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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

X Waking the Dead X
X Waking the Dead (II) X
Raising Hell: Enter Fairburrow I
Raising Hell: Enter Fairburrow II
A Mournful Mate
Raising Hell: The Tavern I
Raising Hell: The Tavern II
Raising Hell: Recruitment I
Leaving the Desert for Home
End of the Road
Raising Hell: Recruiting II
Simple magic
Patrol, Prayer, and Meditation
Raising Hell: Barfight I
Raising Hell: Barfight II
What Happened Last Night
past and present. - part 1
past and present. - part 2
Before the State of the Mart Address (Vol. 6, 2015)
Time Alone
An Unseen Presence
Sole Shadowblade
A Red Dragon
Going Black
Sweatin' to the Oldies I
Changes
A reckoning?
Sweatin' to the Oldies II
Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2, Part One)
Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Two)
Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Three)
A Long Path Home
Sweatin' to the Oldies III
The Crown of Anguish (1)
Raising Hell: Barfight III
Sweatin' to the Oldies IV
|Molding an Empire|
A Gnome in the Darkness
A Prayer of Carnage
|Molding an Empire II|
The new Thane
| The Crucible of an Empire I |
| The Crucible of an Empire II |
Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Four)
Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Five)
End of the road (Part 1)
The Throne built into the Stone
The Gnomish Solution
A Murderous Rage
|Molding an Empire|
The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 1/2]
The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 2/2]
Dahakon's Vanity
A Sacrifice of Blood
A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Two
The testing of a knight
The testing of a knight
The testing of a knight (part 3)
Symphony of Sorrows
A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Three
A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Four
Fighting Back part 3
Fighting Back part 4
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part One
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Two
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Three
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Four
Fighting Back part 5
Conviction of Faith
-The Shadoweaver-
Sebatis' Gift
A Study in the Necromantic Arts
Sebatis' Gift : Part 2 : The Searchening
Sebatis' Gift : Part 3 : The Priesterly Meeting
The Art of Killing
A Time of Meditation
Work to be done
Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)
Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)
Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)
Iagothal: A New Menace (4/4)
X Dark Virtue - Creativity X
X Dark Virtue - Preparation X
X Dark Virtue - Acceptance X
X Dark Virtue - Patience X
A Sacrifice of Blood - A Slow Recovery
Seeking Demons
A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part One)
A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part Two)
Seeking Demons part 2
Seeking Demons part 3
Seeking Demons part 4
Ulrog's KILLING rage
Entering the Fight





Writer: Brawnwyn
Date Tue Dec 23 23:18:56 2014




Writer: Zola
Date Fri Dec 26 17:06:11 2014




Writer: Zola
Date Fri Dec 26 17:15:58 2014

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Immortals Fatale Ferg

Subject X Waking the Dead X


Dark, chill and musty, the dark tunnels of Bloodlusts infamous Dungeon
were meant to intimidate and shadow activity within. In this particular
hallway, a lone candle was lit, illuminating the kneeling priest and the
statue of his God above him. The Lord of Murder, Fatale.

For the longest time, during his evening prayers, he was alone. It was only
towards the end of them that another presence joined the priest in the hall
before the statue, moving so silently he almost seemed to step right out of
the shadows.

"Zola?"

At least he had waited until Zola's prayers had finished. Head bowed before
the statue of Fatale, the dark priest rose to his feet and turned his
soulless gaze on the other. It was Ferg, one of
the Blood Ragers. A strong
ally, but not one of the faithful... And this was, Zola sensed, no mere
request for aid in the field of battle. Something else was at work here.

"What can I do for you, Ferg?" Zola rasped.

"I want to learn more about Fatale," Ferg replied.

They spoke at length on a great many topics, about faith, about purpose,
about destiny. The Blood Rager spoke of a powerful discontentment with
Raijes teachings and his followers. How everything in life had started to
feel... hollow.

And Zola realized with that word exactly what had happened. He knew of
these. Members of His Church had occasionally referred to them as the
walking dead. Those going through the motions in life, unable to properly
enjoy it, unable to find proper purpose. They just fought and killed but
they had no true appreciation for what that meant. They were the walking
dead waiting to be put out of their misery. Either killed by a
true
believer... or woken.

"Enough of this, " the masked priest declared. "You know the truth as well
as I do. Your heart and soul scream for proper death. For pain, for fear,
for blood. You do not need me to tell you what you already know.
"

He gestured to one of the unlit braziers, and a blaze of hellfire lit up the
bronze bowl. Eerie red light cast darker shadows along the walls of the
Dark Tunnel.

"Cast off the lie, and embrace His divine truth," Zola said, indicating the
burning brazier.

The great beast reached up and grasped the medallion around his neck. The
one he'd worn since he was young, blindly swallowing the lies of Raije, the
hollow victories and pointless battles. He took it off, and cast it into
the flames. He needed it no longer.

"How do you feel?" asked the Deacon, watching him with a soulless gaze.

The savage Ferg thoughtfully considered a moment before replying "More alive
than ever," with a toothy grin.

Behind his ever-present mask, Zola grinned with savage joy. Another one had
seen the truth and joined the ranks of Fatales faithful. Another had been
awoken. He knelt down and began to offer up his prayers to Lord Fatale
for
helping another see the truth.





Writer: Zola

Date Fri Dec 26 17:41:24 2014

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Immortals Fatale Ferg

Subject X Waking the Dead (II) X


Many thought incorrectly that to be a truly faithful follower of Fatale,
one had to be miserable, to hate life with a passion, even their own.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Fatalites recognized that All life
ended, and so they sought to make their own meaningful.

And Ferg went on to do just that.

Within days his zeal had gone into overdrive, he often had to bodily pulled
from the field of battle, his blades soaked in blood, his enemies dying in
agony. This did not go unnoticed by great Warlord of the Dungeon. Azheri
brought Ferg into his inner circle of leadership, making him an Overlord of
Bloodlust. A truly auspicious occasion.

The following evening found Zola deep in prayer again, as he had for many
previous nights and would for many to come. Though a great change had been
wrought for Ferg, the priest who had guided him had yet more work to do of
his own. They All did, All of Fatale's faithful had a part to play. So
many more to kill, so many more to enlighten. As Zola stared into the
single flickering flame of his lit candle, he saw past and through it,
recieving a vision of a great, blazing inferno. Washing over Algoron,
burning cities, beasts, people. It seemed now to blaze just a little bit
mightier than before. A little bit brighter, a little bit hotter.

And it was glorious to behold.




