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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

The Apostate's Ritual: Reflection
Ghosts of Why
Repaying an Honor - Sending the Blood
His first prayers.
Conceptualization of Time Travel
His second prayers
{o*A Goblin Builds a Shrine{o*.
The Blossoming of the Vallens
A Day of Reflection
A Healer's Touch
The river turns red
X Unfettered X
The river flows, darkness rises.
Down in the Swamp
Aftermath





Writer: Jossaryne
Date Wed Nov 22 01:06:04 2017




Writer: Ithelim
Date Wed Nov 22 16:22:06 2017




Writer: Jermichael
Date Wed Nov 22 19:51:53 2017




Writer: Jermichael
Date Sat Nov 25 15:53:09 2017




Writer: Symantha
Date Sun Nov 26 17:54:58 2017

To All Shadow Verminasia ( Necrucifer Religion Imm RP Ampersand )

Subject The Apostate's Ritual: Reflection


She knew exhaustion.

She had waited among the condemned Knights years ago. For three days they
all sat at the altar, for three days they had gazed at the walls and the
statue and the altar itself, awaiting judgment. Knowing that the hammer of
punishment was yet to descend.

She had spent those three days before the Exile moving between the injured
and the despondent. The Dark Lord had lain comatose and fevered. The Elder
had sat in relative silence, his burns so extensive that she and two other
clerics had rotated to maintain healing. Even the Lord Templar had taken
burns of hellfire.

There'd been no rest for her, or any of them, and as she stood by the altar
in her temple, she reflected on the depths of that past experience.

In many ways, it and what followed had prepared her better than just about
any other occurrence in her life and it had left an indelible mark on her
memory. As well as a fervor to pass along what she had learned, what she
-knew- without a doubt to others, lest they make the same mistakes.

So far, despite her written and spoken word, she'd only managed to make that
mark on a few over the years. She watched the Knights intermittently, as
they All moved resolutely about the temple, cleaning the mess left behind by
the apostate - a man who had walked practically at the side of greatness and
failed to learn some of the most important lessons that experience should
have passed along.

How many more would need to fall before awareness of the truth took root?

She closed her eyes and the hellfire that had engulfed the apostate
rekindled in her memory, the screams of the man resonating through the
ruined chamber. There was vindication in that but the serious nature of
what the man had very nearly accomplished was a concern not soon to be
forgotten.

The many had, at times, paid for the sins of a few - though never without
necessity.

The temple floor was nearly finished, though it would need a bit more work
before it regained its luster. She considered this as she opened her eyes
to gaze upon the tiles and then she moved resolutely to apply herself to the
task.




Writer: Elathan

Date Sun Nov 26 18:11:05 2017




Writer: Carleigh
Date Tue Nov 28 19:25:35 2017




Writer: Maccus
Date Tue Nov 28 22:33:44 2017




Writer: Maccus
Date Wed Nov 29 04:26:18 2017




Writer: Jossaryne
Date Wed Nov 29 09:12:07 2017




Writer: Carleigh
Date Wed Nov 29 21:08:06 2017




Writer: Jossaryne
Date Thu Nov 30 11:32:41 2017

To All Shadow Verminasia Necrucifer Imm Roleplay

Subject Ghosts of Why



Bright wispy strands of fiery red hair whipped around the young girl's
face as she hunkered down in one of the empty stalls in the stable. She
cringed and squeezed her eyes shut as the shouts and sounds of things being
thrown grew louder and closer to her hiding spot.

The horses in the nearby stalls were frantic, restlessly moving in their
stalls and neighing nervously. Some of them kicked at the walls and gates,
trying to break free. This chaos.. This disarray and panic was what
followed her father's wake. It ceased only when he slept or when his mood
was jovial and only one of those occurred regularly.

Over the years it had only continued to get worse, her brother had left when
he could take no more. How it was possible that it had made the old man
even worse, she did not know but it had. She placed no blame upon her
brother for leaving, her time would come as well. Patience.

For now she relied on her faith and in those moments when the chaos became
too much to bear, she would lean upon it heavily. Clutching a symbol of God
in her hands, she'd tuck herself into the corner of the stall, squeeze her
eyes shut and pray. Sometimes her hiding spot would be found but she got
better at disappearing.

