you are, who you
always were meant to become."




Writer: Kaerick

Date Mon Mar 21 13:34:24 2022




Writer: Shilo

Date Mon Mar 21 16:19:00 2022

To All ( IMM RP Taliena )

Subject Only Hair



The braided length slid to the ground, severed.

Even in the act, Shilo shivered, the pain of severence almost a visceral
one for the ariel. Cut followed cut followed cut, her hands steadier than
they had a right to be. Reshaping and sheering the lengths that had been
her pride for so long.

"It's only hair." she reminded herself. Her voice wavered in the half-dark,
and echoed unevenly throughout the cavern. This place had come to be a most
beloved sanctuary for the wandering ariel of late; a place to find shelter
from the rest of the world's growing strife and insanity. Strands of gold
and vibrant color fell to the ground in small swirls of activity, the sound
of the scissors accusatory. Uncertainty threatened to swallow the ariel.

"It doesn't matter." The insistence was firm yet quiet - as much to convince
herself as anything else. Slender fingertips reached out for a black bottle
of dye, tracing nails along the edge of its stopper.

Nothing mattered, really.

She uncorked the bottle.

Not anymore.




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon Mar 21 19:53:33 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon Mar 21 20:22:11 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Mar 21 20:52:27 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Mar 21 20:52:34 2022




Writer: Raimbaut
Date Mon Mar 21 21:45:30 2022

To Knighthood All ( Imm RP Austinian Kantilles Nadrik )

Subject Location - Secret Entrance, Rip, Sand Sea of Kabir Abyad



He stood upon a dune, gazing upon a faint ripple, barely a glimmer, and
most certainly a mirage. At least, that is what most would suspect when
coming upon the second entrance to the Rip. His gaze was unwavering. He
rode upon the rip and entered it, just as he would have from the New Thalos
proper entrance. He had added this place to his little patrol of Tropica
Temple, New Thalos, even north and south there of. He speculated various
implications of this, how this, why this. The chains at the top were still
in place as they seemed to be from before. He knew not exactly how long
this additional little tear had existed. However, he had thoroughly
inspected the place not a few weeks prior. Though, he knew it was
completely reasonable that he missed it. He chuckled to himself as there
was not much else to do with someone so inept at directions. There was not
a mirror here, amongst the sand and dunes of the deserts of the Jewel, but
he bowed his head in prayer anyway. The prayers and wisdom of many Knights
came together this evening to bless and speak good words upon one another.
He smiled, full of hope, his eyes bright with fervor and excitement. His
head still bowed, he began a short prayer.

I hope the eyes of good that be watching over us, mortal alike, be blessed
with the wisdom to approach our foes an trials with one focus an one,
together. Please, Austinian, Nadrik, Kantillies, I pray for th strength to
help bring forth a unified front of Good for th world.





Writer: Timmel
Date Mon Mar 21 21:55:00 2022




Writer: Timmel
Date Mon Mar 21 21:55:08 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Tue Mar 22 00:16:49 2022




Writer: Nimiane
Date Tue Mar 22 01:20:27 2022




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Tue Mar 22 02:03:39 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Tue Mar 22 07:17:28 2022




Writer: Lavinah
Date Tue Mar 22 09:59:38 2022

To All ( rp religion dragoth drakkara immortal )

Subject Rising Tides and Different Days



Before meeting with the caravan into the rip, she made her way to the
statue, and the chain tethered there - one she had helped forge. She walked
the length of the chain, running her fingers along the heavy arcanium links,
tracing the marks where the lightening scored the links.

Lavinah read the short inscription on the altar before the statue.
Transformation, indeed, she thought. With judgment due in just a few days,
transformation was, perhaps, inevitable.

Her thoughts lingered on those who had worked so diligently - Piknim,
Kaerick, Eevelline, and much of Storm - and how it could All be unwound in a
few moments of judgment. And so, this is where she focused, trying to keep
the careful woven threads from fraying, from tearing.

She admired how others worked in the face of uncertainty, of not knowing if
they'd be alive to serve in a few days. The Abbess' message was harrowing:
get your affairs in order. It was not a phrase that sprung positive
thoughts, no, but one that spoke to failure. Of punishment.

As the lightening arched down the chain, Lavinah composed her thoughts - how
she would accept failure, what she might say if she needed to be a sacrifice
for any number of those more important to the Infinite Night than herself,
and what thanks she might give to those who served with her. It was,
perhaps, to be her last act. And if needed, she would step forward
confidently and take punishment for the entirety of the pantheon.




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Tue Mar 22 14:42:59 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Tue Mar 22 14:47:15 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Tue Mar 22 14:51:59 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Tue Mar 22 14:57:03 2022




Writer: Geirhart
Date Tue Mar 22 17:33:30 2022




Writer: Kegrock
Date Tue Mar 22 17:42:02 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Mar 23 11:12:12 2022




Writer: Catroina
Date Wed Mar 23 19:59:59 2022

To Abaddon All ( Imm Rp Religion Fatale Drakkara Devion Dragoth Cayenna )

Subject Whistles and Fireplaces



The tune she did not recognize, nor could she pinpoint the source of it
last night but unbidden in had lived in her mind for much of the evening,
only to come again to her lips once she fully sloughed off the heavy effects
of her deeper meditation. A frown crossed Catroinas face as she found
herself whistling it again in the crypts as she sat in the Meditation
Chamber after a period of prayer, an earworm that simply would not go away.

Drips and whistling that seemed to lead them in circles and greenwood in the
fireplace, a fireplace that until last night had not even existed. Where
had that damned fireplace come from anyway? Making a point to search
through the last few weeks of missives, there was no work order made for the
creation of one, and surely if anyone had commissioned one it would have
been the Countess herself. Standing from the stone bench she crossed out of
the room and into her Council Chambers, only to stare at the blank wall upon
opening the door. If she had not been half questioning her sanity or at the
very least considering that Devion was having far too much fun at her
expense, both certainly crossed her mind now. It would not be the first
time she had heard or seen things that were not there but there had been a
witness last night and her Inquisitor, occasionally affected by his cauldron
fumes as he may be, had experienced the same. Idly testing her tongue
against one of her fangs she walked across the room to where the fireplace
had stood, smudge marks from the embers it had cast out still visible on the
stone floor. Never mind where it had come from, where had it gone?




Writer: Kegrock
Date Wed Mar 23 22:36:48 2022




Writer: Jagaroth
Date Thu Mar 24 00:14:49 2022




Writer: Jagaroth
Date Thu Mar 24 00:40:22 2022




Writer: Jagaroth
Date Thu Mar 24 00:54:07 2022




Writer: Symantha
Date Thu Mar 24 03:05:48 2022




Writer: Brustin
Date Thu Mar 24 13:16:33 2022

To All Drakkara ( Imm RP )

Subject Be Blessed!



Brustin, wandering around the old Nomad village
a simple song, came to him suddenly, and broken
his silence. He began to sing outloud everyone
around to hear.

Singing:
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
All those who stand to be blessed.
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
who seek power and purpose within...
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
the exalted Dark.

Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
send forth your praises unto the Queen.
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
for within Her Darkness All potential.
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
the exalted Dark.

Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
is revealed as Algoron awaits.
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
Alongoron awaits its transformation.
Queen of Darkness, fear and love her,
the exalted Darkness Goddess of forever night, Drakkara.

Brustin coughed, and wondered where this came from.
And carried on, wandering aimlessly. No where place
to be, nothing to see.




Writer: Kaerick

Date Fri Mar 25 14:40:19 2022




Writer: Rahma

Date Fri Mar 25 16:47:19 2022




Writer: Durtin

Date Sat Mar 26 10:13:09 2022




Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Mar 26 12:00:54 2022

To All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Darker Tides - the empty hourglass



"We gladly feast on All who would subdue us."

The embers of the coke breathed with a life of their own, undulating
steadily through the spectrum of reds and orange to blacks and back again.
They consumed the air, heating and cooling as they struggled to survive the
heat that slowly consumed them.

The unctuous dark swarmed, called forth by each echoing strike of the
smith's hammer. Fragile tendrils stretched up from the winding honeycomb of
volcanic tubes that stretched into the depths below.

The Black Wind, if it could even be called that now, was less than a
whisper. An echo of its former self, and a memory rising from some
unknowable precipice All but forgotten. Stillness had presided in this
place since the fall of Necrucifer, best left a grim and empty monument of
the past like so many other things lost.

Slowly but surely, the searing migraine that was so familiar to him began to
rise and crest. The discomfort was welcome and a sign that his efforts were
not wasted. Each beat of the hammer and every ounce of pressure applied
drove structural deviations and impurities from the lunar metal.

Prayer strengthens convictions, it strengthens the soul and the sense of who
one is and what they want. It is a conduit between mortalkind and the
divine found in many actions, not just upon temple pews. Faith and devotion
alone were not enough to change the order of Algoron, but must be joined
with action and clear vision to achieve one's ambitions.

Belief is the strongest metal of them all. And though Shadow was mocked by
the likes of Wizardess and Warlord for not possessing abundant gifts
empowering their spells or a myriad of physically prominent races, these
humans did not lack in fortitude.

Two days remained.





Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Mar 26 12:04:50 2022

To All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Darker Tides - the empty hourglass II



"ALL YOU POSSESS IS THAT WHICH I PERMIT - AND DO NOT CLAW FROM YOUR GRASP."

Umbral signs burned along the forge hammer's head, their glow diffused in
the dark of his mountain's belly before the spellforge. Raising it
overhead, he drew the stygian threads of the old night into the flat plane
of its face before delivering another decisive strike.

Time assaults All things in towering waves, unseen and unexpected until they
crash down. But for a small handful of knights, only the stars could
grandly recount the martial strength of Shadow's days long passed.

Abaddon, Verminasia, Shadow, and the Churches took the admonishment of the
Dark Queen as a call to act. Whispers shared between the others insisted it
was but an excuse to prop up the weak and undeserving by the Dark Gods.
Dungeon and Tower were passive partners until it suited them, but All must
answer to the voices of their Rulers.

Tongs gripped the metal firmly where tang and shoulder met, adjusting its
position before the workpiece came to rest upon the beveled face of a swage.

"{uTwo weeks to prepare. Put your affairs to order and make your plans.
{uJudgment will be delivered.
"

Drakkara had begun reshaping the Darkness to suit her ambitions, no longer
satisfied as the Mistress of Dark Magic alone. Nearly two years had passed
since the Darker Tide was revealed first to Her Champion of the Ebon Tower
and then to the rest of them.

By his estimation, it was the lack of boldness to act under one's own will
and risk failure coupled with the persistent fear of change that rotted away
and hollowed out the soul of Algoron. External forces would shape and
stretch the steel into its desired form or it would break and be discarded.


The ecliptic path ran both long and narrow but it had widened now to draw
within it All bastions of Darkness beneath the Black Moon. The Dark Queen's
trials existed to weigh and measure, to judge and guide the transformation.

With a steady hand the detail of the quillons came together, nested just
beyond his hand's width above the pommel. Detail was added in the
finishing, not overly ornate but utilitarian still, each adornment added
serving its purpose.

As the Gods had changed the bastions of Darkness to suit them, so too did
Drakkara aim to reshape those before her, breaking away the smoldering
remnants that no longer suited her.

Telthian assessed the mass of hammerscale and broken, ruined pieces around
him. Their waste was a necessity to find these swords before him complete,
instruments of purpose strong enough to withstand what was asked of them.

The mountain's belly stilled, the last gasps of the Black Wind expired.





Writer: Catroina

Date Sat Mar 26 13:31:11 2022

To Abaddon Verminasia Shadow Bloodlust Black_Robes ( Fatale Drakkara Devion Dragoth Imm Admin RP Religion All )

Subject Affairs in order



Two weeks to settle your affairs.

When the Countess had read the words, she began to do just that, and now, it
was the last day. Sealing letters, she hoped she would reclaim a few hours
after, there was a sense of stillness she had grown to appreciate in the few
moments it had reared its head lately. She had provided instruction for the
passing of lands and head of house, should she be unable to give it after
tonight. An Inquisitor had been named, she had even said something akin to
goodbyes that would suffice should they turn out to be the last time she
spend time with people in her life she considered important, that continued
to wake, save perhaps one.

They did not believe it, or did not want to believe it, the very idea that
the Leadership of Darkness could be wiped from the plane of existence in a
stroke later this very evening, but she did. Abaddon even made jest that
death did not stick the first time, so surely even should she die again, it
would not last, but her smile never reached her eyes when she simply nodded
to them and continued with preparations and prayers.

There was nothing else that could be done.

The undertaking of the cloth in such a time seemed almost comical, but the
ancient idea of planting trees that you might never be able to sit under
came to mind. If the Gods did decide the judgment against Abaddon, she
would stand for it and in the stead of her people, leaving those trees of
ideas that she might have planted to grow under the care of another. If
not, then she would continue to lead them, and work daily to be worthy of
the influence a priest of Fatale had among His people.

Now All there was to do is wait, six hours.




Writer: Timmel
Date Sat Mar 26 13:55:24 2022




Writer: Timmel
Date Sat Mar 26 13:58:08 2022




Writer: Timmel
Date Sat Mar 26 14:00:43 2022




Writer: Sidorinath
Date Sat Mar 26 15:57:09 2022




Writer: Abraxas
Date Sat Mar 26 17:28:59 2022

To All Nikola ( IMM RP Cayenna Drakkara )

Subject Rebuilding and Such Black Robe Matters (POV Epilogue)



The dwarf hated being told what to do. Some might call that obstinate, but he
preferred the term "free spirited".

It went against his spirited impishness and maliciousness to take on lots of
responsibility and be an authoritative figure within the Black Tower, but he
also believed that anything he was going to complain about in the future may
as well be done by him so it gets done.

Abraxas hurried away from Nikola's presence and began grumbling about All of
the new responsibilities he had. Life would be so much simplier if the Master
allowed him to just lurk and kill at his leisure, but he also liked the praise
and recognition for getting the job done. Doggy loves his tummy pats and bones.

The dwarf had a very good idea as to how he wanted to go about renovating the
bottom floor of the Black Tower. He had become somewhat of an authority on the
artistic and material arts since earning his Magus robes and he was prepared to
embrace it and flex his pretentious maven muscle. This meat puppet's hands were
so well trained at guiding movements governed by his adopted dwarven imagination
that everything seemed to happen without much fuss.

Abraxas stuck his hands in his pockets and wondered just how much fire was "too
much fire" for the bottom level of the Tower. He let out a grunt and pondered
this question as he shuffled down the hall.




Writer: Lavinah
Date Sat Mar 26 19:22:44 2022

To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth drakkara )

Subject A Different Day XVII



As a rule, her affairs were always in order.

It was how she lived, strict rules and structure - tidiness and order. And
yet, hours before the price of the trials came due, she was straightening
the jars on her workshoppe shelf for the seventh time.

Lavinah continued her work, her service, as she always did. Much of this
was part of her structure and routine. Each day, she visited each temple,
bringing a fresh corpse, a lavender rose and a black candle to arrange in
each. And she knelt, in the dirt next to the rotting corpse, and prayed,
careful words for each day, each temple, each person or sect that worked
within.

Her affairs were certainly in order. And yet the H on this jar label was
slightly crooked, her hand distracted, her patience thin, and there was no
perfection to be found in front of her.

And as Lavinah always did when she was tired or frustrated, she worked.

And that, itself, was enough until one from her past returned and completely
disheveled her just hours before judgment was due.

And suddenly, her affairs were very much not in order.




Writer: Brustin
Date Sun Mar 27 01:48:06 2022

To All Fatale Devion Dragoth Drakkara ( Imm RP )

Subject Song for the gods of darkness



While watching the trials being held by the gods of darkness,
a song poured into Brustins head, if was given the chance the
song would of been sung for All to hear.

Instead, it is written on a piece of paper and left on the ground.

A clever knight should never drink,
So much that they become to bold.
Because a knight who boasts, talks and brags,
will rarely get a chance to grow old.

A gift for Fatale, is the head of a knight,
murdered and left for dead.
It's purpose upon the land is a plight,
that tries to rear its rightious head.

A gift for Devion, the the gift of trick,
chanted among friends with guile and speed,
alertness, cunning and stealth.
spreading half truth of myths right quick.

A gift for Dragoth, of rot and death.
Whiff of decay and purtrid ooze lingers in the air.
Causing All to gringe and hold their breath,
the stink cannot compare.

A gift for Drakkara, Mistress of the Infiniate Night
The Shadow climbs up rugged heights
Snagged the unblemished pristine tights
For they are the most peace in the land
and evil clan they claim to be, judgement is at hand.





Writer: Asyrlin

Date Sun Mar 27 11:40:40 2022




Writer: Abraxas

Date Sun Mar 27 12:47:04 2022




Writer: Cieran

Date Sun Mar 27 20:19:33 2022




Writer: Justian

Date Mon Mar 28 07:16:08 2022

To All Chaos ( RP Malachive Scorn Imm Admin Religion )

Subject Self Sacrifice (Two of more than 2)



They never fail who die in a great cause

The words hissed in the air, a vibrant magenta color flashed brightly with
each word uttered in a neutral voice. Justian paused in his relentless
polishing of the symbol of CHAOS long enough to observe the strange light
and take in the Warped words. Then he proceeded to apply All his strength
to polishing as if it would make up for the lost time. The occasional The
best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.
still rang out in overly loud tones from enthusiastic compatriots.

Justian pondered his time in Chaos as he polished. He never manifested the
changes that others had, at least outwardly. If anything his fur was
whiter, his eyes bluer, and voice deeper than before he understood the
Truth. The Warp changes All who enter, there are no rules on how or why...
When... Or how much. He continued mechanically polishing sections of the
symbol of CHAOS that gleamed brighter than ever.

...there is power in self-sacrifice.
Let us sacrifice our today so that our children can have a better tomorrow.
Sacrifice is a part of life. It's supposed to be. It's not something to regret. It's something to aspire to.
The speed of your success is limited only by your dedication and what you're willing to sacrifice

A riot of color and sound assaulted Justian, words flashed bright as the sun
in a jumble of colors, tones, and volumes. He attempted to cover his eyes,
but to no avail. Oddly, he was able to understand every sentence as if it
was spoken separately. When it was over he closed his eyes for a long
moment, slowly opened them to confirm he could still see, then blinked
several times to speed the process.

He waited.

Seconds became minutes. Minutes became an hour. Nothing.

He eyed his polishing rag still on the floor from where he had flung it in
surprise. Cautiously he approached it, picking it up slowly, and wetted it
to resume polishing the symbol of CHAOS as he mused. The moment the rag
touched the symbol of CHAOS his surroundings appeared to light up in green
CHAOS fire and the words THERE IS NO SUCCESS WITHOUT SACRIFICE.
Reverberated from inside his own chest. The flames pulsed with each word
emphasizing the final one.

He dropped his rag and began purposefully walking towards where he knew the
largest group of compatriots gathered. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps it
was nothing. It did not matter. In his mind the stone was cast and he
would see this undertaking though.

Words...Screams...Rants....Gibberish...echoed in the WARP




Writer: Aliera

Date Mon Mar 28 10:57:17 2022

To Althainia Imm RP All Religion Nadrik

Subject Quick Trip Home



Walking away from the docks, Aliera focused ahead towards New Thalos.
These last few years they had given the Kingdom and continent of Althainia
some space in their retirement, generally docking in Icewall when it was
needed. Leaving the sea air of the docks behind she headed into the city,
pausing at the gate as a crack in the air drew the eye up and sent a shiver
down her spine. The lightning was something to behold in person. Of
course, they had heard of it, not a soul on Algoron had likely not, but the
purple flashes made the tiny hairs along her arms stand up in warning just
as much as the electricity in the air. Rubbing at her largely bare arms
with a gloved hand, the long-dismissed want for her armor resurfaced in her
mind as she made her way further into the city.

Further curiosities in the sky caught her attention as she made her way
through, the Thalosian sand shifting from gold to ebon and back, the feeling
of dread not quite leaving her subconscious in a warning by the time she
made it into the bank. Connected as they All were, it had proven a good
place to collect missives in their few trips ashore and she nodded to the
clerk, withdrawing the amount they would need for supplies before adding,
'Missives for Renato and Amarandus as well please, I will pick them back up
here in an hour, I do know it takes a while.
' The clerk looked mildly
annoyed but nodded to her requestion and with a tip of her head, Aliera
stepped back out into the desert sun and already missed the ship.

"Seas the Day" had to be one of the silliest names she had ever heard for a
ship, at least before they had set sail but now, she had certainly seen her
fair share of others and it was a home for the two of them. It had been a
haven these last few years. A call to several of the urchins walking New
Thalos' streets produced a few of them willing to trust her the fact that
she wore a holy symbol around her neck was likely far outweighed by the hot
meal provided to those willing to help. On a full belly and coins in hand
with a promise of more with the job done, she had a few of them lined up to
ferry goods out of the city and to the ship ahead of her, the coin they were
being paid worth far more than the meat and vegetables they were sent to
carry. Shopping for the supplies went quickly, seeing most of the
provisions sent out to the ship before she stepped into one of the new bars,
the fact that New Thalos was a city of imports bringing a smile to her lips
as she caught sight of a familiar bottle.

'What can I do for you, hun? ' the waitress asked, oozing a bit of charm to
make a sale while fully aware that the silver-haired woman before her did
look to at least have some money to reward her efforts with. Acknowledging
the efforts of the girl, however, wasted on her target they might be with
another tip of her head and a gentle smile, Aliera indicated a particular
bottle. 'That one there in the back, I will take the whole bottle, and any
more you might have like it.
' Widening her eyes at the request, the girl
turned her head on a swivel to see just which bottle was being requested and
then brought it out, displaying it over her palm. The 'LC' on the label was
hers alright and another nod to the waitress confirmed the order, 'This one
and any others you have.
The price of course was double what they actually
sold for, but it did not matter, Cieran would be surprised.

A last stop at the bank and she paid the Clerk for the inconvenience,
seeming to greatly improve his mood to the point that he offered to do the
same again at their next time in port. Flipping the pile of her own
missives over, she started from those sent out first to the realms, scanning
the seals as she walked back to port. The Empire, the Keep, some public
missive on darts... And then dice, the Keep, the Keep... Gray Church...
With a frown she flipped back to the first one and broke the seal open,
reading as her feet led her back towards the sea.




Writer: Cieran

Date Mon Mar 28 12:15:53 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Mon Mar 28 13:19:13 2022




Writer: Rahke

Date Mon Mar 28 14:30:20 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon Mar 28 15:53:46 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon Mar 28 16:10:36 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon Mar 28 16:14:39 2022




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Mon Mar 28 21:08:51 2022

To All Althainia Knighthood Nadrik Religion Admin Cayenna Xenophon

Subject Mirrors, Reflections and Lofty Goals (Part 1)



Kadiya's temple was quiet as Kyrlynn found a moment when it was vacant.
The temple had been visited much more in recent weeks due to the addition of
the mirror and Kantilles statement that of All of them, it was the most
important.

The mirror shone so brightly now it was almost blindly bright. Had she been
avoiding it? She wasn't certain.. But she had yet to truly face one of
these mirrors, see herself and speak to the Gods. One could only avoid a
directive from the Gods for so long, especially her own and she was not one
to do so.

The half-elf pushed her hood back and slid the crown upon her brow off. She
sat the crown upon one of the pews and turned to gaze upon the brightly
shining mirror. It was a few moments of silence before the woman drew in a
long breath, lifted her chin and shoulders and stepped close enough to
actually see her own reflection.

Her breath caught for a moment as the woman that stared back at her was not
the one standing before the mirror. In fact it was hardly a woman at all
and was barely more than a child. Staring back at her from the mirror was
her younger self, barely of age if that. More than anything it was the lost
look in her own eyes that startled her. Had it been so noticeable to others
then as it was to her now, staring into a younger version of her own eyes?

Canting her head, she took a moment to really look over the girl before her.
If she had to guess this was around the age she was when she entered the
tower and when the shade attacks had started. She had made her faith to
Nadrik known and was trying to find her footing after being raised in
Zandreya's church.

Growing up in Althainia had afforded her the opportunity to see the Knights
about the city, to even meet and know some of them. His Knights. Those
same Knights would frequently come to her aide when the shade would come and
attack her. She had tried adamantly to refuse the aide and the knights
assigned to protect her, after All who was she to deserve such? Weren't
there more important individuals for them to be saving?

But wasn't that the point? Even if she could defend herself, she was under
attack from the shadows and she was but one half elf and she did not fully
know what she faced. She only knew that citizens had been captured, were in
danger and her home was under attack. If she could help, she was going to
do so and the same was said of the knights. It didn't matter that she was
no one of importance, she was a person in danger and there were other people
in even more danger. The knights were servants of the light, protectors of
the innocent no matter whom the person was. She knew that call and she felt
it deep down to her core.

It would be a call that would drive her further in her life than she ever
imagined. Staring into the lost eyes of her younger self, Kyrlynn knew that
the girl before her had no idea the limits she would be pushed to. The
memories of the shade times flooded her mind, when the old mage had come to
her seeking aide, she hadn't the slightest idea how to do what he was
asking. It wasn't a question of not having All the answers, she quite
literally had none as she was barely a beginner student in a tower of mages
whom seemed to be far too sleepy to offer much aide.

(Continued to Part 2)




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Mon Mar 28 21:12:33 2022

To All Althainia Knighthood Nadrik Religion Admin Cayenna Xenophon

Subject Mirrors, Reflections and Lofty Goals (Part 2)



Quitting was never an option as long as people were in danger. Ego had
never been something that Kyrlynn had struggled with very much, far too
often it was feeling of failing that plagued her far more. Kyr stared into
the eyes of a young girl who would fall in love with His Knights but not
because of the glory and recognition or even because of some need to be a
hero but because of what they represented... The grit and determination...
The fact that in that keep the light truly was ONE... They were the shield
and the sword together. They were the justice and redemption, they learned
and grew together. Was it possible to do these things outside of Gareth?
Sure, but no where else was it so natural and cohesive.

With the knights so heavily involved in the shade attacks, she had gotten to
watch first hand how those links of chain flexed and pulled but they did not
break. The shade story ended up being one of danger, redemption, courage,
healing and love. The knights had worked to help shield her and others in
Althainia from the shade attacks, rushing to the charge at a moments notice
each time the unpredictable attacks had occurred, risking their own life and
limb without a second thought. She had watched the labor of love that was
healing Lezra's heart and bringing the old Knight back to the light, All in
an effort to return Althainia to a state of peace, free from the threat of
the shade.

The shield, the sword, the heart, and the healing hands were All used
together and none stood above the other. It was the Light in All its glory:
full of courage and heart, full of hope and healing All in the hope of
restoring peace to the lives of Althainians. No one balked at the need for
sword, no one hesitated with the shield. She learned more about the light
and about herself than she ever dreamed.

It was then that the first seeds of what would become a dream were planted.
It would take years for those roots to find purchase, to begin to dare rise
above the soil's surface and risk reaching for the light of the sun. After
all, what could she even offer the keep? There was so much more they could
offer her. She was but a half elf seeking to find her place, to serve to
the best of her abilities.

A heavy sigh escaped Kyrlynn's lips as looked down at her rosary, each
single bead a representation of a facet of the light. She thumbed the beads
gently, staring at them silently before returning her gaze to the mirror.
This time it wasn't youth filled eyes that stared back but instead the eyes
of one whom had been tried and tested, whom had not only seen love and loss
but felt it down to her core.

She stared at the reflection quietly, noted the tiredness in the visage and
though she did not age she could still see what time had wrought upon her
mind and soul. The young girl whom had grown up in Althainia, whom had
found herself in service to the light and to others was still in there. But
now she been through the ups and downs, seen the fall of Gods and Goddesses,
feared the loss of her own.

The girl whom had wondered what she could ever offer Gareth that would
warrant them allowing one whom was only half human into the keep, still
stared back at her. While there was still questions in those eyes, they
were different these days and the old doubt was replaced with a confidence
that only came from wisdom and experience.

This woman knew what it was to stand beside those of All faiths, to show
them what honor in battle was. She had gone to the Vallens, still believing
that she had little to offer Gareth to warrant them forgoing their usual
restrictions. The vallens wasn't All that different from Gareth in some
ways. Yes, there were those from All three ethos but they had a common goal
and that was what bound them together.

(Continued to Part 3)




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Mon Mar 28 21:15:30 2022

To All Althainia Knighthood Nadrik Religion Admin Cayenna Xenophon

Subject Mirrors, Reflections and Lofty Goals (Part 3)



Protection of Zandreya's people and holy lands drove them All to see past
their differences and stand together. They hadn't even had issue with
Kyrlynn's own faith and honor being different than their own and instead had
embraced her and the differences. She remembered having discussions on
honor with Thanatael of All people, someone whom had quickly become a
trusted friend and ally.

When she had entered the vallens she had been lost but an entirely different
lost than the young girl who had appeared in the mirror earlier. No, this
was a lost that only came from pain and loss of unimaginable measure. She
had been seeking something when she went to the vallens but what that was,
she did not know at the time. Finding herself in the song and in a place
she had previously feared that she did not belong was unexpected.

She had learned a lot from the Vallens and the elves, she hoped they had
learned something from her as well but she knew she had stuck to her
convictions. A trust had been earned and friendships forged. The sash on
her waist remained even now as she served the Empire again and served
outside the vallens.

The return to Althainia had been a necessity due to threats and it
strengthened an alliance. So much had occurred in recent years... Nadrik
had been saved, Siccara had been lost and Drakkara had taken the darkness
and brought about the blights upon the realm. The light felt different than
ever before, fractured. There were few of His faith whom woke in the realms
and even fewer in His keep.

She felt herself longing for the return of the cohesion of Gareth that she
had admired so much in her youth. The virtue lessons she had offered were a
means to teach about Nadrik and hopefully inspire reflection. More than
ever she felt the call to serve there, that she had something to offer....
To be a voice of His and about His teachings there in the Keep.

The cohesion of the light had been something her and Mercerion had been
actively pushing and speaking about for a while. She had held sermons
talking about the different facets of the light and how they were linked and
strengthened each other. The virtue lessons she had previously written
about had been turned into discussions that had been well attended. They
seemed to have sparked a lot of contemplation from those who attended.

More was needed though and with Nadrik delivering a message to her to spread
to His faith and the light, she felt she must be doing something right. He
stated that He had faith in her, that He had confidence that she would serve
Him in deed which weighs more than just word alone.

It was time to have faith in herself and do just that.. Help the keep bring
Nadrik's teachings back to the forefront with the other faiths of the light,
dispel the misconceptions and once again find that cohesion that made Gareth
so great. They were stronger together, she knew that and she knew she could
learn from those of the keep even better from within the keep, standing side
by side with them and leading by example. They would show the rest of the
light that it could be done just as Gwynn, Aenarion, Amargein, Gwaine,
Mercerion, Muse, Acthus and so many others had shown her.




Writer: Bahamut
Date Mon Mar 28 23:20:26 2022

To All Knighthood Althainia White_Robes Justice ( Nadrik Xenophon Immortal Religion )

Subject Golden Reflection


Within the confines of the ancient temple, a just-as-ancient being
stirred, restless. It had been a time of intense reflection, though no
mirror existed within the confines of the great expanse. Instead, there was
only the eyes of the Venerated Son, the God of Honor, cast in stone with a
love that none could ever equal, for no two artists felt nor captured it in
quite the same way. It was beneath that gaze that the glimmering colossus
thought that he felt quite small, the thousands of years of his existence
seeming paltry for the first time in his long life.

It was a disconcerting thing, one that caused great consternation.

There was another emotion beneath it, one that the great beast assured
itself was merely the trappings of a double life lived, for such small
emotions were for creatures that lived powerless lives individually. No.
Not powerless. It had been the passing of a single life that had opened his
eyes to the possibilities and potential of a life well lived, and how it
connected to others. When viewed so dispassionately, the meaning of
individual existences blurred into a uniform mass, losing its merit to the
gestalt.

Lives began, thrived, withered, and ended. All in the span of a candle
burning, to one such as he. Even the lofty elves were measured in hours
against the enormous existences of the dragons. It made it easy to hold
them at tail's length. They were passable companions, but so easily lost.
Lost to violence, to sickness, or time's own march. They were flowers that
bloomed rapidly and decayed just as their potential was realized. A
tragedy, but not an irrelevant one.

The trouble came when he applied such a comparison to his own self. The
idea of a dragon, an enormous creature, blessed with life nigh-unending,
with strength near-unsurpassable, with wisdom nigh-uncontestable, with wit
near-deniable, to be considered small and fleeting was not even an insult.
It simply failed to find purchase the way it ought. It defied the core
principles of his existence.

And yet there was that irrevocable truth to it all. He had seen it, carved
into his mind's eye. The hugeness of his own mind, his own being, eclipsing
near any other living creature upon Algoron as one of the Radiant Scions of
Creation, was rendered a mere flicker, a spark quickly snuffed, before the
will of his Maker. He had witnessed but for an instant the hugeness of
Divinity, and understood what it was that his forebears, some two
generations prior, had seen before the Gathering of Souls.

With that understanding, however, came sadness. The visions he had received
had begun to take new shape, filtered through the lens of his own
understanding. There was pain, yes. The sensation of sharpened lances
punching through golden scales, drawing blood. Instead of a roar, there was
the ragged scream of a being of such surpassing nobility that no mortal
would ever hold a candle, even so marred by the torture heaped upon him.

Worse, however, was the helplessness. He struggled against his bonds,
feeling the weighted nets binding his wings, snaring his jaws. Bonds held
him to the earth, unable to move, to struggle, to resist as grim death
marched forth to meet him. It was a shame of such paramount strength that
it shook him to his core. He was one of Algoron's mightiest. To be
rendered so impotent--

The ancient wyrm shook his great head, leathery tendrils swaying with the
violent dismissal of his thoughts. He had been conflating his own
remembrances and sensations with what had been shown to him. Trying to
relate to the feeling of his maker with his own smaller understanding.

Knowing that it was not real offered no comfort, however. With the Gold's
own great strength came that great shame at having it taken.

He could not begin to wonder how that would feel to a God.




Writer: Andreyna

Date Tue Mar 29 00:30:36 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Marauders Zandreya Xenophon Cayenna Imm Rp Religion

Subject Zandreya's War: The Elves Have Landed


Massive black clouds rolled above her, darkening the sky above the Fort.
Lightning struck the ground, its thunder cracking and booming All around
her. Gusts of wind battered the walls of the Fort, massive waves crashed
against its harbor. Andreyna was suprised the Fort was still standing
against Zandreya's rage, but she was quite sure there had to be damage to
its walls and foundation as a result of the Mother's constant and angry
storms.

Rain pelleted down upon the elven army that now gathered near the Fort, but
it was welcoming sight. The Mother was with them, and Her Chosen with Her.
Encampments were set up, supplies were brought in, ranks upon ranks of elves
prepared for the coming war. For Zandreya's War.

They would not be leaving this time. The Mother's elves would remain until
the job was finished, until the Fort was reduced to a rubble, until an
example was made of those who would allow the Warp to spread its filth and
use it for their own greed. Zandreya had zero tolerance for Malachive and
the Warp. She was punishing them, and now the elves would join Her in
battle.

Allies from both the Light and the Darkness had sent words of encouragement
to Queen-Priest in their battle against the Fort. They both stated that
they would do All they could to help, but Andreyna was not expecting much
help from either. Tensions between the Light and the Darkness were rising.
The allies of the Vallens had battles of their own to prepare for, a battle
that the elves would likely not participate in. Zandreya had called them
elsewhere, and Her Children would follow the Mother wherever She led them.