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Dec 27 23:45:43 2014

To Verminasia All Marcaus

Subject Raising Hell: Enter Fairburrow I


Ashbie swung herself up and over the railing of a small ship named the
Spirit of Rage. Her own personal vessel, it was a tiny ship, insignificant
to the great galleys of the kingdoms, but useful enough for her purposes.
Taking a length of rope trailing from the ship, she moored it to a dock,
giving the knot a firm tug to test its security. Satisfied, Ashbie began to
walk towards the capital of Camaraenaus. It was a simple, small city, no
more than a town truly, but it was growing and thriving under the leadership
of her parents.

It was an odd thing in truth. While her father was an Admiral and her
mother was a Captain, they both preferred a more laid-back approach to
leadership that would have seemed at ill-odds with what Camaraenaus had
clearly needed when they arrived. Yet, somehow, they made it work. Much of
the day to day work was now seen over by her twin brother, Randal, who had
retired from the city to a quiet life managing the family's holdings as
steward.

Ashbie couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of her
brother. They had been inseparable when they were younger, but Ashbie had
constantly abandoned him as soon as her teenage years rolled in -- and that
particular ship never seemed to dock for long. Their correspondence of late
had also fallen apart so that Ashbie wasn't even sure what her twin was
thinking or doing. Their connection was almost completely severed. She
couldn't help but wonder what her reception would be at the manor.
Lukewarm? Was her brother eager to see her again? Ashbie had sent a missive
in advance of her arrival to announce her coming, but she hadn't waited for
a response.

Indigo was the first thing that struck Ashbie as she took in the small
city-town from the dock. Fields of indigo pushed right up against the
river and continued, almost swallowing Fairburrow in their entirety. Only
the few, visible ostrich farms on the outskirts managed to break up the
vibrant hue. Ashbie found it quite lovely, she stood there for some time
simply staring at it, trying to remember the murky, muddy backwater town
she had first set eyes on.

"Erm, ma'am?" A voice spoke up, quietly, almost as if afraid of what her
response to its interruption might be.

Ashbie turned her gaze away from Fairburrow and looked down at a mousy man
with a mess of curly brown hair atop his head and a pair of large bifocals
perched on a bulbous nose that complemented his round face. She immediately
recognized the man as Ruthers, one of the few merchants to call Fairburrow
home. She knew him because she laundered pirated goods through him to
provide the illusion of legitimacy when selling in markets like Arkane.

"Yes?" Ashbie asked, glancing sidelong at Ruthers as her gaze returned, in
part, to the capital.

Ruthers pointed to two lads behind him, both taller by a head or so, though
still smaller than Ashbie by a couple inches. "I've got these two young
gents to take your things to the manor, if you're ready."




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Dec 27 23:47:31 2014

To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal

Subject Raising Hell: Enter Fairburrow II


Ashbie eyed the two young teenagers, who both had their gazes carefully
averted from her. She pursed her lips. "I'm not that hideous, am I?" A
grin twisted across her features.

Slowly, the two young men lifted their gazes to look up at her. The one
with sandy hair almost immediately caught on the scar on her forehead. She
could FEEL his gaze as it slid up to the disfiguring mark and a shiver
passed through her. Ashbie felt a pang of regret for drawing attention to
herself, but it passed quickly. Nevertheless, she lifted a hand to draw
some of her bangs over the mark, but her hair was tied neatly behind her
head and she had nothing to cover the mark with. A fire burned in her,
reminded her of the purpose of the mark and she fought to keep still.

"Names?" Ashbie asked after a long, uncomfortable moment. Both of the
teenagers were staring now.

"Todd and San, as you like it, ma'am." Ruthers supplied, glancing back
at Todd and San in turn. Todd was the taller of the two by barely an inch
and had short, thick sandy hair. San had a slightly stockier build with
close-cropped brown hair and a set of dark eyes to match. Both boys
couldn't seem to stop staring. Todd, at least, had the good grace to move
his gaze away from the scar -- but had landed considerably lower. Even in
the modest leathers of her armor, her chest cut a striking profile and drew
plenty of attention. Ashbie turned slightly, and, as if a spell had been
broken, both teenagers averted their gazes once more, blushing vividly. The
moment earned a smile from Ashbie.

Even with the unsightly scar, she could still draw stares. Even if they
happened to be from hormonal teenage boys. A slight frown tugged at her
lips at that realization.

"Shall we take your things then?" Ruthers asked after a long pause.

"Fine, yes." Ashbie waved a hand dismissively, tilting back her chin and
masking her frown behind a look of indifference. She had no desire to
show her insecurity. "However, I will be about Fairburrow for some time.
Don't wait for me."

Then, allowing her gaze to fall back to Todd and San for a moment, Ashbie
flashed one of her more winsome smiles and pressed a coin into their hands,
"Try not to drop any of it. It's quite heavy."

With that, she walked by the boys, not sparing a backward glance to see
their reactions. Ahead lay Fairburrow and her mission. She could not return
to Verminasia empty-handed. She had a plan, now it was time to put it into
action.




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sun Dec 28 19:52:48 2014




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sun Dec 28 19:53:43 2014




Writer: Cailene

Date Mon Dec 29 09:07:07 2014

To All IMM RP

Subject A Mournful Mate



Cailene walked the old pridelands searching for her beloved mate
Carradinn. She walked many miles observing how sparce the prides had become
and how small the prides were. She searched for months as she started to
lose hope in finding him alive.

She continued to walk through Tropica, hunting for her food and stopping at
the nearby watering holes to drink. She had come across familiar grounds.
It had been many years since she had been to her own pridelands but she
remembered them well. She walked the old lands as the memories of good
times filled her mind.

Cailene walked about as she spent the time reminising of the good days as a
cub as she walked down to the stream bed. She took a long drink from the
stream and continued up the stream as she came across a wemic laying aside
the stream. She went to go see if she could help him in any way, but as she
moved nearer she could see no movement at all.

As she grew closer, she walked around the body but his face was concealed.
Then she saw it and her heart dropped. The cloak was the cloak she had
given him, for on the right side of the chest, was the symbol of the
Darkmoon crest she had especially made just for him.

Cailene dropped to her knees and lay across him, sobbing with no control.
Now she truly was alone. After a few hours, she took on the task of burying
her own as the ways of her people. After, what seemed like days, she was
done. She found a large stone to place at his head so she would never
forget where she laid him to enternal rest.

She stayed there a few days mourning her beloved mate but the time had come
to return. Although she did not want to leave her mate, he was no longer
her mate, he was with the ancestors now. So she stood up and headed back to
Althainia what is now her home.





Writer: Amex

Date Mon Dec 29 09:18:28 2014




Writer: Ashbie
Date Mon Dec 29 23:13:19 2014

To Verminasia All Marcaus Rikam Claudette Randal

Subject Raising Hell: The Tavern I


Ashbie pushed open the door and slipped into the dusty bar of the Tavern.
It's name was wholly uninspired, literally being named "the Tavern", but,
her mother hadn't wanted to change what she had felt was a familiar town
landmark to the people. Ashbie was well-acquainted with her mother's knack
for naming things. That "the Tavern" hadn't been renamed was a bit of a
surprise, but, at this point, the name sort of stuck in her memory. It
would have been stranger if it was changed.