Over the years, Joss learned to pick up the pieces each time and put them
all back together. She'd calm the horses, repair the damage to the stalls
and clean up the mess that her father left in his wake. The chaos, hate and
abuse had been taking its toll though.

Why Storm? What was it she hoped to accomplish by serving? Joss' answer
was simple. She believed with every part of her being that God would make
the world a better place, that He would put an end to the strife, to war,
hunger, homelessness. No more chaos, just order and peace. She simply
hoped to say that she helped bring about a better world and so she served in
whatever capacity that was needed. The ghosts of her past were a constant
reminder of why.




Writer: Maccus
Date Fri Dec 1 04:33:26 2017




Writer: Ithelim
Date Sat Dec 2 09:20:21 2017




Writer: Mezlak
Date Sat Dec 2 22:30:46 2017

To Mahazi Marauders All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tahsio )

Subject Repaying an Honor - Sending the Blood



Thus the blade returns to serve again, for as long as the fight is
needed.

As Mezlak finished writing the orders, he turned to pick up the sheathed
katana from its place on the display rack. As he held it, his mind went
back to his time his old mercenary company served a minor Shokonese lord.
Mezlak had been given the old family heirloom for service he rendered the
lord.

Now the old lord, hed certainly be old by now, had sent a request for help.
Not from the Marauders specifically, but from Mezlak. However with the
situation in the Fort, Mezlak was unable to go himself, no matter how much
he wanted.

As the messenger entered, Mezlak turned to deliver his instructions to the
messenger. The old man hadnt mentioned the trouble, or what he needed extra
men for. It mattered not, though. He had honored Mezlak once with the
sword, and Mezlak had promised to return when needed because of that honor.


Give these orders to Commander Mahazi. Hes to take a detachment to Shokono.
The details that I know are in the orders. Hes to serve the Lord as he
would me. Tell him I recommend he take some of the newer troops to get them
some deployment experience, because its likely this will be nothing more
than a show of force for the old man.
That had been pretty much the extent
of his companys roll last time. The ambush that had lead to Mezlak saving
the Lords life and earning him the heirloom had been the only real fight
encountered.

As the messenger saluted and left, Mezlak turned to look at the empty
display rack and reminisce about younger days.




Writer: Maccus
Date Sun Dec 3 10:29:29 2017

To All Fatale (Religion RP)

Subject His first prayers.



The mans weapons swayed at his hips as he approaches the altar, the burns on his biceps fresh, gruesome and ugly, the tattoos that were once there gone. The man tipped his head in respect to the priests before getting on his knees to pray at the altar. Removing his helmet and placing at his side he runs his hand through his hair before clasping them infront of him, beginning to pray.

'Oh God of Murder, Fatale...listen to these words as I pray them onto thee. I, Maccus Stormbound, have denounced Raije, his Marauders and All claims he had onto that past. Here me, as I pray, Lord Fatale for I seek you, your religion and your aid. I am a sword, who seeks to be sharpened by your cause, thrust into the hearts of the weak.'

'Death is patient, for it comes for us all. He does not care who we are, what we do and who we see, he holds no prejudice, no favortisim in any. Death is patient, it will wait for us All to reach our end, gods and mortals All meet their end. O' Lord of Murder, I pray to you that you assist me in my learning of patience.'

He continues kneeling, repeating what he has said once more. Finally, he picks up his helmet and places it back on his head. Coming up from his knees he whispers once, 'Fatale be praised'. Then once again louder, 'Fatale be praised'. Before finally nodding, seemingly amused with the way it rolled off his tongue. He turns around and begins to walk away from the alter, and prepares for his next prayer.




Writer: Cesaus

Date Sun Dec 3 16:56:17 2017




Writer: Reklah

Date Sun Dec 3 17:22:44 2017

To Crelius Rochford ( All )

Subject Conceptualization of Time Travel



The mind manifest from the mantonicism is a kaleidoscope of diverging and
converging thoughts of the deepest depths of the Sh'lanira Belian. I have
lived hundreds of years, through the Purist War, and yet time is fluid to me
now. The gnomish theories on time travel are something I better understand
despite their inferior physical constitutions. I now concede to its
possibility and would augure that were the human race able to drive the
gnomes into encampments under forced intellectual labor, we may yet build
such a machine. I remember standing in the void with Staldrache the Steel
and watching Algoron spin gently like the rotating wheels in Gahboom.