The elf-queen gave the Fort one last look, a smile spread over her face as
she thought of the victory that lay ahead of them. The Fort and the world
was now only just receiving a taste of Zandreya's might, soon they would
witness the full rage of Nature's Goddess.




Writer: Zorreau
Date Tue Mar 29 04:25:10 2022

To All Shadow Verminasia ( Imm RP Necrucifer Drakkara Carrionmaw Crelius )

Subject Memoirs of a Masked Man: Vol I - Into the Abyss: X


Zorreau could feel the fire, the inexorable heat brushing against his
furrowed brow where tiny drops of sweat congregated. He was crouching down,
hiding in a cleft of dust and ash alongside a slow-moving river of lava. A
ragged hood from his timeworn cloak covered his face, except for a few
strands of hair, as black as his surroundings and coated in a light layer of
ash.

A perpetual night entombed the vast forsaken plains, illuminated by basalt
flame and midnight reflection from the black moon above. His hiding place
was temporary, a momentary reprieve from the chasing pack of predators left
behind in the twisting caverns of the collapsing chamber.

Zorreau frowned and squinted his eyes further when he heard another crackle,
followed by a burst of heat and light. It came from beside him, where the
lava dug deep inside the hard rock and cracked it open, winning the
perennial battle. Throwing himself to the debris-ridden floor, Zorreau
stayed out of sight from any attention drawn by the sudden blast.

The magma returned to a steady flow, rolling along the etched bed of rock
lethargically. Zorreau glanced to his left, where his comrade, the abyss
guardian Lanival, was hidden behind a huge rock the size of a standard
horse-drawn carriage. Lanival, the more experienced of the two, shook his
head at the mute question on Zorreau's lips. A frown on the Dark Knight's
features deepened. His aversion to this plan was obvious, he hated waiting,
he hated waiting even more when there was no end in sight. It's not like
they could wait until dawn. Still, he heeded his friends' advice and
remained in the suffocating cleft.

As Zorreau's patience finally broke, his shifting drawing an irritated glare
from the elder knight, the familiar piercing shriek filled the obsidian sky.
Hundreds of beings burst from the structure close by, the reflection from
the black moon being blotted out by the swarming creatures and casting the
desolate plains into an even darker shadow. Like a vortex of darkness, the
beasts circled the area with their deafening desperate screeches.

The circling mass eventually dissipated into the distance, creeping further
and further away from the pair of shrouded knights. Feeling it was safe to
breathe, Zorreau slumped against the nearby makeshift wall and took several
dust-ridden breathes before glancing back to his comrade, who had emerged
from his hiding place.

"Patience, Vega."

He growled.




Writer: Zorreau

Date Tue Mar 29 07:10:18 2022

To All Shadow Verminasia ( Imm RP Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject A Shot In The Dark: Part Six


Silence. Deafening silence.

It was long past midnight, and the night sky was a somber palette. A black
to navy gradient was the silhouette of a full moon the night sky so clear
you could almost see every crater. The moon, a radiating black orb, loomed
large, surrounded by an ethereal glow. A blanket of stars sprinkled across
the canvas behind, a few large ones but mostly a multitude of minuscule
white pinpricks. Every now and then, a dominant twinkle caught his eye,
breaking his stare towards the sable celestial body.

The night had been long for everyone, the judgments passed were not swift.
Punishments and rewards, some were harsh, some were personal, some ended in
termination. Zorreau, for the most part, had watched the events unfold,
remaining in his seat within the gallery. He could add little to sway
favor, so he watched and did as requested by his superior in Storm.

The shock of the evening still lingered heavily in the air, the whispers on
the streets had finally subsided and left Zorreau alone in the square.
These very early hours always belonged to him and he found himself sitting
upon the iconic guillotine, now shadowed by the newly constructed statue of
the Mistress of Darkness.

His gaze glanced to that very statue before returning to the black moon, the
orb seeming to loom larger and hang heavier in the sky tonight. It was a
time for contemplation, of reflection. Zorreau hadn't been sure what to
expect since his first meeting with the Dark Queen many months ago. He had
received some advice and guidance from Her followers, he had offered his own
prayers and sacrifices, yet nothing seemed to be working.

He had publicly, painfully, denounced his brothers of the Sanctum, the
failed Shadow Knights of Necrucifer had been put to rest. He had sought the
Dark Queen's favor and worked towards Her vision every day. He, along with
Telthian, was to rise and bring the Shadow Knights of the Infinite Night to
their rightful position, the pinnacle of what Storm Keep had to offer.

Zorreau's contemplation broke when a drunken patron of the nearest tavern
staggered noisily into the square, his grasp on direction and reality
clouded. The Dark Knight remained quiet, watching as the young man
struggled to find his way before witnessing him stumbling over and striking
his head on a nearby barrel. A sigh passed Zorreau's lips before he hopped
down from the guillotine and approached the struggling citizen of the Dark
Jewel, who lay prone on the cold floor.

"Come on. I have got you."

Zorreau lifted the drunk until he could sling the limp arm across his
shoulders, supporting the citizen's weight. He started to trudge slowly
towards the local housing district.

"I will show you the way."




Writer: Zethrindor

Date Tue Mar 29 09:35:13 2022




Writer: Justian
Date Wed Mar 30 04:01:11 2022

To All Chaos ( RP Malachive Scorn Imm Admin Religion )

Subject Self Sacrifice (3 of more than thrice)



There is no success without sacrifice.

The words reverberated in his chest and would not leave, like the ringing in
ones ears. Justian went about his self-imposed daily tasks, polishing the
symbol of CHAOS, making armor for those friendly to the Cause, and creating
endless gems to enhance that armor. As he worked the words rose from his
chest and escaped his mouth without his awareness. There is no success
without sacrifice. An ethereal green flame occasionally sprang into
existence with his words.

A final piece of armor complete, Justian stopped and stared at nothing for
some time. The Warp was quiet for once, barely a sound, and none awake to
speak with. He clopped to the main gathering hall to contemplate the tree
made of horn. Scarcely a few minutes passed before he said, "If there is no
success without sacrifice... Then we shall sacrifice All until the others
after us can taste true Freedom".

Justian bowed his head towards the tree made of horn in respect to the one
who had shown so many the Path of Suffering. He would gather the True
believers and those who thought themselves such. They would have their
opportunity to prove themselves. It would take time. Weeks perhaps, but
Justian would not return until he was satisfied with the number of those who
would give everything for the Cause.

The sound of Justian's bare hooves echoed in the Warp as he set out on his
task...




Writer: Zorreau

Date Wed Mar 30 04:14:07 2022

To All Shadow Verminasia ( Nimiane Imm RP Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Foundations To Build On: Part One


The wet, deserted streets of the Dark Jewel rested in silence as the
starry black sky wept over it. The water streaked and smeared the
well-trodden path of Guillotine Road. The streets were cast in a low, warm
glow from the flickering torches which fought valiantly against the driving
rain and whipping wind.

Walking away from the square towards the eastern gate, he took in the
variety of closed shops that was to be expected at this time of night. A
guardsman of the Deathwatch snored comfortably on a stool under the
protection of one of the shop's awnings. Normally he'd chastise the man,
but he understood the night watch more than most and the toll it can take,
especially in these conditions. The towering eastern gates were quickly
coming into view, the stationed guards huddled beneath the towers to shelter
from the rain.

Tilting his head back to embrace the elements, Zorreau stared up towards the
black moon. It seemed like the clouds had gotten a sudden fascination with
the orb and wrapped themselves around it. The moon's ethereal glow passed
through them, giving them a faint lavender tinge. The cool air carried a
sweet scent of rain and lavender.

Scanning his surroundings constantly, Zorreau turned south into a back alley
before reaching the guards at the gate, offering them the slightest of nods.
His mind was wandering, his thoughts churning around in his head as if
someone was mixing batter for a cake. A bit of this, plenty of that, and a
sprinkle of the other. The desire to put his head over a flame and let this
concoction of thoughts bake was growing.

The pattering of rain, which was now mostly deaf to his ears, was
interrupted from time to time by the night. The occasional bark of a stray
dog, the clink of a passing guard, the honk from a goose as he approached
the Esquire Parkway. The torches were few and far between, only natural
light offering any assistance to those without keen sight.

Coming to a stop on the edge of one of the smaller ponds, the streets of the
kingdom now rested again in lifeless silence except for the gentle pattering
of the raindrops. It lay there just like it had for many changing years,
ready to rise. Zorreau glanced around the parkway again, deep in thought
before musing out loud.

"Here. This is the place."




Writer: Zorreau

Date Wed Mar 30 09:52:00 2022

To All Shadow Verminasia ( Nimiane Imm RP Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Foundations To Build On: Part Two


The morning had broken over the Dark Jewel, the streets bustling with
early traders setting up shop. The golden rays of sunshine kissed the
ground, casting a celestial glow across the main stretch of Verminasia,
Guillotine Road. A refreshed Zorreau walked the roads once more, heading
towards the main square, his target the historic guillotine itself.

As he arrived in the square, Zorreau took up position against the
guillotine. He watched the citizens passing by, many of them stopping to
offer a respectful bow or tip of their heads. It was still a little foreign
to him, but he'd been ordered to get used to it by his spouse. A sudden
parting in the crowds announced the arrival of that particular spouse,
flanked by Crownsguard and a familiar clanging of pots and pans.

He waited and watched, letting the royal entourage approach before pushing
himself up from the guillotine. With a short nod, Zorreau dismissed the
Crownsguard from duty and offered the crook of his elbow towards Nimiane in
invitation. The young Queen linked her arm gently before falling in step
with the dark knight.

Turning southwards, the couple departed the square and strolled towards the
parkway, being stopped several times to be congratulated on their recent
union of marriage. Zorreau led the pairing into the park, a much more
peaceful part of the kingdom. Taking their time, they passed the little
ponds of ducks and geese, stopping short of the petting zoos.

"Here. " Zorreau announced quietly, motioning to the open space.

The place they had stopped was a wide-open space, a junction within the
parkway itself. Zorreau stepped from the Queen and gestured in various
directions, pointing out this and that. He pointed north, then back to the
south, anyone watching from a distance would have thought he'd gone mad.

"This is where we should build it. " Zorreau continued, "Easy access from
the north, which will increase trade to the local merchants.
" Another
gesture to the west, "You already plan on building off from the parkway
further down, we could turn this whole area into a natural entertainment
district.
"

A small smile spread across the part-elven Queen's face, watching as Zorreau
flung his arms All around and spoke animatedly about the plans they'd
discussed before the recent trials had begun.

"Alright, let's have surveyors check the land is suitable. " Nimiane
replied quietly.




Writer: Lavinah

Date Wed Mar 30 15:33:25 2022




Writer: Abraxas

Date Wed Mar 30 18:07:13 2022




Writer: Lavinah

Date Thu Mar 31 09:59:38 2022

To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth drakkara )

Subject The Days After I



Lavinah had hoped there would be a bit of quiet after judgment where
should could work, in peace, regardless of came down from the trials.

This did not happen. Not remotely.

There was perhaps more to do. And while much of it was the things she
preferred to work on, the weaving, it was full of distractions, both
wonderful and devastating.

And there was her arm, All the wonder of the beetles that crawled around
inside of it, burrowing though her muscle. The pain, a constant reminder of
His gift, creatures crawling in and out of her palm. It was a particular
bliss, beautiful and horrific at once.

And, somehow, in All of this, All the treachery, the mourning, the service,
there was still beauty. Not just her arm, not just her work in weaving.
But also in memory, and what was forgot, and moments she was suddenly
reminded of, unexpected - the single thing that brought a smile to her face.




Writer: Brustin
Date Thu Mar 31 10:57:00 2022

To All Raije ( Imm RP )

Subject My sword, sweet hum it made.




Brustin, walking around the Arkane streets began to sing
out loud, for All to hear.


Oh...


Through Arkane market, I wandered and prayed
That I'd find me a perfect weapon some day.
Well, I never dreamed when I prayed that prayer
That the sword I longed for was forsale today.

For I loved that sword.

When I held it in my arms that night,
I held it close, and I held so very tight.
And I swore that day forth, I'd use All of my life.
It would shine, when held up against the light.

For I adored saw that sword.

It smelled of the sweetest crafted skin.
And I admit it now it drew me in.
Every swing, I made at my foes created lines of blood,
takeing my breath away.

For I never sheathed that sword.

Oh, the hum it made swung in the air that day.
The last I saw it, it was disarmed from me.
Blinded and cursed, I scream and cried.
And twenty years later, I regretted a day.

For I never saw that sword.

Leaving the east gate, Brustin closed it and continued back
to his hall.




Writer: Brustin

Date Thu Mar 31 15:07:01 2022

To All Bloodlust ( Imm RP )

Subject Beer, friends and bye's.



Brustin awoke with an ache in his head.
Bad dreams had made him ill.
And he grumbled as he dressed despite his duress
As he made his way to the saw mill.

He didn't want to craft that day,
But the demands was very clear.
So Brustin dreamed of the eve to come
Mill the logs, as that has become his career.

Brustin began to hum, and out burst a song...

I'll drink from dusk unto dawn,
Give a toast to day's end.
Yes, I'll drink beer until I yawn,
And shout and cheer with me mates!

Tomorrow I'll shivered like dog,
Coldness freezing me old bones.
Today I chop and make more logs,
My arms they shake, and my body moans.

I'll drink from dusk unto dawn,
Give a toast to day's end.
Yes, I'll drink beer until I yawn,
And shout and cheer with me mates!

Oh, I wished that I had me' some ale,
Just one fine glass of grog is All I need.
Would hold me' till the end of this trail,
All I dream is, and deisre a glass of fine meed.

I'll drink from dusk unto dawn,
Give a toast to day's end.
Yes, I'll drink beer until I yawn,
And shout and cheer with me mates!

I craft and toil, simple to make a sale,
I offer goods, materials to help All those who need.
Dream of blue diamonds pouring in,
to help me pay old pale golden ale.


I'll drink from dusk unto dawn,
Give a toast to day's end.
Yes, I'll drink beer until I yawn,
And shout and cheer with me mates!

I worked hard again today,
My mind been drifting away.
I think of drinking alone somtimes,
and then I think of good times, of yesterday.

I'll drink from dusk unto dawn,
Give a toast to day's end.
Yes, I'll drink beer until I yawn,
And shout and cheer with me mates!

I give me friends of the pledge I'd say,
A fantasy that kept me afloat.
Come hell or high water I'll drink with today,
No crafting, hunting, smelting or killing, could keep me away.

Brustin wobbled back to the hole,
a great dungeon it once was called.
Heard of tales of from old members drole,
never seen portals in his time, he could never recall.

Brustin rests his head, tired and alone.




Writer: Bahamut

Date Thu Mar 31 21:46:48 2022

To All Althainia Knighthood ( Nadrik Xenophon Immortal )

Subject Golden Reflection (True) I


The high halls of the Church of Light were a majestic thing, one which
admitted even a creature of such prodigious size as the elder Gold Wyrm,
whose steps shook the earth. Even were he to tread lightly, his radiance
dazzled, and the mantle of his presence billowed like a cloak of primordial
awe, sublimating dragonfear dissipating in the halls of goodness. Within
were the many piglrims of the Light, the righteous, the penitent, and the
merely curious making way for the great beast, and with his heavy trod did
he make his way to the glowing artifact that was the focus of so much wonder
and fascination.

The open-air temple beckoned to him, his calling as a prince of the air
urging him to take flight and claim his place closer to the heavens, but his
sapphire gaze remained earthward, scrutinizing the disc to the exclusion of
all else. Those who made use of the temple parted around him, reverence
driving some to utter a prayer, while others simply turned their gaze away,
unnerved. Rare was it that a Gold descended from their mountains, and while
the days of late had been tumultuous, even now it was a noteworthy
occurrence. At last, he stood before the mirror, his enormous body many
times larger than the divine lens, and yet there was ever that spark of the
Divine that had the power to make one feel quite small in comparison. Not
even he, one of the largest of his kind, was exempted, and he lowered his
massive head to gaze into the mirror, leathery whiskers scraping the ground.

He gave a deep rumble, and the brilliant orb of his eye focused, seeing more
than merely its own reflection in Kantilles' mirror. Indeed, he was never
quite sure whether it was a trick of his own heightened perception of
himself, or the nature of the mirror, but he saw more of his glorious form
within the confines of a reflection than should otherwise be possible,
partly imprinted upon his mind's eye. The great wyrm, the Ancient Gold
stood resplendent as his rarely-used title would suggest, dazzling scales
glimmering in the light of the mirror's own luminescence. Despite this,
however, there was an edge to the reflection's body language, one that spoke
of turmoil and burden. Perhaps it was doubt, uncertainty sown through his
interactions in the intervening days. There had been many cross words
shared, bitter things expressed with mortals who took matters as offense,
while other creatures retreated into the tales they told themselves as
justifications, retreating into their own fantasy in order to justify
abhorrence. He held no malice for them, nor pity. The multitudinous masses
of mortality were disparate in their views and rationales, and even the
wicked were no monolith. The High Evils of Volition and the Low Evils of
Necessity demanded different approaches, and it was the implied
heavy-handedness in many of his erstwhile allies within the sphere of
Goodness that had brought him forth.

His fanged maw opened, and with a voice like stone, he began to speak in the
high language of dragons, filling the air with his great utterances. Many
around him took a step back, though in his awareness he noticed some paying
more attention than others. Doubtless those of his Kin who made these
pilgrimages in more humble form would be having opinions about his own
grandiose arrival, but some matters simply could not be handled in
miniature.

'Hallowed Father, Venerated Son. You who command that we commit, that we
take up the Blade of Light or Aegis of Righteousness, hear Your son. We
have pondered long upon the knowledge You have given us, and have come to
our own conclusions. We can no longer afford to be trapped in indecision,
not we as the individual nor we as the greater whole. With this power that
You amass, it must needs be directed, else idleness shall spell Evil's
triumph.
'




Writer: Bahamut

Date Thu Mar 31 21:57:22 2022

To All Althainia Knighthood ( Nadrik Xenophon Immortal )

Subject Golden Reflection (True) II


He paused, and his claws dragged across the stone. The consecrated
blocks resisted damage, rasping against the serrated curves of vicious bone,
'But we cannot condone this flight upon the Path of Crusade, this March of
Wolves as put forth by Your disciples. There is a place for the Unstoppable
Sword, and it is not at the forefront of what it means to be righteous. To
strike first, in the name of crimes not yet committed, is to forsake the
moral strength of the defender. To condemn these mortals to a murderer's
sin without the Justice of a defense of one's life- their own or their kin-
is unpardonable.
'

There was another pause, and the words slowed, the nigh-incomprehensible
draconic language coming with an intonation that seemed out of place from
such a colossal beast. Even to those who could not comprehend, there was
almost a pleading nature to it, 'We know well of this grief, yet fresh. Of
honor tattered, of pain not yet healed. These crimes cannot be pardoned,
nor shall they be. We cannot, however, punish indiscriminately, for while
You, in your Wisdom, can judge All that You behold within the span of a
glance, to see Sin laid bare and punish righteously, fallible souls cannot
claim Your grace.
'

The sound of what could have been a sigh came from the vicious maw, the warm
air billowing and making the air shimmer as the haze floated skyward, 'We
know well the many crimes of the wicked, and yet we cannot bring ourselves
to determine the most worthy of punishment in the thick of an offensive
melee. Better that we allow the guilty to show their faces upon our lands.
Though it shall wreak horrors, and many shall be lost, friend and foe alike,
it will spare those who must remain the grief of the Killer's guilt, and
strip those widowed within wicked lands of the outrage of the injustice of
murder and martyrdom.
'

As he spoke, he focused, directing his will, his words, and the primordial
mana of his colossal being into the lens. If it were to be a receptacle for
the power of mortalkind for the Gods to use, then he would give All but what
he absolutely required for the flight home. His great power had waxed in
the passing of millennia, and to fail to make use of it was, in his own
words, unforgivable idleness in the face of Evil, 'Let us then raise the
Invincible Aegis, born of our wishes, and let the Tide crash upon it. Let
them expend their strength before we bring forth Your unstoppable blade and
sever the spine of their Evil in a single blow. Let us know the villains we
face, and so protect the souls of those who must save the ones behind the

As he spoke, he focused, directing his will, his words, and the primordial
mana of his colossal being into the lens. If it were to be a receptacle for
the power of mortalkind for the Gods to use, then he would give All but what
he absolutely required for the flight home. His great power had waxed in
the passing of millennia, and to fail to make use of it was, in his own
words, unforgivable idleness in the face of Evil, 'Let us then raise the
Invincible Aegis, born of our wishes, and let the Tide crash upon it. Let
them expend their strength before we bring forth Your unstoppable blade and
sever the spine of their Evil in a single blow. Let us know the villains we
face, and so protect the souls of those who must save the ones behind the
Shield.
'





Writer: Bahamut

Date Thu Mar 31 22:02:44 2022

To All Althainia Knighthood ( Nadrik Xenophon Immortal )

Subject Golden Reflection (True) III


Even as his mana drained away, the golden radiance shimmering like a
cloud before it faded away, he focused yet more intently, as though trying
to drive the words through the mystic lens and into the seat of the heavens
through force of will alone, 'And though we cannot agree, that will not mean
that we shall shirk our duty. Should the Sword be raised first, we shall
fight the great Crusade. However... We do not think that this cause of
blood shall grant succour for the loss You have suffered, Father. She would
weep to know how bitter Your tears are, and the righteous anger that would
have you claim a grim harvest with Her in the forefront of Your mind.
'

The last of his power drained away, and though his limbs remained strong, he
could feel a dullness to his senses. The image of himself within the mirror
before his eye seemed lesser-than, some of his luster diminished for all
that he had given, 'We dare not speak in judgment, but know well the grief
of loss of a golden era that can never return. You, who are so much greater
than us, must feel it more keenly than any of us may ever know. Look to
Your Family, and the love that They bear for you, and take solace in that
You have been given a chance to make things right, that You may yet defend
Them as You swore to do.
'

His words spoken, he raised his great wings, preparing to depart, not
through the front as he had entered, for to turn around would threaten
injury in his diminished state as his tail and wings passed through the
crowds, but through the open aired skyway, 'We cannot reclaim what was lost,
but we may yet take hold of our present to create a future they would be
proud of, Father. We shall do so together. This, we swear.
'

With that, he coiled his great limbs and leapt, wings catching the air and
beating downward. Many below covered their faces as the temple received a
thorough dusting in the crannies forgotten by the caretakers, his billowing
downdraft scattering those closest to him. He rumbled by way of apology and
wearily took wing. He would never speak of how greatly taxed he was, for as
a paragon, he could not afford to be found wanting. Just as His Father
before, he would never be found wanting again. This, too, he swore.




Writer: Shilo

Date Fri Apr 1 10:01:34 2022

To All ( IMM RP DEVION NONCANON FATALE )

Subject The Hanged Fool



With tears in her eyes, the ariel's hand drifted along the face of the
prostrate man. His agony was hers to bear.

"It's okay, sir, just...just stay calm." Shilo whispered, gazing down
into those terror-struck eyes. "The pain and the fear will be gone soon,
I...I promise.
"

Fingertips traced along the cheek; dipping to line the jaw, as a thumb
drifted overtop the cheekbone. Sympathy echoed in the face of that quiet creature, wiping away the first dribbles of blood as they came.

The ariel's other hand remained firmly on the knife, trembling betwixt
twisting motions. Working dilligently, almost lovingly, seeking better
purchase along the tangle of her companion's intestines.

"Ev...Everyone finds themselves in...in pain." The murmured words as much
a confession as introspection, thumb painting the dying man's lips with
his own blood. "It...It's natural to want it to end, isn't it?"

Leaning over, her lips descended, kissing closed first one eye, and then
the other. Knife, rising - to stab upwards, slicing into his lungs as
lips graced his forehead.

"There's no more pain, sir. Just...just be happy...please?"


































Happy April Fools!

{p<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3





Writer: Lavinah

Date Fri Apr 1 10:30:06 2022

To All ( religion immortal april_fools NONCANON )

Subject A Day To Frolick



She dressed, in bright pinks and white, her favorite colours, and dotted
her hair with fresh picked lillies. Excited for the day - and night - to
come, she needed hurry and finish dusting her cheeks with ground rosepetals.
She was so deathly pale, and she worried the Emperor would not find her as
attractive.

But first, she needed to speak to the children of the land and their
parents. Today was a day for them to be blessed, and she scurried through
their homes, capturing the creepy-crawly bugs with the wound on her hand
like a sucker fish. It made her happy to see the kids excited and the
parents relived that they needn't clean. Lavinah smiled as the children
giggled at her deformation, and how she used it to help.

Then, she bough a new dress, something form fitting that she hoped would be
enough to pique Mercerion's interest, spending egg upon egg on jewelry. She
was as giddy as a schoolgirl with excitement. The temple she was planning
could wait, her patron would certainly understand a dozen eggs spent to look
good for the Emperor.

And with a small prayer to Taliena, who she worshiped, as those who knew her
best truly knew, she skipped off towards Althainia, excited to dine and
drink with the Emperor, and the sail he had promised. Afterall, Lavinah did
love boats and sailing.

It would truly be a night to remember, she hoped beyond hope.

( ooc: happy april fools, everyone. Nothing above is remotely IC.)




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri Apr 1 11:28:39 2022

To All ( religion immortal april_fools NONCANON totally canon )

Subject The Child of Light



Piknim Cracklspark strode through the hallowed halls of Honor's Hold,
flanked by the much taller figures of an aged knight in simple robes and a
golden-haired squire in understated, yet noble raiments. Geirhart and
Agapitos led her, hand-in-hand, out into the Brother's Meadow. Scattered
clouds blew across the sky carried on distant winds from the west, and with
each gust the endless blossoms of the meadow rippled like cerulean. A dark
storm roiled and simmered beyond the seas, growing more powerful with every
passing day. Piknim knew only too well what it would bring. Infinite
Night.

"A storm's coming," Geirhart stated somberly, robes billowing behind him.

"Not on my watch," Piknim declared in a high-pitched, yet heroic tenor.

Within the heart of the meadow, the point of a sword pierced the fertile
soil, reaching upward from the ground as if it awaited a hand to grip the
ornate hilt and draw it from the earth. Good thing the kender mage brought
two of them.

Piknim stepped forth to claim her destiny. As if to warn her away, the
clouds overhead swirled and swelled with darkness, violent streaks of
lightning, and a cacophony of thunder. She gripped the hilt of the sword in
both hands, completely unafraid. The moment of redemption had finally come.

The second she pulled the sword free and held it high, a beam of pure
luminesence split the clouds, tearing darkness asunder in an instant as it
descended to meet the point of the blade. "By the power of Honor's Hold!"
Piknim intoned, light radiating from her diminutive form in lambent waves,
"I HAVE THE POWER!"

The mark of Drakkara upon her forehead crumbled to ash and disintegrated to
nothing. In a bright flash, the Darkfinder of the Black Moon disappeared to
be replaced by another kender, at once familiar and yet so different -
healthy and happy, garbed in robes of pure white, wide-eyed with irises of
gleaming gold and a smile that beamed like sunshine.

She swung the sword in a wide arc, pointing the tip at Geirhart. A
scintillating ray poured from it, enveloping the aged knight, who
transformed into an ancient rainbow dragon with scales of every metal and
color across the Metallic and Chromatic flights, complete with a
kender-sized saddle upon his back to carry the Child of Light into righteous
adventures.

"Yassss Queeeeeen," Agapitos gushed, falling to his knees and weeping into
his hands. The squire's silvery turns of phrase had retreated from his
tongue before the Child of Light's unfathomable goodness and rainbow
brightness. Completely understandable.

Piknim, Lightfinder of the White Moon, turned to the west and saluted with
her sword.

Far beyond Honor'd Hold, high upon a lonely peak, Nadrik wielded a gentle
smile rather than a weapon as the scars upon his divine soul finally began
to mend.




Writer: Timmel

Date Fri Apr 1 13:25:29 2022

To All ( IMM Non-cannon mega super non-cannon April fools <3 )

Subject The Angry Chef



"What are you doing?! That is not how you make a cheese sauce! " Timmel
yelled at the timid chef "I'm.. I'm sorry sir.. I just... " the chef
tried to explain as he turned to address an angry faced Timmel. "Sorry
doesn't keep this restaurant going! Sorry means nothing! Get it right!
"
Timmel shouted back, dropping an angry knife-hand directly on the chef's
chest "You get half pay for today! Get. It. RIGHT! " screamed Timmel
directly into the face of the teary-eyed chef. The chef stepped back,
bowed, and continued his work, trying to correct his mistake.

Timmel stepped back and huffed, clearly unamused by the constant failures of
his staff. He was the head chef at the most prestigious dining hall in all
of Algoron, but he could not find any competent staff to keep up with his
high demands for quality and excellence. He paused for a moment, rubbing
his temple in frustration. "I'm stepping outside for ten minutes. Do not
disturb me!
" Timmel shouted to the kitchen, getting a hail of "yes chef!
" responses.

Heading towards the back of the kitchen, Timmel slams his fist on the
backdoor, launching it wide open before stepping out. He reaches into his
pocket, producing a pipe, a tobacco pouch and a box of matches. He starts
muttering to himself as he cleans out the pipe. From the corner of his eye,
two small creatures start to approach him from the other end of the alley.
He stops to look... It's two children, likely half-elven, both looking
skinny and disheveled.

As the two approach him, the older of the two looks up to him with puppy dog
eyes "Please sir... My brother and I are hungry... Please can you spare
some food?
" the young girl begs of the chef. Timmel pockets his pipe,
kneeling down to the young girl, looking her eye to eye "Oh... Are you
hungry? I have something for you...
" Timmel responded, giving a little
smile to the hopefully young girl.

Timmel stands back up and starts clearing his throat. After a few seconds
of this, he spits on the ground directly in front of the children "There you
go! Free sample!
" Timmel declared to the two children, a slight smirk on
his face. The kids both take a step back, tears in their eyes. Timmel then
raises a knife-hand up to his face, as if indicating he was going to slap at
them "Get out of here you little street rats! No hand outs! " Timmel
yelled at the hungry children as they run off down the alley. Timmel
laughed to himself before stepping back into the kitchen, continuing his
tirade of demoralizing his staff.

Ooc: Happy April fools!




Writer: Geirhart

Date Fri Apr 1 14:24:35 2022

To All Kingdom Clan Shilo Imm

Subject Who's Your.....(April Fools Competition Entry)



Geirhart walks back to the Hall of the Wrath from the service to love
however his facial features darken as he murmurs an incantation. In the
span of a moment, a spell is cast and the old priest appears in a darkly lit
office. He places his robes upon a rack and carefully puts on a dark suit
with a purple vest inlaid with gemstones. Dark leather boots replace his
simple walking shoes and upon his bald head, a top hat with a feather
completes the outfit. The candy cane is hung upon a hook and a black
walking cane with a polished silver skull is taken up from its position
leaning by a large desk.

Taking a monocle from the desk, he opens the large reinforced door and walks
out into the loud din of the lounge. The room is draped in dark purples and
reds. Plush chairs and couches are spaced and various patrons lounge
drinking and laughing. Several games are being played with various hoots of
success and moans of loss. In one corner, a felar twirls the mustache of a
Shadow Knight. In another, a half-elf woman feeds a hobgoblin grapes. As
Geirhart strides across, a shadow moves with him unseen to any patron. A
half-ogre comes up to address the well dressed man.

'Sir, good to see you back. All is well except for a few things. '
announces Vax.

'Spit it out Vax. I hate waiting. ' grimaced Geirhart.

'Yeah well, um, Maccus hasn't paid for the last few felar. So we stopped
sending them out. He got a bit testy.
'

'Don't worry about that pissant. Send a note to Telthian that if he doesn't
reign in Maccus, he'll find that his knights will be unwelcome in any
brothel within the realm. The collective blue balls should ensure he's
taught a lesson.
'

'Right, right, um and Nikola hasn't been sending the regular shipments of
pixie dust and our clients are getting nervous.
'

'Hmm.. Slip some holy water into the blood vials we have been sending to
the Black Tower. A little heart burn should teach her not to mess with her
supplier.
' growled the old man.

Vax nodded and then went to work.

Geirhart continues his stroll as a waitress brings a drink for him which he
takes with a nod. His devilish gray eyes delight in All that surrounds him.
However he is rudely interrupted by a large ogre bouncer who lets him know
there is a Verminasian official at the door.

Nodding, Geirhart strides to the front of the establishment, his black cane
tapping upon the stone floor. As he reaches the entrance, a noble looking
Verminasian tax collector is standing with impunity surveying the room.

'Are you the owner of this establishment? ' asks the well dressed man.

'I am, to what do I owe this pleasure upon my grounds? ' replied Geirhart.




'Well, you have failed to pay your taxes to the Verminasian crown. Both for
the land upon which this sits AND for us turning a blind eye to the goings
on. As such, you owe Her Majesty two thousand jeweled eggs plus another
thousand in interest.
' stated the collector rather rudely.

'Is that so? Well.. We can't have that can we? Let me introduce you to
the person who can help you with that. Say hello... To my little friend.
' grins Geirhart.

With that, a small dark figured leapt from the shadows. A dragon bone
dagger finds purchase in the gut of the official while another moon dagger
cuts him across the eye. All that the man can perceive is a glowing purple
shape on the forehead of this tiny demon. Silently and efficiently, the
official is dispatched. Gurgles coming from his throat.

'A child with a broken crown dares to tell me what to do? Oh.. I'll teach
teach her exactly who she has insulted.
' and as he speaks, the silver
skull from the cane crushes the man's windpipe. Slowly and intimately, as
the life is drained from the man.

'I'll show her exactly who's her Geirdaddy. '




Writer: Kegrock

Date Fri Apr 1 14:34:28 2022

To All (imm rp april_fools NONCANON)

Subject Fried Beard



Hours of standing at the Bar many empty mugs stacked up Kegrock stood
slurring and mumbling something about being a Dragon. Other dwarves
laughing and hacking on him he growled and grumbled and remained drinking.
One of the dwarves yelled out prove it turning to the crowd tripping over
his own feet he stumbled and almost fell. Catching his balance he slurred
"Ahb bae der red Dragon ahm ahm bout teu show ye pissrs... Dragons gift..."
He went and opened the door claiming when he changed into a dragon he was
going to fly out of the room. The dwarves watched on laughter filling the
bar at his druken concentration he then took a big sip of his gourd blowing
a fireball almost as big as the dwarf. At that very moment a gust of wind
hit the open doorway and blew the fireball back into the dwarves face his
beard immediately going up in flames he yelped loudly and ran through the
door jumping into a nearby hourse water trough splashing and thrashing
around until he was able to roll out into the mud. One of the nearby
dwarves laughyer took him to the ground he laughed so hard tears ran down
his face. The now bald dwarf raised up now sober and covered in mud. The
laughing dwarf said loudly "AH DONNAE KNOW ABOUT AH DRAGON BUT YER
DEFINITELY AH SWAMP MUL NOW... HAHAHA AHN YET WINGS BAE BROKEN YE CANT EVEN
FLY OVAH AH MULES WATAH BUCKET!!!"
The laughter continued as the dwarves
went back inside The now beardless dwarf stomped to the door splashing mud
all over the place. He saw the laughing dwarf walking to the outhouse he
snuck over to the door and propped the door close with a log and ran to the
doors of the pub and blocked them off. He found some rope in a nearby barn
and strung up across the doorway and the outhouse. He took a sip of his
gourd and headed back to the mountain and laughed as he heard a ton of
commotion coming from behind him looking back at a pub full of dwarves
falling All over eachother and the shouts of "HELP ME!!" Coming from the
outhouse. "Now tha bae funnae" he said as he turned and headed home.