The Tavern wasn't much, which made it perfect. The few tables it had were
full. The ale was cheap, but plentiful, and the bartender did keep a some
good liquor around if you knew how to ask for it. If one was interested in
gossip, they'd find their fill. There weren't many local hangouts in
Fairburrow, the Tavern held the monopoly on that market. It also made it
the perfect place for what Ashbie wanted to do.

Fortunately, no one seemed to recognize her as she slipped in. She earned
a few stares from regulars, trying to figure out who she was, but none of
them did. The people of Camaraenaus were friendly folk though, and no one
seemed troubled by her presence. Ashbie sauntered up to the bar. She
figured it didn't hurt to use what assets she had to get attention.
Anything and everything could be a tool in the proper situation.

Ashbie had applied some makeup just before entering. Not much, only enough
to highlight her features and, temporarily, to hide her scar. As much as
the scar hurt her vanity, she was strangely proud of it. She hoped that one
day Mencius would see fit to remove it, a sign of his acceptance of her as
truly one of His own. However, she hadn't hid the scar once since she had
received it.

Which was why she hid it now.

It would have given her away immediately to walk in with that scar so
glaringly on her forehead. She needed the element of surprise on her side
for this to work. It seemed that her saunter was working too. More of the
patrons were looking her way now. Yet, for the moment, the crowd in the bar
continued as they were. Ashbie settled down on a stool, planting one foot
against one of the support bars and the other firmly on the floor. Her heel
clicked against the wood, making a distinct thud sound.

"Bartender." She called out, lifting a hand.

After a few moments the familiar, roughly shaven face of the stereotypically
plump bartender appeared in front of her, "What can I get ya, lass?"

Ashbie slipped a pouch across the counter to the man and grinned, "Drinks
for everyone on the house -- and some of that whiskey you have stored in
the basement just for me."

Recognition showed across the bartender's face, but Ashbie lifted a finger
to his lips and the man nodded. "You can tell them the nice lady that just
walked in paid for a round. Don't need to tell them who I am." Ashbie
lowered her voice at the last, not wanting to be overheard.

The bartender gave a discrete nod then disappeared into the back. Ashbie
leaned back in her stool and gave a look around the bar. A number of the
patrons gave her intermittent glances, though no one had approached her
yet.

That was fine by Ashbie. She took her time examining the men. Some were
quickly discounted: too sick or too old to offer much. Others were clearly
out of shape or so rail-thin that Ashbie was afraid they might break. It
quickly became apparent that she'd have to lower her standards a bit. She
mentally adjusted, reminding herself, 'none of these men are warriors...
yet.'




Writer: Ashbie
Date Mon Dec 29 23:14:53 2014

To Verminasia All Marcaus Rikam Claudette Randal

Subject Raising Hell: The Tavern II


Still. Part of why Ashbie had come to Camaraenaus had been to find a group
of capable of men or women to become Knights. Not just mere soldiers, but
truly thoroughbred warriors, capable of leading charges on the fields of
battle. She also needed to find someone who could help her as a Lieutenant
in the Royal Army. They'd have to work their way up, same as anyone else.
Ashbie herself had put in her time at the Navy and as a Royal Sworn.

She could have looked anywhere, but she felt an insistent tug that drew her
back to her parents' land. Camaraenaus may have been a bit backwater, but
the people were stalwart and it felt like home. There was laughter all
around as people chatted and gossiped. The air was alive with spirits and
the smell of people. It wasn't a particularly pleasant smell, but that was
what made it perfect. It was the smell of soil and sweat, some blood, and
maybe some tears in there too. It was an honest smell, as true as the earth
itself.

Of course, her papa liked to remind her that lies were often just as good
as the truth.

The bartender returned with a bottle of Ashbie's favorite whiskey and a
tumbler to boot. He poured her a glass, then began to gather empty mugs
and his barmaid. Serving a round of ale to every person in the Tavern was
not as simple of a feat as one might assume in such a small place. There
were still quite a lot of folk in it, and only so many mugs to go around
when almost everyone had one already. With only the two, it was an even
taller task.

Ashbie watched in amusement as the two of them worked in tandem in what
amounted to a boistrous, oddly choreographed dance of pouring ale and
staging platters for the beverage to go out on. Table after table got a
surprise round of beer and slowly, steadily, the entire tavern grew quiet
as more and more of its patrons became aware of what was going on.

Once, when Ashbie was spending a lot of time in Haven, she had returned
after a particularly successful voyage. Drunk on luck and quite a bit of
rum, she had put on an impromptu festival in the streets of the Pirate town
that lasted nearly a week. She'd never remembered how she'd managed to fund
it all. Perhaps others, enjoying the celebrations, had pitched in. Either
way, she'd set off a spark, a spark that became a flame, and it had been a
blessed, cherished memory. This moment was shaping up to be the same.

However, it was happening quite differently. The laughter was dying down.
The life in the room was becoming still, taut, tense, like a string drawn
on a bow, ready to be fired. It was glorious and beautiful for so many
reasons, none of them even close to the same as the festival. It was an
altogether different beauty. It was the slow ballad rather than the lively
jig.

The last table received their drinks, then everyone turned their attention
to the bartender. Ashbie fleetingly wondered if anyone had bought a round
for the entire bar before. The man looked nervous. He was sweating All over
his ruddy features. However, he cleared his throat, stood to his full height
of just under six feet, and spoke.

"Evening all." He said loudly. There were some murmured responses from the
bar, but it remained mostly silent.

"This fine lass over here," The bartender gestured to Ashbie, and, as one,
the entire bar seemed to shift their gazes in her direction. In spite of
herself, Ashbie felt a little bit of heat flush up through her. "This fine
lass wanted to buy a round of drinks for you all." There was a pregnant
silence, then, "Not sure why, you're a right sorry lot, but you have her
to thank, not me." There were some chuckles at the joke, then silence.

All at once the crowd roared. The murmur that had been present the entire
night, that was conspicuously absent only moments before, returned. Now,
however, some were approaching her.




Writer: Ashbie
Date Tue Dec 30 21:18:57 2014

To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal

Subject Raising Hell: Recruitment I


"Ain't seen ya around before. What brings ya to Camaraenaus?"

"Thanks for the drink, lass. Right fine o' ya."

"Can I shake your hand? What's yer name?"

Ashbie simply grinned, smiling, taking each well-wishing bar patron in
turn, or in groups as they presented themselves. This was her element, her
place to shine. It was a flaw and a strength that Ashbie loved being the
center of attention. She'd come to that realization recently. Sometimes
she was like an addict, seeking another hit of a drug that would drive her
into the ground if she wasn't careful. Nevertheless, her charms and good
looks, and the way she thrived on the attention of others made her a
natural hand at creating a scene out of nothing.