The possibilities would be endless and this is something I would posit you,
Rochford the Black. Imagine if we were able to return to the Battle of the
Red Moon and ensure Nadrik's execution, or prevent Gunnar Draugrbane from
the great sacrifice to the rift that resurrected Milek.

Time could be used as the tool with which we murder the Weaklings. Had I
the opportunity to bring the Hemskoen to pierce the hearts of All the
bastions which staunched the inevitability of Finality, perhaps I might feel
again.


- written in the journal of Reklah Kayen, addressed to Rochford the Black




Writer: Kabal
Date Sun Dec 3 21:10:04 2017




Writer: Maccus
Date Mon Dec 4 02:36:44 2017

To All Fatale (Imm Religion RP)

Subject His second prayers



The man walks back in again, the sun completely down and the priests all
asleep. He continues walking, candle in hand towards the altar, he looks
prepared and ready for what is to come next. He takes his candle and begins
lighting several others giving himself some light as he kneels down once
more in front of the altar removing his helmet once more. He clasps his
hands infront of him and closes his eyes, beginning his prayer once more.

'Lord Fatale, I come before you once again in prayer, but this time with
sacrifice. Raije has taken my right arm, making it weak, almost unusable
save for the smallest of actions. My chest bruised and battered from his
punishment, for I have been shunned. Fatale, in sacrifice to you, as you do
ask from time, I offer you my left arm, to take, use or guide in the coming
times. It seems that my abandoning of Raije has stirred trouble throughout
the realm, and those who wish to see me dead are strong, and I do not
believe my patience for battle will wait out until you have accepted or
denied me. '

'In death, it must be embraced, for the fear of such a thing is the first
weakness that must be culled. Those who withstand his challenges could be
met with becoming stronger themselves or culled buried under the boots of
time and fate. Death is the only true source of peace, no amount of warring
or conflict will ever come close to the sweet peace death has to offer.
With my enemies numerous and their numbers swelling as time goes on, I will
become the wolf that hunts sheep, the blade to cut into the hearts of the
enemy, ruthless and unforgiving until they have All died. '

'Death is the truest form of enlightenment. For in it we learn what it
truly means to have lived. We move beyond thinking what our lives our worth
but move onto accepting that the darker truth encompasses us all. Hear
these words, Lord Fatale, for they these are your tenets I have taken to
heart'

The man repeats the prayer once again, his right arm trembling as it is held
there in prayer. Beads of sweat begin to drip off his forehead as he
continues to push himself before saying, 'Fatale be praised'. He stands up
slowly, collecting his helmet and blowing All but the candle he had used.
He turns around and begins to leave, preparing his next set of prayers to
the god he wished to serve.




Writer: Cesaus
Date Mon Dec 4 18:45:20 2017




Writer: Lilya
Date Wed Dec 6 00:00:16 2017




Writer: Maccus
Date Wed Dec 6 12:13:34 2017




Writer: Waaagh
Date Wed Dec 6 13:52:36 2017

To All of Chaos and the Gods ( IMM Scorn Kyri Malachive Vanilla_Ice )

Subject {o*A Goblin Builds a Shrine{o*.



A largish & brown skinned goblinoid stepped off a small pirate skiff,
tying the ship to the Tropican port mooring, covered in blackened and ichor
covered platemail, the goblin heaved up a large & full sack, dripping a dark
and brackish-red liquid. Throwing the sack of its shoulders, the goblin
trudged off in the exact direction every sign warned against.

Ponderously, and without taking care for caution, the goblin walked the
afternoon through, watching the sun turn toward setting before he reached
his destination. He admired the beasts of Tropica, turning appreciatively
to the claws and gnashing teeth he could see on the increasingly warped and
twisted forms stalking through the suffocatingly humid jungle. Now he could
understand why the leonine once preferred to hunt these lands, as its game
was plentiful and more than capable of fighting back, would that he could
have been a beast slicing open one of those four-legged and two armed freaks
in half.