(Happy april fools)




Writer: Bragin

Date Fri Apr 1 17:36:44 2022

To All ( Noncannon April Fools )

Subject Foolish Reflections


Enough was enough. Faith in people? What had it gotten him? Poisoned
popcorn served to him under the guise of friendship. Piknim would pay.
Even as she offered her false apologies, the enchantor knew she was cackling
madly. Bragin Clarke now had a plan and a purpose. / The mirror that once
adorned Justices Chapel of Light now hovered in his cell in the Gray Church.
Bragin left a piece of tin foil animated in there. Geirharts sight wasnt
what it once was, so itd be days before anyone noticed.

Now he had this mirror to himself. A conduit to Nadrik All to himself. He
intoned, in a deep, confident voice that filled the cell with its
conviction.

"My lord Nadirk. You are right. Mortalkind has failed in its endeavors
upon Algoron. Wickedness stems from every kingdom, every clan, every
organization, every church, every person. The consequences of the myriad
failures must now be endured by all. For the hearts of mortal kind are now
poisoned with darkness. Even those who profess to be your champions serve
themselves first and covet the positions of their peers and the power of
their enemies. Mortal kind has been reduced to locusts, fighting for their
scraps for their own selfish desires as the darkness covers all.

"As you demand, All mortal kind must face the righteous sword of your
judgment. The righteous and the sinners alike must tremble in fear before
its light. Even a good man, few that there are in this cursed word, cannot
carry the burden beyond his own life. The next generation inevitably
descends further into darkness. We cannot save ourselves. We are no longer
worthy of saving. Our failures are too myriad to be redeemed. The
righteous shall welcome your judgment as their only means of salvation and
the sinners shall be damned for eternity. There is no nobility for mortal
kind, only judgment. The sword of your judgment shall hang over us all.
The righteous shall welcome it, the wicked will resist and condemn their
souls forever.

"This is the only way. Thy will be done. Death before dishonor. For all
mortal kind. "

Bragin stared into the mirror. His robes were a glowing white, his hair was
darker and styled slickly and edgy eyes gazed back at him and a confident
smile tugged at his lips. He had found his path finally. Why though did
this All seem so familiar?

Happy April Fools!




Writer: Erebaal

Date Fri Apr 1 17:53:05 2022

To All Shilo Bragin Aoko ( NONCANON April Fools )

Subject The Everchosen's Day Off I


'I return to my meditations, Champions. Our fury shall never diminish,
and the heavens' blood will stain the oceans red ere our crusade has reached
its end. Suffer well.
'

The Everchosen brushed his thumb over the jewel embedded in the center of
the eight-pointed star, and the eyes of the skull upon which it was branded
ceased to glow, their crimson luster fading.

Then, he tossed the skull onto the counter with a clatter and rotated his
barstool, revolving back to the interior of the beachfront bar. 'Where are
the--
' The Everchosen coughed, pounding a bare fist into an equally bare
chest. Though he wore the Abhorrents-visage helm that was his face to the
outside world, the rest of his artifice had been stripped away, save for a
pair of swim-trunks that sported pastel flower designs embroidered upon
them, 'Ah, damnation. As I said. Where are the drinks at, barkeep? '

'So, um, so sorry, sir! ' The young man behind the counter, Bragin, almost
stammered as the imposing villain leaned over the bar, peering inside to
determine the progress on his drink, 'The, um, the rum was All out, so we
had to wait for a messenger to get back from the port with more.
'

'DAMN it, Bradley! ' The Everchosen pounded a fist on the counter, making
the empty coconuts of his (several) other drinks bounce and clatter with
hollow rattles, 'I only get ONE day off each year, and I PROMISED my wife
that we would go on vacation!
'

Actually, sir, my name is Bra--

'Now, now, Korsen! ' The cerulean eyes of the diminutive priestess behind
the Everchosen were full of mirth, and the sound of her voice made the huge
man turn to ponder her, 'You promised that you wouldn't take any work
summonses, either, and I see you raving at your summon skull All day long
when you're supposed to be relaxing!
'

The Everchosen sighed, nodding as he hauled himself off of the barstool,
'You're right of course, Aoko. The business of an apocalypse is a taxing
thing. I can ill-afford to spoil my one day of rest with further outrage.
Accept my apology, Branford.
'

'Sir, it's Brag--'

The Everchosen ignored Bragin as he made his way onto the beach proper,
sweeping Aoko along in one powerful arm and throwing her over his shoulder.
The smaller woman laughed merrily as she was carried into the surf, the
sound turning into a squeal as she was thrown bodily into the surf with a
great splash. 'KorSEN! That's terrible! What if I had landed on a
sandbar, huh? Are you going to declare war on the sea if I got swept away?
'

The Everchosen smiled, the expression weirdly more natural when accompanying
his swimwear, though the dissonance of the ghastly helm still made the
entire matter incredibly bizarre, 'I would bring the ocean to its knees were
anything to become of you, my heart.
'

Aoko giggled merrily and began swimming about in the deeper waters, bobbing
along with the waves as the Everchosen stood in the surf, allowing it to
break upon his form and tug at him as it withdrew. It was calming, in its
way, and the rocking of the waves made the way the world was spinning after
twelve different mixed drinks since breakfast strangely more bearable. If
only he could afford another vaca--

The sound of abyssal screaming tore him from his reverie, and he turned to
glare at the source. The damn skull's eyes were crimson again, and the
sound of the summons was as though a man being stretched upon the rack.

'Damnable thing..'




Writer: Erebaal

Date Fri Apr 1 18:03:42 2022

To All Shilo Bragin Aoko ( NONCANON April Fools )

Subject The Everchosen's Day Off II


He pounded his way up the beach, working up the phlegm to use his
business voice as he did so. Scooping the discarded skull from the sand, he
raised it and rapped his knuckles against the gemstone, 'Ahem.. Speak,
Cultist. I have little patience for your mewling. My meditations must come
before your pitiful needs.
'

'Everchosen! It's terrible! It's Waaagh! He got into the pantry again and
he's eating EVERYTHI--
'

'I have no time for your petty concerns! If the Fell-Handed Beast hungers,
then sate his lust with blood, else take out your wrath on those who have
put you in these dire straits! The world is cruel, but it is but a shadow
of the life and death I have promised you, insect!
'

'My Lord I-, y-you're right, Everchosen.. ' The voice echoing from the
skull's mouth sounded as though it were on the verge of tears, 'I s-suppose
we'll have to do without rations again this week. This is worse than the
time that Woff brought home that raptor from the Savage L-
'

'Wheeeeeheeheeheehee!!! ' Aoko's shrill shriek of laughter carried on the
wind, the cerulean-eyed girl clinging to the side of a dolphin as it
breached, carrying her along at a magnificent pace, 'More! More! '

'Everchosen, is... Is that laughter? ' The Everchosen answered
reflexively. This was not the first time he had needed to make excuses for
his absenteeism in the Warp, 'Merely the cries of the dismembered. Their
agony allows me to reach deeper into the aether and call forth the spirit of
our Dread God. Mind it not. Go forth, Cultist, and trouble me no further.
Suffer well.
'

He thumbed the skull off before the Cultist could stammer out the answer to
the curt dismissal, 'Idiot. '

Bragin approached him as he tossed the skull back into the sand, 'Your, um,
your drinks, sir. And by the way, there's the matter of your tab..?
'

The Everchosen pounded back both drinks before Bragin could finish the
thought, 'Do not worry about the tab, Byron. The world will end long before
you can send your assassins to extract my debts from my broken body.
' He
rolled one shoulder, hissing as he felt the tightness in his abused skin,
'The day winds down, but the memory of it will live on. '

And so it did. By the end of the evening, the Everchosen had enjoyed the
white sands of the beach with his beloved, and Bragin went without pay, to
his enormous chagrin. As Bragin and Aoko departed on the last ship for
Althainia, the Everchosen was left donning his armor in the palm shack as he
prepared his own exit from the dreamlike wonder of vacation and a return to
the grind of his duty. His pallid skin was massively sunburnt, and he
nearly vomited from the pain of donning layers of leather and mail upon it,
alongside the additional seventeen mixed drinks he had enjoyed. 'Damn... I
suppose one must practice what they preach after all.
'

And so it was that the still-backed, agonized Everchosen began the long walk
to his own boat, which would take him to the rendezvous with the pirate
vessel to return him to Haven. His sunburns hurt the entire time, but he
could ill-afford to betray his discomfort to anyone. Not now. Not anymore.
For better or worse, he was going to have to suffer well.

Happy April Fool's Day!




Writer: Liviya

Date Fri Apr 1 22:42:35 2022

To All Shilo Boof Grumf ( NONCANON April_Fools Carrionmaw )

Subject A Story About That One Time Liviya Got Evicted From a Petting Zoo (1/2)


'Admission for one adult and sixteen children, if you please.'

The mousy man shackled to the ticket counter blinked down at the diminutive
human woman standing before him. 'Six... sixteen, ma'am?'

Liviya frowned a bit at the query and looked around, taking a headcount.
'Pardon,' she corrected. 'Nineteen.'

The man swallowed nervously. 'That's... whoo-wee. That's gonna be expensive,
ma'am.
'

Sharp, crystalline blue eyes narrowed on the man. 'Cost is no concern.'

The ticket seller nodded uncomfortably as she slid a velvet pouch bulging with
uncounted gold across the counter to him. 'And, uh. Just the one adult. No
other chaperone?
'

Liviya glared at him and he nodded. He swiped a few times at his spool of
tickets, not bothering to actually count them before handing the priestess
a long chain of perforated slips. She tucked them into an obnoxiously florid
knapsack and waddled her bulgingly pregnant form through the gates. Twenty-six
children followed dutifully.

The first to break from the pack was a red-haired half-ogre boy of about five.
He bolted ahead and jumped up on a fence, pointing at the creature behind it.
'Mother, Mother! I want to pet this one!'

The minotaur woman standing in the queue line for ice cream beyond the fence
turned narrowed, angry eyes on the boy.

Liviya sighed. 'We only pet cows if they cannot talk, Lophwegus.'

The minotaur woman spat a curse in her native tongue. Liviya raised a smile,
charming and apologetic, toward her, then shooed the pack of children,
ushering All thirty-one of them onward down the path.

Around the cobblestone curve, the pathway widened on the approach to a
serene pasture full of goats and horses. With a smile to All her children,
she approached the gate and held it open. 'Here you are, my beloveds. Have
your fill.
'

Forty-seven children of myriad races ran past, squeals of laughter and
screams of triumph rising from them as they spead throughout the pasture.

Only a minute had passed before a zookeeper sidled up to the priestess,
scratching the back of his hair into a tousled mess. 'S'cuse me, ma'am,'
he said in a low voice, his accent heavily Thalosian. 'Are All these yours?'
He squinted out in the field. 'There must be sixty of 'em!'

Liviya flashed the man an endearing smile that did not reach her eyes. 'Indeed.'

The man was uncomfortably silent for another long moment. 'They, ah. Well. What
-are- they, ma'am? I've never seen children that looked like 'em.
'

The priestess took a sharp breath, the sound belying her annoyance. She pointed
to a big, gangly green boy of ten. 'That one is a half-hobgoblin.'

The man returned a deep frown. 'I, ah. I didn't know that was... possible...
ma'am,
' he replied.

Liviya arched a manicured eyebrow. 'Cardinal Boof has found himself quite
unable to self-satisfy since losing his second arm. I was feeling charitable.
'
She gave a light shrug. 'I was not expecting this outcome, but I do deeply
love my Lgnatigush, as I do All my seventy-three children.
'

The man let out a low, disbelieving whistle. 'So what All do you have here?'

Liviya lazily pointed out across the group. 'Mm. Fourteen full-blooded humans,
twenty-eight half-ogres, twelve half-elves, seven half-orcs, eleven half-goblins,
two sets of half-dwarf octuplets-- do send High Priest Grumf a Father's Day card
this year--, three half-gnomes, half-yinn twins, and...
' she pointed to the
largest with an immense grimace. 'One half-troll.' She took a breath. 'And
Lgnatigush, of course.
'

The zookeeper raised his eyes, rolling them back slightly as he did the math.
'That's ninety-five, ma'am.'

Liviya returned a glib shrug. 'It's one hundred six, in fact.'




Writer: Liviya

Date Fri Apr 1 22:49:28 2022

To All Shilo Boof Grumf ( NONCANON April_Fools Carrionmaw )

Subject A Story About That One Time Liviya Got Evicted From a Petting Zoo (2/2)


The Thalosian man stroked his goatee, looking back out over the multitude of
children. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at a dapper-looking dark-haired boy,
quite ordinary aside from the two menacing red-scaled wings protruding from his
back and his abhorrent dental hygiene. 'What about that one?' he said. 'You
didn't list anything there with wings.
'

Liviya frowned deeply. 'We don't talk about Lruno.'

The zookeeper gave the priestess a gruff, uncomfortable nod. 'Ma'am? May I ask
one more question?
'

The priestess snorted. 'Nothing else has seemed to deter you. Proceed.'

He pointed out over the field, where the ravenous horde of one hundred and
thirty-eight children had toppled two dozen goats and half a dozen horses and
begun sinking their claws in, ripping out fresh muscle and stuffing it into their
bloody mouths.

'Why did you bring your pack of two-hundred fifty-six children to the petting
zoo?
'

Liviya shrugged. 'It's quicker than feeding them All at home.'




Writer: Tobryck

Date Sat Apr 2 09:13:49 2022

To All Shilo Boof Maccus

Subject Tobryck stops SMASHING ((April Fools))



Tobryck: Soooooo.... Boss man.... Remember that change I've been
whispering bout?
Boof: You wouldn't!!
Tobryck: I wouldn't...but it's for a girl...so yea...
Boof: *grunt*...Always for a girl...

Tobryck has been KICKED OUT of the Dungeon of Bloodlust!!!

Tobryck, finally free of the confines of a murderous lifestyle sets upon a
more peaceful journey. Skipping along the roads outside the city of Arkane
smelling the roses along the way. He is intent on finding his one true
love..... From the former residents of Balifore. Yes.... Tobryck is in
love with a kender.

Tobryck: My darling I am FREE!!
Loraine Nimblefingers: Oh really? *pulls a weapon from Tobryck's pocket* WHAT IS THIS!!!!???

Tobryck reaches for his stack of kender arms... And realizes it's gone
*wince*
Tobryck: Uh uh uh...That...Well you see...Someone gave
that to me... As a gift yea.... I've been meaning to get rid of it... But i've been busy
packing All my things from the Dungeon... I just forgot!
Loraine Nimblefingers: Oh I don't think so! If this is going to work I need you to
change. Really CHANGE! What would my mother think???

Tobryck: I'll change for you my love. No more SMASHING!.

Tobryck and Loraine manage to come to an agreement and continue on their
loving journey. Loraine even convinces Tobryck to abstain from meat!

Loraine Nimblefingers: Honey I really love that you are trying to change for
me, here is some more sugar lettuce.
Tobryck: *chomp...burp....chomp*..It's...um...great. Never felt more full *sigh*

Tobryck and Loraine walk hand in hand watching the sunset at Ghost Lake.
Tobryck did not at All feel full from that sugar lettuce.... He's an
ogre... A giant one at that... His cravings are hmmmmm... Bit meatier.

Tobryck: *grumbles and winces*
Loraine Nimblefingers: What's the matter hun?
Tobryck: Oooooh nothing, my foot must have snagged a thorn

Oh we know what's really wrong. He is hungry... Very hungry. The
seemingly happy couple sit alongside the water of the lake watching the sun
disappear over the horizon.

Tobryck: What's that in my pocket??
Loraine Nimblefingers: Oh nothing!!!

Tobryck removes Loraine's hand from his pocket only to find her sneaking
gold coins into her purse. Upon further investigation he finds a picture of
Maccus tucked away in her purse.

Tobryck: Maccus!!!! But why HIM?? Why you stealing from me??
Loraine Nimblefingers: He is sooooooo DREAMY!!!! And and and.....we had a deal
I was to get you out of the Dungeon and take All ya gold and we were gonna run
away and get married!!!! And he was gonna call you stupid and fat!
Tobryck: Well yea that's Maccus.

Tobryck rests his hands on his chin thinking of his choices while
Loraine starts to slowly creep away.....*grumble...grumble*
He places his hand across his stomach...Then looks at Loraine....

Loraine Nimblefingers: Um....... Babe.... You are DREAMY too... Ya
know

Tobryck grabs Loraine and throws her in the air. He opens his jaw as she
effortlessly disappears into his stomach. *gulp*

Tobryck: I am also hungry!




Writer: Piknim

Date Sat Apr 2 11:59:13 2022

To All Geirhart ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Bad Egg 1/2



The sermon to Taliena at the cherry tree north of Arkane featured a
handful of participants: Grandpa Geirhart, Brother Bragin and Custode
Caireall of the Gray Church, the priestess Dame Angela and her General
Thasgerd of Knighthood, Lady Faeryn of Althainia, and a pint-sized kender
with a larger-than-life shadow - Piknim.

Also in attendance were a picnic blanket piled high with tasty treats, a
smattering of empty platitudes, vapid sunny sentiments, banal anecdotes
about happy times, an uninspiring prayer or maybe three, and Dame Angela
smiling like a cat who caught the canary with her perfect, sparkling white
teeth.

Piknim spent most of the sermon teasing Bragin and griping to Geirhart, a
real ray of sunshine. Geirhart humored the kender mage's petty side,
though. More importantly, he truly understood the impetus behind her
irritability. As Bragin once said, Geirhart spoke to you and not at you.
The aged knight genuinely cared. Like a tinker gnome with a pocket-watch,
he wanted to peer deep inside and discover how and why you ticked. That
way, if you were messed up or broken, he knew how to fix it and which tools
to use. He made time and wanted to share it with people.

It reminded Piknim, off-handedly, of Ezrianne's pocket-watch, which had
accidentaly fallen into her pocket more than a month ago. The kender mage
had held onto it for safe-keeping for quite long enough and really ought to
see it returned. Really. Maybe tomorrow.

Despite her hidden dialogue, All the negativity and nonsense bouncing around
in her head, Piknim managed to be quiet and courteous throughout the entire
sermon and things were wrapping up. Naturally, that's when it All went bad.

"Thank you for coming," Angela adressed the black-robed kender, "Truly. We
were grateful to have you join us."

Piknim dipped her topknotted head politely. "Thanks for havin' me. Never
know where you're gonna find a new friend or an adventure, and that's
never-mindin' what might fall into your pockets."

Then it happened. The pretty priestess promptly procured a pretty prismatic
rainbow candy egg from a pretty little basket and plunked it in Piknim's
hands with a pretty smile. "For your pockets then."

The scene suddenly felt like one of Lavinah's nightmares from an April
Fool's day prank. In the background, Faeryn skipped over to Geirhart and
gave the old man a hug. Above the embrace, Geirhart observed the exchange
and tensed visibly. An insightful look in the old man's eyes said it all.
"Oh no.."

Thasgerd eyed the candy egg from afar, standing beside a tree. If the
General cared enough to sense Piknim's consternation, he wouldn't be one to
act upon it. He'd made a similar gesture at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for
Geirhart's chapel, with less-than-favorable results.

It felt, for a stark moment, very much as though she had a tiny angel and a
devil along for the ride, one perched upon each shoulder, bickering about
how best to respond to a sentiment that, while conceived from a kind and
generous place, somehow managed to jab into one her biggest nerves like a
well-aimed lance.

* "Keep your big mouth shut, Pikky! Don't you do it! Don't be a
grumpy-butt! You wanna get invited to events and stuff, right? Right?
She's tryin' to be NICE!"

* "Say somethin'! Do somethin'! Melt her pretty face right off! Punch her
perfect teeth out and put 'em on a necklace! Bet you won't do it! Laaame!"

"My pockets thank you, dear," Piknim replied flatly.




Writer: Piknim

Date Sat Apr 2 12:08:12 2022

To All Geirhart ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Bad Egg 2/2



A pint-sized kender with a larger-than-life shadow padded into a burnt
forest clearing, south and west of Arkane, ebony hoopak clacking upon
sundered cobblestones.

The area had been utterly obliterated by the Godson's Abhorrent and turned
into a veritable wasteland. Only a scatter of burnt stumps remained to
evidence the verdant woodland that once enveloped Balifore. She gazed
further south, along the rock and rubble of a ruined road, where broken
buildings she once knew so well stood empty.

Finally, her eyes wandered back to the white granite statue directly before
her and a small plaque secured to the mortared base composed of the the
ruins of what once resided past the simulacrum.

* "As a man's foot leaves the history of his travels in the sand, so to does
a God leave the history of his travels in this world."

Piknim peered up at the statue's face. Malachive.

The Godson's features appeared friendly and warm, a beautiful lie betrayed
by the carnage and despair surrounding it. The kender's features, far
friendlier perhaps, hardened at the thought of what her people had lost.
Vengeance would come later. She had a rather long to-do list, after all.
The Darkfinder had become one of the most powerful kender on Algoron, if not
the most powerful, yet so much power remained to be seized. She'd need it
all. Everything.

Piknim cradled Dame Angela's prismatic candy egg in the palm of her little
hand. It probably originated from a special holiday event. It'd been given
freely as a gift. She should feel grateful. Why not then? What went
wrong? She held the egg aloft in the sunlight and inspected the array of
colors more closely. The egg sparkled back at at her innocently, yet spoke
deeply as to why she may have overreacted.

The prismatic candy egg struck her as an apt metaphor for the sermon to
Taliena she had witnessed and the message behind it: an imitation of
something real, wrapped in bright colors and bordering on self-parody,
saccharine in its sweetness, almost nauseatingly so, and unhealthy to the
core. Shiny and worthless. Literal fool's gold.

It reminded her of Balifore before the calamity. Her kinfolk had lounged
upon picnic blankets, like the one spread under the cherry tree at the
sermon, stuffing their happy faces with candy up until the very end, too
puny and weak and magicless, and trusting of empty platitudes, sunny
sentiments, and servants the Light to do anything about it.

And so the kender of Balifore burned in the Godson's flames.

If anybody truly cared about the kender of Balifore then, surely nobody
cared now. They didn't care enough to understand why the sight of candy
sickened Piknim to the core. Even today, they still hadn't learned their
lesson. And why should they? Her people were the ones who carried that
lesson with them to the grave, with plenty of leftover treats and stale
sentiments for Thasgerd, Angela, and Faeryn to hand out in their wake.

Piknim contemplated what to do with the colorful candy egg.

She could make Bragin eat it. That young man needed some meat on his bones.
She could stomp it into the ground to be buried with All the blood-stained
picnic blankets, carefree smiles, melted candy, and charred bones of her
kin. She could throw it at the statue of Malachive like a real egg and let
it splatter across the Godson's stupid face. She could place it in a dark
corner for another curious kender to find, perhaps. But why? A colorful
candy egg might bring a smile to a kender's face, but it wouldn't help them.
It might even harm them.

At last, Piknim decided to place the colorful candy egg in a pocket, hidden
but safe, where another kender wouldn't stumble upon it.

What remained of her people could ill afford to fall much farther.




Writer: Rahma

Date Sat Apr 2 21:09:30 2022

To All New_Thalos Timmel ( Taliena Siccara Zandreya Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus )

Subject Grow your gardens: Tipu Tree Touch


"Grow your gardens."

The sight of Brother Tim dangling by a rope from the rip in the sky was not
one easily forgotten, for the druid. It was at once glorious and
horrifying. Part dangerous highwire act bred with a comical low budget
theater stage set attempt at flight. Far above the city he had tended their
sky plant. He tied up a sun cover over the tender exposed roots, and hung a
decanter of endless water so the material would draw up the cloth to the
parched plant. It would still be hot, no doubt, but out of direct sun and
the breezes off the ocean and high altitude air would perhaps allow some
cooling by the ever damp cloth.

"Grow your gardens."

The plant looked a touch silly now, or sillier, growing in the sky, wearing
a sleeve, or a pant leg, a skinny desert robe, or perhaps a very long hat.
With Operation Monkey Swing or Flying Monkey or whatever they called their
high flying trapeze act to tend the sky garden a grand success, more good
news followed. Brother Tim's tipu tree had finally grown and the builders
had finished work on that construction project. If one deigned to call a
tree house a construction project worthy of the Builders Guild.

It was magnificent. In full bloom with the natural coming of spring, and
druid magics, the cheery yellow orange blossoms cradled the compact tree
house easily, providing a view from the balcony of their Desert Jewel to the
south. The oasis was fed by the natural springs that ran in their secret
underground pathways under the rugged and dry lands of the Sultanate. It
was a fine place to rest and forget one's worries. So long as one's worries
do not include what injuries could be incurred by riding a zipline from a
tree house and diving into a pond below. Regarding that, Rahma Qadira did
have some concerns.

Forcing herself to look away from the triple somersault cannonballs Brother
Tim was demonstrating, she focused upon the tipu tree. The sight of the
giant tree she helped grow; healthy, strong, beautiful, and living up to its
intended purpose was a joy to the druid. Finally, after All their labors,
this garden had grown. A place for the gardeners to rest from their tasks
healing the world. She touched the trunk of the great tree, and sang her
thanks for the shelter it gave, the love and hope it nurtured.

She rested in the colorful hammock for a time, contemplating the irregular
yet slightly geometric tangle of branches, leaves and flowers above. The
branches spreading apart and then overlapping in an intricate web of
foliage. Spreading out into every direction towards the sky with the same
shared purpose, but different angles and ways. It was better than the
ceiling of any cathedral, in her estimation.

How long she rested at peace, contemplating the bees visiting the flowers
above it was hard to say. Her husband was half asleep, or perhaps all
asleep, in a nearby lounge chair, quieted and content by the tranquil space.
It was long enough, for when she was called away to meet with a would be do
gooder with questions about healing the sky, she was content and ready to
speak on that long looming evil the tipu tree had shaded her from.

If any of the would-be sky healers suggested a zipline tour through the rip,
her answer was going to be a firm no.




Writer: Evaliae

Date Sun Apr 3 04:31:44 2022

To All of the Light ( IMM religion Kantilles )

Subject Infinity Mirror.



The White Wizardess returns to her Tower, lost in thought. She's been given
plenty to consider during the sermon, and even more in the private discussion
after. She resumes her now-familiar post by the shining mirror at the peak of
the Tower and mulls over the words of Squire of Gareth and Priest of Kantilles:
'Touch the mirror... invest will and magic...'

A single finger rises to touch the center of the disc. She summons the familiar
power granted her by the Lord of the White Moon, and instead of manipulating it
into the form of a spell, she lets it flow from that finger, a thread of raw
arcane energy, pouring into the alabaster surface. Breathless laughter escapes
her for a brief moment, the thrill of success even as she feels her magical
strength wane.

Faster the magic flows, and too late she's struck with the realization that she
doesn't know how to stop it. A typical spell has a natural beginning and end,
wrapped neatly in the package of the uttered words used to cast it, but this is
a gravity well that refuses to be satisfied. Like water from a tipped barrel
the magic falls from her, and saps her to nothing. And then the barrel is empty,
and she collapses senseless to the floor of the Tower.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 3 15:45:42 2022

To All Chaos ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (I)


The fetid haze of the chamber was rife with humidity. Smells of burnt
blood, transfused with spiced incense, coerced the permeant stagnancy of its
ambience. Soft flickering sconces, whose flames were hued red by the acrid
climate, burned dimly. Pristine and unmarked marble floors reflected their
quiet light, casting a crimson sheen through the dusk. Enveloping the
silhouette of a stone pillar at the room's center.

Flanking either side of the broad faced obelisk stood two lithe figures.
Each enrobed in matching velvet that hung loosely from their thin frames.
The chamber's sanguine shadows cast deep into their matching hoods, masking
all but the finer points of their sharp features. Their sleeveless garments
exposed ritualistically scarred and slight extremities. So numerous were
the cicatrix markings, that they appeared as would a canvas derived from
flesh. Even their frail hands and fingers, each gripping a small bladed
instrument, were meticulously marked by apparent intentional masochism.

Together they spoke harmoniously. Their voices soft fae-tinged, but with a
current of malcontent, "We've been waiting for you, Atennim."

The voices did little to stir the frigid expression of the third figure
within the chamber. Sitting upon a simple metal chair, the man was donned
only from the waist down, with plain black linen cinched by a simple cord
about his waist. His physique was knightly, yet weathered as might be a
storm ravaged cliff. Burdened from decades of conflict, yet alive with pale
resilience. Skin stretched thinly over corded musculature, its surface was
scarred much like his company, though far less articulate. Scattered
indents riddled his breast, interweaved with random darkened lines. Telling
tales of where blades had once compromised his armor, or perhaps worse.
Above his sternum were two distinctive, circular, scars. The flesh around
their perimeter raised in remembrance of fire.

"Commence," the man spoke coldly through pursed lips. Distaste was palpable
over his bleak features. Pronounced cheek bones raftered a perpetual
grimace within his square jaw. His bald scalp, equally marked by turmoil,
housed two inflamed coal-black orbs. Those raven eyes transfixed towards
the blank surface of the stone pillar across the chamber.

At the word, the robed figures let their hoods fall to their shoulders.
Revealing the profanely eloquent visages of elven siblings. A male and a
female, no doubt, though only discernible by the subtle shapes of their
bodies. Their countenance, nearly identical. Closely shaved heads, oiled,
to embellish the esoteric scarring about their scalps. Their almond shaped
eyes regarding him in serpentine fascination. In unison, they crooked their
arms, lifting aloft the small instruments they held. So that the crimson
light could reflect from their blades.

The Bloodletters. He had heard tales of their talents. Sequestered by the
lords of discord. It proved difficult, but not impossible, to render their
services. The bloodmages were known amongst the forbidden whispers of the
void. Said to have great power over the sanguine rites that gave them their
name. It was this that interested Atennim. As there was now an anomaly
within him that racked at not only his flesh, but his spirit. Something
that he must endure, and that he must master. More than that, he sought an
audience with something far away. To augur such a thing, was no longer in
his power, alone.

As the spindly-robed figures approached, he moved his gaze, as to not
acknowledge them. Letting it settle upon his open palms. He considered
with some skepticism, as was nature, what was to transpire. He looked now
upon the bedeviled wound upon his sword palm. A perfect diagonal cut, the
flesh surrounding its rust-red crevice turned inky black. An unhealing
reminder of Everchosen's kris-blade, and the steely grip of the blood pact
that now tested the boundaries of his sanity.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 3 15:52:43 2022

To All Chaos ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (II)


He ruminated, hands held open upon his knees. The disdain that laid the
foundation of his guilt, shadowed only by the umbrage of his impotent rage.
Ambition, hubris, arrogance. Such simplistic traits, if only it was these
for which he was compelled. Sacrifice though, a word he learned the meaning
of early on, was the crucible that forged his desire. While his conception
of such had been tested, to understand its prolonged immensity was an
enigma. The brittle refuge of doubt, however, was left abandoned. To enter
and persevere, through the discordant empyrean, was All that spurred his
ravaged psyche. To find what he sought, he knew that this trial would be
unlike All others.

As his awareness shifted away from the corrupted wound upon his palm. He
clenched it into a fist as he heard the shrill toned voices speak in unison
once again. Crelius barely noticed as the first blade cut into his flesh,
or the second.

"To bleed is nothing, but to mold the levy's breach brings a nascent
promise," Their words came different now, their resonance carrying a pitch
of arcane resonance. The hazy red light of the chamber casting a sheen of
obsession over their seething eyes.

The bloodmages crafted their tapestries, beginning upon the bare flesh at
the caps of his shoulders, and down the length of his arms. Their thin
hands moving the small scalpel-knives, drawing lines of split flesh with
graceful precision. Producing hexagrammic symbols that ran red with the
seeping fluid as they incised. Each cut was measured, as to merely touch
the edges of major-veins, so that their recipient would remain conscious.
As the ichor began to flow in earnest, the Bloodletters guided his arms to
his sides.

After a short while they were satisfied with their work. The robed figures
stepped back to observe the grim sight for a brief moment. The image was
profane, but to their delight. The recipient of their craft, his warrior
frame gilded now with the blessed patterning of their art. Through the
symbols of the ungod, marked in flesh, the blood flowed as they willed it.
Across his alabaster palette the crimson rivulets flowed with stark
contrast. Down along the curves of his musculature until falling gently
from the tips of his fingers. The life-blood, gathered into two bronze
basins set below each of his sides.

Meeting his gaze, the elven beings stepped forward. In tandem they knelt
carefully, each cupping the underside of the metal bowls with the palms of
their hands. Raising each of them cautiously, mindful to sustain their
contents. They proceeded in a methodical procession, approaching the slate
obelisk and placing the vessels at its base.

The knight's eyes hung with shadowed lethargy as runnels of red still fell
from his stylised wounds. His breathing was shallow as he gazed onward.
Witnessing the morbid sequence that had begun.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 3 15:59:19 2022

To All Chaos ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (III)


The gaunt mages turned to face each other, their thinly robed bodies
silhouetted by the smoky-red fire light. He saw a malefic twin smile cross
each of their aquiline features, as they reproduced the small bladed
instruments in each of their hands. Their stares never broke from each
other, while making a small incision on each other's free hand. He could
see the point at which they made their cuts, reopening a small area of scar
tissue between their index and middle fingers. In doing so, they let the
dainty stained blades fall to the marble floor. Reaching their hands
forward, they clasped them together, allowing their blood to coalesce.

As they did so, an odd clamor began to muster within the chamber. Heat
became palpable from the figures, as burgundy droplets began to sweat from
their scarification. Like tiny crimson wellsprings, they rose out of their
pores and their almond shaped eyes wept with red fluid. Uttering hushed
phrases, enraptured smiles cast across their features as their spell took
hold, and they released their embrace. Each snaking a flickering glance
towards Crelius, eyes crackling with crimson flames. They moved like
scarlet wraiths as they retrieved their final components, droplets of ichor
drizzling from their movements onto the white marble floor.

They dipped their hands into the bronze basins and began to scrawl their
fell designs upon the obelisk with the blood of Atennim. Using their bare
hands to depict eight pointed symbols that were orbited by bloodied circles,
cuneiform runes and names written in a language he could not perceive. As
they painted, their movements were graceful and insorceled. Their bodies
touched, wrapped about each other as they manifested their art in a macabre
dance.

As they slowed to a seeming completion, they each knelt before the violated
stone. They began a chant whose tone turned guttural and dark, their lithe
and red-stained hands clasped in penance. The red ambience of the room
began to darken. Shadows ghosted throughout the chamber like whispers.
Flittering behind each of the robed figures and gathering before the base of
the stone slab in the room's center.

Crelius felt the temperature fall, a chill wind gusting from somewhere
unseen and unknown. It carried the dust of ages past and the ruin of
empires in its every breath. His eyes remained fixed on the obelisk, the
esoteric sigils transfixing him in a soporific trance. The bloodied marking
began to waver and blur. Rearranging themselves, expanding and contracting.
Forming phrases and images that he could not comprehend. With growing
vicissitude, he became unaware of the chamber and the fell sorcerers. The
surface of the stone gripping his cognizance like the undertow of a psychic
tide.

Visions assailed him in fast succession. The first, an image of a warrior,
half human and half ogrekin. Standing barefisted in triumph over a foe
large enough to swallow it whole. An unnatural rage fumed in a pallor over
the gladiator. Something corrupt spurred the fighter forward, as it basked
in the jeering chorus of bloodthirsty onlookers.

It faded and he saw the circumference of a dusty underground tunnel. Long
extinguished lanterns lining its cavernous walls. Veins of a strange ore
glew in lambent azure, sewn across the curved stone walls. Pulsing with
arcane light.