A scene was precisely what she needed to conquer her task of recruiting.

Most of her new admirers seemed to be men, though there were some women in
the crowd, and a couple that came up to introduce themselves. Ashbie kept
mostly silent through it all, promising that she would speak later, simply
shaking hands and receiving thanks rather than divulging who she was and
why she was there.

It was enough to simply revel in the moment. She took in the gratitude,
the noise, and the surrounding atmosphere like a sponge soaks in water.
Yet, there was no such thing as oversaturation with her. Ashbie realized
that she would be content to sit in her chair forever, an endless line of
well-wishers and admirers approaching her, waiting to meet her, wanting to
share their thanks.

Ashbie pictured herself seated on a throne. She was garbed in a fine dress.
Not too heavy, she wanted to be comfortable as well as attractive, but the
dress was a lovely shade of red with black trim and complemented her toned
figure. She had one leg crossed over the other as men and women came to
approach her dais and bow -- or curtsy -- to her, to pay Ashbie her dues.

Incense filled the air, a delicious scent of lavender that tickled her nose
and tongue. It was playful, ethereal, perfectly indistinct. She could see
purple floating in the air, dancing in her vision as if it were the scent
of lavender given life and vision and wholeness in the world. Then the
vision faded and Ashbie was back in the dingy, hole-in-the-wall bar.

It was time.

Ashbie climbed up on her stool. The chair stumbled tenuously beneath her,
threatening to spill over, but if there was anything Ashbie was talented
at, it was her physical gifts. She had a natural attunement with her
balance, enhanced by a lifetime on ships and in fights where she had to
win by quickness over strength.

The simple action was nevertheless quite noticeable and the bar quickly
quieted down. The crowd seemed to mostly recognize the woman that had
purchased them a round. If she waited too long, it would have easily been
forgotten in the revels of the eve.

"Evening, All of ya." Ashbie said, her half-drunk glass of whiskey in one
hand. She did her best to present as slightly tipsy, it wouldn't do to
appear as sober as she felt in a room that had a definite buzz going
through it.

"I know ya All want to keep drinking and enjoying yourselves. I don't
want to take too much of your time, but I do have something to say if
ya will listen." Ashbie grinned, putting on her best winsome smile.

A long silence followed. Ashbie swore that she would have been able to
hear crickets if there had been any to hear. Finally, a voice shouted out
"hear, hear!"

Then, "Speech! Go on, lass!"

Soon the entire bar was alive with clamor for her to speak, so loud was the
ensuing din that Ashbie had to wait for it All to die down. She rewarded
everyone with a smile that truly lit up her features, her best smile, the
perfect complement to her face.

"Right then, speech." Ashbie gave a wink, then she began.




Writer: Ashbie
Date Tue Dec 30 23:23:15 2014




Writer: Marcaus
Date Wed Dec 31 05:50:01 2014




Writer: Cassioppia
Date Wed Dec 31 08:59:18 2014

To All IMM RP

Subject Leaving the Desert for Home



Cassioppia arrived in New Thalos not knowing this would be her last walk
in the Desert Jewel. She walked the normal roads and entered her office to
check the parchments piled up on her desk. One by one she went through the
stack as she read through each one with concern and interest. She had seen
no sign of the Sultan for some days now and did not know when she would see
him next.

Someone contacted her telepathically, it was her husband. He greeted her
and she greeted him and asked where he was to which he ansewered in the
Highlands. She asked if she could join him and he agreed she should. Her
way to Nordmaar was quite scenic and she enjoyed the sight of the rams on
the mountains. So many beautiful things to see that she had missed out on
living in the jewel. Her hand went to the locket as she thought of her
parents who passed when the plague broke out when she was a child. She held
on to the locket as she entered the gates and made her way to the Black
Rose. The Rose was quite busy for a change and she joined her husband
Mezlak and All who were gathered as they conversed and drank ale.

As things started to wind down, Mezlak was the first to go rest, the Queen
and King were about to go to rest when Cassioppia asked the King if he could
spare a few more minutes. Everyone else took there leave, along with the
Queen, and they sat down to speak. They had already spoken with Mezlak and
her while he was in attendance but now it was a heart to heart with the
King.

Cassioppia spoke to the king about things that happened in her life, how her
parents had died from the plague in the Highlands many years ago and had
left her in Arkane as a wee child. How she managed to survive and make her
way to the desert and worked her way to the position she held. She told him
of her plans to return home had been at a standstill and how she worried her
husband would not be accepted in the Highlands. The king was impressed with
her accomplishments and spoke to her the truth of the situation.

Once the king finished, she realized what she had done to herself. How she
had lost All this time away from her true home where her parents would have
wished her to be. She asked the king if she could come home the king smiled
at her and welcomed her home.





Writer: Reagan
Date Wed Dec 31 21:09:27 2014




Writer: Cassioppia
Date Thu Jan 1 09:50:30 2015

To All IMM RP Cliath

Subject End of the Road



Cassioppia sat in the Black Rose drowning her sorrows with pale ale. She
had been doing this since her shunning and divorce from Mezlak. After some
time, he walked in the door and sat down wanting to talk to her. She sat
their seriousy and nodded to him. She continued to drink as he spoke. He
asked if he would stop his challenge if she would take him back. She looked
at him seriously and gave him the honest answer of she was not sure.

Cassioppia listened to him as he continued to speak and she continued to
listen as the topic of his challenge finally came up. She told him of how
she moved back home with the hopes that he would finally open his eyes and
give up on his senseless challenge with the marauders and join her. He
looked at her and ansered with what she sadly knew he would say. He said he
could not give up on this challenge he was given and he must continue on
with what he was assigned. She looked at him and stood up. Her dicision to
divorce was proven. She looked down at him with anger ant told him to have
a good challenge and a good life and walked out.

She left the Black Rose with her pride intact and satisfied with the
decisions she had made.





Writer: Ashbie
Date Thu Jan 1 21:51:35 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal

Subject Raising Hell: Recruiting II


"When people think of Verminasia, who thinks of Camaraenaus?" Ashbie turned
her gaze, watching the crowd. It was important to gauge the reaction of her
listeners. A good speech was not rote, it was shaped and formed like a work
of art. A vision of how it should appear in the end was important, but it
changed and evolved as it was made. It was perfect because it was
imperfect, because the end result was adapted rather than forced.

The crowd was still uncertain, a bit confused, but they'd imbibed enough
that they were willing to go along with it.

"Just a backwater nowhere that don't concern anyone." Ashbie said, slipping
into the vernacular that had been so familiar to her in the past. "We're
more than that though, aren't we?"