Aside from the large sack it carried, the goblin had various horns, large
hands, eyeballs, scalps, and even white feathered wings tied around its
previous triumphs as a physical proof of the goblins strength. In their own
right, the goblin was a big game hunter, hunting beasts and humanoids alike,
the bigger the kill the stronger the hunter. The goblin had artefacts and
remnants from creatures of hellish, holy and divine origin, as well as the
ears of every major clan leader the realm has fielded.

However, the goblin was also clearly marked. It had the scent of those
shunned by the gods, an odor that was neither physical nor perceptible to
the nose. Rather it was an aura that emanates a blankness, a void of soul,
repulsing sentient and non-sentient creatures alike.

The goblin did not care. Its purpose was grander than coveting the favor of
one foppish god or another, but rather to take the biggest, the meanest, and
the strongest trophy of them all.

He dumped the contents of his sack onto the ground and began assembling the
various species of pirate heads into a pattern. The goblin was lucky to
board such a diverse cast of characters, the pirates were a decent lot,
vicious hunters, but despicable and weak for All their bravado. To the
goblin, the pirates were bottom feeder who could only muster the strength to
attack weak and limp armed Althanian frigates or Verminisian pleasure boats.
They were no threat to anyone but themselves, so it was with some glee the
goblin slaughtered them wholesale shortly before landfall.

An expansive pile of freshly severed and uncleaned heads began decomposing
into the jungles clearing, shaped into a rigid line forming the emblematic
8-pointed star of Chaos. Slicing his right hand deeply with a parrying
dagger, he splashed his greenish blood on to each head, silently thinking of
the names of the monstrosities and beasts he had slayed to this point.

The goblin looked down to the half-shattered talisman of Turpa, still
dangling around its neck, and with a small sub-conscious reticence, withdrew
it from his neck and painfully crushed it within his hands.

When his job was finished, and with prodigious amounts of his life essence
mixed into its structure, the goblin stripped off his armor and gear,
setting it aside, and walked into the center of Chaos.




Writer: XiaXia

Date Thu Dec 7 14:56:45 2017

To All ( Taliena Imm Rp Religion )

Subject The Blossoming of the Vallens



XiaXia collapsed into one of the resting pads with a giant "huff". It
had been a truly exhausting week.

There had been an enormous surge of new elves joining Fray and it seemed as
if they were All coming to her for recruitment. She was on a roll! Elva
had mentioned in passing that perhaps her notes and sermons were having an
effect-- she liked to think so. It was a honour to guide new individuals,
and she was happy to do it. With each new elf, the strength of the Fray
increased. There were more people to protect and be protected by, more
teamwork in the hall and on the field, more individuals to get to know and
to befriend. More Love.

The population was blossoming in the Vallens, and it was a truly beautiful
thing.

She let her eyes close for a moment, but only just a moment. There was so
much to still be done today. With the influx of recruits, her
responsibilities as a Priest of the Vallens increased. She took it upon
herself to make sure that any elf residing in the Vallens who was in the
process of training was to be blessed, spelled, and kept healed as long as
she was around. Her love for her people insisted upon this-- their
happiness and safety was always a priority.

Her eyes shot open as a message reached her telepathically. "Excuse me
Regent, I was wondering if I could join my cousins in the Fray? " Duty
called.

However, this was not her only priority. Having recently gained the rank of
Bishop within Talienas church, she had begun to scout locations for a temple
to honor the Goddess of Love and Happiness. King Talyariel had already
approved her building within the walls of the Shalonesti kingdom. Plans and
designs were underway. The temple must be perfect, beautiful, a work of
art, and the process of getting everything flawless would take ample time
attention.

With the rush of recruiting, the duties to her clan mates, and her plans for
the temple, it was All she could do to keep up with her daily prayers to
Taliena and she was embarrassed to admit, she was beginning to miss days.
She knew Lady Taliena would understand, however, because her duties here on
the mortal plane were bountiful and important. She was needed, she was
loved, and she was spreading the warmth of Talienas grace in All the ways
she knew how.