Next the anguished face of a young nobleman appeared in his sight. His eyes
steel gray and beset with inner turmoil. Wearing a garb of blackened
leathers, a silver clasp of house Atennim bound his cloak. A cindering
field set behind him, with two banners hung high in the distance. One
bearing the telltale heraldry of Storm Keep, the other a red-on-black eight
pointed star.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 3 16:06:19 2022

To All Chaos ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (IV)


He then saw running water in a fetid underground labyrinth. Oversized
rats scurried about in confused fear. His vision fell upon a strange
flesh-like growth at the cross section of what appeared to be a sewer
system. A single beam of light shone from a break in the chambers ceiling.
Revealing a vegatative mass of flesh-like plant matter. Reaching upwards
and outwards as blood seeped from its corrupted tendrils.

Magnificent gilded towers rose up above a broad city square. Citizens of
every race and creed, milling about in mundane and hurried activity. A
robed man, long in his years, stood above the crowd on a pedestal. Shouting
proclamations at the passersbies with religious fervor. An enigmatic tome
held open in his hands. Its pages slowly erupting into flame, and the man's
face contorting with a maniacal possession.

A single derelict structure, amidst a housing province he recognized as
Tharagavvarug. Its once glorious and artistic adornments weathered and
forgotten. Broken windows and vandalized warnings reduced its grandeur to a
ghost like visage. An ominous figure stood within its threshold, shadowed
and wavering as if manifested from the void.

The image shifted. He saw the shattered remnants of broken alabaster shells
littered among the crag filled floor of a smoke filled valley. Blood and
signs of turmoil strewn about the ground. The half-burnt bodies of gold and
blue armored figures, dismembered and mutilated, were hardly recognizable
and scattered throughout. A sense of sorrow was permeable through the
vision. That exuded from the dark silhouette of a wounded wyrm in the
distance, who curled its massive form in forsaken anguish.

His mind reeled at the alacrity of the visions, breaking through his will to
resist. As he fought to regain psychic jurisdiction, he saw a chamber
filled with raw power. Golden, coiling lines of energy flowing freely from
the ceiling and floor. Energy crackled in ethereal potency. A venerable
figure in a brown robe standing at its center. He held a simple wooden
staff, and for the briefest moment, his head cocked as if recognizing an
intruder within his sanctum.

Crelius roiled at his lack of control, forcing his mind to center and
rebuking the warped invocations. In a rage he stood from the chair, reality
shifting back into focus. His wounded flesh sizzled with necrotic smoke as
the dweomer was interrupted. He glared at the stone pillar, his lithic
features twisted with a skeptic scowl. Its fiery symbols alight in a
mesmerizing ruby radiance. "You show me nothing!" Crelius barked aloud
with vehemence.

As his words cast through the chamber he saw the backs of the ritualists
stiffen. The icy wind returned and shadows began to gather at the base of
the stone. They swam about the marble floor of their own accord.
Flourishing outward and reaching for the hems of the kneeling mage's robes.
Strange whispers began to flitter from behind their hoods, speaking in
sibilant tones. Their thin and scarred hands crept to their sides and
reached for the other. Embracing their frail extremities once more. When
their fingers touched, a whip of malicious laughter spiraled about the
chamber.

The stone pillar began to quiver and its cardinal luminosity pulsed
brighter. It shivered violently, cracking at its base and lifting up from
the marble floor. As it levitated it slowly began to rotate, particles of
grit and pebbles hovering with it. Faster and faster it spun, its scarlet
runes flaring brightly and releasing aetheric energy . A multichromatic
maelstrom overtook the spinning obelisk, manifesting an empyrean vortex
around the gyrating slab.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Apr 3 16:15:27 2022




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 3 16:15:32 2022

To All Chaos ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (V)


The hoods of the cabalite bloodletters were blown back by the warp-wind's
gales. A wave of power expelled from the whirling mass of chaos-fire.
Breaking the bloodletter's gripped hands and striking at the shadowknight
like an ethereal serpent. He was propelled towards the back of the chamber,
flat against a flagstone wall. His body hit with a force that took the air
from his lungs, his arms splayed and pinned by the power of the raw warp.
Atennim strained to wrest his arms and legs free, to no avail.

As he struggled to liberate himself from the invisible force, his eyes
narrowed at the sight of a horrendous transformation taking place. The
whirling micro-tempest flared with kaleidoscopic warp energy, and the lithe
forms of the blood mages began to twist and crack. Their eyes wept scarlet
fluid and their limbs contorted and stretched. Their forms reached for one
another, unnaturally mutating and coalescing. Flesh bound on flesh and
their robes were eviscerated in the seething nether-fire. A twisted amalgam
began to pupate with an unnerving haste. Its limbs elongated and
multiplied, fracturing along their length and spurring articulated joins.
Claws and bony protrusions sprouted from deep within what was left of their
musculature, bursting forth a mass of sagging flesh and sharp bone. What
was left of their faces were stretched and lost within the twisted layers of
meat, teeth and other orifices. Blood continued to seep from the writhing
mass of tissue, and its heterodox scarifications grew more pronounced.

The beast shambled towards Atennim, still pinned to the wall of the chamber.
As the writhing horror lurched forward, he could see the rotating obelisk
behind the monstrosity spin with greater fervor. Its axis tilted and it
began to collapse in on itself. The etheric energy forming a globe around
it, and the physical structure of the immense stone shrinking with bursts of
yellow-white and vibrant blue light. Its size reduced in immensity and
quickly shrunk as it cast off its physical threshold. Until All that was
left was a single orb of pure warp-energy, no larger than the size of a
human eye.

The lumbering anathame crept forward and he heard chittering whispers flood
the chamber. Incorporeal voices taunted and jeered, as the writhing mass of
meat and limbs crept ever closer. A thick trail of mucous like blood and
bile staining the marble stone floor in its wake. It outstretched a single
mandible-like appendage, and he heard the psychic murmurs consolidate into a
single dissonant voice. Piercing his psyche. "You wish to see?" It asked
in foreboding.

Crelius looked at the creature in disgust, his jaw clenched in stalwart
loathing. Sweat beaded over his temples and his coal black eyes shimmered
with the reflected aetheric light of the warp sphere beyond the creature.
"Show me," he said at last.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 3 16:22:21 2022

To All Chaos ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Blood Animus (VI)


The jittering mutters of the warp beast grew into a discordant chorus.
Its betentacled limbs outstretched and shivering with great anticipation.
The single extended appendage's flesh morphed and sharpened, transmogrifying
into a bloody talon. It began to glow with currents of warp energy, casting
a strange lambent green light over the flesh steel arm-knife. It exuded
plumes of empyric mist as it inched closer to Atennim's face, snapping
forward with arachnid-like precision. It carved four gashes over his right
eye. His face winced at the wound and he had little time to scream as the
skin-metal blade burned brighter. Inserting its fiery point into the center
of the eight pointed aperture. Burning out his eye, the wretched blade held
in place for agonizing seconds, searing the socket of any remnants of flesh.

Atennim's countenance contorted in rictus agony, the sulfurous stink of dark
magic added a layer of revulsion to the horrific wound he suffered. The
gangly beast reared back, its amorphous tentacles swirling in a spiral
behind it.

Reaching out towards the multicolored nimbus hanging in the chamber's
center. As it beckoned, the orb floated towards the beast, parting the maw
of its writhing appendages as the monster guided it towards its fulcrum.

With abject horror Crelius understood what was to transpire. As the
disembodied eye inched closer to the hollowed socket created by the foul
chaos spawn.

Elsewhere, a soft rain teased the jungle canopies and the full luminescence
of the ivory moon parted evening clouds. High among the treetops upon a
sturdy bough a man sat, penning in a journal with a burgundy hued quill.
Off in the distance, the crest of a tower broke through the layered tree
tops like a solitary candle within a green sea. Strange lights emanated
from its fortified embrasures and he could hear cries of pain echoing from
inside the structure. A smile curled across his elven features, shadows
draping along his eyes from the hood of his cloak. Deteryd dipped his quill
and continued to write.




Writer: Brustin

Date Sun Apr 3 22:40:09 2022

To All New Thalos Fatale ( Imm RP )

Subject New Thalos Fall



I had a dream... about.....

While walking thought New Thalos, guards began
to attack Brustin with out provication. He was
minding the view, when they began to pile unto
him. Demanding him to be arrested with warrant
of any ill dealing towards the Kingdom. Seems
unfair and unjust. While proceeding to murder
all the guards who came at him, Brustin began
to out loud!

For.....

I am no king, and I am no lord.
And I am no soldier at arms.
That has come to sing and be ignored,
I am none but a Skald, who harms!

If you were a lord, I'd be a good lord.
and the same if I were a thief.
You'd All be happy, and I that would be my reward,
it makes no matter to be a chief.

I am no king, and I am no lord.
And I am no soldier at arms.
That has come to sing and be ignored,
I am none but a Skald, who harms!

But what do I have to prove,
I swing my sword I swing my axe.
with every strike, I do improve,
Raije watches sees my acts.

I am no king, and I am no lord.
And I am no soldier at arms.
That has come to sing and be ignored,
I am none but a Skald, who harms!

I sing to all, I sing to no one,
I sing to the gods so they see me.
I'd be happy with resting in the sun,
be who you want to be, you see?

I am no king, and I am no lord.
And I am no soldier at arms.
That has come to sing and be ignored,
I am none but a Skald, who harms!

I am not a mage who rest in and hides,
They claim they practice and improve.
The mage who doesn't provides,
to their kin, gods may disprove.. of your very soul.

Once he finished the song, he look around and found
piles of guards dead at his feet, stacked high. Not
one was left breathing, and found New Thalos policy
on unwelcoming his brothers in Bloodlust unjust.

Muttering to himself ...
"This kingdom was one of the friendlier Kingdoms,
to my brothers. With brothles, bathhouses. How things change,
so quick, on a whim."

"We we not brothers? Did we not have mutual respect?!
But based on rumour and a lie, you turned your backs!"

Brustin began to fall into the sand like quicksand...

And awoke from his sleep.




Writer: Kegrock

Date Sun Apr 3 22:57:31 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Mon Apr 4 01:18:33 2022




Writer: Timmel

Date Mon Apr 4 11:19:29 2022




Writer: Sidorinath

Date Mon Apr 4 12:21:26 2022




Writer: Hayato

Date Mon Apr 4 17:02:25 2022

To Abaddon ( Imm rp All )

Subject Returning into Chaos



Hayato stepped through the gate of Abaddon a mess. His armor was filthy
and dented, and some of the brads on his leather had begun to rust. Six
months he had been gone on assignment, and they had been brutal. As he
crossed Avarice onto Good Intentions, the quiet of the city was suffocating.
The guards, the dead walking, were there, but the shop shutters were closed
tight. He decided his first stop would be the Countess. His report was
paramount and there is a good chance she would be there.

So he trudged on, though his feet were killing him, his body stiff from
sleeping on the road. He stepped down into the crypt and made himself as
presentable as he could. Standing up straight, he walked into the burial
chamber and stopped cold. He stared at the lifeless body of his Countess
and whispered to noone 'So Countess, the rumors were true. '

He walks up to the dias and without elegance, as stiff muscles and tired
joints screamed with protest, knelt before his charge. Bowing deeply to her
he spoke in his native tongue that only she would hear. Rising to his knees
he pulled a lotus blossom from his satchel, placing it on her chest. 'It is
an honor to die for others, and if the whispers I have heard are even half
true, it was an honorable death. Go in peace my Countess, may you find the
rest you deserve.


Without grace, Hayato rose to his feet, backstepped three paces, turned, and
left the burial chambers. He must get rest while he can for dark times lie
ahead, and he will need his strength.




Writer: Brustin

Date Mon Apr 4 19:44:51 2022

To All Donimas Bloodlust Fatale ( Imm RP )

Subject The Ballad of Donimas



Brustin walks over to the crossroads, drop a box
onto the ground, takes off his helmet and places
it upon the ground. Stepping onto slowly on the
box.

"Gentelman and Paladins, Woman and others! May I
bring your attention to me. Shall being a ballad
of vampire, no I shall call a friend, known whom
we All call, Lord Donimas!

Brustin begins to sing....

If am a vampire who stalks you in the night
Before I take a drink...Should I feed on her at all.
When they kill my friends out in the day when I cannot defend,
I wonder why, am I a creature of the night.

How'm I gonna eat, when the sun rises this morning,
How'm I gonna eat, when your blood's sucked dry.
How'm I gonna eat, when my teeth grow long and pointy,
I will find my foe, and strike them down, this is how I feed.

You All attempt to stab me in my back,
But I persevear, and disappear.
Into the night, I prey on those who are near,
You scream and hide for you cannot see,
I've cleaned you out of your wears.

How'm I gonna eat, when the sun rises this morning,
How'm I gonna eat, when your blood's sucked dry.
How'm I gonna eat, when my teeth grow long and pointy,
I will find my foe, and strike them down, this is how I feed.

You'll never see me me coming,
you never know you are mine.
I'll be there and then I'm gone,
I rest again, for another day,
knowing the world is my prey.

The crowd who gathered cheers and walked away.
for not a silver was toss Brustin way.
He picked up his helmet with a grunt and a groan,
grabbed his little box and headed back home.





Writer: Tillippillia

Date Mon Apr 4 20:52:44 2022

To All Imm RP Grey_Church

Subject A few days ago...



She walked around the shimmering, silvery disc floating in the air.
Small steps, click, clack, click, clack, around she went. She stopped and
bent to her knees, pulling a rock out that had gotten stuck in her one shoe.
She absentmindedly tucked the stone away to be tossed outside for later, but
she now found herself infront of the mirror, still. Then, before she even
knew it.

The entire day was spent in the cool, wonderfully smelling room, in the
Church of Light. It was a busy morning, noon, and evening. She was able to
meet with so many great people, Timmel, Thasgerd, Rahma, Caireall. Bragin
had shown her the way, and was there as well. It was because of him that
today happened. She discussed alchemy, spells, magic, nature, love. Other
insightful and wonderful things were recommended and discussed with engaging
people. She even led them in a prayer for Kantilles! It was a flood of
information. She looked up to the mirror, and then her gaze returned to the
Statue of Kadiya. She simply couldnt hold it in any more, gazing at that
Statue, she simply burst into tears.

Before making more of a mess of herself in a sacred temple she composed
herself and stood to leave. Clack-clack, Clack-clack as her boots went on
without the stone in the sole.




Writer: Piknim

Date Tue Apr 5 11:17:45 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Tue Apr 5 11:25:36 2022




Writer: Waak

Date Tue Apr 5 21:41:45 2022

To All Derigimus Imm RP (Hero School)

Subject The Gray Goblin - The Capture of Darkfinder's Minion



It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and the main street of Althainia was
crowded with merchants going about their business and families out running
errands and enjoying the weather. The sounds of people chattering and
shuffling about and birds chirping echoed along the long east-west road.
What a sight!

What a sight indeed! The Gray Goblin was dressed in his eloquent glossing
gray satin suit, with a long and gleaming black cape that flowed
rhythmically with the warm breeze. The letters GG could be seen written on
the Gray Goblin's chest and on the back of his cape, with small wavy lines
surrounding the letters. As he stood outside the swordsman's guild he heard
one passerby snicker and refer to them as stink lines, but he knew that they
were power lines. Super-power lines! The Gray Goblin placed his hands on
his hips with his feet shoulder width apart and puffed out his chest in a
strong super-hero pose.

Wait? What was that! "Hey! Stop! Thief! Get back here! "

The Gray Goblin turned and looked westward. "{oGo-Go-Goblin Binoculars!
"
The Gray Goblin pulled out some gnomish glasses and held them up to his eyes
and saw a small Kender wearing a bright red shirt running quickly from the
jeweler towards market square and the shopkeeper giving a half-hearted chase
while shaking his fist in the Kender's direction.

The Gray Goblin pounced into action! "{oDont Worry! The Gray Goblin Is Here
To Save The Day!
" he yelled and he ran towards market square, chasing the
Kender. The Gray Goblin tracked the Kender through the busy market square
and then southward and down towards the common square. This Kender was
fast! The Gray Goblin needed to think of something and fast! And then he
saw it. "{oI'll need to borrow that!
" he shouted as he came running up to a
young family pushing a large stroller.

"{oGo-Go-Goblin Wheels!
" The Gray Goblin jumped up and commandeered the
large stroller, pushing and riding it downhill through the dump and over the
south bridge. The stroller was gaining speed and ground on the fleeing
Kender thief, who turned back to look at the oncoming super-hero and made a
sharp turn at the promenade towards Astral square. "{oGet back here!
" The
Gray Goblin shouted as he sped onward and.. Out of control!

The Gray Goblin couldn't keep the fast moving stroller steady any longer as
it wobbled along the south bank of the Althainian river. The Gray Goblin
had to let go and went flying, along with the stroller through the air right
towards Kate's Diner. The Gray Goblin came crashing down onto one of the
diner's patio tables. The stroller spun and landed on-top of the adjacent
patio table and the Gray Goblin looked up to see a young human child
floating in the air towards him. "{oGo-Go-Goblin Airbag!
" The Gray Goblin's
suit puffed up full of air as the young child came to a soft landing on the
Gray Goblin.

As the Gray Goblin's suit deflated, he stood up and lifted the stroller off
a small Kender holding his head, wearing a bright green shirt. He gently
placed the young child safely back in the stroller and quietly passed the
child a small flask of goblin swill and patted the top of his head with a
grin. The Gray Goblin looked back down at the Kender with a look of
Epiphany on his face. "{oThief! Who do you work for? Darkflower!?!
"

"{oGuards! Guards! Ive caught one of Darkfinger's crooks!
" the Gray Goblin
shouted. He picked up the small Kender and held him upside-down shaking
coins and two small pieces of jewelry to the ground. The Gray Goblin
confidently handed the Kender to the guards on their arrival and explained
the situation, talking triumphantly over the innocent pleas of the Kender.
The Gray Goblin then picked up the coins and jewelry assuring the guards
that it would be returned to the jeweler on Main street, sliding the loot
into his pocket with a sly look. "{oThis is my gift, my curse. Who am I?
I'm the Gray Goblin!
"




Writer: Lavinah

Date Wed Apr 6 12:05:18 2022

To All ( religion rp dragoth immortal )

Subject The Days After II



She sat in the garden, looking off at nothing. It was peaceful here -
she knew that it was a place she could return to no matter how loud, no
matter how taught - and none would likely find her.

Except the kenderkin. She could find anything. It was quite the talent.

It was the quiet time, finally. That moment between everything when every
thread pulled at just the proper weight where things went still. She
remembered the first time she felt it, sitting on the same bench she did
now. So quiet, should could hear the ladybugs devouring aphids.

It would not be quiet for long, she was certain. It never was. She still
had much to do, and vows to keep.

But for now she needed simply wait and let things be. And in this, she
enjoyed the garden, the peace there, watching the bugs eat the leaves and
each other.




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Apr 6 12:50:43 2022

To All Waak Derigimus (Hero School) ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject The Gray Goblin - Another Half-Baked Scheme



Drakkara had blessed the dark kingdom with another dark and dreary day.
The city's fairer denizens went about their business in the market, while
the less fair skulked in back-alleys, and deadly danger lurked around every
corner. The cawing of crows, surely an ill omen, echoed across the
gloom-shrouded streets, while vermin skittered underfoot. What a sight.

What a sight indeed. The Darkfinder of the Black Moon, would-be
super-villainess and rumored arch-rival to the Gray Goblin, stood in the
beautiful shadow of Drakkara's statue in Guillotine Square. A wicked witch
in every respect, in the Gray Goblin's estimation, she wore voluminous robes
of black baronet satin, the most evil of colors, as well as a number of
umber-toned leather pouches, packs, and bags bulging with what could only be
ill-gotten gains. A chill wind billowed her robes behind her dramatically
as a henchman approached, handing off a missive.

Yes, you heard that right. Henchman. The Darkfinder had been promoted
recently, so to speak. She'd become kind of a big deal. Her malefic power
only grew, and grew, and grew, while the Gray Goblin focused on frivolty and
folly like a feckless little fool.

"Notice for you, Darkfinder."

The Darkfinder accepted the paper flier with a sinister friendly smile and
perused it on the spot. At the very top, it featured a stylized GG with
stink lines. Below that, a crude stick-figure drawing of a kender, some
guards, maybe, and a triumphant goblin in a stupid uniform. Then, in sloppy
block lettering, the following:

* "Gray Goblin triumphs! Kender crook captured! Crime comeuppanced and
evil averted! Darkfinder's plans foiled again! Join the Hero School and
fight for goodness!"

"Gray Goblin!? What the heck? How'd he foil my plans? I haven't even
finished planning them yet," the Darkfinder exclaimed, vexed to the very
core of her black heart by the caped conundrum's craftiness. She wadded the
flier up into a ball and pitched it into a blood-stained bin adjacent to the
guillotine stock, where the Gray Goblin would meet his end at her hands one
day.

Her true plans, a sinister secret to all, would come to fruition soon
enough, for they were fruity indeed. In fact, while the Gray Goblin
strolled (literally) the streets of Althainia, his ribald rival had nearly
amassed enough baked goods to proceed with the presentation of her
pernicious plan, predicated upon a plethora of piquant flavors to provoke
the palate: Perilous Pear (thank you Morzak), Menacing Mulberry (Krenath's
favorite), Baleful Blueberry (for Asyrlin), Rot-your-teeth-right-out
Raspberry (sorry Avelyne), and Arsenic Apple (Geir-fart) - every one of them
afflicted with the most potent of poisons.

The best her victims could hope for would be a bad tummy ache, but the worst
they could expect? Ohoho. Wait and see, dear reader. Wait and see.

Nobody could stop the Darkfinder from tornado-ing a deluge of delicious
deadly delights across Algoron.

Nobody but the Gray Goblin and his hero-friends.




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri Apr 8 00:13:15 2022




Writer: Twidjyt

Date Fri Apr 8 00:34:55 2022

To All ( Skern Didjeridoomus Hut papper supram Xenupube IMM RP )

Subject Here's Lookin at You 1/?



Thunder strikes breaking the sound of rain pit pattering on the wooden
shingles of the Hall of Tactics. The figure of a plump gnome is seen
scribbling furiously on the back wall sporting numerous diagrams and
mathematical computations strewn haphazardly about. The author of these
notes would most likely be the only one capable of deciphering what seems
like pure chaos to the eyes. Chattering under his breath and seeming to be
answering his own questions he posts his solutions as they come to him. For
a moment the writing stops as he steps back from the wall to examine his
work. Drawing mindfully from a corn-cob pipe he exclaims, "I've got it"...


Seeming to be overjoyed by his findings grabs up a small book binding and
the flowing quill of a peacock. A heading is created, "Building Blocks of
Creation: The Illusion of Liner Time" Forward: Building Blocks of Creation,
"The Illusion of Linear Time" is a peer-reviewed source-referenced
compendium of lifetimes of Gnomish research into the very essence of time,
space, the illusion of personhood, the nature and purpose of what manifest
as "Gods", the engineering behind what is called reality or "Algoron" and
the importance of our adherence to tenets of faith in the proper operating
of said mechanisms and structures. We will also delve into the philosophy
of a "Prime" timeline which leads into the recreation of what is called now
in our near future.

Closing the tiny notebook and placing it back in pocket, Twidjyt heads to
the Chapel of Light to offer his nightly prayers. The feeling immediately
upon entrance one of a presence.. He wasn't alone and yet there were none
to be counted for on this night. Scanning the chapel a new feature appears
to the eye... A massive silver mirror emanating an audible hum and glowing
with a strange power has taken up the empty space in the center of the
chapel. "I didn't commision any building of this type" the gnome thought to
himself as he pondered the strange feeling of presence and this new
feature..

Often times the gnomes research and plans had been put on hold or altered
due to these types of occurrences.. A malfunctioning piece of hardware had
caused Lord Nadrik to hurl him through Algoron just this past week. The
bruises remaining as this is penned. Approaching the mirror he grabs out
his pen and scrapbook taking sketches of the mirror and listing it's
dimensions and makeup.. A tiny chip is peeled away from the metal frame and
placed into a tiny glass vial and stored in one of his many overall pockets.
Just as the vial is placed in his pocket he is yanked backwards from what is
now the back of his physical body..




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Fri Apr 8 17:18:03 2022

To All Althainia Nadrik Immortal Rahma Thasgerd

Subject Possibilities Can be Anywhere



Just inside the entrance to the Garden of Wishes was a growing pile of
flowers of All sorts, some long stemmed and others long strips of vines.
Kyrlynn had tediously gone through All of the flower beds, trimming away
that which was dead and returning it to the soil. She'd gathered up dropped
seed and moved it to plant anew.

There were druids whom could have done so but it had always been something
she enjoyed. There was a lot on her mind and it allowed her time to think
and reflect on things. She could work out a problem with little
interruption save for a few bees, butterflies or the occasional birdsong.

The Lord Crown and Elder Rahma had joined her for a time as she worked. The
conversation and company welcomed and from it the idea for the pile of
flowers that she was now gathering up. After cleaning up All the dead in
the beds, she had pruned away extra growth that wouldn't take from the
beauty of each flowerbed and would regrow soon enough.

She then gathered them up and carried them to the bridge just outside the
east gate. There was little she could do about the river of blood that
flowed there but by Nadrik they had found a way to build the bridge she had
been so determined to build and now she was going to spread a little cheer.

The Empress dropped the flowers down at the edge of the bridge and she
meticulously set to first weaving the vined flowers along the bridge
railings. There was no rhyme or reason to which color she chose next,
simply that it was a flower, a burst of color and an example of what the
light from the sun and Zandreya's gifts could All provide together, just as
those of Althainia and the vallens had worked together on the bridge.

A few hours later, the bridge was covered in flowered vines with other long
stem flowers. As the Empress stepped back and surveyed the sight, she
smiled to herself and nodded.




Writer: Twidjyt

Date Fri Apr 8 23:37:44 2022

To All ( Storyline IMM RP )

Subject Here's lookin at You 2/?



The gnomes concept of time and space taken as his visual range begins to
pixelate piece by piece leaving nothing but an overwhelming bright white
light.. Losing sense of body, self, space, time All becomes still for just
a moment followed by a high-pitched ringing as the gnomes consciousness is
snatched up.. Slowly the ringing dissipates and distant voices begin to
come into range.. A sense of body and self returns as the visual realm
returns from a blinding white light to blurred shape and form. The language
seems familiar but slightly different. The nouns and verbs are All in line
with the gnomish tongue yet missing familiar adjectives and adverbs which
almost seem to be missing completely.

"What is this place?" Lord Twidjyt exclaims as familiar shapes and faces of
a gnomish decent come into focus. "We will explain after your rest. The
shift in phase can cause unwanted effects without recovery time."

At least three others of gnomish decent fill an oddly modern room. The
gnome who first spoke carries a clipboard and writes continuously with the
smallest quill you have ever seen somehow free of any well. Turning to the
other two in the room requests a small meal and something to help sleep.
Lord Twidjyt is completely out of his element and reluctant at first to
trust these people or this place, but sensing no feelings of ill intent...
Casting spells of detect evil and good ascertain All in the room to not be
carrying an aura. A spell of detect poison is cast as the food is carefully
inspected before consumption. These flavors are new and exciting.
ures
not existing in All of Algoron. Warm tea is brought in by an attendant
wearing more modest garb who backs out of the room slowly head low after
pouring.

Thanking the young gnomish girl he reclines into a strange metal adjustable
bed drifting peacefully to dream. Awakening fully rested and scrambling to
his feet he checks his belongings finding everything in order except the
collected specimen from the mirror in the chapel of light. Heading to the
door to look for the first contact finds it locked and guarded by two larger
gnomish gentleman. Uttering a spell of pass door and invisibility slip
unnoticed into a large open space. The first point of contact is seen
sitting at a massive white desk of unknown composition with a folded tan
parchment. A small image is seen attached by a metallic fastener that
depicts with unseen clarity the gnomes likeness. CLASSIFIED, the heading
read with a wax stamp seal reading, "High Gnomish Council on Spacetime".

-Lord Twidjyt (Tactics) WRATH




Writer: Evaliae

Date Sun Apr 10 16:13:16 2022

To All of the Light ( IMM religion Kantilles )

Subject Second Attempt.



A stream of curses spun from the Wizardess' lips when she awoke and realized
what had happened. Her head hurt. Gods damn it all, and naturally a new healer
for the Towers hadn't been hired. Wincing through a sanctuary spell, she poked
her nose into the Gray Church long enough to be seen by their priest, then
returned to her usual post at the mirror at the top of the Ivory Tower.

All right. Trying this again.

She knew what it felt like now, to be drained, which means she can use that
to prevent it happening again. Hopefully. She sighs, then lifts a finger anew.

This time, she wrenched herself away, and didn't collapse, but the exhaustion was
bone deep. Bed, she decided, then she'd deal with the growing damnable pile of
paperwork on her desk.

She dragged herself down to the nook off the center hall, and was asleep the
moment she landed on a bed.




Writer: Symantha

Date Mon Apr 11 02:50:24 2022




Writer: Pashhur

Date Tue Apr 12 17:39:25 2022

To Althainia ( All imm rp )

Subject For the Fallen



Pashhur trudges into the Last Call, his helm under his arm, glad to be
relieved from his post. The Guard has been keeping him busy; patrols all
day, training in the crusader guild, not to mention nearly getting cut down
at a pub. He was ready for a bottle of his parent's whiskey and some gooey,
hot, grilled cheese. Sitting down, he pours three glasses half full at the
three empty chairs at his table, lifting to bottle to toast. 'To keeping
the kingdom safe, no matter the cost, I will not forget you.
.

It was ten in the morning when they gathered, they knew going at night would
be suicide, and even now it was nearly so. There had been reports of
civilian prisoners taken by the Forsaken, they were going to bring them
back, dead or alive. Noone deserves what they would do to them. Vampires
and demons, and the gods only knew what other terrors lived in that swamp.
Making sure the four of them were not being followed, they headed out into
the bog of decaying plants and brackish water. Around midday they spotted
the first patrol, twelve men, in the sunlight, so they knew they weren't
abominations. Still they stayed undetected, twelve to four wasn't good
odds. All four were good fighters but they weren't there for them. Another
hour inside the borders of Abaddon they found the camp, but no sign of
civilians. They would have to get closer.

As the four of them crept into the camp, skirting from one tent to another,
they still couldn't find any prisoners. The soldiers of the Forsaken going
about they duties, oblivious that there were Althainian Soldiers in their
camp. Just as Pashhur and the three other soldiers finished and were
heading out, they were spotted. Alarms sounded, the ring of steel leaving
sheath were loud in the windless day. Pashhur gave the order. 'RUN! '
Arrows cut through the air with thunks into trees and water alike, and they
ran, then the persuit stopped. Thinking they were in the clear, the started
marching back to their side of the border and walked right into the patrol.



Two of his men we killed almost instantly, the other fell shortly into the
battle. A blade had cut deep into his upper arm as a blade came to rest in
the hollow of his throat. He surrendered. Bound and gagged, he and his
dead commrades were delivered to the border and released into a Colonel's
custody.

Snapping out of his memory, the scars on his back, the twenty lashes he had
received that day, had healed, but they itched. He had gotten his men
killed. It would be another year on the frontlines before his tour was up,
and each day their faces would not let him sleep. They would not let him
dream. All he could do was remember them and make their deaths have
meaning.

'to you my commrades, may your souls find peace, and may Zandreya hold you
to her bossom.
'





Writer: Dantalion

Date Wed Apr 13 06:46:07 2022

To All Shalonesti_Kingdom Shalonesti RP Tarabella

Subject Gojira's demise



Gojira breathed yet another lightning burst upon Dantalion.

Riddled with stake holes, coated with All manner of spells and diseases, the
beast was in pathetic shape. The warlock no better, but unceasing with his
dagger strikes and stake tosses.

Oddly. A smile is plastered on Dantalion's face.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Wed Apr 13 07:09:18 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom RP Tarabella

Subject The Gypsy King's death



With a wave, yet another animated skeleton arose to protect Dantalion.

Leisurely, the Warlock chuckled as he stabbed The Gypsy King over and over.
The skeleton taking All the blows of the foe.

Infuriated by the situation, curses began flowing from the stymied man's
mouth. Calmly, without any spells but Haste on Dantalion, The Warlock
whittled the King while humming a tune. One would describe his face as
cheery.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Wed Apr 13 07:20:23 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom RP Tarabella

Subject A Brief Respite



Camped along a frozen lake in Icewall, Dantalion brews silently over a
cauldron. The Moons silently watch overhead as he cooks arcane secrets from
mundane ingredients.

His mission has been to face All the different manner of beasts and foes
alone. To stretch his creativity and resources to their utmost. And in a
certain fashion, Dantalion has sought to feel alive.

In the struggle between victory and defeat, in that narrow passage, The
Warlock can sense something greater.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Wed Apr 13 07:43:08 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom RP Tarabella

Subject Frost Wyrm's fall



Quaffing a gourd, a layer of cold protection covers Dantalion. In
response, the Frost Wyrm of Icewall breathed a burst of white cold.

In response, The Warlock blasts a cone of fire & firestorm in response.

The magnitude of frost greatly overpowered the flames, but Dantalion did not
flinch. Healing himself with yet another brew, another round of fire and
ice commences.


After frost wyrm screamed. It's body burnt and ashen.

With a grin, Dantalion looks like a hot mess.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Wed Apr 13 07:51:02 2022




Writer: Felkur

Date Wed Apr 13 17:24:52 2022

To All Imm Rp

Subject The Purest of Gems



He rolled up the large rug in his chamber, he would need access for some
experiments. He shoved and adjusted the few other large items out of the
way. Desk shoved into a corner, among other items that would be part of
this process. Muttering the words to fly, he did so, head bumping into the
ceiling. He paid it no mind, he looked down upon his floor and started to
concentrate. He imagined the circle, lines and space for runes within.
However, All things have a beginning, and he must first start with something
he knew well, but hoped to apply and hone. Thus, he would begin his
experiments with the jewels, essences and circles. He took out a small,
new, book and began writing. Attune and graft crafted gemstones into a
spell that utilizes a circle or something to gather magics.

He had the ferrite crystal, and thus he could begin his experiments. He of
course could rule out some essences and combinations immediately. Focusing,
peering down upon his floor, he began to make a few notes It was rarely
used, but an obsidian gem of death may have some place to play in this
magical formula. Along with the ability to attune gems to specific
alignments will also most likely play a part in containing and or reforming
the magic. Well, at the very least, he would have to begin gathering the
purest of gems, the highest quality. Doing so would save time in the long
run. Floating down to the floor, a smile upon his face, he grabbed a few
loose gemstone in his pockets and got to work on his part of the equation to
close the rip.





Writer: Cyri

Date Wed Apr 13 17:42:39 2022




Writer: Waak

Date Thu Apr 14 20:48:44 2022

To All Derigimus Imm RP (Hero School)

Subject The Gray Goblin - Keeping Althainia Safe



It was another beautiful sunny afternoon and the main street of Althainia
was crowded with merchants going about their business and families out
running errands and enjoying the weather. The sun happened to be shining
directly on the Gray Goblin who was strutting along main street in his
super-hero costume looking formidable.

The Gray Goblin noticed a small child drop a lollipop on the street and he
ran to assist! "{oOh no! Let me help you!
". The Gray Goblin quickly
picked up the lollipop and cleaned it off the best he could and returned it
to the child with a big smile on his face. Being a super-hero was so much
fun! Helping people felt so good inside!