At the use of 'we', Ashbie earned herself a few more curious glances as
the people in the crowd became markedly more interested in figuring out
'who' she was. Ashbie flashed them a winsome smile.

"Camaraenaus has gone through hard times, no doubt. You've All worked the
skins off your back when the land wouldn't give you none." Ashbie paused,
watching as a few heads began to nod.

"Now you're turning out ostriches and game and indigo dye. You're finally
seeing fruits for your labor." The nodding began to spread through the
crowd.

"But is there enough work for everyone? Might be in time, when demand
increases. When Camaraenaus makes its mark on the map. Until then, what
about the rest of ya?" Ashbie gazed around the room quietly, her face
going still.

The room was silent. Ashbie wondered whether they disagreed, or maybe they
were just thinking. It was no secret that even with the progress that
Camaraenaus was making, there was only so much work. Yet, the faces that
she saw mirrored her own. They were silent and still.

"It's not secret that we've been on the brink of war for some time. It
almost feels it's turned cold, but we always have to be ready. I, for
one, will not stand on the side waiting for something to happen. What
happens to Verminasia will touch Camaraenaus in the end. Will you shape
its destiny or simply watch it go by?" Ashbie let her voice ring out
through the silent bar, fading into the nothingness as she took a pause.

There was a stirring among some of the patrons, but no one spoke. It was
as if someone had a hand to everyone's lips, stopping them from speaking.
Ashbie swallowed, but gave another good-natured grin.

"What's in it for us?" A voice finally broke through the silence from the
back of the bar.

"That depends on ya," Ashbie responded with a wider grin. "Make a name for
yourself and the world is yours for the taking. Mayhaps ya could end up
like my parents."

Ashbie thought about her Papa and Maman for a moment. They'd started out
with nothing, each of them. They'd turned into powerful people, and even
though they were landowners, they hadn't allowed that to change them.

"And who are your parents?" Someone called out. Ashbie couldn't see their
face.

Ashbie considered the question for a long moment. The chair remained firmly
beneath her, but she could feel a slight tremble. Would they listen to her
if they knew who she was? Part of Ashbie told her yes, but another part
told her no. They'd see her as a wealthy noble's daughter. They'd want to
spoil her and enjoy her company, but they wouldn't want to listen to her
about war.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is ya. What will ya make of yourselves?"

"I think- yeah, you look familiar." Another voice rang out, a woman's.

"Yeah! You're right. She's the Baron and Baronness' daughter, ain't she?"
Another voice chimed in. Soon the silence of the bar was completely broken
by the constant stream of muttered chatter.

"Maybe I am, what of it?" Ashbie looked around, her voice quiet.

"You're pulling one over on us."

"I'm not." Ashbie smirked, "Here, I'll show you."




Writer: Ashlen
Date Fri Jan 2 19:37:24 2015




Writer: Ashlen
Date Fri Jan 2 20:43:06 2015

To All Conclave Sebatis Drakkara Kantilles Kyri Atlantos

Subject Simple magic



She nodded and forced a patronizing smile, across at the large, humanoid
figure his endearing, sincere smile was just about enough to turn the
womans' stomach anymore. Today's overjoyed realization?? Well, how long
the sorcerer could manage to fling with childlike gusto and an
overconfidence that must accompany anyone whom isnt really sure... What the
hell is going on around them...? His massive and powerful arms in a rather
mocking display of parrying abilities, the several, clearly smaller men, who
went making an overwhelming offensive to as the last one, flailing All the
while, attempted to drop kick the ogre, whom towered over the masked and
futile act. She couldnt help but to stifle a laugh, and add in retort, a
rather smirky sneer to the flight taken bunch.

This enormous, blunt, yet clearly, a genius of ogre kind had quickly won
over the tower. From his lewd, borderline harassing testosterone driven
banter, to the way he unknowingly dribbled spittle from the corners of his
crude mouth every time he even contemplated eating... Which was constantly?
He had taken several apprentices, and his comprehension and understanding of
field strategy was beyond reproach. Though his magic missiles... Where not
necessarily known to hit on All targets... His large, dull smile shown all
the same, and truly he belonged

He was strong. And she was a woman to admired strength. There were few who
knew her closely, but some whom would recollect the largest towers amassing
which previously had no comparison. Two years it had been sense she joined
the towers, six months she had spent cowering inside of them. The next six,
under the support and brilliant hoof, hand? Of another unlikely friend to
magic, she had quickly found her stride. She had quickly found her place,
her purpose. Those previous six months, they were not hard to sweep under a
rug. There was no one asking, there was no one attending. And night after
night, staring out those cold tower windows, of the empty spire, while the
mutiny of the barren place was falling to her favor, would often wonder,
"What in the hell am I doing here.. " Six months of silence. Of
disrespect. Of humility.

Where And in the next six, the towers became an organization not only taken
seriously, but with All the benefits that come along... Scorn, fear,
admiration, and most importantly, curiosity. And though she rarely chose to
discuss this allowed, a school is rather quite like a business, and without
success, without curiousness direction or interest it cannot be taken
seriously.

She watched in contemplation this magi, whom carried bags of weaponry, and
couldnt cast a spell worth a damn, and nodded her head to herself. It had
been a long year without a guardian, and if anything... Gods knew he was
large enough... Rhaxx...

Where "sebatis. ' She spoke aloud in her room, as she hovered a quill over
suddenly to where she found herself sitting, "large enough y-you think lord?
u-ugly too... " The room filled quietly with her scribbling.. "we a-are
ready for another g-guardian lord. he is s-sweet, he is simple, and
clearly, he i-is as big as a barn, and possibly as dense. we have need o-of
this ogre all the same. we have need, of a hardworking guardian. "

She turned slowly, staring out her window as so many times before, leaning
in as if peeking through it to the red moon. "time to balance, the scales."





Writer: Isabel

Date Sat Jan 3 03:28:16 2015




Writer: Cassioppia

Date Sat Jan 3 13:50:53 2015

To All IMM RP Cliath

Subject Patrol, Prayer, and Meditation



Cassioppia was just finishing patrolling the grounds outside the walls of
the city. She went to the gates and entered them, closing them behind her.
She saluted the guards in greeting as she proceeded down the street. As she
checked the shops she silently meditated to Father Cliath. She walked shop
to shop in silence continueing to meditate along the way. She finally
finished her rounds and headed to the gates once more.