Writer: Lilya

Date Sat Dec 9 00:49:17 2017




Writer: Ayrora

Date Sat Dec 9 12:06:42 2017

To All Verminasia ( RP Immortal Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Day of Reflection



Ayrora walked along the orchard as she had done many times as a child but
much less now with her many responsibilities to Verminasia, the High Church,
and especially too the Dark Mistress. She knew not too far behind were were
the guards but she was finally growing accustomed to them. She was always
observant as a child and as she grew it had stuck with her.

She continued walking along the trees and pondering the points that Legion
had said to her. She had always been more of the quiet type so she found
opening a conversation to be a bit unnerving but she promised to work on it.


A few hours had passed and she headed back to the manor. Time to get ready
to head to the city and start her work there. She dismissed the guards and
they All returned to their posts.





Writer: Lilya
Date Mon Dec 11 00:37:58 2017




Writer: Lilya
Date Mon Dec 11 00:41:04 2017




Writer: Natalie
Date Mon Dec 11 21:41:23 2017




Writer: Natalie
Date Mon Dec 11 21:41:27 2017




Writer: Arreana
Date Wed Dec 13 09:06:56 2017

To All Althainia Religion Imm Taliena

Subject A Healer's Touch



Arreana gazed at the man on the bed beside her.

The room was rank with the smell of death. Though the man beside her lived,
fighting with every breath, the stench of his losing struggle was unmistakable.
Urine, feces, the aromas of waste and refuse. All smells that often accompanied
death.

The spectre that haunted him haunted her as well. Arreana had begged the man's
children to have faith in her. To have faith in her abilities as a healer.
Arreana had been healing longer than she had been a priest. There was no question
about her skills as one of Algoron's greatest healers.

Arreana had brought many men, and women, back from the brink of death. She had
been confident that she could do the very same here.

Blood painted the old man's lips. Every once in awhile he would cough, gag, and
then spit up blood, phlegm, and what Arreana was certain was lung. His case of
consumption was among the worst that she had ever seen, but she hadn't given up
on hope.

It wasn't until she felt a familiar force place its hand on her shoulder that
she wavered.

Arreana knew the touch of her goddess as well as she knew herself. Yet, it had
been so long that she was initially uncertain of the feeling. But, as the
moments passed, Arreana felt that firm, yet gentle, grip and she knew. Her
goddess was with her.

"My faithful. My devoted. You know in your heart that this man will die."

The voice was soft, motherly, but without the failing confidence that gripped
Arreana's heart in a gut-wrenching vice.

"No," Arreana whispered. She felt the tears forming behind her eyelids, but she
did not yet cry. "I have to save him. I cannot fail. I will... not... fail you,
my goddess."

The silence that followed caused Arreana to wonder once more if she had been
hallucinating the whole thing. She opened her eyes, now wet with unshed tears,
swimming, drowning in her sorrow.

Across the man's chest lay several hot, wet cloths. These cloths were intended
to help clear his chest up, but he was too far gone for them to work. Every
breath was labored, and rattled in his chest with a sickening, hopeless sound.

Arreana was struck once more with the man's earlier words. For a moment, he
seemed to gain a sense of levity. He'd looked right at /her/, his eyes wide
with the look of someone who has seen the fates. Those eyes knew. Those eyes
accepted what she could not.

"My son... " he'd whispered, his voice strained and stretched so thin that it
seemed a whisper was All that he could manage. "He must not... see me like
this. Please... "

The dutiful son, young as he was, had accepted the task of fetching hot water.
Arreana felt as if she'd been punched square in the gut. Omission of truths
was certainly lying, and she knew as well as anyone how slippery the slope was
that followed lying out of love. At the same time, this man had clearly accepted
his fate. This was his last will, his last wish. She understood that. Arreana
was still haunted by nightmares where she watched her father cut down in front
of her, and heard her mother's screams as she ran for the forest.

"You know what you must do, my faithful. I do not encourage you to violence, but
this act would be a mercy."

Arreana had to accept the man's fate as well. Tears flowed freely down her
cheeks as she prayed for his soul. Then, with a murmured word, his body was
engulfed in righteous, holy flame, and burned only his body until there was
nothing left. No ash, no bones. The only evidence that he had been there was
the blood that still stained the cloths and bed linens.