The Gray Goblin smiled at his heroic deed and pulled out a small deck of
cards. Adeptly shuffling the deck of cards, the Gray Goblin pulled out a
small card from the deck with a Gray Goblin on it and handed it to the
child, while pick-pocketing the child's parents of a few gold coins.
Super-hero work wasn't free, after all.

The Gray Goblin continued along the main street satisfied with his work and
entered the Weapon Shop. "{oA fine array of weapons you have here. Good
thing nothing valuable has been stolen by those bad guys of organized crime!
That Darkfinder Kender has been busy, I hear!
" the Gray Goblin proclaimed.
With a nod and a quick grimace, the shopkeeper handed the Gray Goblin a
pouch full of blue diamonds.

Being a super-hero certainly has its perks!




Writer: Andreyna

Date Fri Apr 15 13:10:04 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Lothaw Dantalion Light Balance Darkness Zandreya Xenophon Cayenna Imm Rp Religion

Subject The Hardest Path



Andreyna sat cross-legged near the dormant blood tree that stood silently
within the Temple of Zandreya within Shalonesti. A book of poems and songs
to the Mother lay within her lap as she went page by page, reading and
singing various passages to the tree. It had been some time since the tree
had been active, its roots swinging widely, its magic terrorizing the
Vallens and All of elf-kind.

She had once been afraid of the tree, terrified that it would destroy the
Vallens and possibly the Mother as well. Now, she came to the tree to
relax, to read to it, to try and clear her thoughts of the troubles that
often overwhelmed them.

Much was going on with the Vallens. The fray had a new Speaker and were now
awakening more. She had just finished helping Regent Dantalion earn his
right to learn the ways of the Song and he would soon be taking up the path.
Troops gathered upon Arkania, readying themselves for Zandreya's War against
the Fort. The Fort and the entire continent of Arkane was now feeling
Zandreya's wrath as storms continued to batter down upon them. Althainia
would soon be joining the elves in the war, the duo's alliance and the might
of Zandreya would bring down the Fort, punishing them for their crimes
against the world and the Gods.

The Sultan of New Thalos sought to be accepted by the Balance. Andreyna
felt like the dark elf had a strong understand of the Balance and had been
walking the path for sometime now. He just needed to be accepted into it
formally by Zandreya Herself. The Bishop offered to aid the Sultan in
achieving this, though he was dark elven and forbidden to step foot within
Zandreya's Holy Lands, he was still a child and faithful of the Mother. As
a priestess of Nature, she would do All she could to aid any of Her faith.


The Light had decided to form a Council to aid in preventing Drakkara's
Infinite Night. The elves had been invited to sit upon a seat within this
Council, and to no surprise to Andreyna, this was met with arguing by many.
Those of Justice and some of Gareth felt that the elves had to no right to a
seat, despite their alliances with the Light and the fact that Zandreya had
Good within Her. They felt that due to Shalonesti's alliance with the
Darkness, a seat for the elves was dangerous and should not be offered.

The Vallens had offered to aid the Light as much as they could in preventing
the Infinite Night, but yes, their help would only go so far. They were of
the Balance. They were of Zandreya and Nature. They would not aid the
Light in destroying the Darkness, just as they would not aid the Darkness in
destroying the Light. This led to many of the Light accusing the elves of
not trying to stop the Infinite Night at All and actually trying to aid the
Darkness in succeeding. The Queen-Priest tried to explain the Balance, she
tried over and over, and yet, some refused to listen, refused to accept the
elves position. They refused to accept the need for Balance. They would
rather cast the elves aside, accuse them, and destroy them and the Balance.
They would do exactly as the Darkness wished to do.

However, there was were also many within the Light who actually understood
what the Balance meant to the world and to the elves, there were many who
still honored alliances with their long-time friends. The elves and
Andreyna would not stop trying to aid the Light, just as they would not stop
aiding their friends within the Darkness. However, they could not let
either side win. The Balance was truly the most difficult of paths to walk.




Writer: Ezrianne

Date Fri Apr 15 13:55:32 2022




Writer: Rahma

Date Fri Apr 15 20:52:01 2022




Writer: Rahma

Date Fri Apr 15 20:53:32 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 08:33:07 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 09:11:27 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 09:21:23 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 09:36:05 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 09:36:42 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 09:36:52 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 12:57:44 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 12:57:51 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 13:20:56 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 13:21:03 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 13:21:12 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Apr 17 13:21:19 2022




Writer: Sidorinath

Date Sun Apr 17 18:35:25 2022




Writer: Sidorinath

Date Sun Apr 17 18:35:41 2022




Writer: Sidorinath

Date Sun Apr 17 18:35:46 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon Apr 18 21:49:41 2022




Writer: Lavinah

Date Tue Apr 19 09:35:00 2022

To All ( religion rp drakkara dragoth immortal piknim )

Subject The Air Between



She watched the kender take the first steps across the floor, knowing it
would squeak. No matter how light a thief's step, it was not about being
sneaky, it was about finding a different balance. And in this, she knew is
where Piknim would struggle.

In her years, Lavinah had learned to look at things from many perspectives.
Her training for dance was part of this; no matter how complex a move might
look, no matter how impossible the footing, once it was learned, it seemed
easy upon reflection. It was that insight, that missing secret, where
Lavinah reveled, where she tried to work.

And with bits of a plant in front of her, at the kenderkin's request, that
is what she was looking for now.

Much like teaching Piknim to ride, it was not about the step being light, it
was not about being careful. It was thinking of something else, freeing
one's mind to see the problem - and solution - from a different perspective.
About believing, knowing, your step was lighter than air.

And she looked now at the plant the same, curious what might break it.

She had countless reagents and poisons in her workshope, and she tried each,
in turn, carefull working with slivers of the plant. And, as she expected,
nothing showed promise. But because she knew that it lived, she knew that
it could be killed.

It was simply finding the way. The different perspective, the missing piece
that she could not see.

Yet. But she would.




Writer: Symantha

Date Tue Apr 19 18:37:18 2022




Writer: Symantha

Date Tue Apr 19 18:37:22 2022




Writer: Symantha

Date Wed Apr 20 02:46:12 2022




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Wed Apr 20 07:30:40 2022

To Damerus All Austinian Taliena Kantilles Nadrik Siccara Kadiya Xenophon Cayenna IMM RP Religion

Subject Salt of the Earth, or Water



The last two of the five gallon buckets of sea water were brought up to
the tower by a couple struggling young pages. Thas let them help because
they wanted to, even though most of the water was now in their clothes and
on the floor and steps. He couldn't help but chuckle a little bit.

Forty gallons, well, realistically it was probably thirty five or six, would
sit in the sun and under the White Moon for a few days until there was
nothing left but the salt. While that salt was being waited on, Thasgerd
was going to look for some kind of container to hold it after it was
sanctified. That was a process in it's own right. He thought about a box
with sigils, or maybe a pouch would work. He thought about a bottle too,
anything that could be attached with a sturdy string or rope that could be
tied to the man who had a piece of cursed dagger dangerously close to his
heart could keep close and not lose it.

Damerus didn't have All the time in the world but Thasgerd, after hearing
about the attempt of one of his knights trying to help but nearly killing
him, and his knight getting a bit of scarring on the hands, figured he could
give the half-ogre a little while he tried to find a way to get the dagger
with Lazerus' essence out without killing Damerus himself.

Ultimately it was up to Damerus in how this would go. If this All worked,
Damerus was getting a gift certificate to a really good marriage counselor.




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Apr 20 19:40:40 2022

To All Verminasia Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Provincial Matters - First Impressions 1/2



Professor Geywohd Gwilwileth adjusted his cravate, woven much too tight
at the neck, and dabbed perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief. The
new Countess of Gogothath had requested him specifically to stand-in for the
former minister of trade, who had fled the province directly after the land
and title changed hands at Verminasia's most recent House of Lords meeting.
Rumor had it that Chancellor Symantha Kesepton of Storm Keep would be taking
full control from the prior Count, Riordan Atennim, who had been absent for
some time. No doubt she'd be displeased at the neglectful state of affairs.

Symantha Kesepton. Big name. Bigger expectations. Potentially enormous
consequences for failure. Why him? "Stay calm, Geywohd," the willowy
professor mumbled, fidgeting with his wire-rimmed spectacles. "First
impressions last a lifetime."

An attendant opened the door to a spacious, well-appointed study with
wood-paneled walls, and beckoned him inside. "The Countess will see you
now, Professor."

Geywohd held his shoulders back, lifted his chin, and stepped inside. An
enormous map of the province dominated the wall to his left. At the back of
a study stood a long meeting table set with chairs, including a high-backed
chair at the end, but no Abbess of Drakkara in sight. Nobody to be seen at
all, for that matter. "Countess?" Geywohd ventured anxiously, lamp-light
flickering off the lenses of his spectacles as a sense of foreboding mounted
until he tasted fear at the back of his throat. "Hello?"

"Hi ho, Professor! Yes, I'm here! Welcome!" a high-pitched voice piped up
from the direction of the high-backed chair. Geywohd squinted. A
moonlily-white topknot bobbed into view before its owner climbed to her feet
upon the seat of the chair. It wasn't Symantha Kesepton. It was that
goddamn kender. It was Piknim Cracklespark.

She'd only just arrived that morning, hadn't even unpacked, and was
determined to hit the ground running.




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Apr 20 19:49:38 2022

To All Verminasia Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Provincial Matters - First Impressions 2/2+1



Professor Geywohd took up position before the enormous map of Gogothath
and cleared his throat before speaking. "Well then. What do you know about
the province of Gogothath, Countess?"

"I know there's giant geese and Riordan Attenim rode one in a jousting
tournament and it's a big joke. That's it. That's literally All I know."

Geywohd face-palmed mentally but, to his utmost credit, kept both hands
clasped together before him. "Well, Countess, if you'll turn your attention
to this map, you'll find that the northern border of Gogothath is defined by
the River Graylag. The northern half of the province is primarily composed
of peat bogs and wetlands."

"You mean a swamp? I got stuck with the swamp?"

"With grasslands in the southern half," Geywohd persisted, despite the
interruption, "Both of which provide a natural habitat for geese, most
notably the Giant Gogothathan Graylag Guard Goose."

"Bet you can't say that five times fast," Piknim remarked cheekily. Geywohd
didn't so much as flinch in response. The replacement minister of trade
appeared to be, by no great surprise, All business. "So, why're the geese
so big?"

"Foie gras."

"Fwah whwah?"

"Foie gras is a delicacy made from the liver of a goose fattened by natural
over-feeding, or the act of force-feeding known as gavage, and is often
prepared into a mousse, parfait, or blahhh-blah-blah, blahdy-bluh-bluh.."

Geywohd droned on about the rich, buttery, delicate flavor and prodigious
export value of foie gras as Piknim ground her teeth together in
exasperation, growling through them indignantly. "Shymantha, thish ish your
fault! I could've sheized Iolanthe, but nooo-ooh, you sheized it for
yourshelf and left me a SHWAMP full of OBESE WATERFOWL!"

The kender mage sagged in her chair with an exaggerated scowl as she felt
any excitement at the prospect of ruling a province slough away like water
off a goose's back.




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Apr 20 19:52:47 2022

To All Verminasia Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )

Subject Provincial Matters - First Impressions 3/3



"Local legends claim that rival clans of fire giants warred with one
another and engaged in ritual sacrifice here long ago," Geywohd explained,
indicating the length of the River Graylag. "Their remains lay beneath the
peat bogs, leeching divine elements into the soil and natural food sources
in turn, upon which the geese were overfed for countless generations and
became giant themselves."

Piknim sat upright in her chair, eyes widening with newfound interest.
"Woah. Wait! This is gettin' good! Which food sources? What kind of
crops do we grow?"

"The grasslands and wetlands are well-suited for pasture crops such as rye,
corn, wheat, and barley, while peat is used in the production of
high-quality distilled spirits, among other utilities."

"Woah! No way! You mean we make All the bourbon and whiskey and stuff?"

"Not All of it," professor Geywohd corrected, a smile tugging at the corner
of his lips at the kender's sudden change in demeanor, akin to an apt and
eager pupil, "Just the finest in the kingdom, by popular opinion. Beer as
well, let's not forget."

Piknim pointed a tiny finger at the attendant by the door. "You! Send a
bottle of the good smoky stuff to Telthian, Zorreau, Maccus, or heck, All of
Storm Keep. Send three bottles to Rahke! That boy needs to work on his
tolerance," she ordered, before turning back to Geywohd with an enthusiastic
grin. "What else've we got to work with here, professor? Hit me!"

"Our goose down coats and cloaks are reknowned as the warmest and most
luxurious in the world."

"I want a Gogothathan cloak on the back of every member of the Living Night
plane expedition! Ship 'em to the army quartermaster general immediately so
we can put 'em on the supply train!" Piknim hopped out of her chair
energetically and joined Geywohd before the map. She tapped the
crescent-shaped fork of her hoopak against the western edge of the province.
"We share a border with Arkane, right? Do tourists visit our distilleries?
What about trade relations? What about the river? Doesn't that effect
transport and distribution and whatnot?"

The willowy professor's heart fluttered in his chest from where it had once
sunk.

First impressions truly did last a lifetime.




Writer: Nida

Date Thu Apr 21 17:03:23 2022




Writer: Jennaya

Date Sat Apr 23 11:16:25 2022




Writer: Damerus

Date Sun Apr 24 19:57:05 2022

To All Knighthood ( Xenophon Nadrik Imm RP Religion )

Subject What Lies Beneath



He stood tall, straight backed and head tilted upward, his eyes were set
firmly upon the statue in front of him. The polished, chiseled stone of the
statue almost seemed alive, radiating pride and determination, two qualities
the man before it contemplating had tried to embody his entire life. There
was a time in his youth, when faced with matters of grave importance
requiring deep introspection, he would sit in the living chamber of his home
and gaze into the flames dancing and crackling in its hearth. Unfortunately
his left eye, now damaged and scarred, was too sensitive to light for such
things, and so instead he stood, and stared, and ruminated.

How long ago had it been? He was not sure. He rememebered though.
Remembered the dagger. Remembered the pain and the feeling of weakness. He
remembered the laughter and the mockery. And then the pride that protected
his bruised ego, the determination to be above it, beyond its influence.
One would be his armor and the other, his weapon. Thus so equipped, he
would fight, as he had always done. He didn't need special healing he would
tell them. He was stronger than that. Stronger than them. He would show
them he could endure. And he did, for so long he might have forgotten
altogether, had it not been for the mark.

He placed a hand slowly over his left shoulder, then sighed. Beneath the
fabric of his smoke grey camicia, near to where the shoulder meets the
breast and close to his heart, he knew a stygian, purple scar marred his
pale flesh. Another in a long line of scars he had accumulated over a
lifetime of military service. But unlike those, this scar lingered not just
in appearance. In the time since it was inflicted upon him, he had changed
in many ways, and only some of them could be called expected or predictable.


She had said as much when they spoke. Expressed concern for the influence
she perceived it exerting over him, but he would not agree. Her God was
long dead and so too, he asserted, was any vestiges of His once existence.
Sure the flesh was still marked, but it had been punctured by divinity, so
of course it would be. She had not argued with him, and the matter had
dropped. Now, as he recalled the overwhelming agony afflicted upon him in
the Church that day, he started to wonder if she was right.




Writer: Lavinah

Date Sun Apr 24 23:29:41 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Tue Apr 26 12:03:42 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Tue Apr 26 12:31:43 2022




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Apr 27 09:41:31 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 1



With the scant amount of magical essence she still retained, Rorra made
explicit use of it to tear a rift into the air to arrive back within the
ravaged grove she called home. Almost immediately upon taking even a few
steps towards the enormous tree at its center, she unceremoniously collapsed
into the soft earth. What remnants of her armor that still clung to Rorra's
body spilled out around her across the ground as though her veins oozed the
material from countless wounds. With the entirety of her form exposed to
the elements, even a passing glance could tell the abuse her body has taken.
This results from working with materials not meant for this world, let alone
be fashioned into a weapon of such magnitude.

While the armorless white tigress sleeps in a disheveled heap, droplets of
the liquified armor begin to rise out of the pool, bringing other elements
of nature with them. Small rocks, water that rapidly froze, and metallic
bubbles of various sizes. Occasionally, All of it would sink back into the
gunmetal pool of ooze, finding no form or magical structure. This strange
phenomenon continued for nearly the entire solar cycle until Rorra would
awaken at last. With only a brief glance cast towards the sky, it was clear
that she had been asleep for well over a full day as the sun was beginning
to set again. As she feebly pushed herself off of the ground, sitting
upright, she took a moment to look over herself. Her fur was an absolute
mess, with bits of it being charred and nearly burnt away, some of it
smattered with blood, a few places utterly devoid of fur, and still plenty
of it coated in the metal liquid. She briefly gestured to reshape the
formless material into the armor it was meant to be. Yet even as it began
to attempt to take shape, it shuddered and sloughed off of her chest
instead. There was a long moment of silence while Rorra stared blankly at
the metallic ooze that refused to heed her commands.

Though she knew her control of the elements her fractured soul had tied to
waned, it still felt as though it was a distant nightmare in the back of her
mind. Nevertheless, Rorra would carefully wipe the reflective liquid off
her body with a heavy sigh and leave it in a puddle where she had awoken
recently. She was well aware that even while the corrupted grove withered
slowly, it still provided plenty in the way of savory berries alongside a
bounty of fish just waiting to be caught. For the time being, she would
have to settle with the former until she could regain her strength. Still
yet, the first order of business was washing away any lingering remnants of
the fur that had been thoroughly ruined in creating that cursed weapon.

Cautious as ever, the tigress carefully lowers herself into the chilly
waters of the pond. Though she could not heat the surrounding water on a
whim, it felt refreshing to her aching body. Just as she began the run her
hands and gently rub locations where the fur was singed first, she felt a
strange sensation as though her very soul was being lifted. That alone was
enough to startle her, but it did not stop there, far from it. Immediately
following this chilling feeling, she felt something had forcefully shunted
her into an unknown material. Rorra wrapped her arms tightly around her
body as these curious feelings washed over her form, causing her to shudder
and shiver. Time and again, it would happen for the next hour or so,
leaving her feeling drained yet... Fulfilled.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Apr 27 09:42:59 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 2



This strange event left the feline breathless as she rested against the
shallow slope at the pond's edge. The stars began to appear in the sky
above, serving as a keen reminder of the passage of time. The rest of her
fur would have to wait for another time as she then turned her attention
towards a few scattered berry bushes around the forested edge of the grove.
Unfortunately, she could only collect a few handfuls of raspberries and
strawberries between them. Some of them barely seemed edible to her, yet it
was needed to fill her belly before she returned to sleep. Rorra quietly
made her way towards the enormous tree near the center of her grove,
munching on a few berries as she walked. Her attention was briefly pulled
away by the metallic puddle left from earlier as it now had solidified on
its own into an odd, lumpy pile of metal. She was ripped from her internal
thoughts as one of her knees gave out momentarily. It was enough to make
her stumble and catch herself on the entryway to the tree. The ascent
towards her usual resting grounds was not something she cared to tackle in
her current state. Instead, she settled for curling up just inside the
entrance.

Though the feline was quick to sleep, her recent activities' exhaustion took
a heavy toll as it was far from peaceful even here. The strangeness of
feeling that wicked blade slice through flesh and bone was never enough to
wake her, yet it would cause her to toss and roll over to lay on her back.
The pale moonlight which shone through the entryway cast its illumination
across half of her ragged features. A sickly sound echoes softly through
the forested area, causing a single ear to twitch and turn slightly just as
the metallic puddle lurched and inched its way towards Rorra's body as
though it were alive. A subtle movement from the tigress's hand seemed to
cause it to bundle up and shrink down until the hand went slack again.
Almost immediately, the gunmetal ooze reacted with its freedom, enveloping
the unconscious form. Slowly, the armor is silently reformed, starting from
the chest and spreading to conceal the head and legs, leaving the tail to
carefully compress the fur into the sleek whip-like shape.

Even with the hardened shell adorning Rorra's body, the subtle breathing can
be heard and faintly seen as the metal carapace shifts as though it was a
second skin. An eerie crimson glow briefly flickers in the eye holes of the
helmet before fading into the inky blackness. Slowly, her breathing stopped
for several long moments until, at last, she drew in a deep breath, her
chest rising dramatically in response. Finally, a single hand comes to
scratch at the metal enveloping her neck, causing light scraping sounds to
echo around the chamber. Though the sound did not bother her, she turned
her head to the side as the hand slid down to rest on her armor-clad belly.
A solitary whining grunt of pain escapes the confines of the helmet,
followed immediately by the typical bright yellow eye-shaped light
illuminating the entirety of both sockets. Shortly after that, it fades
back to the abyssal depths it was before.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Apr 27 09:45:34 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 3



Five gargantuan blackened metal chains appear out of the darkness, each
attached to a different island. Each of the landmasses possesses a central
wellspring of different colors. One red, one blue, one silver, one white,
and one brown reside in their respective mass. Intricate markings surround
them, alien in nature, yet each bears distinctive marks denoting each a
given element. Several smaller metal links have already bound two of these
islands together. Though their connection struggles to remain intact, the
red and silver bond still holds. Equidistant between the two sources of
elemental energy resides a single tiger-striped white feline. She routinely
draws from both wells to further hone her grasp over them to facilitate the
never-ending practice she requires.

Scattered All across the ground are an assortment of weapons and armor.
Everything from simple metal pauldrons to great jagged swords lies at
Rorra's feet. But unfortunately, none of them captured her attention for
very long, as each was cast aside shortly after their creation. So instead,
she took a moment to look towards the two springs of elemental energy nearby
and reach out to each, drawing from them the powers locked within. Then,
with a wave of her hand, twin orbs of fire and metal collided less than a
foot from where she stood. Not even a grin crossed her features as another
meaningless weapon was born from the chaotic clash of the elements.
Razor-sharp as it was, she flicked her wrist to send it hurtling at the
ground, where it stuck several inches into the elementally charged land that
strangely bled the very same color as the wellspring it housed.

Moments later, a sound echoed through the abyss, drawing her attention to
the other three islands. One by one, each of the wellsprings burbled and
splattered its contents onto the surrounding earth. Then, several small
orbs of their respective elements rose from them in near unison, glinting
against the darkness. This immediately caught her attention, but it was
drawn away towards the center of the five islands as three streaks of white
lightning struck invisible chains that could link them All together. Each a
phantom image in Rorra's likeness rose up from them, coming to stand on an
unseen platform, their gaze locked on the tigress. Then, one by one, all
three of them turned and approached a set of orbs, reaching out to absorb
them before turning to once more look upon Rorra, beckoning her to reach for
them. Before she could get to the edge of the island she stood upon, the
two elements she already held a connection to manifested and launched metal
and fiery chains to lash onto her arms.

In that instant, she glanced behind her, first at one, then the other
wellspring, pulling harshly at the chains that kept her bound. She snarled
viciously, working with what power she held over them to unravel the chains.
No matter how much she tried, they would begin to bend and break but then
tighten around her arms again, slinking up along her arms to affirm their
hold. Finally, Rorra turned her focus to the phantoms, letting out a roar
that ultimately produced no sound here. Yet, the ferocity of her
determination allowed her to take several steps closer to the edge.
However, it was then that the metal and fire pools lashed several more
chains onto her limbs, fully binding her in place. As they began to drag
her back within their hold, her rage boiled over. Within that moment, Rorra
summoned her armor from the numerous pieces of metal lying on the ground.
Though this allowed her to snap one of the chains that bound her readily,
the elemental powers only fought back harder until, at last, she was
subdued. Though she was dragged back towards the source of those bindings,
she cast her gaze across the void and reached a single arm towards the three
phantoms. Many of the chains lay slack, though heavily damaged, including
those which tied the two islands together.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Apr 27 09:47:16 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 4



Rorra falls back against the ground, her gaze cast into the infinite
abyss above, still bound by the chains. As she begins to close her eyes to
rest, a jagged fracture splits the darkened sky above. It splinters and
finally shatters, revealing two enormous yellow eyes, looking in on the
events that unfolded mere moments before the remnants were swept away,
leaving only the phantoms and the islands intact. She then awakens back
within the real world with a start, bolting upright and looking out beyond
the entrance of the grand tree. The sun had since risen, though the dark
clouds in the sky make their effort to block its presence while a gentle
rain graces the lands. The sounds of the rain still remain cursed to her
even after All she has been through. Even now, she was unable to hear the
storms.

The fading memory of what felt like a dream made real lingered in her mind
for some time. Rorra lifted an armor-clad hand to lightly rub her head but
immediately stopped when she realized the armor had reformed itself while
she slept. This prompted her to pull herself closer to the entrance to gaze
into a puddle. Her reflection told the tale very clearly. The demonic
visage of what she had become stared back at her. The ripples caused by the
rain caused the mirrored image to shift to various points in her life. The
young cub who spent their time merely learning their way of life, hardly
even having grown into her stripes. The only young wemic who gifted her a
flower before the seasonal ceremony. Being presented with the talisman that
would mark her as a druid of her kin.

As it began to let her see the initial stages of a hellbent warrior coming
to fruition, both of her hands were brought to her head, grasping and
scratching at the helmet. It was as though some unimaginably terrible pain
wracked her body without a single assailant nearby. By the time it had
passed, she had hunched over, placing one hand in the damp earth next to the
puddle. The sockets of her helmet shined brightly with their typical yellow
hue, the reflection now merely a broken mess of events of her life, yet none
of them anything she recognized anymore. Even once it faded to the horrible
feline-shaped guise again, she could watch as the grooves and gouges she put
in the helmet repaired themselves rapidly.

Cautiously, she rose from where she had hovered above the puddle of water
and stepped out into the silent storm, turning her gaze towards the body of
water where she attempted to cleanse her fur not long ago. Every step she
took felt better than the last, giving her a feeling of strength readily
bubbling over the edge. Was it the work of the armor that empowered her or
something more sinister that lurked within? Nonetheless, she strode
onwards, beginning to leave smoldering footprints in her wake. Finally, she
stopped just short of the water's edge, locking her gaze on a singular
object that rested within its depths. The one that continued to haunt her
every moment she spent near this pond. She canted her head to one side,
drawing a metal tendril from her left forearm. As she lifted it towards the
water, she tilted her head upwards. The light within the helmet flashed
brighter as the tendril sprang forth, splitting into three identical
tentacles before breaching the water's surface. She could feel it. The
stone symbol of the fallen Goddess has rested here for years now.




Writer: Rorra
Date Wed Apr 27 09:51:29 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 5



As she lifted her left arm upwards, the large stone teardrop resting atop
a small pedestal rose from its watery home in the clutches of those
tentacles. It had long since been covered by dark green moss, yet there was
a particular care Rorra took in carefully scraping it away without harming
the stonework. She brought it within a few feet of where she stood, taking
a moment to draw the metal of the front of her helmet away so that it still
clung to the sides of her head. At this point, she examined it closely,
seeming satisfied that it still retained its pristine condition after all
these years. Then, with a single snap of her fingers, the tendrils
retracted from the object of lost faith, leaving several small blobs where
they made contact with it, keeping it held aloft with ease. She whipped her
tail around to catch it in her right hand, the left hand joining the right a
few inches below it.

"Oh, I have longed to do this ever since that day. I knew you were carved
by the druids of Turpa and... Protected. I let you linger. I let you
haunt my waking dreams when I came here. I want nothing more than to be
free of your ancient grip, and now... It is time to part ways."

Much like the sword that Rorra forged with part of her very essence for the
Everchosen, the metal casing of her tail reshaped to resemble that wicked
blade, though curved dramatically. From both of her hands, the bladed edge
grew white-hot, rapidly spreading throughout the rest of it. She took a
single step back from the stone teardrop, releasing the blade from her grip
and pivoting immediately to whip the appendage around with a surprising
level of force behind it. The moment that cruel edge comes into contact
with the statue, it passes through cleanly at an angle. A brief shimmer of
light appears around the stonework before fading away just as Rorra comes to
a stop, rearing back with her right arm. Without skipping a beat, a
terrible blade extends from the top of the forearm as she punches toward the
object, sinking that blade deep within it.

A sickening crack echoed through the grove as the metal rapidly expanded
with many spikes jutting out All along the blade, splitting the teardrop
from multiple angles. Yet, even as it All falls to the ground, the three
blobs of metal gently catch a faintly glimmering blue oval gemstone. Etched
into the gem's surface is the same symbol as the statue held. She took it
in hand, examining it for what curious power it had to power the barrier for
so long, though its origin is nothing more than a blur for her. It wasn't
essential to ascertain its true power, so instead placed it in the middle of
her armor's chest plate for the time being. As though intentionally willed
to do so, the gauntlet covering that hand surrounded it to both protect and
display it.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Apr 27 09:55:09 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 6



With the last object of worship belonging to the fallen Goddess shattered
into several pieces, she turned to walk away from the pool of water. A
faint rustling sound caught her attention, though she barely hesitated
before thrusting an arm forward, sending a thin metal needle towards the
noise source. The results of which were a soft squeak followed by silence.
Rorra cautiously approached the creature hidden in the brush along the
forest's edge, where the long needle pokes through the foliage. She leans
in close, pushing aside the bush's leaves to discover she managed to impale
a brown bunny that now lays lifeless. In a swift motion, she withdraws the
needle as it is reabsorbed into the armor before taking hold of the rabbit
with the razor-sharp claws of her gauntlet. The jagged line along the mouth
of the helmet grew darker as she lifted the animal upwards, the tips of her
armored digits glowing red hot before the rabbit bursts into flames, rapidly
cooking it through. For the first time in several days, she will be able to
savor the taste of something more substantial than berries as the jaw-like
appearance of the helmet splits open with the movements of her jaw. Like a
ravenous animal, she quickly takes chunks out of the rabbit, devouring a
large portion of it. By the time she is satiated with it, bits of blood and
errant fur lingers around the mouth of the helmet, though they quickly
blacken, wicking away with even the gentlest of breezes.

Several weeks passed as Rorra spent many hours of the day remastering even
the basics of controlling the aspects of metal and fire. Some days were
spent in the armor entirely to ensure she could still subconsciously
maintain its movement and malleability. Others were spent without it,
tending to the focus needed to quickly reshape weapons and armor to suit the
needs of others along with caring for herself as needed. She would often
examine that gemstone, feeling the subtle enchantment still lingering within
it. Some of the time would be spent attempting to control the other
elements to very little success, but there was some resonance, however minor
it was. Shortly after entering the fourth week of recovery, a human courier
bearing the mark of the Warp stepped past a veil of vines, complaining
somewhat loudly about insects and muck along the way. In their attempts to
trod through the mired banks surrounding most of the grove, the messenger's
noise was more than enough to garner Rorra's attention. Though she had
little reason to don her armor, she maintained a covering enough to keep the
gemstone locked on her chest. She snatched up some of the furs laid out
high above in the tree to cover herself otherwise before confronting the
intruder into her domain.

"So, are you the one? The blacksmith? I was sent to deliver a long-overdue
missive meant for All who are considered champions.
"




Writer: Rorra
Date Wed Apr 27 09:57:58 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Twisted Recovery part 7



Rorra took a step toward the man, which caused him to flinch and reach
for his dagger. The moment his hand gripped the hilt, she tilted her head
down slightly, yet he could not move the weapon no matter how hard he tried.
Nevertheless, he soon relinquished his grasp on the blade as he moved his
head in acknowledgment to the otherwise silent feline. Then, without
another word, he handed over a sealed letter to the tigress, offering a
simple salute with a closed fist to his chest. She quickly opened and
unfolded it, scanning it briefly for the essential details. Then, as she
closed her eyes, tilting her head towards the ground while holding the
letter aloft, she shook it a few times in thought. To his dismay, there was
hardly any more than a brief pause before the armor was reformed, which
spooked the courier quite a bit as he could now fully recognize just who she
was.

"So, the Everchosen seeks his army. Very well... "

The jagged split where her maw would be cracked and opened wide just as she
made her intentions very well known.

"Then let the hunt begin! He shall have his army one way or another! Go,
cultist. Make sure he is aware of my activity. I will send word myself in
due time."




Writer: Brustin

Date Wed Apr 27 16:19:24 2022

To All Raije ( Imm RP )

Subject Song of Raije




Doesn't want you to listen to the ocean waves,
still murder in the moment you are in.
There are those who fight the craves,
and fight under the Raije banner.

Blood is spilled and war is what is asked.

Doesn't want you to be combat cordial,
still kill your foe you are with.
There are those who flee as normal,
and fight until they are half to death.

Blood is spilled and war is what is asked.

Doesn't want you to hide and shelter,
fight to the end when its one on one.
There are those who panic and swelter,
and fight behind a pile of others.

Blood is spilled and war is what is asked.

Doesn't want you to fear the fight,
still know you you are against.
There is a time when the fight is not right,
when more of them then there are of you.

For blood is.... on the groundddddddd.....

Brustin




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Apr 27 22:47:44 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Apr 27 22:47:49 2022




Writer: Brustin
Date Thu Apr 28 11:39:42 2022

To All ( Imm RP )

Subject Crossroads Tales




Crossroads sometimes..

Watch out! Watch out! Don't dare go out,
For the dwarfs may gather and be about.
They hunt in gangs and say nasty things,
call out those who attack and make swings.
They bumble over each other and climb,
because they'll attempt to hurt you every time.

Crossroads sometimes..

You can often walk alone on the street,
sometimes you dress up and be All neat.
While at the crossroads wait for blows to the head,
the winds can blow, and nothing will be dead.
Don't lean to long on your sword or a wall,
you may just do what I do and go to sleep and fall.

Crossroads sometimes..

Be woken suddenly with those who try to get slip,
those who attacking wish to trip and crack your hip.
Your can be choked and stranged or choked on the go,
they will attempt to call in their friends tippy toe.
For danger can lurk in everything,
and pain and death it can bring.

Sometimes at the Crossroads... can be boring you see.


Brustin




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Apr 29 21:56:29 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Apr 29 22:24:22 2022




Writer: Brustin
Date Fri Apr 29 22:28:19 2022

To All Bloodlust ( Imm RP )

Subject Healer?



Brustin stood by the hammocks, missing his old
friend whom stood there in the common room day
in and day out. Raised his head slowly towards
the cieling, with his right hand slowly placed
unto his chest and his left hand clinched fist
and arm streched out. This belted loudly from
his inner self.

Let me sing it to all! TO ALL!

Brustin sang:

Wounded with misery, want, and god filled sin,
From a drunken grunting bear brawl they brought him in,

While tearless-eyed around his bload soaked bed,
They whispered ever so coldly: "He is dead."

And looked around as they past,
And said: "Best for all. He has sinned his last."

But the healer sighed: "Alas! Not so.
A amber of life is yet aglow."

The stood at the hammock so,
waiting for the next ill soul.

Brustin.

P.S. Bloodlust has taken up the desire to backfill
our healer, as they quit on us in our time of need
for if you know of any soul, who wish to reside by
us all, the common room will pay ye well.

Inquire with in.




Writer: Brustin

Date Sun May 1 13:04:10 2022

To All bloodlust ( rp imm )

Subject Healer Seeker: Part I




After an underwelming responce to the Bloodlust poster
requesting healers to apply with-in, to take over the
healing duties of our retired healer. I obtained a few
candiates, which I will relagle you tale.

Candidate 1, to protect the innocent we shall call him
Jack the Kender.

Brustin: Greetings, welcome to Bloodlust hall, where we
like to dabble in murder, death, and trickery. Sit down
and rest, let's talk.


Jack: Ah, these halls be covered in blood, chains are used
for decorations right?