She had finished her meditation as she reached the gates. She once again
saluted the guards and made her way out the gates closing the gates behind
her. She then casually walked through the Merchant District just seeing
what she could find. She spoke to the shopkeeps and they told her All was
well and she continued on her walk until she reached the Temple. She humbly
entered the temple and knelt down before the statue of Father Cliath and
prayed... "Holy Father, I wish to thank you for All you have created and we
have created by your blessed blessed hands. Without you, we could not have
made such precious things that most take for granted. I pray that All will
open there eyes to the beauty of your wonders as my eyes are also opened and
blessed to behold the beautys you set before me. I make this promise to
you, I shall never take you for granted, never take what you have created
for granted, and shall always remain your humble child until the end of my
days. I promise this with All my heart, soul, and being. Amen"
"

Cassioppia stayed there a few minutes with her head bowed and her eyes
closed. A few stray tears running down her cheeks as she new her heart and
will was dedicated to the Holy Father Cliath. She finally stood and wiped
her tears as she looked at the statue and smiled with a renewed joy in her
heart. She left the temple and went on with her days activities.





Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Jan 3 19:03:57 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal

Subject Raising Hell: Barfight I


"Show us what, lass? Come now, ya are a lil deep in your drinks. Let us
take ya back home." One of the men stood up out of his chair and began to
walk over to Ashbie.

She watched him quietly, like a cat monitors its prey. Her muscles were
taut, ready, but she continued to watch. She measured every step on
instinct. There was no conscious thought to it -- it was All training by
now. Four steps. Three steps. Two steps. One step.

Ashbie reached out lazily and snagged the man's arm in her own. He wasn't
prepared for it and, with that element of surprise, she managed to pull the
man up close. He smelled of ale and sweat. He stank of several days
without bathing. Ashbie could see the whites of his eyes, growing around
the smaller brown irises as he began to realize what had just happened.

Then, in the next moment, his eyes were hidden from her as Ashbie swung
the man around and slammed his arm up against his back in a hold. All this
she managed while only bending slightly from her chair -- and she didn't
topple.

"Right then." Ashbie grinned out at the bewildered crowd. She was in a sort
of awkward spot, half bent over while pinning the man's arm to his back.
He struggled a little, but Ashbie bent his arm a little and then pushed
against a pressure point with her free hand simultaneously. The man cried
out and grew still.

"I know ya All think I'm a just a prissy lass, but I'm the Commander of the
Royal Army of Verminasia and I'm going ta be heard." Ashbie's voice was
calm, almost deadly quiet.

The murmuring in the bar died down.

"Alright, I'm a bit bored." Ashbie admitted, "So I have a proposition to
offer ya."

No one responded.

"If any of ya can best me in a fight, I'll give ya a purse of gold, the
rank of Lieutenant in the Army, and ya can carry me back to Castor Manor
and say ya beat me fair and square." Ashbie continued to grin as she began
laying out her terms.

"And if ya beat us, lass?" Someone called out at last.

Ashbie's grin grew. "Well, then ya will have some lumpy heads, the
knowledge that the daughter of the Baron and Baronness beat ya bloody, and
I'll have some new recruits joining up wondering how I did it."

At first, no one responded and Ashbie wondered if her little display had
backfired. She imagined going back to Marcaus empty-handed. Perhaps he
wouldn't have expected any more from her than that. The whole affair had
been Ashbie's idea in the first place.

"Let Anton go, I'll fight you." The source of the remark was a profoundly
deep voice. Ashbie watched as a mountain of a man rose and parted the
crowd as if they were no more than wheat chaff to be blown over by the
slightest of wind.

The man had long, kinky dark brown hair and a shaggy beard. His brow hung
over his eyes, making them seem even darker than usual. Ashbie recognized
him as Big Jon. He was the largest man in the province bar none. He had
been among the many unsuccessful farmers when they arrived, she wasn't
sure what he was doing now. In spite of his formidable appearance, he had
a tendency to be a jolly individual.

"Now, don't take nothing wrong by this, little lass." Big Jon said, his
voice rumbling, "But if a fight's what you want, it's what you'll get. I'm
not going east on you."

Ashbie grinned, "Excellent!" She hopped off of her stool, making the
difference between their heights that much more exaggerated. Ashbie was
a tall woman, she was taller than most men. Yet Big Jon stood easily a head
and a half taller than her -- a normal man's head anyways. Big Jon's head
was certainly larger than most. He had a thick, jutting jaw and a prominent
nose. However, his eyes remained his most striking features.

One had a tendency to underestimate the intelligence of larger men, but not
Ashbie. There was a spark in Big Jon's eyes, a shadow of something that
belied his congenial nature.




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Jan 3 19:04:48 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal

Subject Raising Hell: Barfight II


Somehow the floor around them had widened. The bar patrons had made an
impromptu ring while Ashbie was busy staring her opponent down. Big Jon
was even larger up close, moments before the fight was set to begin. Ashbie
swallowed. She wasn't afraid, yet she knew she had only moments to devise a
strategy before the fight began. Such moments always made her feel alive,
on fire, her pulse racing, her palms sweaty.

"Ready?" Big Jon asked, gazing down at her with hard eyes.

Ashbie grinned a little, "Always."

The first swing could be felt as a rush of air as Ashbie ducked it and
rolled around behind Big Jon. She aimed a vicious kick to the back of his
knee, causing the big man to buckle a little as he turned around. Big Jon
grunted a little, stumbling as he turned. He aimed another jab for her and
Ashbie tilted her head to the side this time, watching as the meaty fist
missed her by less than an inch.

Ashbie took a step back to produce just a bit more distance between herself
and the massive form of her opponent. She took a look up to study his eyes,
one could tell a lot about their adversary just by looking at their eyes.
Yet, Big Jon, though he was no soldier as far as Ashbie knew, had the eyes
of one. His gaze was guarded, fierce, and there was even something slightly
intimidating in them.

The next blow came low and Ashbie only caught it at the last moment. She
took a step back to minimize the impact, but she still felt the force of
Big Jon's blow as he hit his mark. Ashbie exhaled vociferously as she felt
her stomach cave in. It felt like she'd been hit with a boulder instead of
a fist. She swayed for a moment, taking several steps back. His next swing
she side-stepped, but only barely.

When Big Jon swung again, Ashbie saw her chance. Though she was tall, he
was so big that the massive mountain of a man was leaning into his blows to
ensure connection. Ashbie waited, watched and then, when Big Jon wound up
for another blow, she made her move. Like water, she shifted in a slight
feint to the side in order to draw the man's momentum just where she
wanted it. Ashbie hurtled her fist toward Big Jon's throat.

Big Jon took a staggered step back, clutching for his throat. Relentless,
Ashbie reached up with one hand and clung around the back of Big Jon's neck
before swinging herself behind him. The simple motion looked fluid and
simple, but required far more strength than Ashbie had anticipated. Still,
she made a bar with her arm and squeezed. Her free hand clutched to the
wrist of her barred arm in order to reinforce it with extra support.

The struggle was immense.

Ashbie's strength paled in comparison to Big Jon. She was a strong woman,
and yet she felt like a child as he bucked in her hold, trying to throw
her off. Ashbie grimaced and continued to cling as tight as she could.