He was gone, swept up in Taliena's embrace. Leaving Arreana there to deliver the
news to his children when they returned.

"I am proud of you, my Cardinal." Taliena whispered to her, and then the presence
was gone.

----------------------------------------------------------------A Healer's Touch




Writer: Maccus
Date Sat Dec 16 18:44:59 2017




Writer: Maccus
Date Sat Dec 16 21:55:47 2017




Writer: Rasavadi
Date Wed Dec 20 16:57:27 2017




Writer: Ithelim
Date Fri Dec 22 21:51:01 2017




Writer: Nymaya
Date Sat Dec 23 19:09:55 2017




Writer: Sierus
Date Sun Dec 24 10:57:27 2017




Writer: Valdarion
Date Tue Dec 26 00:14:04 2017




Writer: Symantha
Date Tue Dec 26 17:02:35 2017




Writer: Ithelim
Date Wed Dec 27 13:11:09 2017




Writer: Elathan
Date Wed Dec 27 22:03:24 2017




Writer: Rasavadi
Date Sat Dec 30 21:22:03 2017




Writer: Tamaska
Date Tue Jan 2 16:24:41 2018




Writer: Keintikead
Date Wed Jan 3 15:09:08 2018




Writer: Rasavadi
Date Fri Jan 5 18:01:51 2018

To Tamaska Eclipse Verminasia All Cayenna Imm RP

Subject The river turns red



Rasavadi spent more and more time amongst the ruins of Skull Keep.

His bat, Toxvah, an escapee from the research labs, had been gone for a
couple days. An oddly long time for such a simple mission and he had begun
to worry.

Deep into meditation, he heard a high pitched, familiar, chittering.
Opening an eye, he turned his head to the west and saw her struggling in the
winds, trying to carry some roundish object. "What the heck is that thing
lugging around now?" He asked himself aloud.

Slightly enjoying watching the struggle, and imagining the bat was cursing
his name, Rasavadi snickered out loud. Apparently, he was heard, as the
chitters turned into obvious curses in whatever language magical bats spoke.


In an obvious form of retribution Toxvah worked her non-existent tail off to
gain altitude. Finally reaching the highest point she could gain while
exhausted, she dropped her payload.

Twenty feet or so the circular object plummeted towards Rasavadi. Shortly
before impact, the cork fell out, and its contents disgorged. Showering
Rasavadi in some foul smelling, reddish, alcoholic liquid. Just before the
clay flask shattered over his rarely bared head.

Rasavadi hurled a string of curses that would have made only Devion proud,
and maybe even offended him. "For the love of All that is unholy, is this
fermented mastodon urine!"

In the midst of All the swearing, and Toxvah's now obvious roaring laughter,
a young, female, yinn could be seen down the road rolling in the street
laughing with tears in her eyes.




Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Jan 6 10:09:39 2018




Writer: Zola
Date Sat Jan 6 16:43:26 2018

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Verminasia Shadow Darkonin Immortals Fatale Kyri

Subject X Unfettered X


So, it had come to this. Exile. Again. An amused snort came from
behind his masked visage as Zola recalled how well that had worked for Vyasa
last time. This time, however, he would not indulge his foolish brother by
returning. No, he was adamant in his resolve not to return to Abaddon until
this foolishness had finally ended. He would not support a man incapable of
supporting himself. Not with the future of the Blood Lands at stake.


So... Exile.

The Deathscythe retreated to the Grand Temple of Fatale then, to ponder his
options. By rights, he should have been furious, but he felt oddly calm.
He took it as a sign that All was as it should be. This was perhaps part of
Fatale's grand plan, allowing the weak to perish in what was sure to be the
catastrophe to follow. If it meant Abaddon burned, so be it. He would
return and later rebuild from the ashes. It had happened before, after all.
It could happen again.


But now, at the very least, Zola no longer had any need to hold himself back
for the sake of others. He was done restraining himself for the sake of
Vyasa, Sierus, or Catroina. Done with his false shows of humility and
respect to those who had done nothing to earn it. He was unchained,
unfettered, and unleashed. Algoron would come to fear his name again, as
they had once before.