Brustin: Don't worry about the Blood, the dirt soaks it up
and the chains are mostly for decorations. Don't think we
ever used it for anyone we liked.


Jack: Okay, so far, I am with the theme. So tell me about
the position.


Brustin: No, no, no. Doesn't work like that, you skipped
ahead of me. Please let me lead this. Which of the gods
do you serve?


Jack: Kwainin, the god of balance. I'm undecided on which
is better good or ev.... gah.. ack.... ugh. *thud*


Brustin: Well, he's dead. NEXT!

Brustin, HR of Bloodlust




Writer: Brustin

Date Sun May 1 13:04:56 2022

To All Bloodlust ( rp IMM )

Subject Healer Seeker: Part II




After an underwelming responce to the Bloodlust poster
requesting healers to apply with-in, to take over the
healing duties of our retired healer. I obtained a few
candiates, which I will relagle you tale.

Candidate 2, to protect the innocent we shall call him
John the Human.

Brustin: Greetings, welcome to Bloodlust hall, where we
like to dabble in murder, death, and trickery. Sit down
and rest, let's talk. Please feel comfortable.


John: So glad to finally be here, very exicited!?

Brustin: Nice, I love the enthusiasum. I have to admit
not many are that excited to be down in here.


John: There is a serious lack of light, and strange
your hall is underground, like mole people but I can
get use to it.


Brustin: So, let's start. I'll ask some questions and
we can go from there. How does that sound?


John: *nods*

Brustin: Out of All the races, that are awake in the
land, which would you like to be the most. Other than
the one you currently are?

John: Pixie! They are very cute... gah.. ack.... ugh. *thud*

Brustin: Well, he's dead. NEXT!

Brustin, HR of Bloodlust.




Writer: Brustin

Date Sun May 1 13:18:38 2022

To All Bloodlust ( rp IMM )

Subject Healer Seeker: Part III




After an underwelming responce to the Bloodlust poster
requesting healers to apply with-in, to take over the
healing duties of our retired healer. I obtained a few
candiates, which I will relagle you tale.

Candidate 3, to protect the innocent we shall call him
George the Ogre.

Brustin: Greetings George, welcome to Bloodlust hall,
where we like to dabble in murder, death, and trickery.
Sit down and rest, let's talk. Please feel comfortable.


George: Ya have a bigger chair, I squish this one if I sat
down on it.


Brustin: Oh, your a big fellow! Sure let me grab a chair
from Tobryck sitting area. We have a few large Ogres like
yourself in the hall, we understand, the extra accomidations
you require. Here' use this chair.


George: Thank! Not many people know what extra thought
it take to be civil in hall. Beds crash, chair smoosh.


Brustin: *nods* So, let's start. I'll ask some questions and
we can go from there. How does that sound?


George: *nods slowly*

Brustin: OLet's start with a fun one, if you won the algoron
lottery, which craft would you like to obtain?


George: *places both hands ontop of head, for no real reason*
I'd..uh.. take on.. tailor! I'd be love to make small clothes
for yer punie folk, dress em like dolls, cute and funny like!


Brustin: Okay then... well, unexpected. So what brough you
to the healer side of the studies?


George: *shrugs shoulders* I want to heal people and not hurt
people, we should be nice to everyone. Ja know? Peace to all.


Brustin: You realize your in the Bloodlust dungeon? We are all
about murder and death, like I said at the start.


George: Oh, thought I was in Shadow! My bad.
*stands up and walks out*



Brustin, HR of Bloodlust.




Writer: Brustin

Date Sun May 1 13:39:45 2022

To All Bloodlust ( rp IMM )

Subject Healer Seeker: Part IV




After an underwelming responce to the Bloodlust poster
requesting healers to apply with-in, to take over the
healing duties of our retired healer. I obtained a few
candiates, which I will relagle you tale.

Candidate 4, to protect the innocent we shall call him
Jesta the Dark gnome.

Brustin: Greetings George, welcome to Bloodlust hall,
where we like to dabble in murder, death...x

Jesta: Listen, I know what your about, so you can skip
all the blah blahs. Let's get down to this, I'm a healer
and I'm loven the whole death vibe of this place.


Brustin: Nice, okay.. So why are you applying?

Jesta: Silly, silly. Everyone knows that your previous
healer, left you in your time of need. Why, who know! And
I honestly don't care. You need a healer, and I'm one.


Brustin: *nods* So your experinced in said, healing arts then?

Jesta: Listen, I know what you need, I can cure the blind, remove
the plauge from the sick, purify the blood of the infected.

Brustin: OWhen do you want to start?

Jesta: *flips her long black hair*
I can start in a week, since the last person I was working
for, died. I still have to pick up a few things.


Brustin: How did he die, if your the healer?

Jesta: *smiles* I got a little hungry and drank to much of
blood, what can I say, sometimes I get to involved in my task!


Brustin: Oh, your a vampire then...


Jesta: Darling, I prefer the being known as Missy.
*stands up and walks out*


Brustin: Let me put your name to Boof as a canidate. You should
hear from us shortly.


Missy: If you want me, come and get me.

*stands up and walks out of the dungeon with some sway*


Brustin, HR of Bloodlust.




Writer: Telthian

Date Mon May 2 00:48:10 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 2 10:13:26 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 2 10:13:36 2022




Writer: Raimbaut

Date Mon May 2 14:43:25 2022

To All Imm RP Austinian

Subject He lost count around fifty or so...



He rode his akele-teke as he usually did when patrolling the sand seas
north of New Thalos. He kept his lands in order, along with his hobby of
breeding beautiful stallions and mares. Today, however, his mind was not
quite on such small things. He inspected the other rips.. Tears, that led
into the Rip above New Thalos. Of course his tour included inspection of
the Temple upon Tropica. Today as he was thinking upon heavier things,
deeper concerns. However, he was still a mere human and he found his mind
drifting frequently to another topic that helped push him further. It'll be
a great party, and he smiled.




Writer: Justian

Date Tue May 3 06:58:15 2022

To All Chaos ( RP Malachive Scorn Imm Admin Religion )

Subject Self Sacrifice (4 of morethanfive)



DauTranhHanhdonggiuanhungnguoicuaban

The... Words? Boomed into the air All around Justian, disrupting his
incessant polishing of the symbol of CHAOS. He found that he missed the
meditative time he spent polishing the symbol of CHAOS while he was away
inspiring others of the Cause on the importance of their self-sacrifice.
Some, were perhaps too eager and sacrificed their time, effort, and lives
without purpose. After a few false starts Justian was able to get the point
across through a few helpful hoofs.

These words? Though... He was used to the sometimes gibberish that echoed
in the Warp, but this sounded as if there was a purpose behind the noises.
He thought he barely heard an annoyed sigh-groan. Must have been his
imagination.

StruggleActionAmongYourPeople

Oh! Those were words! Smiling Justian pondered them for a few moments as
his body continued polishing the symbol of CHAOS. He felt his work among
the rank and file, if there were such a thing among the Warp, accomplished
much, but outside that few responded to the notes and conversations. The
times before Justian learned the Truth were the times of great conflicts
between the false gods and Malachive's might army. Those times were long
past. The few who remained awake in this age were set in their ways,
committed through time, money, or confused effort to please their masters.
There were still diamonds in the rough.

There is no success without sacrifice. If you succeed without sacrifice it
is because someone has suffered before you. If you sacrifice without
success it is because someone will succeed after.

These words were spoken at a normal volume in measured tones by a male
voice. The normality of the voice rattled Justian more than the others had,
almost making him forget to listen. Almost. The words struck a chord
within him, not literally as had other voices in the past, but in the core
of his being. This was something worthy to instill in others. A Truth to
help those who wavered as they were rehabilitated from their time addicted
to the poisoned honey of the false gods.

Justian put up his implements of polishing and set about preparing...
Things. The sound of donuts frying filled the Warp....




Writer: Sidorinath

Date Tue May 3 09:55:40 2022

To All Devion Piknim Boof ( Cayenna Xenophon Religion Gribblegrabble )

Subject Draconic Free Time: A Fluff Story ( Conversion Hopeful Series )



Sidorinath pulled down gigantic dragon-sized goggles meant to block out
the harsh rays of the New Thalos sun.

From her vantage point, she watched as her orphans splashed and played about
in the fountain in the center of the market square. Each one had on a
swimming costume, and was giggling and laughing with their antics.

A large sack full of jangling coins rested near by her sapphire blue colored
flank, full of coins that had been tossed within said fountain, by thousands
of passers-by, and then... Reappropriated by the gang. The funds would be
passed around, later; a portion used for food and lodgings and another given
for gaming, such as Monty Dice and Knucklebones.

A little bell tinkled from way atop the Blue's head, sewn tightly to one of
the peaks of a dragon-sized jester's cap gifted by Piknim. Even if it was
ridiculous, there was no way Sidorinath was not going to don the gift from
her favorite Kender.

Watching her contingent of loyal urchins less stressed and more playful made
her chuckle and laugh; with them, not at them. They were, by now, supremely
loyal to her, and would do mostly whatever was asked of them (and those that
took on the tasks the others passed on out of lack of chutzpah were VERY
handsomely rewarded for their bravery). The network of spies, snoops,
agents had paid for itself in spades, with Piknim as the majordomo. Her
right hand.

A guard passed by on his rounds well before they were ready for the frolic
to stop. A giantic Firstborn handful of gold convinced him to continue on
his way.

Sidorinath tossed back her head and laughed and laughed and laughed.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Thu May 5 22:50:23 2022

To All knighthood ( thasgerd raimbaut nadrik xenophon nadrik immortal )

Subject Upon the Walls



The view upon the wall in the pre-dawn hours was a beautiful one.

The tall, broad-shouldered Knight, borrowed features fitted to the frame of
a man straight from a fable walked his assigned patrol, his gaze turned out
over the lands north of Gareth Keep. The faint blue glow of the moonlily
fields at night beckoned over the hills, inviting the eye to gaze, but the
eyes of the man out of time were fixed in another place entirely.

Over his left eye, the golden flames glowed, causing him no pain. None, at
least, as could be described as a physical malady. Conversely, however, the
burden upon the heart was everything that the Lord of Honor had warned him
it would be. To see the hearts of men and to know their sins, to be forced
to gaze upon that which was hidden from the world amongst passers-by could
be a task considered overwhelming, one that could sap the hope from even the
staunchest of heroes from any era. To see the forsaken shards of
once-forgotten Darkness embedded in the bodies of those who proclaimed
purity, or to understand the strings that compelled others to dance to some
unknown tune. These and more preyed upon his thoughts, for the knowledge of
how complex the web of Darkness woven was but a single piece of the solution
as to how to cut one's self free.

Even this, however, only preyed on some corner of his mind. He had trod
that mental path many times, and come up with no answers he had deemed
adequate. Not with the knowledge he had at present. Not with the powers he
could boast as a man of faith, among equals in Brotherhood. There was only
but to endure, to seek what avenues existed in order to lend aid to those in
need. It was the Knights' creed, one laid down in an age long before the
stones of the current Keep had been sunk into the earth to serve as an
immovable foundation.

Instead, his thoughts roamed abroad, afield, afar. To the lives of those
around him, whose honor had been tested before his eye and found pure. No
man was ever completely Good. That was the easiest of the truths to accept.
Everyone had a moment of weakness, a private indulgence, a shortcoming that
scratched at the veneer of purity, but did not strip it of its veracity.
Even his own demeanor bore flaws, born of wroth, born of pride, born of an
abundance of sympathy.

The mark of the Dark Goddess rested upon her brow, and yet he still bade her
speak with him, walk the hallowed halls of the righteous and Divine. He had
bared his throat to her, an unspoken test of her character, or at the very
least of her cleverness. He had exposed his unprotected back to her, born
of the same veiled motive. He wished in some way that the sorrow of this
tale was a lie, and wished that it were utterly true. To be a lie would
grand him the freedom to act and cleanse his conscience of the sorrow of
witnessing a preventable tragedy and the necessity of his violent
intervention. It was a microcosm of the apathy and failure to understand
the lives removed from one's own. 'Evil is the consequence of the failure
of Good men. ' To make it true, however, would make the young kender a
victim of desperation, relegated to the lower echelons of Evil. Someone who
could be neutralized, reasoned with, rehabilitated, redeemed. For the Evils
born of iniquity, there existed recourse to preserve the sanctity of the
spirit, but hands stained red would never know purity again. This he knew,
and he could feel the stains of blood not yet spilt upon his own palms,
blood that would stem from the body that hemmed and hawed and sketched in
fascinated detail the contours of a place she should have never been free to
roam.






Writer: Agapitos

Date Thu May 5 22:51:57 2022

To All Knighthood ( Thasgerd Raimbaut Piknim Nadrik Xenophon Nadrik Immortal )

Subject May They Never Fall



The light in his left eye flared brighter as his thoughts returned to the
present time, albeit still far removed from his body. To the lives of those
who stood beside him in Brotherhood within the Keep. The talk of the nature
of Love, of Bonds, had found firm hold in the men beside him. They embodied
Eros, the romantic love. They held close their beloved, and so gained the
strength to bear the world on their shoulders. It was a pure thing, a
gladdening thing, and a thing that protected them from the enormity of the
world. They acted for the good of the many, yes, but etched upon their
hearts were singular names. They could turn to that idol built within their
hearts and so endure the failures and loss that were inevitable things in
the coming days, the sacrifices that would have to be made. He almost
envied them.

His own Love was branded large, writ within his own name, the name given to
him. Agapitos. Agape. The love of the Gods for their Creations, of
parents for their children, of fondness and a desire to see them grow, to
overcome hardship. It could not afford to focus in any one place, though
the tragedy of the kenderhome plucked at him, the sheer unnaturalness of
such a fall from grace as jarring as the first Fall, ancient even in the
terms of the histories that detailed the aftermath
, but yet ever found
places to mourn, for those consumed by their trials, afflicted by their
shortcomings, were tragedies to be lamented. They, whose potential would
never be realized, turned to ashes in their hands, they would be forced to
start from nothing or become nothing, their lives snuffed out, or they would
turn to other paths, veer away from the cause of Light. To find refuse in
the neighboring House of Balance was one thing. Even the Darker tendencies
of the Neutral Halls were beholden to a steady hand, balanced against the
Goodly intentions of other followers. The Pit of Evil, however, was a path
he could not afford to allow them to take. The willful designs and
predations of the wicked were poison, were the dreadful infection of wounds
swollen and festered. Their wickedness and malevolence would spread, born
of the shock, fear, and anger left in the aftermath of their deeds. They
who would sow such blighted seeds could not be suffered to live, and yet he
would mourn their passing, the loss of such potential. That was what
weighed upon his heart, vast though it was.

He had spoken at length about such things in the past, and it was
well-understood by the Lord General and his entourage. The lamentations of
those so blessed and cursed with an enormous purpose were difficult to truly
find purchase on in order to facilitate acceptance, but it remained the duty
of a Knight to be honest. His burdens occupied his thoughts, but he would
not fail to act. Though the body would bleed, though the tears would fall,
the heart would not break.

Closing his eyes again, he paused upon his patrol, resting his scarred hands
upon the crenellation of the battlement. The night breeze was cool and
inviting, carrying none of the oppressive dread that the forces of Evil
would associate the midnight hours with. There still hung two Moons in
opposition to the dark orb that held the powers of Darkness, and their light
still shone undaunted. He allowed that air to tousle his mane, fingers
curling against the stone as the breeze tugged at his cloak. He barely felt
the chill, but the serenity was a welcome reprieve from such heavy thoughts.
Even as those thoughts ran into the Keep proper, to dwell upon the luminous
mirrors that shone there and across the land, gathering wishes, gathering
hope, gathering prayers, gathering power.





Writer: Agapitos

Date Thu May 5 22:53:12 2022

To All Knighthood ( Thasgerd Raimbaut Piknim Nadrik Xenophon Nadrik Immortal )

Subject May the Heart Never Break


Agapitos managed a rare, true smile. The expression seemed much more at
home upon the refined face, so much at odds with his serious demeanor, and
yet so natural to behold. So long as the heart did not break, the walls
would never fall. So long as men held fast to the dream of peace, the dream
of a future free of such strife, the power invested within Kantilles'
artifacts would only ever wax stronger, ready to blunt the spear-thrust of
the Enemy, ready to deliver the counterblow that would break their backs and
shatter their might. So long as the heart did not break, the House of Light
was impregnable.

Even should they be foes, even should the fall from grace be so complete,
even should tears fall as the killing blow descended, the lamentation
of potential lost and dreams dashed, the heart would never break.


{-{-End{-{-




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri May 6 02:52:58 2022

To All Shadow ( Agapitos Geirhart rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )

Subject Time and Choice 1/2



Piknim Cracklespark hiked the overgrown trail on Arkania that led to a
pond deep in the forest. She waded first through a sea of prickly weeds
that grew shoulder-high for most, but completely swallowed up the kender
mage. Tiny seeds, vibrant and shimmering, clung to her dark robes and
topknot like glitter until she resembled the guest of honor at a birthday
party.

At last, she popped out into a serene glade covered by a vast canopy of
broad leaves, like a tunnel carved from soft emeralds alight with the
sparkle of scant sunlight and a bright bespeckled kender crossing over to
the other side. A clearing opened before her, generous and clear beneath a
cerulean sky that reminded her of the poetic manner in which Agapitos di
Lucis once described his favorite color.

*"The blue of a sky unmarred, unconstricted by cloud nor strife; the
beckoning blue of a morning ripe with possibility, where All things are
possible but for the limits of time and choice."

The clearing led directly to the edge of a pond, naturally sheltered by the
bend of giant reeds and birthed from a spring-fed stream, still crystal
clear through the testament of time. Its placid waters were shallow, for
the most part, and the bottom composed of copper and ivory-hued stones
visible to the naked eye. A breeze, crisp and clean, tickled the tip of her
nose and teased a smile to her lips.

A potluck picnic would soon be held here in celebration of All things
family. It seemed too pure a place for its insufferable sponsors, Deacon
Faeryn and Novitiate Penelopina, to seize for such a nauseating affair. The
thought of All the hippity-hoppity huggy saccharine sweetness dipped in
lovey-dovey sugary platitudes made her want to retch. She could see it all
in her mind's eye, oh yes, and hear as well the giggles and laughter of fond
sentiment, friends, and family in the echo of memory. It sounded like an
ordinary day in Balifore, leading her back along memory lane to the sunny
streets and bright smiles of Algoron's Kenderhome, yet the road through her
mind ultimately turned dark as she wandered its linear path an inevitable
end. The end of everything.

The eve of Malachive and his Abhorrent, when the sun set upon the kender
race.

The echo of giggles and laughter in her ears turned to sobs and screams,
dragging her back to that horrible night.

Piknim sprinted through the woods again, guiding her kin to safety with
conjured balls of light, ferrying children over rock and limb on the backs
of animal familiars, smothering fire and fury with magical blizzards,
rallying the less sensible of her kin to flee rather than try to hug the
disgusting invincible death-monsters, and watching friends scythed in half
like wheat.

She'd fought an Abhorrent, or tried to fight one, at least. Even with all
her forbidden magic, All the strength born of suffering, both the hate of a
life steeped in Darkness and the love of a pure heart born to the Light, she
couldn't stop even one of them. She'd been lucky to crawl away to safety,
bloody and broken and spent.

In the aftermath of Balifore's destruction, the kender mage had been left to
wonder whether or not her family had escaped. Perhaps a handful had
survived and yet wandered the world. She didn't know. Piknim knew only
that, to this very day, the cottage homestead in the forest where she spent
her adolescence stood as empty and abandoned as the shattered city streets.

They weren't coming home.




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri May 6 02:56:00 2022

To All Shadow ( Agapitos Geirhart imm rp Drakkara Cayenna Admin )

Subject Time and Choice 2/2



Piknim crossed the empty space, where lively children, family, and their
friends would soon be at play come Saturday, and stopped at the pond's
threshhold beneath an arch of reeds. She gazed into the tranquil water.
The Darkfinder's reflection gazed back, lost in thoughts of what the future
might hold.

Friends? She had friends aplenty.

Family? She had none.

She'd never married or had children. What would a potential life partner
even look like at this point? What kender could possibly share the wants,
woes, dark dreams, and deviant desires of a topknotted witch with a red
aura? What kender could earn anything more than her contempt, much less a
hand in marriage?

Sure, she could take in a couple of rugrats, maybe scrape together some
hodgepodge of a family through stand-ins and surrogates, like Geirhart had
done through adopting Bragin, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be
real. Lineage and legacy endured long after death. Blood-bonds were
special. Powerful.

If Piknim died today, the Cracklespark name died with her.

She swallowed softly. Realization settled to the pit of her stomach like a
stone, cold and heavy. The kender reflected in the water scowled. She
couldn't stand the weight of sadness. It had to be cast off at once.

Piknim dropped her vintage canvas pack, embossed with the Topknotch Scouts
emblem of Old Balifore, and retrieved a portable rod and reel, assembling it
with a series of clicks and turns. Then she selected a shiny Silvertail
Hatchling Spinner from her box of tackle. Its iridescent scales would
reflect the sunlight perfectly through the crystal clear waters. With an
adroit flick, she cast the lure just before the mouth of the stream that fed
the pond, and with it All the troubles of the past week.

Maybe she was better off alone. Without family ties holding her back, maybe
she was free to do whatever she wanted, anything and everything. No
distractions. No disappointments. No constant concerns. No babysitting.
She could focus fully upon that which mattered above all.

Not Eros. Not romantic love. Not platitudes and potluck offerings.

Love for the Night Mother, lust for dark magic, and giving birth to an
Infinite Night.




Writer: Rahma
Date Fri May 6 15:43:37 2022




Writer: Rahma
Date Fri May 6 15:48:32 2022




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Sat May 7 07:23:41 2022

To All Knighthood Althainia Rahma Timmel Bragin Justice Austinian Taliena Nadrik Kantilles Siccara Kadiya Xenophon Cayenna IMM RP Religion

Subject Knight Watch



Most folks that knew of Thasgerd knew him to be of a large stature.
Tall, wide, muscular, and a little rough around the edges in some aspects.
Some of the younger pages and squires knew him to be a towering figure and
when it was too sunny outside, they used him to blot out the sun and for a
bit of shade.

He was the quintessential Highlander of the Gunn clan. The page that stood
and looked out over the Tower of Light in the knew Thasgerd as his General,
a mentor, the closest thing to a father he never had. The scrawny page over
heard once that the General was orphaned at a young age so there was a
little connection he felt.

The page's General and the boy stood side by side, both glancing at each
other. The young boy nodded with confidence to the living wall of a man
then looked back out to the lands with a stoic determenation. Thas nodded
back and did the same, but with a raised brow and an amused and curious
look. The towering man held in a chuckle.

The wind wasn't whipping this night and the White Moon's fullness bathed
both watchmen in a soft light. Every so often the page would sigh and his
shoulders would rise and lower. Thas kept his head straight but would shoot
a quick and wry glance at the boy.

What felt like hours for the page was really only a quarter hour but it was
late, or early. The sun would be coming up soon. In their watchful silence
the birds were starting to stir and chirp. The paladin held his position as
did the hopeful page. The silence was broken by the loudest growl. The
noise was familiar to the general and he reached into his belongings and
placed a small white wax paper bag with strips of bacon on the stone wall in
front of page.

The determined page kept his watch but honed in on the perfectly fried
strips and reached for one. He nodded once and ate the strip, his eyes
never leaving what was spread across and vastly seen from the tower. Thas'
face brightened with more amusement, a hidden smile of entertainment was
held back of it's fullness.

Thasgerd took a breath in of the new awakening morning's air, rolled his
shoulders and shook the cobwebs of sleep from his mind. He reached for a
strip of bacon then turned to the page and the page broke his intense gaze
and turned to face him. The young boy's neck craned so he could look up at
his General and he saw him smiling down. The page saluted and Thas saluted
back then walked to the stairs that led down into the halls of Gareth Keep.

Thasgerd finally let that soft chuckle out that was building. He knew of
the page, where he came from and what he'd been through. The chuckle faded
and a warm smile crossed his lips. Sometimes questions weren't needed to be
asked. Sometimes people, even pages just needed to be.




Writer: Akheag
Date Sat May 7 10:47:07 2022

To Bloodlust Admin Imm Boof All Scorn

Subject A trip to the workshop



As Akheag entered the building a frail goblin scurried across the room to
greet him.

The inside of the building mirrored the exterior with nondescript,
functional features. The room was dimly lit and the air stagnant.

'Puss Eye'! Akheag bellowed How many of our friends survived'?

Shifting uneasily Puss Eye hissed Six. You were particularly aggressive
with the last round of amputations and more than expected were lost.

This got a hearty laugh from dwarf It gave you a chance to test the healers!
Any particular adept ones in the last bunch?

A sly grin appeared as the goblin spoke 'Bob is a miserable bastard, but his
techniques are flawless. All he worked on survived, but each picked up a
memento or two to remind them of his work'.

Akheag turned and the young one? Akheag turned and the young one?

Aggressive and unrefined. His ideas are intriguing, but he doesnt yet
understand how to execute them. With more time he could be someone worth
keeping around.

Nodding, Akheag slowly walked towards the bustling workshop. A gaggle of
gnomes weaved between cages, bouncing from contraption to contraction. A
sand bottom pit had been placed prominently in the center of the room.

After glancing about the room, Akheag turned to Puss Eye. Have the Gnomes
found any viable options?

Nothing reliable the goblin hissed. 'The Cardinals arm was removed fairly
high up and so far we have not been able to make anything sturdy enough to
withstand repeated blows.

Grinning the dwarf asked I dont suppose you have found a steady source of
elven children to run next to the Cardinal and take the blows?

No even the elves do not breed fast enough for that task. Eliciting a
hearty laugh from both of them.

As the pair moved across the workshop the dwarf stopped at a bench covered
in clamps and jars. An emaciated human rested against the far wall in a
twisted iron cage. An extra pair of arms had been attached just below his
nipples. Akheag gestured at the man 'and the grafting? This one looks
promising'.

The goblin quickly lowered his head and averted his gaze 'It cannot support
the weight we need yet... Maybe in time'.

This irritated the dwarf and he turned to make his way towards the door. 'I
am growing impatient... Send Bob to the Dungeon, I hear they may have
need'.




Writer: Raimbaut
Date Sat May 7 14:29:51 2022

To All Knighthood Althainia New_Thalos Pilgrims imm RP

Subject The rose not forgotten.



He rode upon the familiar roads, blood, rip and all. He kept himself
focused, inspecting the areas of interest, creating springs at the bramble.
Inspecting various entrances and exits from the cities of Althainia and New
Thalos. As expected, nothing specific turned up. All was the same. He
would lay in wait to perhaps sneak upon them for a while, but was also
fruitless. Riding into the portals he arrived at his most important, and
his most visited location. The place that may have even started it all. At
least, it was a significant contribution. The place that had grown not only
in his heart but in power. He picked up the Rose, blessing it again before
placing it amongst the other offerings that others kept. He looked at the
rose for a while, which turned into nearly the entire day. It has become
truly something that was at his core, flush full of meaning, lessons,
learning.

He sighed, smiling. And now someone knows your secret. He said to the rose.




Writer: Penelopina
Date Sat May 7 14:48:12 2022

To All Shalonesti_Clan Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena Zandreya

Subject Daily Life in the Vallenwoods



{pBright yellow sun rises. Bright green eyes open.

{pAlready full of energy, Penelopina Rosaceae Starflower Sha'tevas,
colloquially known as Penny, begins her daily routine. First, of course, by
tidying her cot and
{psmoothing out her bedsheets. As a lesser member of the
Shalonesti Clan, she was afforded at least a private, if not truly
luxurious, sleeping quarters. A step up
{pfrom when she'd arrived as a
Nameless Novitiate. Glass of water by the bed drained, dressed in clean
garments, and then a brief prayer to start the day.

{p"Hey Taliena, Penny here! Just saying good morning to you, and thanks again
for another beautiful day. Well, I got a lot to do, but if you need
anything lemme know and I will be sure to do the same, okay? Thanks!{p"

{pPrayers concluded, Penny took a moment to check on her flowers by the
windowsill, noticing them budding quite nicely, and gave them a little brush
with her hands
{pto help them perk up. She skipped out of her room and down
to the main Shalonesti Grove, bouncing with the energy of youth and
optimism. Optimism that didn't
{pdiminish one bit when she stopped by the
grove to check on the healers. Her prayers for Taliena, while still not as
impressive as that of a trained Deacon or
{pa Bishop like the Queen, helped
ease aches and pains and sooth worries, and she got to make so many new
friends from grateful Elves who thanked her for her healing.

{pAfter that... Lunchtime!

{pPenny took her lunch in the shared groves of the Shalonesti, finding them
relaxing. Even if her patron deity was Taliena, she found she was very much
enjoying
{pthe work of Zandreya too, and almost wished she could be a shared
priestess of both churches. Since she was a vegetarian, her lunch was
largely a salad, with
{psome of her favorite ingredients. She was looking
forward to sharing them at the picnic with her best friend forever Faeryn.
Hungry as she might be
{psometimes, she made sure never to eat too much... It
would only make her afternoon more difficult.

{pAfternoon was combat training.

{pUsually some senior Shalonesti, like Ar'an or Dantalion, would make the time
to show Penny how to fight. Which in her case usually meant trying to
{pstay
"alive" (of course none of them would really hurt her) for as long as
possible in a practice spar. She fell down. A lot. Every new day was a
new
{pset of bruises or aches but, as they were happy to point out to her:
{p"Lasted longer than yesterday.{p" So progress was being made. Someday soon
she might
{peven be able to join them on a raid of Thorn Keep or the like.
Actually experience a fight with those meanies in Chaos, or the jerk
Slayers, or the bullies in
{pBloodlust. Much as Penny would prefer to hug it
out rather than fight, fighting was sometimes necessary to protect those
that couldn't protect themselves.

{pMany of the other Shalonesti Elves were making sure she was properly
outfitted in case of a fight. Even some of the Knights were kind enough to
send her trinkets
{pand gear that would help her out. She always made sure to
thank them for their kindness.

{pWhen the sparring ended, Penny had a free afternoon. She usually spent this
time in the Temple or the Library, reading up on the sacred texts. Not just
the
{pTenets of Taliena, Zandreya, but many others as well. Learning All the
divine angles, every side of the story, and countless historical events and
prominent
{preligious figures. Lots of stories, plenty of good examples to
live by, and bad examples to avoid.

{pShe had a lot to learn.

{pSun goes up, day starts. So naturally, sun sets, it was time to call it a
day and get some sleep. Penny wanted to stay up some nights and watch the
stars and
{pmoons come out, but with reluctance she recognized she had another
day ahead of her and needed to be ready, and so she bathed, prayed (thanking
Taliena again for
{panother beautiful day), and went to bed dutifully.




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Sun May 8 00:38:57 2022

To All Knighthood Althainia Rahma Timmel Bragin Geirhart Justice Austinian Taliena Nadrik Kantilles Xenophon Cayenna IMM RP Religion Shrooms

Subject Ants and Shrooms



Pages, squires, and knights were bussling about the Keep. The sounds of
grumbling along with the scraping of shovels came from the stables. Grunts
of protest were heard while wire brushes scrubbed stairwells. The chings of
chain mail, the clanks of plate, the swish of silk steel, and the stretching
of leather were audible as knights were doing this and that, and Thasgerd
thought he even heard a splash from the inlet.

A group of pages and squires who had finished their chores and tasks for the
day were watching the paladin put a few hefty bags in a large box. "Why
does that smell like gross mud?
" A young girl asked, her nose wrinkled.

"Elder Qadira saed shrooms faed off thin's like wet laeves tha' bae dyin',
tha's wha's in tha a few o' tha bags.
" He tied off the burlap bags and
checked to see if the large dowel rod was in the box.

A determined boy looked at a the other bags that Thasgerd was getting to
ready to up. "Why's there slices of fruit in those? "

"Good ques'ion. An's like fruit, thaey cin gets water from 'em an' aet at
tha saeme time.
" He answered with a proud look. It paid to read a book or
two on nature.

The small band of boys and girls looked at each other, not sure what was
going on, some shrugged their shoulders. One of the pages asked another
question, "What are you gonna do with those? "

Thasgerd hoisted the box off the War Room's table and looked at the small
group, "I'm goin' to tha desert an' hopin' to plaece a bet. "

Each child's face had a very visible look of confusion. "You don't even
like mushrooms, and mushrooms don't live in the desert, and--
" Thasgerd cut
another boy off.

"Yeahs, yeahs, an' I like thaes shrooms. Ya's dinna aet 'em, ya's talk to
'em, an' thaey live un'er tha deser', an' thaey gots gian' an' frien's.
"
He passed the group of pages and squires and before he headed to Buttercup
to strap the gifts to her he stopped.

"Thaere bac'n cover'd in choc'laete in tha Observatoraey. Ya'lls cin haeve
some, but dinna taell on mae to tha Elder, Faeryn, an' dinna taell
Buttercup. Wae good?
" His gold hued gaze swept over the curious
questioning group.

They All nodded and saluted Thasgerd, and Thas with his hands full nodded,
then the sound of excited feet stomped out of the War Room and clambered up
the stairs to the Observatory. "Good an' subtle. " The paladin chuckled
knowing he'd probably get busted by one or All three he mentioned to not
tell.

A short while later, deep in the desert past the north and east of New
Thalos, Buttercup watched Thas set the bags of fruit and the bags of wet
leaves down then propped the cargo box up and over them, using the dowel rod
to provide some shade so they wouldn't dry out. Thasgerd nodded and he
looked at Buttercup and she looked back. Seeming to convey a silent message
of knowing.

"I dinna know wha' ya's gett'ns on 'bout, I gaeve ya's half mae braekfas',
rat'er ya's jus' took its thaes morn'n. Ya's stuck ya's tongue in mae
coffae, an' ya's smack'd mae in tha faece wit' ya's tail. 'Gain. Yeahs I
saeved ya's bac'n, an' nah wae're nah gonna wait. Wae gots ot'er thin's to
do.
" Buttercup nodded her equine head and Thas saddled up and headed back
to the Keep.




Writer: Thuken

Date Sun May 8 10:14:23 2022

To Wargar All ( Imm Religion RP )

Subject Time for a Change - Wargar food menu ( I )



Making his way through the crowded tavern Thuken found a small table with
an open seat. As he waited on the waitress to appear his eyes scanned the
crowd and a smile formed beneath his beard as he watched his kin enjoy their
time off the field. Turning back to the menu before him Thukens smile
faded.

The same damned menu for decades, I am tired of eating fungus on toast.
When is the chef going to cook something new.
The frustration is evident
in Thukens voice as he spoke.

After ordering a large stein or the winter ale, Thuken leaned back trying to
decide the best course of action, He could not fire the chef without a
replacement as Thaxanos was a long walk for something to eat before
returning to the field. Perhaps he could find someone to train his chef, or
perhaps it was a supply issue? Is this All we could get at the time or was
it the cheapest? There are a lot of questions that need to be answered, for
now however Thuken decided to just enjoy his drink and in the morning he
would find a better way to his kin.




Writer: Symantha

Date Sun May 8 21:46:45 2022




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Mon May 9 21:40:15 2022




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Mon May 9 21:44:06 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 21:47:40 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 21:52:12 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 21:55:00 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 21:56:50 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 22:00:41 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 22:03:31 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 22:07:08 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 22:10:47 2022




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Mon May 9 22:14:56 2022




Writer: Lavinah
Date Tue May 10 17:11:19 2022

To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth drakkara piknim raimbaut )

Subject Rumours of Petals



If there was one benefit of a crown, it was that she was able to hear far
more than what she did before. Much of it was drivel, the standard musings
of drunks and empty prophets, of course. At times, something piqued her
curiosity and she would read in detail, and perhaps make some inquiries.