"Sorry, not meaning anything personal by it, Big Jon." Ashbie managed,
punctuating pauses with grunts. Big Jon only grunted in response.

Big Jon tried to buck her off again and again. Ashbie's long legs went
flying around, sending some of the crowd back several feet, or diving to
the side to avoid her as she swung by. Ashbie bit her lip, then let go of
her arm and hung loosely to the larger man while bringing her other arm
back out for another swing. The impact with Big Jon's throat made an
immediate impact. The large man lurched, then fell forward.

Ashbie lithely leapt of the falling man's back and landed on both feet,
knees bent. Rising slowly, she grinned wide, "So, who's next?"




Writer: Cassioppia

Date Tue Jan 6 06:21:30 2015

To All IMM RP Religion Cliath

Subject What Happened Last Night



Cassioppia awoke thinking she was late for formation. She felt like
the walking dead but hurriedly dressed into her uniform and sprang out the
door. The morning air was crisp and cold but it didn't bother her at all.
She stood in her usual spot and no one was about. She looked over to the
gateguard and he said "Aye lass, wot ye 'ere so earlae?" She looked at him
for a moment then looked at the suns position in the sky. Aye, Oi will jus
wait about fer da othas.
She answered back.

She stood there for quite some time so she chose the time to pray "Holy
Father Cliath, I thank you for another day to worship and learn of You.
Help your children to be driven in your teachings to share your word,
convert those that are on a misteken road, and to love you with All their
heart. I ask this in You Holy Name, Amen

Cassioppia started thinking about the night before, she could not understand
why she could get no sleep last night. She spent a long time dealing with
bear skins and by the time she went to bed she was exhausted. She had
fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow but awoke fifteen minutes
later disoriented, thinking it was time to get up. She laid back down and
slowly fell asleep again, but nightmares plagued her and she tossed and
turned until six and could not sleep any longer.

She was off for the morning rounds.





Writer: Kiligar

Date Tue Jan 6 17:41:28 2015

To All Shadow Imm RP Necrucifer

Subject past and present. - part 1



He sat there alone in the library surrounded by what seemed to be,
mountains of books. He had told Abram he would read them all, as
instructed. But that was not to be...

Kiligar picks up the first volume within reach and skimming through quickly,
he already knows the knowledge contained within. This turns out to be the
case of almost every book he can find, most on mundane magics and the uses
they can provide in combat and in daily life as well.

That is when something catches Kiligar's eye, a black leather book with no
markings, save for the symbol of God upon it. Kiligar opens the book to the
first page, and begins to read. And he finds Something new! It has been so
long since something new has been brought to his attention, and he is
thrilled and just a bit anxious. He reads through the night about gourds
and familiars, of possesson and many other things forbidden. His mind is
set. A Warlock. That is what he shall become! Something new! Something
given to him by God. For in the book there was a passage, one that struck
home in Kiligar.

"Believe not the lies of Drakkara, she holds no sway where witches and
warlocks powers are concerned. Necrucifer himself has bestowed us this
gift, those that choose his path shall revel in his power. Submit or die."
- Unknown Author.

Kiligar closes his eyes for just a moment, but that is All it takes. Memory
of his childhood floods Kiligar's mind.

-=10 Years Earlier=-

Kiligar opens his eyes slowly taking in the dark room around him, incoherent
mutters draw him from his inner place. He does not try to move for he
already knows it would be a fruitless effort, he is bound to the table he
lay upon with thick leather straps. Nothing new. Suddenly and without
warning he is struck, the blow is not one of force but of precision. The
dull pain he feels is gone within seconds as his limb goes numb, his left
shoulder and arm no longer funciton. "She still loves me, otherwise she
would make me feel more of it.
" Kiligar thinks to himself as the second
strike hits home, his waist and right leg begin to go numb as well.

Kiligar remains aware of his situation, into the darkness he says "It has
been almost three days since I have eaten anything. I'm hungry, mother.
"
Shuffling from the corner of the room gives her away. A lantern is turned
up slightly, giving the room just enough light to see in. She moves like
fluid so close now, he can smell the alcohol on her. Again he pleads with
her for food "Mother please, I'm hungry. " She leans in close and he sees
her face for the first time in days, something is different and he notices
right away. It's her eyes that gives it away, she does not see him anymore.
She has always been cruel and never once showed love, but never before had
she just left him to rot. She needed him, she fed on him after all...

She moves away suddenly hissing and spinning, instantly at the only door
into or out of the room. A creak is heard from the other side of the door,
then it bursts inwards. A man dressed in black chainmail follows the debris
of the door into the room, a long sword in one hand and a small round shield
on the other. For what seems forever to this child the two are at
eachother, his mother clawing and snapping at her foe, the man in black
striking out when able but mostly blocking wild attacks.

His mother stumbles and cries out "Drakkara! Save me! " but the man in
black is there, sword in line with her neck, swinging fast and true. The
man picks up the fallen woman's head and smiling says "Drakkara did nothing
for you, not today or any other day of your life.
" The man looks over at
the boy a scowl on his face, then he cuts the leather straps away. Kiligar,
blood draining from the holes left by his mothers fangs, hears faintly the
man speak again. "You may only be a child but hear me boy, I will wait out
the night here and if you change, I shall slay you too.
" with those words
in his ears, Kiligar passes out cold.




Writer: Kiligar

Date Tue Jan 6 21:36:26 2015

To All Shadow Imm RP Necrucifer

Subject past and present. - part 2



He lays there on the table feeling drained of All strength, visions of
his now dead mother, vivid for now. The man in black left with the first
dawns light, he said nothing. Kiligar pretended to sleep until the man had
left, he was pretty sure the man knew it too. He wanted nothing to do with
that man, the murderer of his mother. The man had however left behind
something as to what it was Kiligar had yet to investigate, he left whatever
it was alone and went to the body that had been cast aside the night before.





He stares at the wreckage that used to be his mother, her head was missing.
He did not cry for how could he? She had kept him locked to that table for
almost a full month! She had gone out to check the traps one night, she
came back someone different maybe even something different. Kiligar turns
from the corpse and looks down to the floor for the first time since he
found his feet, a small black velvet cloth folded neatly lay there next to
the table he had been strapped to for weeks.

Kiligar picks up the cloth and feels something hard and heavy folded within,
with an unsteady hand he opens the cloth and inside is a black steel symbol
fixed to a black steel chain. A small note is also present. He opens the
note with shaking hands, to find only a few words scribed quickly:

"Leave this behind and let Necrucifer guide you. "

Kiligar lets his mothers necklace slip from his hand and it hits the floor,
he leaves the small house venturing into the large rainforest that surrounds
it. The symbol of Drakkara and last material thing left of his mother, all
but forgotten in that instant.