Idly he glanced at his wrist, noting the puresilver manacle still there, all
but forged into his flesh. Though it still burned and steamed, he had long
since forgotten the pain. It had become a part from him. Forged of the
purest silver, blessed by the Elder Arreana, consecrated by goodness, it was
a self-inflicted punishment he'd willingly endured as penance for his sins,
unwilling to let it be removed until his punishment was concluded. Or else
risking being buried with it when it came time to return to the grave
permanently.


Yet now...

Struck by a whim, he reached down, dug in his hand, and ripped the metal off
as if it was tin, tossing it aside. It clattered against the ground, the
holy aura fading as he held up his blackened and broken wrist, and watched
as the bones and flesh re-knit in mere moments. Flexing the fingers of his
left hand, he felt whole again. And indeed, even stronger than before.


Yes, he decided. A sign that was All was as it should be.




Writer: Lilya

Date Sat Jan 6 19:19:35 2018




Writer: Khare

Date Sun Jan 7 18:44:14 2018




Writer: Tamaska

Date Sun Jan 7 23:06:17 2018

To Rasavadi Eclipse Verminasia All Necrucifer Cayenna Imm Rp

Subject The river flows, darkness rises.



Following the bat hadn't truly been needed, Tamaska could easily replace
the flask but once her irritation had worn off her curiosity had taken over.
So she continued to follow the bat, watching it struggle with the flask had
become quite amusing. She could have tried to coax the bat down on the
agreement that she'd still follow if it returned the flask but the trip was
otherwise boring and the bat had it coming.

In order to maintain a height that was out of Tam's reach, the bat couldn't
fly as fast as normal so the trip was not overly difficult. So instead her
mind wandered a lot. The letter had said it was time to join her family.
It had never been a secret to Tam that there were others though she did not
know details about any of them. She had simply been told that someday she'd
be needed but until then her training was her only focus.

The ship they rode, well mostly Tamaska rode and the bat used it as a chance
to rest its wings, was fairly quiet despite the crew members moving about.
The rocking of the ship lulled her into an almost sleep like daze until she
was lost in it. The sea and ship shifted to lands that were unfamiliar to
her. There were figures around her though she could not see them clearly
but she could smell blood, the air was thick with it.

This was not unfamiliar to Tamaska, many times over the years she had
experienced visions, both in dreams and waking moments. They were often
somewhat different and yet somewhat the same. One thing that was present in
every one was the strong smell of blood, it surrounded Tam and drowned out
everything else. She would hear the sound of a river, see the clear water.
Then the streaks of red would appear and they would grow larger, the color
darker until the river was that of blood flowing. The light in the vision
would start to fade, like that of an eclipse. It would slowly fade from
sight until All was dark.

The sound of the port master snapped Tamaska back to the present moment and
her eyes quickly found the bat again. She clenched a fist and flexed both
it and her arm, causing the muscles underneath a patch of furless skin to
ripple. The words 'Flumina facti sanguis' were carved into the furless
section of her arm, her eyes briefly found the words but there was not time
to linger for now. The bat had taken flight again and she was once again
following.

Watching the bat struggle and chitter had not yet lost its amusement but Tam
still watched her surroundings closely due to the unfamiliarity. They seem
to be heading in the direction of what appeared to be the ruins of a keep.
As they got closer Tamaska thought she could make out a figure and obviously
the bat could as well. It started to chitter louder and pick up speed,
though not much as it was obviously exhausted.

Do bats curse? This one certainly seemed to be as it tried like hell to
gain altitude. Tamaska had stopped walking and was merely enjoying the site
of this apparently angry bat flapping its wings as hard as it could towards
what appeared to be another yinn. But... Where was his fur? That was but
a fleeting thought which was quickly forgotten as the bat dropped the flask
above the figure. The site of the liquid raining down on the yinn and the
flask breaking on his head, combined with the cursing was the best thing she
had seen in months.

She roared with laughter as she doubled over. The site of the bat also
laughing sent her to her knees. She just might let the bat live after all.
It had spunk and she liked that. When she could finally pick herself up off
the ground, she stood up, wiped the tears from her eyes and made her way
closer to the ruins. The furless yinn was still ranting about the smell
when Tam approached and leaned against a section of a still intact wall.