Today, like most days, it was All nothing of note. She looked at the stack
of papers, compiled from the town criers and commonfolk spies around the
realm by one of her scribes.

'...drunken bar brawls, some petty theft... at least no sign of the
dreadful inssurance ssalessmen, yess?' she asked the scribe. The woman
before her shook her head quickly. 'N-no, your grace.'

Lavinah shook her head softly. 'You need not be formal, yess?' as she scanned
another page. Births, deaths, All of the usual. Then, a small thing: a
young crusader, likely of the Wrath, and some rose he was carefully tending
to. Lavinah read it again, carefully, her head tilting a touch to the side.

'Thiss report - of thiss rosse, yess? Who elsse knowss of it?' Lavinah
asked.

The scribe thought for a moment. 'I-I compiled the report, your gra... er-
ma'm.' to which Lavinah nodded, looking down at the paper again.

Lavinah looked up, this time to a guard and nodded once more. Without a
word, the guard grabbed the scribe, covering her mouth, and dragged
her away. 'Enssure sshe doess not sspeak of it further, yess?'

It was nothing, Lavinah was certain. But she need know.




Writer: Nhyte

Date Wed May 11 06:24:52 2022




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed May 11 10:25:38 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal Crelius ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 1



Only a few days passed before Rorra finally stood at the entrance of the
enormous tree she called home. She glanced at the fractured statue, giving
up an uncharacteristically dark chuckle from within the gunmetal armor
before raking a clawed gauntlet down through the air. She then slowly
reached up to grasp at what seemed like the very fabric of reality and
ripped it open to reveal a portal leading to the jungles of Tropica. As she
stepped through, she could immediately feel the sweltering heat, yet it was
a familiar sensation to her. Myriad sounds filled the air, from excessively
loud wildlife to the faint buzzing of insects. She felt at peace here more
so than in her own grove. Nonetheless, she had a mission to accomplish and
one that held more importance than she first thought after a brief
conversation with Crelius. His words were veiled in their truth, but her
curiosity was piqued.

The armored feline began her search like any other with vague clues such as
the jungles to guide her. Still, she knew these lands very well from her
youth, yet it was always a warning to stay clear of the deepest reaches.
Even her kin told stories of ancient beasts that slumbered at the land's
center. If there were secrets to be held captive by these lands, it was
there. Rorra would take a moment to extract a tiny sliver of metal from her
armor and embed the shard into a nearby tree. She repeated this as often as
needed, with each fragment giving her a sense of where she had been.

The pathways through the dense flora were fairly obvious initially, though
they quickly faded the farther off the trails she went. There were
occasional signs of others traveling through this section with small
branches and larger leaves cut away to open up pathways wide enough for a
single humanoid to pass through. Though it had been a long time since she
last traversed the jungles, it did not take long for the sounds of rustling
leaves to catch her attention. It sounded more significant than your common
monkey or much other medium-sized fauna. Rorra pushed past a few plants
possessing enormous leaves. What she found beyond it was a small campsite
that seemed as though it had been abandoned mere moments ago, or the
occupants were far more skittish than she believed. She took a moment to
scan the surroundings, noting numerous pieces of equipment that you would
rarely find among Tropica tribes. The camps contents were of little concern
to her, as the only two tents present were both vacated in enough of a hurry
to have dropped a small dagger. She knelt down next to it, running a single
clawed digit down the length of its blade, causing a tiny groove to open in
its metalwork. With a single sliver of her own armor placed in the opening,
she easily willed it closed again before departing the area.

Once she walked far enough away to not be easily seen, Rorra swiped her
claws through the air as she moved, the tips glowing an eerie red as she
ripped open a gateway to another part of the jungle. Then she takes a
moment to gather her bearings before proceeding along another trail.
Shortly after arriving at this location, she pauses to focus on the shards
she had placed so far. The armored feline dipped her head down, the yellow
gleam vanishing from the eye sockets of the helmet a moment later as she
concentrated. She was not too far away from most of them, yet the embedded
blade was on the move. Though the natural instinct to immediately follow
where the knife was going was there, she kept herself calm and waited.
Several minutes passed as she held a mental track on the weapon until it
eventually stopped moving nearly as much. Still, she paused, and finally,
when it ceased to change position for more than ten minutes, Rorra
immediately ran in an almost direct line towards the location.




Writer: Rorra
Date Wed May 11 10:28:15 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal Crelius ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 2



Nearly every obstacle in her path initially was cut down with an arm
blade she manifested to make it easier. A few were subjected to
incineration as needed, even though she wanted to keep it to a minimum.
After all, she did not want the scent of smoke to spook who or whatever
carried that blade. The closer Rorra felt that shard getting, the more the
frantic she became as her natural instincts were beginning to overwhelm her
own restraint. Moments later, as she cut through a swath of massive leaves,
she saw a small group of a female human, a female goblin, and a male
half-elf at a secondary campsite. The half-elf currently held the weapon,
using it to carve a piece of wood, but it was the goblin who let out a
scream of shock at the presence of the metallic feline. Following the cry,
Rorra reached up to her chest, gripping the metal itself just before she
vanished. With the three alerted, they each grabbed their immediately
available supplies and took off in different directions. Suddenly, Rorra
comes crashing down where the goblin sat only seconds before turning her
attention towards the elf who still carries the shard of her armor with him.

Without hesitation, Rorra lunged toward the elf, slinging an enormous sliver
of metal from her tail in the direction he ran. Unfortunately, she only
managed to strike a tree, though as she darted after the elf, running past
the tree, she reached a hand out towards the chunk of metal to liquefy it
and cause it to hover alongside her as a sphere. Luckily for the half-elf,
he was quick and knew these lands very well to nearly losing sight of the
pursuing feline. Thankfully, the weapon was kept close to his side for
defensive purposes, allowing her to constantly track him. Rorra then took
several bounding leaps before reaching out toward the treetops as a long
spike of metal protruded forth, hooking into the tree itself and using it to
propel herself faster through the foliage. Once she had a clear sight of
the elf from above, she swung one of her arms, aiming in front of his
current path. A salvo of wicked metal spikes was launched from her arm,
impacting the ground a scant few feet along his current route through the
jungle. Nimble as half-elves were, he could quickly redirect, yet too slow
of a reaction to prevent Rorra from colliding into his back from above. In
an instant, Rorra encircled both herself and the elf in dangerous metal
spikes. There wasn't even a moment wasted as she searched for any signs of
the Mark of Chaos, yet finding none immediately, she punched the soft earth
next to his head, many of the spikes retracting at this point, before
speaking in a harsh tone.

"Who are you? Who do you give devotion to?! "

Heavy thuds shook the earth, drawing Rorra's attention away from the
half-elf just in time for her to protect herself from a massive swing from
an ogre by reinforcing her side with the metal sphere. Unfortunately, the
blow was powerful enough to send her hurtling through the air, crashing
through several tree limbs, vines, and other plant life. By the time she
hit the ground, tumbling and sprawling across the earthen floor, she brought
a hand to the side which took the blow. Her armor was heavily dented, and
even still, with an agonizing cry, she reshaped the metal outward before
getting back to her feet, casting a burning gaze towards the ogre who was
presently checking on their comrade. The ogre's shoulder was heavily
scarred with the familiar mark of Chaos. As she began to make her way back
toward the two, she noted the weapon of ogre carried, a massive wooden club.
With every step she took, bits of her armor reshaped themselves, taking on a
much more sleek and angled appearance. The helmet's jaw split ever so
slightly as the fires that burned within her soul seemed to lick along the
pointed edges of the armor. The ogre was already shuffling the half-elf
behind him, preparing to use their impressive might to snuff out the life of
their attacker.




Writer: Rorra
Date Wed May 11 10:33:17 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal Crelius ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 3



"... I was not supposed to kill any of you. I just wanted answers. I
just wanted to find the rest of the Warps army and return them. What do I
get instead? "

The words seem to emanate from within their minds, seething with unbridled
rage as the very earth itself is scorched from each step. Even the
screeching wail she let out felt as though it was coming from the back of
their minds, causing the elf to flinch and back away from the ogre even
farther. Rorra raises her forearms up, summoning a searing hiss of wind and
fire around her, then taking a step forward, allowing that armored tail to
waver behind her, rapidly reshaping into a long, deadly curved blade.
Fearless as it appears to be, the ogre brandishes the massive wooden club
threateningly. However, the feline takes another step forward for his
efforts before she lunges forward, moving much faster than she had before
toward him. Though the ogre moves the club in a defensive posture, Rorra
rakes her claws through the air, vanishing through a gateway. With a grunt
of confusion and a brief shout of cowardice, his cries are answered by a
spike of metal impaling the beast's foot. Then, while it was reeling from
the sudden surge of pain, Rorra appeared again directly in front of the
ogre, and with a single front flip, she split the club in two with the
bladed edge of her tail. The white-hot edge instantly set the club ablaze,
causing the ogre to throw it away before reaching down to rip its foot free
of the sliver. As soon as Rorra lands rather heavily, sending a tiny
shockwave of embers outwards, she reaches a hand out toward the metal spike,
causing it to split and bend, wrapping around the ogre's foot while
embedding itself farther into the ground. She knew it was too soon to
unleash any measure of her fury, and in doing so, she dropped to one knee as
a guttural groan of pain escaped the confines of her helmet.

"I... Will ask again... "

Even as the ogre continues to try and grip the metal pinning his foot to the
ground, Rorra manages to stand up long enough to move within reaching
distance of the beast. She pointedly slides the razor-edge of her tail to
be within the ogre's vision. Though she collapses onto one knee again, she
tightly closes a fist shakily as though fighting off a terrible pain.
Finally, she looks at the ogre, who seems very distracted by the
implications of the feline's tail being placed there.

"Who is it... Who do and your elven friend follow? To WHO do you offer
your prayers to?! "

The ogre was slow to react to this question but soon turned his body enough
to show the scarred mark of Chaos prominently on his shoulder. He slaps it
several times before bellowing out a warcry, screaming the name of his
patron deity.

"Malachive! Deirog always with Malachive! "

Rorra slowly lowered her head, giving a faint chuckle, making the ogre lean
in, narrowing his eyes at the response. Then, as she lifted her head again,
turning her head slowly toward Deirog, the helmet shuddered faintly before
becoming liquid and withdrawing into the bulk of her armor, where it
solidified in an instant across her shoulders. Her own mark of Chaos was
placed on full display for Deirog on her neck. Though a wicked, toothy grin
is present on her maw, a clear trail of blood has stained the fur in a
streak down from the corners of her mouth. She takes a moment to spit out
some of the claret fluid before her weary visage focuses entirely on the
ogre.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed May 11 10:37:01 2022

To All Chaos Erebaal Crelius ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Cayenna RP )

Subject Jungle Stalker - Metal Umbrage part 4



"Then tell me ogre. Deirog. Do you desire to serve Malachive once more?
To rally you and your allies in a common cause? To break the shackles of
the puppeteers of the heavens? Will you come with me to the stronghold of
the Champions that we call the Warp? "

It was as though it took several minutes for All of the words spoken by
Rorra to process through the ogre's brain, but soon enough, a massive,
toothy grin appeared on his mouth, and a bellowing laugh erupted from
Deirog's belly. Upon hearing the joyful laughter, Rorra took a moment to
concentrate and carefully remove the metal bindings piercing his foot.
Though it was without warning, the laugh was cut short with a sudden howl of
pain and a questioning gesture at his foot, then at Rorra. She merely
shrugged with a soft chuckle to follow it as she took a moment to reshape
the helmet back into place. The edges of the gunmetal carapace smooth out
as before, including returning the tail's shape to its original sleek form.
Though it was a struggle to do so, she finally managed to get back on her
feet, even if it caused her to stumble momentarily from expending so much
energy so soon after returning to service.

Rorra turned her head towards the east and then gazed at the ground,
uttering a few words quietly before giving a simple nod. She only briefly
glanced up toward Deirog, who was already busy trying to drag the half-elf
out of hiding. This act made her tilt her head in a typical sign of
curiosity and confusion, but she then turned her focus towards the open
clearing not far from her. Again, there was only a brief pause before she
lifted a clawed gauntlet high into the air and drew a singular line down
through the air, though she faltered towards its end, making her growl
quietly. She shook her head and turned to look back toward the ogre who had
finally simply picked up the half-elf instead of further attempts to coax
them out of hiding.

"Gather your things, Deirog. Your elven friend included. We will have to
walk from here. What little reserves I still had... Was used. On you and
your friend. "

She only paused a moment before speaking again. "What is his name?" Deirog
simply laughed aloud at the thought of a wielder of magic having little left
to spare for simple transportation. This drew a sudden glare towards the
ogre who held the half-elf in their arms like a baby. The yellow hue of
those eye sockets narrowed significantly along with an agitated flick of her
tail as though she would not hesitate to strip them of their lives at any
moment. The ogre glanced back and forth quickly before hefting the elf into
the air, quick enough to startle the half-elf.

"Elf name Jamza. Jamza spook easy, but good fighter. "

Rorra gave a half-hearted shrug at the notion but otherwise didn't give it
much consideration, given her own timid past. Nonetheless, she marched
onwards towards their collective destination. Rorra would occasionally
pause momentarily to provide herself with a brief respite before continuing
further along the path she knew led to the Warp. Regardless of how uncommon
it may be for those not deemed the Everchosen's champions to reside there
for very long, it was needed for at least a short while. If what Crelius
spoke of was true, perhaps this task would be easier with these two present.
Regardless of how things were to proceed from here, she had in tow at least
two potential members of the lost army, and should they be found wanting...
She would see to them herself in due time.




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Thu May 12 04:15:59 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Thu May 12 21:26:52 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Thu May 12 21:37:42 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Thu May 12 21:51:15 2022




Writer: Andreyna

Date Thu May 12 23:00:53 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Althainia Marauders Laendyn Gabriela Skoden Kyrlynn Cieran Mercerion Xenophon Cayenna Zandreya Malachive Raije Imm Rp Religion

Subject Zandreya's War: The Scouting Mission


Rained pounded down on the elven army day after day, but they welcomed
it. They knew the Mother was with them, and they with Her. The elves had
been readying themselves for the march, preparing themselves for their
battle against the Fort. It was now nearly time.

Supplies had been brought in and plans had been made. Archers, knights,
soldiers, mages, and clerics were All ready for what was to come. The
downfall and destruction of the Marauders. Andreyna stood inside the royals
tent along with the Speaker of the Stars and leaders of the elven army.
They looked over maps studying each one closely, deciding upon the best
course of action. The Althainians would be joining them, their closest ally
ever at the side of the Vallens. Together the two armies would work
together to see that the work of Chaos was forever wiped away from the Fort.



The flaps of the tent opened up and a rain-soaked elf entered, bowing before
the elven leaders. 'The scouts are ready', he spoke to the group. The
Speaker of the Stars gave the elf a nod, 'See that they are well-supplied
and ensure they keep us informed of their findings
' The elf gave another nod
and a bow as he left the tent, entering into Zandreya's storms once again.


'I do not expect the scouts to be gone for long' Andreyna spoke to her
husband, 'their task is not a long one- reach the Fort and get an idea of
the size of their army, the amount of supplies and equipment they may have,
find any sort of weakness within their walls
' Laendyn gave the Queen a nod,
'I believe you are right. We should prepare to march soon. '




Writer: Cieran

Date Fri May 13 09:12:23 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Althainia Marauders Laendyn Andreyna Skoden Kyrlynn Mercerion Zandreya Malachive Raije Imm Rp Religion

Subject Zandreya's War: Althainia Makes Ready


Cieran walked through the encampment, his head bowed a bit to keep the
rain and wind from stinging his eyes. The downpour was relentless,
Zandreya's displeasure with the Fort on full display as the storm raged
overhead.

The sound of heavy boots mucking through mud found his ears; as he turned to
face it he spotted a Lieutenant approaching. The man snapped a quick salute
before giving his report, his voice raised to carry over the sound of the
downpour, "Sir! The two divisions of axmen have arrived from the port, I've
set them up in the tents on the eastern side of the camp. The siege weapons
sent from the Kingdom have arrived as well, the assembly has already begun.
A missive also arrived for you.
" The man handed the General a damp piece
of parchment, clearly, he had done his best to keep it dry. Cieran unfolded
the letter and read quickly over the contents before looking back to the
Lieutenant, "I have to depart for a time, matters at home call me back for a
bit. I want the weapons assembled and ready before I return. Coordinate
everything with the elves. I'm going to visit their camp before I head
back, give them an update and make sure we are aligned on the path forward.
I'll send word of any changes or needs.
" The Lieutenant nodded his
understanding and turned on his heal to depart.

Cieran took a moment to look up into the sky as a brilliant streak of
lightning lit it up, the veins of light splintering across the clouds. A
smile touched his lips as he watched for a moment, he had always loved a
good storm. After a moment he lowered his gaze and headed off in the
direction of the elven camp.




Writer: Rahynia

Date Fri May 13 10:27:40 2022




Writer: Rahynia

Date Fri May 13 15:03:48 2022




Writer: Penelopina

Date Fri May 13 20:27:16 2022

To All Shalonesti_Clan Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena Zandreya

Subject Knit Happens



{pOw.

{pOw.

{pOw.

{pPenny winced, yanking back her hand and suckling on her fingertip before
blood could form. She'd once again poked herself with the needle. Sewing
and knitting
{phad looked so much easier when it was her mother doing it, or
else the seamstress down the street. But now that she'd tried to pick up
the trade herself, All she
{pseemed to be picking up was blisters, pricked
fingers, and sore knuckles.

{pOw.

{pShe sighed heavily, ruefully holding up her work to examine it. Her sock
looked like a sick snake, being a bit too long and threadbare to quite pass
off as a
{pwarm garment for the feet. And she only had one, but of course
most people had two. So with a sigh, she threaded it apart and started over
again.

{pShe was getting better, however. Penny was confident she could have fully
knitted socks by the end of the month. Maybe a good dozen or so. Then she
could
{pdonate them to an orphanage. She'd have to charge a bare minimum
price for materials for any stronger garments she made, but the thought of
her knitted clothes and
{pforged armors, out there, helping to keep people
safe and protect them while she was absent, made her feel warm inside.

{pOw.

{pSighing, she pulled her finger back and sucked on the tip of her finger
through long practice. Hopefully, the outcome would be worth a little pain.




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri May 13 20:48:20 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri May 13 20:48:27 2022




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri May 13 20:48:33 2022




Writer: Agapitos
Date Sat May 14 14:36:05 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Arrival I


The journey from Gareth Keep to Castle Ravencrest was a long one, even if
one considered it "as the dragon flies". However, taking into account the
fact that the high roads that led to the besieged keep led directly into the
heart of the Verminasian territories, and matters quickly grew most
complicated. The route was forced to become circuitous, and it was so that
Agapitos di Lucis alighted upon the Arkanian shores near the Great Forest,
entering the vast verdant domain with nary a glance over his shoulder.

Though the golden flame over his eye could not be concealed (nor would he
ever wish to), the trappings of the Knight were absent upon his person.
Gone were the fineries of a Lancer in good standing, the spurs, the tabard,
the regal embellishments of the well-to-do and the righteous. In its place
were nondescript armors of the traveler, an unadorned brown cloth jerkin and
padded trousers, subtly made for utility while maintaining the outward
appearance of the unaffiliated. His boots lacked spurs, but were yet heavy
and strong, and about his broad shoulders was cast a cloak of undyed wool,
the cowl pulled low to hide his face. Across his back was lashed a bundle
of grey cloth wrapped tightly around a long, slender object, its contours
swaddled beyond recognition.

The shaded path within the forest beckoned, but it was not long before the
Knight veered away from the established ways, ducking into the untamed parts
of the vast woods. Green dragons were known to haunt these parts, their
predilection for preying upon passerby reason enough to avoid the main
thoroughfares. Add to that their propensity for affiliation with the Wicked
Powers, and it behooved him greatly to avoid confrontation at All (to say
nothing of the vast disparity between a man and a dragon). Instead, by the
end of the first week of travel, from the gates of Gareth to the depths of
the Forest, the Knight had picked his way through the tangled undergrowth of
the Great Forest to find himself upon the outer edges of a den of horrors.

While he had skirted the Garden of Death, allowing its fiendish reputation
to dissuade him from making a shortcut of it, the sounds of large-scale
martial conflict still alerted him to the size of the tragedy of man that
awaited him. As the treeline thinned, the Knight beheld the battle in full.
A Siege lasting years, neither side willing to yield nor break, had created
an unending machine of devastation. At dawn, both sides sallied forth,
clashing in the fields that had long since been turned into a bloody bog,
the earth soaked into mud and churned by the boots of the many combatants.
Men had been born, grown up, fought, and died here. Few had the fortune to
grow old.

Castle Ravencrest stood imperiously across the moat, the waters below
churning as unfortunate invaders, infiltrators that had bypassed the main
fighting as the Knight attempted to, were repelled and cast into the water
below. Beasts lurked in the water, it was said, and they feasted upon the
living and the dead who fell within, muddying the moat as it flowed
sluggishly through the sluices and grates in the castle's walls. It was
toward this that the Knight trod, the din of battle and the sound of
clashing blades dulling his perception until it was almost too late.





Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:38:40 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Arrival II


The clank of plate to his left and a grunt of effort was All the warning
he had before there was an axeblade at neck height, swung with decapitating
force. The Knight had time only for a half-step backwards, leaning away
from the blow with what alacrity he could muster. One of his scarred hands
reached to his side, grasping for a sword that was not there. Ascalon had
been left back upon Althainia, where it was safe, and where its antiquated
design would not arouse unwanted suspicion. He grimaced, ducking the second
strike that came so close as to nearly catch upon his cowl. The displaced
air tugged at the edges of the heavy wool, and as the Knight retreated
another step, he finally took stock of his opponent.

Clad in battered black mail, the symbol of the Dark One daubed crudely upon
the breastplate, the warrior of the evil forces leered at the man who ducked
and retreated from his blows, revealing gaps in his ugly smile where teeth
had rotted away. One eye was obliterated by a scar, but the disfiguration
did not diminish his appearance, but instead expanded upon the primeval
brutishness he exuded. 'Quick'n. I s'pose I can't be too surprised. Spy
like you gotta be light on ya feet. I'll just have ta see what info you got
once I'm done with ya!
'

The next blow was met by an invisible force, arresting its descend before it
could crash into the seemingly-unarmed knight. With his right hand
upraised, the cowled man rose to his full height, still only coming just
above the half-ogre Champion's shoulder. He made a dismissive motion, and
the axe veered away, ripping itself out of the Dark Order warrior's hands to
sail away into the sparse grasses at the edge of the treeline, 'You will get
nothing from me, villain, save one warning. Stand aside, or be cut down.
'

The half-ogre snarled, balling his mailed hand into a fist, 'Like I'm gonna
take orders from a wiz'rd like you! Dark'n's death mages gonna make you
dance and tell us whatcha know!
' The punch, much like the axe blow, never
landed, the sudden halt of movement preceded by the veiled Knight raising
his left hand in a blocking gesture, 'Rrrgh... What're ya-'

The Knight closed his left hand, and the metal gauntlet tightened, deforming
until one rigid piece broke inward, puncturing and mangling the hand within.
The Champion's bellow of pain turned heads from the Ravencrest rear guard,
and as he knelt, one of the Paladins of the Raven Order stepped forth,
raising his sword in an executioner's pose. The Garethian watched and said
nothing as the blow fell, the half-ogre's head rolling across the ground,
still twisted in an expression of primal pain and fury.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:39:10 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Arrival III


Once it was done moving, he raised his gaze to his rescuer, one of the
rare veterans who seemed to have made it to at least early-middle age upon
this hellish battlefield. His salt and pepper moustache twitched as he took
in the cloaked Knight, as the traveler folded his scarred arms back within
the woolen confines of the obscuring article. Hefting his sword again, he
addressed the stranger, 'Hail, traveler. Not many find there way here
willingly, and those who do not find themselves cut down before they come
this far. Name yourself, for not All who cross blades with the Dark One's
forces are necessarily their enemies.
'

The cowled traveler paused, then raised his hands once more, grasping at the
cowl that hid his features. The golden glow within became more pronounced
as he pulled the hood back down to his shoulders, freeing a mane of
golden-blonde and revealing his noble features, the facet of righteous flame
dancing and burning over his left eye. He fixed that blessed stare upon the
man, and the Paladin felt a strange weight, a sensation of being identified
and scrutinized in a way entirely unlike being gazed upon by mortal eyes.
It felt like the weight of a God's judgment, and nothing there could be
concealed. As quickly as it came, the feeling passed, and the handsome
Knight addressed his savior properly, I am called Agapitos di Lucis, Knight
of the Lance. I have come to seek audience with your King. Take me to him.
'




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:41:03 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience I


The halls of Ravencrest bustled with activity, the day's battle bringing
back wounded, while the auxiliaries hustled to take their place upon the
wall to relieve the archers that had begun their work at first light.
Through the bustle, the Paladin of the Raven Order escorted the
golden-haired Knight, his armored figure carving a path through the bodies
that gave him a reverential berth. Focused upon his surroundings, Agapitos
heard snatches of conversation, most tellingly from those who stepped out of
the way of his escort. Many of them bowed their heads, and more than once
he heard the murmurs of 'Ser Rodrick... '

Introductions had been terse, and he had not even been given the courtesy of
the Paladin's name before he was drawn back through the rearguard lines of
the Ravencrest side of the field, the drawbridge lowered to allow the influx
of walking wounded and permit the egress of those who would recover the
immobile casualties and the butchered dead. There was a ghastly routine to
it all, a mundane regularity with which the injured were pulled to safety,
the wounded and dead hoisted upon stretchers or loaded into carts to be
taken to the clerics for restoration or final rites. The horrors of this
war, even on this smaller scale, had simply become a way of life. It was
heartbreaking.

Even still, he persisted. He had a mission to accomplish.

The Knight followed Rodrick up the grand stair of the Keep of Ravencrest,
the guards there nodding in acknowledgement of Rodrick's passage, while some
took time to cast pointed looks at the man that walked with him. While he
possessed an air of dignity, there was a dourness, a distance with which he
carried himself that was off-putting, even though he was garbed in so
unassuming a manner and bore so fair of features. In return, he examined
them, his golden eye weighing each and revealing to him their sins. Many of
them were the minor sins common to man, the desires of man overwhelming the
principles of Righteousness. Every man possessed flaws, and it was not for
him to judge them, even if he possessed the means to bear witness as granted
to him by the Lord of Honor.

At least one, however, caught his eye. One of the door guards allowed his
gaze to linger upon the Knight as Rodrick approached him, a prolonged moment
of tension hanging in the air. Upon him, Agapitos saw a darker stain, a
thread of midnight that centered upon a mass within the guard's pocket that
stretched through the walls, its origin uncertain. It took an effort not to
follow its path with his head, but instead focus upon his attention upon the
man that glowered at him. The guard spoke, 'And who's this, Rodrick? Don't
look like much of a volunteer, 'less we're painting portraits for
recruitment.
' His withering stare bored into the dour Knight, and Agapitos
allowed an ounce of his irritation to show, the presence of malignance
rankling his own sensibilities, though he did not speak of them. Not yet.

'Envoy from Gareth, Junius. Come to speak with our King. Now open the door
and let us be done with it.
' Rodrick's tone did not bother hiding his
annoyance, though Agapitos did not dare to hazard a guess with its source--
the unasked-for duty of escort or the bullheadedness of the doorman.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:44:09 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience II


Junius paused, then gestured, indicating the wrapped parcel upon the
Knights back, And were going to simply allow him to speak with our King
while armed? You are too soft on these men, Rodrick. The Raven Orders
nothing to Gareth, but you look up to them like a star-dazzled dame.


Agapitos opened his mouth to retort, his irritation boiling over, but
Rodricks voice rang out first, Mind your place, Junius. Its their teachings
that taught us how to commune with the holy powers. Its that power thats
keeping this fortress standing. If hes gotten this far bearing the Gods
blessing,
he gestured at the burning brand over the Knights left eye, And
makes his stand now against our King, Ill cut him down myself. Now move.

Junius paused, as though contemplating further resistance, before he
relented, On your head be it then, Rodrick. I pray every day that youll see
reason. Weve been left here to die, after all.
Rapping the haft of his
pike upon the ground, the doorman signaled the doormen on the other side,
Messenger for King Ravencrest. The words dripped with disdain, and as the
oaken doors swung open, Agapitos did not spare him even a glance as he
strode in at Rodricks side. All the same, he could feel the daggers of the
doormans stare piercing his back before the doors closed behind him.

The Throne Room of Castle Ravencrest was modest, at least by the aesthetic
principles of the greater Royals of Algoron. Ravencrest had ever been a
smaller principality, a lesser kingdom that had never been fully absorbed
into the expanding land empires that laid claim to All the rest of Arkania.
Perhaps it was for that reason that the Dark Ones forces had arrived, not as
conquerors in their own right, but as vassals to a greater Evil still. Even
so, the trappings were a sight finer than the modest means of the castle
would otherwise suggest, the banners of Ravencrest kept clean and dusted,
hanging upon the walls, wall torches cast a warm glow and threw dancing
shadows across the chamber. Upon a high-backed throne, the wizened King in
soft tones with a gaggle of advisors, both military and domestic Ravencrest
sat, murmuring in soft tones with a gaggle of advisors, both military and
domestic.

Upon the doors closing, however, he waved them aside, straightening in his
seat to cast his gaze down the great rug that upon closer inspection
betrayed some small signs of fraying, Ser Rodrick. It is unlike you to be
back inside the castle before nightfall.
The words were spoken without
reproach, but Agapitos felt Rodrick stiffen at his side, his hidebound
honour pricked by the words even though they lacked barbs, A messenger for
you, Sire. Word from Gareth Keep, across the sea.
The armored Paladin
took a step to the side, indicating the man that had accompanied him, Ser
Agapitos di Lucis, my liege.






Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:46:40 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience III


Agapitos took three steps forward, crossing much of the distance between
his escort and the King. All about, he felt the tension in the room reach a
new pitch. He had not seen the weight of dire sins upon any of them as he
had with the doorman, but he could feel a fresh aggression stemming from the
perceived affront. Relenting, he took to one knee, bowing his head at the
base of the steps that led up to the great Throne of Ravencrest, Great King
Ravencrest. It is as your Knight says. I am called Agapitos di Lucis,
Knight of the Lance. There were supposed to be messengers sent ahead of me
to inform you of my coming. Am I to assume that they have failed to arrive?


The King contemplated the kneeling Knight before he raised his hand, the
guards relaxing in their postures as the older man proceeded to run his
fingers through the neatly-trimmed grey beard that framed his aged, noble
features, No word has arrived, Garethian, but I wouldnt blame such a thing
upon them. The paths to Ravencrest are fraught with dangers, and I suspect
that they may have been intercepted.


The Knight frowned, and raised his head to behold King Ravencrest directly.
The older man felt the weight of the burning stare acutely, but did not
flinch from it, gripping the arms of his throne as he rallied himself to
meet the piercing gaze. Agapitos paused, his features softening for a
moment as he processed what he had seen. There was something intimately
nostalgic within the wizened King, something that tugged at memories ...

He blinked, and the moment passed. His expression hardened once more, and
his voice rang out with clarity once more, Then time works against us. I
have come on behalf of the Lord-General of the Crown, Grandmaster of the
Order of Tesalon Gareth to beseech you for aid. The rising tide of Darkness
has reached a new fervor, and All with the will to fight have been called
upon. Yourself included.
His scrutinizing gaze studied King Ravencrest as
he spoke, assessing the reaction to his words.

There was a pause, a palpable sense of umbrage in the air, but not, it
seemed, from King Ravencrest himself. The Knight felt the intense stare of
yet more rancour at his back, and heard the armored boot of Rodrick advance,
You come All this way, see how our people have suffered, and you would
demand our men for your crusade? Where is the righteousness in that? We
are fighting at Verminasias doorstep, with All of the Evil that it holds,
and have held them off for years, and you would ask more of us?!
The
Knight did not move, even as the presence of the Paladin loomed over his
back, his gaze focused upon King Ravencrest.

The older man raised his hand again, a frown crossing his face and his brow
creasing as he turned his stare upon the Paladin of the Raven Order, Calm
yourself, Rodrick.
The venerable Paladin paused, clear conflict in his
features before he relented, retreating a step, though his gaze never left
the kneeling Knight. The King turned his stare back toward Agapitos, He
speaks truth, however. We have been sorely besieged for longer than you
have been alive, I should think. Rodrick was only a boy when the Dark One
came. This war has cost us dearly, and now you have come with nothing to
offer except more hardship. What say you, Knight di Lucis?





Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:48:49 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience IV


Agapitos paused, setting his jaw against the even stare of the King of
Ravencrest. This was a test, of that, he was certain. The older man was
canny, his demeanor carefully measured. He was a worthy ruler in that
respect, at the very least, I am but one man, King Ravencrest, sent to bear
this request to you. One that you have every right to refuse, given your
circumstances, but I would be remiss in not delivering it nonetheless. We
are bound to our duties, and the Keep shall respect your refusal.
The
golden flame outlining his left eye shimmered and burned painlessly upon his
face, However, if I may offer. I will do what I may to assist for the next
week and allow you to determine the course for yourself. By your leave, of
course, King Ravencrest.


The King smiled, the neutral mask cracking with some quiet amusement and
gentle approval, That, I imagine, is not within your orders, son. You come
bearing a blessing upon your brow to my court to deliver a message, and
offer instead to bear the weight of a Keeps obligation to sway my mind. As
you say, we do have our duty here, and we shall accept your assistance at
least. A little breathing room will do us All some good.
The older man
looked again to Rodrick, who stood now on uncertain ground, his mailed hands
working at the air with his muted agitation, Rodrick, you shall be Ser di
Lucis escort for the next seven days, and his judge besides. If the Keep of
Gareth sees fit to send him as a messenger, then its fair to judge their
worth and mettle upon his person and prowess. If it is a cause worth
fighting for, then well do what we are able, but no more.
His eyes fell
one more time to Agapitos, I trust that is agreeable, Ser?

Agapitos nodded, bowing his head once more before he rose to his feet, It
is, King Ravencrest. Whatever tasks you have need of me for, I shall be
willing to perform. I shall ask for quarters, however. My experiences in
the forest so far have been lacking, to say the least.


King Ravencrest arched a brow, bemused, An attempt at humor from so serious
a man. Considering where you are, being so light-hearted can be a sign of
arrogance. Much of what is joyous was the first to be crushed by the Dark
Ones army. Very well. Guest quarters will be made available for when you
have time to sleep. Believe me when I say that I shall make full use of
your offer to improve matters here. This Dark Tide of yours truly has grown
most foul, and the villains we deal with have grown emboldened by it. I
pray you can turn this tide, before we are All swallowed by it.


The Knight appeared pensive a moment, measuring his own words carefully, I
alone shall not turn this tide, but the efforts of we righteous souls
together may yet win the day. I will put proof to that before your eyes,
King Ravencrest, upon my honour. For the present, I have traveled a long
way to stand before you, and must rest before we begin our joint efforts.
With your permission.
He executed a stiff bow, the trappings of it draped
in archaic formality that elicited another arched grey brow from the King,
who did not comment further upon it.

Ravencrest nodded, raising a hand and signaling to the doormen, Rodrick
shall lead you to the guest quarters with my blessing. Rest well, Ser di
Lucis. Tomorrow, we will see what you are capable of.





Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 14:49:47 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: Audience V


Agapitos straightened, giving a humorless smile as he nodded to the
enthroned King, By your will. He turned, eyeing his escort who had not yet
lost the full venom of his outraged mien as the glance was returned, After
you, Ser Rodrick.


The Paladin nodded stiffly and turned upon his heel, marching out of the
Throne Room with the younger Knight in tow. His blessed gaze caught Junius
once more as he passed him by, the sable thread connecting him seeming to
have shifted in his absence, angling in another direction through the walls
of the Castle. He guarded his features, keeping the frown from revealing
itself. He had not spoken of the corrupt guard yet. Not without more
tangible proof to put the man to the question with. If what he saw held any
merit, however, then answers would be forthcoming sooner rather than later.

Rodrick said nothing as he escorted Agapitos down the hall toward the modest
guest wing of the Castle, but as the golden-haired Knight followed, he felt
that same venomous stare upon his back, not needing to glance over his
shoulder to confirm that Junius followed his every move as he departed.
Whatever his sins, the reckoning was like to be had ere long. The young
Knight did not react outwardly, despite the growing tension between his
shoulderblades. He had already exceeded the parameters of his mission, but
the truth of things needed to be brought to light as soon as humanly
possible before they could precipitate disaster.

And before they could spell the end of Ravencrest.




Writer: Noali

Date Sat May 14 22:05:51 2022




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 23:49:46 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night I


Midnight came swiftly, the dusk heralding an end to the overt combat upon
the killing fields before Castle Ravencrest. The injured were brought to
their camps, the dead given their rites, both hallowed and unholy, and the
wounded sequestered to recuperate. Across the killing fields, blood was
left to dry in the mud, the treacherous footing of the battleground settling
into its natural topography to be churned up the next morn. Upon both
sides, however, furtive shadows stirred.

The man in black had carefully laid in wait for days. Ever since the first
messenger had been shot dead by the archers ringing the Dark One's camp and
his missive searched, plans had been set in motion to eliminate the herald
of Gareth and strike twin blows for the wicked being and the dread powers he
served. While the King was ever under heavy guard, so many men standing
vigil that no amount of bribery could sway them all, a single Knight would
be trivial by comparison. So often were they complacent, their
self-righteousness blinding them to the world past their own noses. He had
heard tales of their ilk before, often ending with a dagger in the night
putting an end to the farce of the Holy Warrior.

They had never known the grueling hardship of a life of total war. With any
luck, they would not ever live long enough to.

A pouch of silver to the King's own doorman was enough to have a pair of
eyes on the target, and as Junius had made his final rounds of the evening,
a furtive swipe with powdered chalk upon the wall adjacent to the Knight's
chamber was enough to mark where the killing blow should fall. It was all
too simple, a child's game to navigate the nearly-abandoned quarter of the
castle in the dead of night. All the same, the assassin waited patiently
for the change in the guards, the midnight hour bringing fresh
reinforcements to alleviate the burden of the weary men who stood watch over
the nigh-abandoned quarter.

'Not sure why we're out here anyway' one of the guards complained as he was
relieved, not noticing the man who slunk around the corner, out of sight.
His bleary gaze had scarcely left the elaborate rug that decorated the
center of the hallway, the Thalosian tapestrywork woven in patterns meant to
engage the eye, 'First guest to actually stay in the castle in years.
Couldn't've put him up in the barracks with the rest of us, if he's gonna
fight with us.
'

The man in black heard the rap of metal on metal, likely the gauntlet of the
guard's partner colliding with the back of his helmet, 'It's 'cause he's
Garethian, ya twit. Spurred Knight of the Lance. I hear Lancers gotta
fight a dozen battles just to earn their spurs, and that's after they've
been let into the Shield. An' he's fightin' the real battles out there.
Got them Evil heroes of the Black Horde and the Storm runnin' amok, and he's
slummin' it up here. Bet it's like a vacation for 'im.
' The cowled man
smiled wickedly into his mask. The soldiers of Ravencrest, by and large,
held the greater Order of Gareth in some regard. It was said that the
Paladins of the Raven Order were born of a splinter faction of Knights that
did not rebel like the Eclipse, but had instead settled with the fall of
Serpantol, putting down their roots in the east beneath the wings of a
raven's hodgepodge nest. Even if false, the belief in that shared ancestry
had elevated the Garethians to a nigh-mythical level, avatars of a homeland
long-forgotten.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 23:51:01 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night II


It would make this Knight's death strike All the more deeply, to see
their heroes laid low.

As the guards conversed, first with each other, then with their replacements
as the watch changed, the assassin crept farther down the hall, keeping low
to hide beneath the dancing shadows of the irregular torches. They had been
rekindled almost exclusively for the Knight's benefit, and even if Junius
had not marked the door for him, the fact that it was the only door flanked
by twin sconces that housed burning lamps was a beacon in the most literal
of senses for him to hone in on. Moreover, as the assassin pressed up
against the wall, he heard the muttering of Junius around the corner. As
part of the arrangement, the guard was to take on a second shift, prepared
to silence his partner if things went awry and the Knight proved more
trouble than expected. Not that a sleeping man was expected to put up much
of a fight.

As the guards finally parted ways around the corner, the assassin produced a
silver key from his sleeve, the object furnished by the traitorous guard who
even now was likely counting the coin paid for his part in the night's
events. It was almost too simple, All of the pieces simply handed to him
for a bag full of coins and the promise of more. Such simple-minded men
existed in All walks of life. More was the pity for his victim that one
existed mere paces away, prepared to trade his life for some fleeting
comfort of their own.

The key turned smoothly in the lock, the device clicking as the bolt slid
back into the door. Despite the years of disuse, the caretakers of
Ravencrest were to be admired for their dedication to keeping things in
working order. It was, perhaps, the King's own wistfulness at play, a
refusal to let go of the hope that visitors would one day visit his lands
again. The assassin shook his head, gingerly pushing the door open as it
swung on oiled hinges. The time for flights of fancy and unnecessary
thoughts. The easy part was over.

The guest quarters were comfortable, if small, and sparsely-furnished,
though what was present was comfortable. The hearth still burned, providing
a pleasant heat against the night's chill, and a high-backed chair faced it.
Against the wall, a writing desk sat, some half-finished letter left upon it
before the chair had been pulled to sit before the merry fire. For the
assassin's own interest, however, was the bed. Simple, but stuffed with
down, the figure beneath the woven blankets lay somnolent, nested deeply
within.

Drawing a black blade, the assassin focused intently, listening for the
sounds of irregular breath. The dancing interplay of the heart's flames
over the sleeping figure made determinations difficult, but as he strained,
he detected the slow rhythm of measured breath, common to the deeply
sleeping. It took merely three steps, three seconds' time to cross that
gap, and as the assassin reached for the blanket, his dagger raised high,
the words of his mentor came to him, as they had during every one of his
missions during his life, as they had when he had stabbed his teacher in the
heart with the very same knife, 'Mors vincit omnia. '




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 23:52:47 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night III


He pulled the cover and the knife fell in the same movement, realizing
only too late his folly before the knife buried in a rucksack that had been
laid in the Knight's place. The oldest deception in living record.

There was a creak behind him. The high-backed chair. 'You are correct. It
does.
' The assassin did not hesitate, pulling the knife free and whipping
it horizontally. He let go halfway through the motion, hurling the blade in
a black blur toward the speaker, who was rising with his back still to his
assailant. Impossibly, the knife curved off of its course, the vector
shifting so that the blade embedded itself in the wood of the chair's frame,
missing the Knight entirely, 'It comes for us all, young and old, by
accident or design, and it is a tragedy All the same.
'

The assassin moved again, making for the door, still ajar. Three steps. A
heartbeat, now that the ruse was revealed. He could count on Junius to
silence the other guard, at least long enough to make his escape. Before he
could breach the threshold, though, an invisible force seized the iron
handle and the door slammed shut with a grim finality. The loud noise was
almost offensive to the senses after the bated-breath silence that came
before, and the assassin gasped, stumbling back. He was not given to panic,
but the sudden escalation was making it hard to breathe, each gulp of air
coming harder than the last. No. The air itself was becoming scarce within
the room, draining rapidly as it funneled toward the golden-haired man that
now glowered at him, framed in the hearth's light.

'I see now. You are whom the guard is bonded to, the source of his sins. '
The assassin found himself fixated upon the burning golden eye that seemed
to plumb the depths of his heart, the room spinning and the edges of his
vision growing more faint by the moment. He took a step forward, toward his
target. The knife was just beside him. If he could just land a good
strike, maybe then he could breathe. He had to figure out how to escape,
regroup. The room was spinning, strength draining from his sluggish limbs.
His chest burned. He could feel the weight of some moral failing crawling
upon his neck, dragging at him like infernal chains as his foot came down
awkwardly and he fell, the jarring change in perspective further muddling an
oxygen-starved mind.

The Knight looked dispassionately down at his would-be assassin before he
raised his right hand, the cloth-wrapped item he had carried so far rising
from its place where it had sat leaning against the arm of the high-backed
chair. With another gesture, a tamed zephyr tugged at one end of the cloth
bindings, pulling them away to reveal twin blades like knives forged of
brilliant gold. His scarred hand grasped the haft of the weapon, still
wrapped in cloth, and he took unhurried steps to stand over his assailant.
Three steps. Three seconds. There was no need for mercy, not here. He had
taken his measure of the assassin and knew his many crimes. To spare him
here would only lead to further suffering, especially if he possessed more
means of ingress than the simple act of bribery. He raised his arm, and
thrust forward with the bladed bident.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 23:54:05 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night IV


The assassin took a deep breath as the air rushed into the room, and was
momentarily confused. He had been teetering on the bring of
unconsciousness, the abyss of death yawning before him when his body
reflexively yearned for a final gasp and had found itself rewarded with
life-giving air. Despite that, however, there was now a terrible pain in
his chest, a pressure that made him want to cry out, but his body refused to
obey him. Trying to focus, he glanced down to see the twin spikes of gold
that had pierced his heart, its own rhythm shredding the organ as it
struggled to sustain the life of its host. Confused, uncomprehending, he
looked up at the powerfully-built man who had become his executioner. The
baleful glow of the golden flame that limned his left eye was the last thing
he saw as the darkness descended, the light of Honour outlasting the final
light that left the assassin's eyes.

Agapitos turned away from the assassin to the door, where the guards had
been pounding unheeded. The intervening moments had felt like the span of
mere seconds, but the rising urgency of the battering was sure to make the
heavy door give way sooner rather than later. Retrieving his golden spear
and tucking the cloth over the unsullied blade, he released his control over
the metal of the door right as a kick from the other side smashed it open,
almost jerking the hinges free of the frame as the guards entered. The
taller guard entered first, taking stock of the room, 'That in the Nine
Hells happened in he- Gods above!
'

Junius slunk in after, his gaze resting upon the dead assassin even as he
felt the burning stare of the Knight of the Lance upon him. The dread that
clenched his heart was accompanied by the feeling of a great burden, as
though far more had been seen than he was entirely comfortable with. He
tried to raise his gaze to meet the Knight's, but his resolve failed, and it
was only with the emptiest of bravado that he managed to speak, 'And what's
goin' on in here. Who's this? Friend of yours?
' A stupid question, but
the moment was slipping away rapidly.

'I should like to think you know better than I, Junius the Venal. ' The
accusation stung, but paired with the condemning epithet sunk fangs of its
own into his heart, and Junius at once envied the man dead on the floor. He
turned, his boots digging into the floor to flee, when a wall of force
slammed into him and hurled him into the hallway. He slammed into the stone
hard enough to feel several somethings crack. It was not the stonework.
Sprawled and broken as he was, he still managed to look up at the Knight
that had magically accosted him, the metal in his armor betraying him before
the mage's mastery of the metallic.

Agapitos knelt, his burning eye guiding his hand as he reached into the
fallen guard's pocket. Whatever feeble resistance the man could muster was
brushed aside, and even his partner's protests were ignored as the
golden-haired Knight produced a bag that jangled with coins. Opening the
drawstring, he upended the contents to clatter on the stone beside the
hallway's Thalosian rug. Several of the coins landed face-down, while the
rest landed to expose the marks of the Verminasian coinmaker's guilds,
'Twenty five pieces of silver for a life. It is one thing to betray your
kin, but to do so cheaply
' The Knight snorted, tossing the bag to the guard
who looked down at the fallen coin in shock, then revulsion as he gazed upon
his would-be partner, 'I would be insulted if the service rendered did not
match the price tendered. Do what you will with him.
'




Writer: Agapitos

Date Sat May 14 23:55:23 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The First Night V


The Knight began to make his way down the hall, the standing guard
regaining just enough presence of mind to hail him one more time, 'And
where're you going?!
' Agapitos paused before he lifted his broad shoulders
in a half-shrug, 'To the battlements. I will take up a night watch tonight.
I do not sleep much, anyway.
' With that, he departed, leaving the last
guard in the guest quarters to ponder the depth of the predicament he had
found himself in.

The next morning, the sun rose to greet a gristly sight. From the
battlements of Ravencrest hung the body of the fallen assassin. There were
no menacing warnings nor signs daubed and hung about his neck. There was no
need. The fact that he hung there at All was warning enough to those who
recognized it for what it was. A swift justice had been enacted, and it
would come again if any attempted the same duplicitous feat. Beneath him,
however, bound hands and feet in threadbare, thin prisoner's clothes,
cowered Junius. An iron cage surrounded him, suspended above the portcullis
of Castle Ravencrest. The man had cried and begged as the cage was lowered,
the sentence pronounced in the wee hours when the King had been roused to be
appraised of the situation. Three days in the iron cage. A death sentence
for any, but the Knight of Gareth had interceded, asking that provision be
offered each night to offset the thirst that claimed those who had been
executed in this manner. The bound prisoner could not tell if this was a
mercy, or merely a prolonging of his suffering. In some twisted way, he
mused as dawn's light met him, his cage swaying as the portcullis rumbled
open, it could be both.

Above him, upon the battlements, Agapitos di Lucis gazed southward, his
golden eye fixed upon the growing blot that spilled from the siege camp of
the Dark One. The day's carnage was winding up to be unleashed, and it
promised nothing but hardship for All involved. The lack of rest from the
night before tugged at his limbs, and the gratuitous use of the Eastern
magics that he had partaken of were a ravenous drain upon his reserves. A
week of this loomed before him, but as it had been when he stood before his
Holy Father and proclaimed his intent, he would not allow himself to be
found wanting.

Even if it cost him his life, he could not afford to be found wanting.




Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Sun May 15 00:49:13 2022

To All Shadow Verminasia Abaddon Black_Robes Bloodlust ( Drakkara Necrucifer Cayenna Scorn )

Subject
{uThe Tide Rises - Living Night {u(XXXI{u)


The vast plane beyond the threshold of the Rip stretched on. Weeks
behind them, the Thalosians focused just upon that threshold still, their
Sultanate having turned away Storm's offering of mutual cooperation. This
stratum had always existed in Thalosia as a living thing both timeless and
quiescent. The Infinite Night had called out, and its calls fell upon ears
that did not yet know how to listen. The first voices were made to answer,
but they had been rendered silent. Some jaded in apathy, and another
rendered mute through treachery of the meek.

-*-

Dark wings carried him high above the aphotic waves that crashed over the
foreign terrain, unsettling the black sandy firmament below and driving fine
crystalline silt up toward the surface. Below, the waves roiled in endless
formations of pure dark arcana. They had called it the sunless sea, a
living night, and though there was no brine or even moisture to these
waters, the pressure of their currents was no less crushing.

Formations of twisted cloud cover streamed across the sky overhead, running
counter to the swells of primordial mana below. Conical shapes protruded
from the otherworldly firmament, the varied forms of crystal growths broke
the riptide of arcana like a jetty might, and behind each sign of his
fellows lingered.





Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Sun May 15 00:50:44 2022

To All Shadow Verminasia Abaddon Black_Robes Bloodlust ( Drakkara Necrucifer Cayenna Scorn )

Subject
{uThe Tide Rises - Living Night {u(XXXII{u)


The passage through the living night was marked by forced solace behind
each formation, keen eyes picking out the signs of struggle through the
unpredictable swells from shelter to shelter. The remains of Verminasians
and Knights of Storm alike still lay where they fell, for there was no
helping them. Arms and equipment marked their loss where flesh and blood
had been consumed by the currents and their souls stripped from their bodies
in a dying wail to join the swell that engulfed them.

The waves of mana shifted below wild and unpredictable, expelling jets of
crystalline silt that tore at the wyrm. Barbs of flechette erupted as each
fragment released the arcana to pierce even the smallest gaps between
scales. Veering sharply, the Red swept between volatile currents as he
trailed the path left behind for him to follow. The Novice De'fores left
her arcane mark and the Abbess consecrated it in hellfire, the combination
both immutable by others and visible to the dragon from on high, even
through the gloam of the sunless sea.

A pale glow, nothing more than a pinprick twinkled now and again in the
distance past the last marker. There would be no graceful way to descend
through the torrent into the midst of the forward company. Gaining
altitude, the ancient red judged a position ahead of the infantry and began
to dive, steeling himself as he pierced the manastream and thundered back to
the dusky land below.





Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 13:01:00 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 13:01:11 2022




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun May 15 16:58:58 2022

To Abaddon Fatale All ( Religion Immortal RP )

Subject Solace Denied (I)



'Wot ken oi get yea? '

The minotaur tilted his head slightly, his face hidden by the shadows of his
hood, 'The house special. '

The dwarf hesitated for a heartbeat, the braids in her beard dancing as she
shook her head, 'Yea sure, lad? Thae bae hotter than ae noight in a New
Thalosian brothel.
'

Z'Quarus huffed a barely audible sigh, grunting his assent.

'Yer funeral, ' she replied, the lilt in her tone making her mirth apparent.
The barmaid made her way to the kitchen, her movements a practiced dance
between patrons who vied for attention.

To say the tavern was crowed would be an understatement. Customers sat
elbow to elbow, the sounds of friendly bounty abounding. It was always the
same in these villages. The farmers and merchants All working to survive,
knowing nothing else except what fate had dealt them, caring little for the
holy war that their kings and queens and knights waged on their supposed
behalfs. The levy of grain and livestock to benefiting the war efforts
would likely mean less food to fill their bellies, but what choice had they?
And so they drank, gossip and alcohol filling the gnawing emptiness that
could never seem to be satiated.

Z'Quarus was shaken from his musings by the barmaid's return. 'Well here
yae are. Took thae libertae of orderin yea a few dozen. Et goes from a
mild summer dae tae the bowels o hell!
' The amusement in her tone remained
as four plates and a large stein filled with some thick whiteish liquid were
expertly splayed before the minotaur.

'Ifn yae find the burn tae much, take a swig o thae white stuff. It'll
help.
' Spinning on her heels the dwarf made her way to the next table
requiring her attention.

The minotaur shrugged at the spread before him. Thick sauces varying in
colors from bright orange to a deep red coated the pieces of succulent
poultry heaped upon the plates.

In all, the first part of the meal was rather pleasant, but as it progressed
the slight warmth from the poultry began to smolder causing tears to lead
from the minotaur's eyes. And then the inferno came, All Z'Quarus could
taste was pain and suffering, the commotion occurring at the front of the
tavern barely registering.

'You bloody oaf! Sitting and drinking while we waste away! You good for
nothing sack of shite!
'

Raucous laughter erupted as an oafish man was lead from the tavern by an
ear, the curses of the shouting woman dressed in a patchwork attire All by
drowned out.

Z'Quarus snatched the stein from the table, gulping down its contents. The
unexpectedly thick white liquid would have been palatable had it not been
warm, chunky and slightly sour in taste. He clenched his jaw, doing All he
could to keep from retching, the visceral reaction distracting from the
horrific burning sensation which had somehow increased in pitch to, what the
minotaur hoped, was a peak. His vision swam as the bar spun around him, the
voices of its' occupants lowering to a hushed whisper.

And then All at once, euphoria. The path forward became as clear as the
waters of the Crystal Bay.

'Yae alroight? ' The barmaid had returned, her expression serious as she
attempted to peer into the shadows of Z'Quarus' hood.

The minotaur pulled away and replied, 'Yes. Everything is perfect. '

The barmaid nodded, her look of concern turning to skepticism.

'Excuse my manners. Thank you for your excellent service' He let the
unasked question hang in the air for a moment.

'Ingrid, ' the woman replied.

Z'Quarus leaned in, his voice lowering in timbre, 'Ingrid, yes. Tell me of
the lovely couple who just exited this fine establishment.
'

The look of skepticism faded from Ingrid's face as she hesitated, as if an
inner battle raged. Then something shifted as relief and adoration washed
over her features.

Licking her lips, the barmaid leaned toward the minotaur and whispered,
'Yes. Let me tell you about the about the lovely couple who just exited
this fine establishment
'




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 19:04:04 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 19:04:15 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 19:04:26 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 20:09:34 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 20:22:41 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 20:37:42 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun May 15 21:13:34 2022




Writer: Llorana

Date Sun May 15 22:20:38 2022

To All Shalonesti_kingdom Shalonesti Marauders Zandreya Raije Imm

Subject Zandreya's War: Her Wrath


The swamp reached for her.

The gnarled limbs, the skeletal hands, the crimson eyes, the seeping chill
and killing mist.

She fought it with everything, feeling the desperate pounding of her heart
next to the glorious haunt that empowered every movement of blade and body.
It had become a part of her and with it she wove a deadly path.

But there were so many more of *them*.

A thin hand caught her ankle, locking her in place, slowly pulling her down
into the noxious muck. She went for her dagger. If it had been where it
should have been, she would have been able to pivot around the hand and
slice it free. But the sheath... was empty

Another hand caught her other ankle and certain doom set in. She lifted her
gaze, urgently seeking anyone who might be nearby but instead watched from
afar as elves died in unfathomable numbers.

Warped monstrosities from the shadows reached, pulling the Vallen folk apart
with shrill cut-off screams. And then it was dwarves killing them.
Confusion set in only long enough to realize that the murk of the swamp no
longer surrounded her but instead the fog of burning pitch, burning bodies,
burning trees. Fire and ash everywhere.

The screams of the dying wove themselves into the haunt as it sang in her
very blood, resonated in her sword as it hummed its way through another life
and another, and another...

Llora awoke in a lather, sitting straight up in her cot, her breath a
bellows while she gripped the sides of her make-shift bed as if the sky
might claim her.

It had been years since she had had such a vivid one.

She ran her hands over her face in wonderment and then rose to dunk her head
into a basin of water after filling it with the wave of her hand and a
spoken spell.

The thought came wryly after, as she dried her face and went to stand on the
top deck to gaze out on the ominous storm that had gathered over Ironclad in
the distance, a fast roving line of black clouds feeding the angry mass
above. She could feel the Mother in the wind, hear Her in the rolling
thunder. Zandreya's wrath coiling and building. It had rarely ever been so
poignant but she took it All in with the stoicism of what she was: A veteran
of two wars, a retired General, a Kyorl. A Sentinel of Her Holy Lands and
the chosen bloodline.

Chaos had attacked the very heart of elvendom. This was just the tip of
what the elves, empowered by Zandreya's divine will and fury, would bring
down on that corruption wherever it reared its head.




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 07:42:26 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 07:42:31 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 07:42:37 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 07:42:42 2022




Writer: Sidorinath

Date Mon May 16 08:57:50 2022




Writer: Dantalion

Date Mon May 16 09:07:34 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Verminasia Shadow Vasha Imm RP Drakkara

Subject Purgatory's flaming fields



Flaming from the lava spewed everywhere. The Enlisted Vasha let the
ember hit her red dragonskin. She snorted in annoyance.

'Shall we, M? Lady? ', Dantalion smiled with a smirk.

Vasha nods, and the two of them quaff teals and go running into the brood
mothers coating the area.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Mon May 16 09:09:24 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Verminasia Shadow Vasha Imm RP Drakkara

Subject Purgatory's garden



Bite upon bite covered both The Onyx and The Enlisted. The weeds of the
garden maze were incessant.

Cure poison upon cure poison was cast by Vasha. And a this point? She was
angry.

Vasha lowered her head and vowed to fight to the death.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Mon May 16 09:13:19 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Verminasia Shadow Vasha Imm RP Drakkara

Subject Purgatory's skeletons



Dantalion dance with grace and pose. Legions upon legions of skeletons
filled the Throne Room, Corridors, Stairwells, and Hallways.

Darting in and out, he was unscathed. But Vasha simply charged. Crushing
thr boned underhoof.




Writer: Dantalion

Date Mon May 16 09:19:47 2022

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Verminasia Shadow Vasha Imm RP Drakkara

Subject Purgatory's Queen Mary (End)



Bottles of empty teals and spent healing staves were strewn about the
floor in front of Dantalion and Vasha.

The hours upon hours of Questmaster and Vault Master spoils gone in a mere
moment.

Vasha and Dantalion calmly face the Queen, and as they calculate their odds,
a grim look appears on both their faces.

Maybe next time they bring 40 teals and 100 healing staves?

The two at this point can only persevere.




Writer: Braknum

Date Mon May 16 13:49:02 2022




Writer: Braknum

Date Mon May 16 14:45:53 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 20:45:29 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 20:45:37 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 20:45:45 2022




Writer: Piknim

Date Mon May 16 20:45:53 2022




Writer: Agapitos

Date Mon May 16 21:37:12 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War I


Days passed, spent in the toil of unbalancing the equation of the
dreadful arithmetic of war. Often as not, the Knight spent the days on the
field, upsetting the berserker tactics of the Dark One's conscripts. More
often than not, the soldiers of Ravencrest were an equal to one or even two
of the Dark One's soldiers on their own. Despite their plight, supply runs
were able to break the siege at irregular intervals, secreted around the
besieging lines in much the same way that he himself had crossed into the
battlefield days earlier. This, combined with the superior training of the
Knights of Ravencrest, lent the martial advantage, at least in small-scale
engagements, to the defenders.

However, the Dark One's reach was far vaster, the supplies of the attacker
drawn from fell sources eager to see the small kingdom crushed and absorbed.
Conscripts, be they aspiring champions of the Dark causes or the dregs of
greater organizations banished for their own lack of skill or ambition,
flocked to the Dark One's banner for lack of a greater calling, swelling the
horde until the dam on their aggression broke and they swept across the
battlefield. These infrequent surges were the leading cause of casualties
for the defenders, their discipline overwhelmed by sheer brutality and the
numeric superiority of a blood-hungry mob.

Thus was the Knight's role defined. The first such surge came on the second
day, around mid-afternoon. When the low, gravelly horn was sounded, he had
turned to Rodrick, his appointed escort, and inquired as to its meaning.
The older Knight had grabbed him then, dragging him back toward the
defending lines. Despite the headway they had made that morning, carving a
bloody path through the melee, the Dark Tide seemed endless. It was a
sobering parallel to the greater conflict, the Knight had mused at the time.
Now, the second half of his dread was made manifest.

The gates for the Dark One's camp had ground open once more, the more
disciplined of the wicked forces withdrawing back toward safety. Those too
slow to retreat were pincushioned by volleys of fire meant to dissuade
counterattack, falling wounded or dead in the bloody bog. Then the
reinforcements broke onto the battlefield, the ponderous crush of bodies
well akin to a tsunami slamming to shore after the swell had left the beach
dry for one tranquil moment.

The warriors of Darkness charged through the gates, blasting through the
ragged retreat formations of the battered warriors pulling back for their
relief. Some were trampled underfoot, the violence in the Dark One's
coterie nigh-indiscriminate as they closed with the enemy. Even as the
Paladins and crusaders of Ravencrest formed ranks, shields aloft, the enemy
crashed into them with a sound like thunder, the screams of the wounded and
dying, and the dreadful discordance of the world's ending.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Mon May 16 21:39:14 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War II


Agapitos took a deep breath, the shield wall holding firm before him. He
had been relegated to the second rank, though the golden spear remained
wrapped upon his back. His presence had been well-noted during the morning,
the grim warning of the assassin sent for his head seeming well-heeded by
the enemy. Numerous times, volleys of black-fletched arrows had been
launched in his direction, eagle-eyed archers having received the command to
fell him at All costs. The first volleys, the heavy arrows tipped with iron
heads to penetrate and maim armor and flesh, had been turned against the
enemy's own forces, the magnetic magics of the eastern sages grabbing hold
and dragging them straight down before they could reach the Ravencrest
lines. Men cried out as they were wounded, or fell on the spot as arrows
plunged into vitals, left to sink into the sludgy muck. The later volleys
were wisely crafted of wooden bolts, his mastery over metal of no use
against the simpler arrows. For these, however, the power of the air served
just as well, gale-force gusts tearing All but the most powerfully-fired
arrows from the sky to scatter off-target, some stopped dead in flight and
others twisted so far off-trajectory as to fly nearly perpendicular. So
long as he stayed with his escort, he could serve a valuable role on the
battlefield, both as a target of opportunity to force the enemy to react to
his presence and as a force multiplier, wielding his magics to disable and
nullify the enemy's numeric superiority.

It was not without cost, however. As the line was pushed back a step,
Agapitos raised both hands, calling upon the reserves of mana within him
that he already felt dipping precipitously. Magnetic force rippled through
enemy lines, shields flung aside to invite killing blows, while weapons flew
astray, skirling off of the defenders' shield wall or into their own allies.
The effect spread from the initial point of contact immediately before the
Knight of the Lance, rippling from man to man as the crushing press of
bodies transferred the current between them and forced their chosen arms to
betray them, either on the attack or the defense. Those affected were
butchered, the execution methodical in its bloody brutality as the defending
line began their own calculations of the horrific mathematics of battle.

As the spell ended, Agapitos reeled, baring his teeth in a snarl as the
feedback struck him. To expand his spellcraft like that demanded far more
than he could ever admit to anyone, to work on such a scale almost beyond
the ability of mortal men. Indeed, his hands felt like they were dipped in
molten steel, and as he fixed his gaze upon his agonized limbs, the lines of
pale scarring up his tanned forearms glinted like cracks in his skin, gold
showing through. His forearms felt like they were being torn apart, and it
was with force of will alone that he kept from doubling over or crying out,
betraying his location and his weakness to others. Instead, he retreated
another rank, another man at arms taking his place with a spear in hand,
prepared to meet the second and third lines of the coming horde.

The Knight fumbled for his waterskin, draining its contents into his mouth
as he felt his gorge threaten to rise. He had manned the walls until dawn,
casting his God-given gaze upon the killing fields and the paper-thin veneer
of tranquility as both sides' furtive agents sought to gain ground on one
another. Even for his prodigious constitution, to rely so heavily on his
magics on a large scale was an enormous burden, and to force his body beyond
its limits like this could threaten the entire stability of his mission. Of
critical import was a need to go unrecognized, lest the Dark Powers to the
north take a vested interest in the ongoing battles before it was time.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Mon May 16 21:40:18 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War III


He shook his head, banishing those thoughts. The plan that had begun to
form during his journey was one crafted of a cold logic that ran at odds
with the sensibilities of many of his peers. It was callous and in a way
manipulative, masquerading as goodwill while serving as a means to an end
for the sake of the war effort. To demand troops from a besieged castle was
a foolish prospect, for every man that fell on the battlefield was already
sorely-missed, and every green squire promoted to fill a Paladin's boots was
forced to take on more than his share of a burden so vast and so ingrained
that the entire region had become synonymous with the awful siege that took
place there.

The defending line had held that day, their losses scant in comparison to
the devastation wrought upon the Dark One's forces. Even when the outcast
necromancers banished from the Ebon Tower took the field to try to wield the
battlefield dead, the Paladins had made short work of their macabre
constructs, their zeal smiting the undead to dust and unseaming a number of
the dark magi for their hubris in taking the field in such a bold manner.

The third day had been much more routine, though the Knight still had barely
slept. The constant threat of discovery as to his presence had weighed on
him on one side, while the crystallization of his plan on the other had
stuck in his mind, and the weight of the lives spared in Ravencrest through
his actions now began to stack on the scales of his own calculations.
Through these interventions, a trend could be formed. With each day that
passed, the more of the Ravencrest forces that could take the field, as the
wounded recuperated and as the green soldiers became veterans, the greater a
toll they could take upon the Dark One's ill-disciplined horde. His
interventions, indirect through they were, could shift the tide of the
battle, however minutely, but those inches of ground gained were space for
momentum to be generated, a chance to break the awful stalemate and liberate
Ravencrest for the good of the realm.

Or, the more cynical, logical part of his thoughts reminded him, could draw
the eye of the wicked away from the grander plots of the Council of Light to
deal with the growing problem in their own domain. Occupying their
resources, for however fleeting of a time, could swing the global scale in a
similar manner. It All came down to those same equations, those dreadful
calculations. The horrific arithmetic of war.

It was more the pity that the variables at play were the intimate things
known as mortal lives.




Writer: Agapitos

Date Mon May 16 21:41:21 2022

To Thasgerd Knighthood Althainia Justice White_Robes ( All Nadrik Ravencrest Immortal Xenophon )

Subject The Siege of Ravencrest: The Arithmetic of War IV


That night, he slept poorly again, earning barely two hours' rest before
he yielded in the struggle and took to the battlements. Like as not, the
field would demand his intervention once more. Each day was proving more
taxing than the last, his reserves replenishing less and less, his stamina
depleting. It was All too familiar and incredibly uncomfortable. The pain
that engulfed his body never fully left anymore, and he felt the prickle in
his fingertips that felt sincerely like the slow decay of his flesh, though
only the faintest glimmer against his skin betrayed his plight. His mission
was almost half-done, he resolved, and he would make All haste back to
Gareth to earn some proper rest, with the plot to tip the scales of
Ravencrest behind him and the lives he had saved, only to potentially spend
in pursuit of a greater goal. It was an ugly thing, shaped with an
unfeeling logic. It was reasoned, it was practical, it was sensible. It
was callous, it was barbarous, it was cruel.

His thoughts turned to the chapel of Austinian in the castle's eastern wing
as the fourth day of battle began, his place today on the battlements to
guide the arrows of his allies to strike deeper into enemy lines. Perhaps
once the bloody work was done, he would seek absolution through confession,
as a proper Knight ought. At the very least, to speak the words of his plan
aloud under the protected silence of confession would show the mettle of his
own resolve and give him reason to pause or advance. Perhaps he would find
a measure of solace.

Perhaps he would find an ounce of peace.




Writer: Maynj

Date Mon May 16 22:36:14 2022

To All Darkonin Raije Imm Rp Derigimus Cayenna

Subject Empty Room



Days passed as the Supreme General paced outside the Throne Room. Every
so often he qould stop and bang on the door. Pace work sleep and pace was
his routine with every little click turning to a door that hasn't opened.
His patience wore thin. Turning to a bear trying to force the door open.
Even the power of a Mountain Kodiak could not move the latch that was
locked. The key being with the Witch Queen whome had been absent he knew
she was either parrished in the room or seeimg the world again. Finally is
dawned on him he muttered a few words and plop his body fell to the ground
and his spirit remained standing. He then passed theought the door with his
eyes covered not wanting to catch the Queen indisposed and sniffed around
for the stench of death and nothing but the musty smell of time. He looked
about noticing that dust had collected on everything and nothing had been
touched. He looked to a table nearby and saw a crown and a key that was
almost invisible from the dust he grabbed the key and opened the door from
the inside and walked out locking it behind him. He scratched his head as
he reverted back to his mortal form and shook his head. He grabbed a quill
and parchment on his way to his chambers he knew it was time to take action
for the mountain is empty and he cannot stand for it. He will not loose the
home that he loves so deeply over Religions and Politics "Its time for a new
age in Darkonin and I will give my life to making it thrive again"




 


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