'That happens to be some of my better stuff but you are supposed to drink
it... Not wear it. It's strong... But not strong enough to regrow your
fur.. ' Tamaska could barely get the statement out with a straight face.




Writer: Jonathen

Date Mon Jan 8 10:25:22 2018

To All Abaddon

Subject Down in the Swamp



Sat around, wondering, staving off sobriety. It's a decent enough time
of year. Humidity don't quite get ya till ya take a good ten steps 'sted of
one out the door.

No mosquitoes. Praise sweet baby Fatale.

Starting running out of excuses to not do anything.

Figured no one would mind, so I grabbed my chisel. Without the little
winged bloodsuckers I aught be able to focus. Had one of the kids haul up
some stone from the shed at the Mansion.

Screw it, just drop it in the middle of the road. Right next to that pretty
fountain on Good Intensions. Couple hours passed. It was a good start, and
a good time to stop. I almost broke a sweat.

Next few days, just kept chipping away. Things started to take shape.
Chisel held up, managed not to hammer any fingers, never thought I'd suit
the nick name stubby.

Got it done pretty quick, considering the scale, I mean, it's a fairly large
alligator. Looked pretty good, too. Plus, it made fun of Mercerion, always
a good bonus.

Hell, I can't leave my new gator friend thirsty. Gave him a little mug of
beer in one of his claws. Perfect.

Hm... Hope my chair didn't float away in the Fall while I were gone...




Writer: Nymaya

Date Fri Jan 12 01:33:05 2018




Writer: Tigly

Date Sat Jan 13 10:46:36 2018




Writer: Stevron

Date Mon Jan 15 18:47:26 2018




Writer: Stevron

Date Mon Jan 15 18:51:36 2018




Writer: Stevron
Date Mon Jan 15 18:53:56 2018




Writer: Rasavadi
Date Tue Jan 16 08:44:29 2018

To All Conclave Xenophon Kyri Imm RP

Subject Aftermath



Rasavadi quietly paced the hallway of the holding cells. The sleeping
form of the apprentice Zedlar shifted from twitches and wimpers of
nightmares to sighs and smiles.

An apprentice tried to kill his teacher. Not exactly uncommon in the black
robes. The "Archmagister" had it coming. He was obviously an abusive,
narcissist, and suspected heretic. Zedlar would have to be put to the
question it seemed. There were questions that needed to be answered, and
the condition of the common areas was deteriorating despite Stevron's best
attempts to locate the remaining element of Morcendu.

Rasavadi ascended the Ebony stepping into the portal to the Common tower,
and entered the laboratory. Toxvah chittered away nervously. "Worry not
little one, I have not come to return you.
" He reassured the little black
bat that had been his companion since shortly after he had been abducted by
the Aspects of Sin.

Looking around Rasavadi saw seemingly hordes of transmuters, and their
apprentices, studying samples of slime and the chronologue. There were no
tables available as the magi performed their work. Normally Rasavadi would
of been content to study elsewhere, or simply meditate on his future,
somewhere else, but not today. Standing behind a small, mixed robe group at
one of the larger tables Rasavadi growled, "Move. " The black robes ran off
without even looking, the red robed Archmagus and white robes however did
not. They stood, yammering in protest. "This was not a recommendation,
move or I will pitch you out a window,
" he roared, slamming his polearm
hard enough on the deck that he cracked a tile and they scurried.

Sitting at the table, Rasavadi pulled a roiling flask of neon green slime,
and a piece of amber with some sort of larvae in it he had just found in the
vault room amongst some new carnage of books and slime.

"Guess it's time to figure out what is coming to eat us this time..." He
muttered to himself.




Writer: Rasavadi

Date Sat Jan 20 16:49:04 2018




Writer: Desidaryldun

Date Sat Jan 20 21:18:47 2018




Writer: Desidaryldun
Date Sat Jan 20 21:21:32 2018




Writer: Desidaryldun
Date Sat Jan 20 21:23:14 2018




Writer: Renna
Date Sun Jan 21 17:27:11 2018




Writer: Renna
Date Sun Jan 21 17:33:28 2018



 


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