-=Present Day=-

Kiligar snaps back to the here and now with a start, he looks about the room
ashamed. All is well and he is alone in the library still, his mind made up
with this discovery of something forbidden. Taking one last look at the
piles of books before him Kiligar exits the room, in search of something
more.




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Jan 7 16:49:03 2015




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Jan 7 22:13:02 2015




Writer: Ghillena
Date Fri Jan 9 09:54:23 2015




Writer: Ghillena
Date Fri Jan 9 09:59:22 2015




Writer: Ghillena
Date Fri Jan 9 10:02:59 2015




Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sun Jan 11 13:17:42 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Austinian Zandreya Scorn

Subject Before the State of the Mart Address (Vol. 6, 2015)


The members of the Board quietly fidgeted with their paperwork high atop
the 99th floor of the newly completed Ixi-Mart Tower. It was just about
time for the Chairman and themselves to descend the elevator to the 10th
floor, where hundereds of shareholders and employees packed the auditorium.
However, Ixi did not move from the window where he stood, arms folded behind
his back, staring up into the night sky.

'You seem disappointed. '' Illiquin piped up, finally breaking the silence
in the boardroom. ''What's on your mind? '

The Chairman gave no reply, not even a shift in posture. The elderly gnome
pressed on.

'It's the numbers, isn't it? '' Illiquin climbed down from his corinthian
leatherbound executive swivel chair and slowly made his way towards the
Chairman. ''You're looking at them All wrong, you know. '

'Ixi, we had over a 20 percent jump in sales last year. That, is
unprecedented. It's not a sustainable goal. It's not even reasonable to
expect it two years in a row! We are simply returning to normal levels,
which, if you will recall, was still pretty damn good. '

Not giving the Chairman a chance to reply, Illiquin offered further
arguments. ''And you can't look at what is in the till right now. Or have
you forgotten, that we've financed and constructed the massive,
state-of-the-art tower which we stand atop right now? Don't fret about
that. That money will come back. The entire purpose of this tower in the
first place was to economize. With lower operating costs, and redundancy
all but eliminated, we will make that money back in just a couple of years.
All of it and more! ''

''And if that's not enough, '' the elderly gnome continued. ''I'm not sure
if you or the others have noticed this yet, but Mart-Town is rapidly moving
towards self-sufficiency. There are forges, and contractors, and public
works. Virtually nothing has to be imported from other places anymore, save
for produce. And as we speak, Crillow is working to parcel out the fields
to the north of town. Very soon, Mart-Town will be able to produce its own
fruits and vegetables. THis only serves to -further- reduce operating costs
for us, and the town. It's genious, really. Thimtax knew exactly what he
was doing when he planned this whole place out. ''

The boardroom fell silent after the mention of their late friend and
co-worker, the little gnome, creator of both tower and town. The Chairman
maintained his quiet gaze out the window, his head sagging a bit.

Illiquin shook his head and spoke once again. ''Have a little more faith,
Ixi. Thimtax wouldn't steer you wrong, and neither would we. Now come on.
'' The elderly gnome turned on his heel and hobbled towards the elevator.
''Everyone's waiting for us in the auditorium. Get in there, and sell them
on these crappy figures. ''




Writer: Barakiel
Date Tue Jan 13 21:40:39 2015




Writer: Lilly
Date Wed Jan 14 10:24:57 2015

To All IMM RP Religion

Subject Time Alone



Lilly sat in her usual place High among the Vallenwoods just spending
some time alone. Time away from her studies, time away from her tasks, just
time away. She sat there for some time just reflecting on her time in the
Vallens. Her decision in becoming a priestess was strong and she was
determined to get there with help or without.

She sat there thinking about her long lost parents and how proud they would
be that she found her way home and how much they filled her life with love
until the day the stumps attacked them as they travelled back home and she
was the only one to survive. Her eyes welled with tears as she remembered
the look in their eyes as they thought she would not get away. She did get
away, and their was nothing she could do to save them.

She carried this sorrow deep in her heart but said this to no one, it was a
burden she must carry on her own. She cried as she remembered the memories
of their faces in so much pain and felt ashamed that she did nothing to
help. She sat there until her tears ebbed glad noone had walked in and
caught her crying. She wiped her face, put on her facade, and went on with
her day.





Writer: Ulrog
Date Fri Jan 16 16:45:22 2015

To All Thaxanos Raije Imm RP

Subject An Unseen Presence



Ulrog ran around the Asylum, flying at each and every twig he could find
and roaring his battle cry. Each and every one fell before his onslaught
with little effort. However, blind in his rage he grew complacent, not
noticing when an unseen shadow crept into the room and closed the door. The
shadow watched the dwarf with interest, never having seen a creature fight
with such ferocity. It gazed at a distance, watching the dwarf cut down elf
after elf, never stopping and never tiring, and it formulated an idea.

The shadow was thirsty, that was the only reason it ever came to this cold,
dark place. So many unwitting creatures to feed upon walked willingly in
its halls, desperate to slay the creatures found within, but this shadow was
not one of the weak elves chained to the wall. It was an ancient, powerful
being, and within these walls and away from the sunlight, the hunters became
the hunted.

The gift that the shadow could bestow upon the dwarf would take away
everything that made the dwarf who he was, and would turn him into something
else. It would make him drastically more powerful, and turn such a powerful
warrior into a creature just like the shadow. The more the shadow watched
the dwarf in battle, the more enticing the thought became. It would turn
this dwarf, make him into a demon, the most powerful demon warrior the realm
had ever seen, and the darkness would have a champion to strike out at the
light from the shadows.

The shadow crept towards the oblivious dwarf, sneaking up unseen behind him.
When he got within striking distance, the creature struck the dwarf hard in
the back of the head, dazing him and knocking him onto the ground in a
clatter of axes and armor. With an evil, hissing chuckle, the shadow knelt
to the floor next to the dazed dwarf, who still, for some reason, could not
see this being who had just attacked him. Strong hands gripped the dwarf,
holding him down as the shadow lowered its face to his neck, then suddenly
lunged in, sinking its teeth deep inside the dwarfs neck as Ulrog howled in
pain....




Writer: Reagan
Date Fri Jan 16 21:30:25 2015




Writer: Reagan
Date Fri Jan 16 22:04:53 2015




Writer: Alyzza
Date Sat Jan 17 14:21:20 2015




Writer: Ashbie
Date Mon Jan 19 00:42:46 2015




Writer: Biem
Date Mon Jan 19 04:34:06 2015




Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Mon Jan 19 14:29:51 2015




Writer: Jesamaine
Date Mon Jan 19 19:25:46 2015

To All IMM RP

Subject Sole Shadowblade



Jesamaine stood on the balcony in Althainia looking across the city,
missing Savras with All her heart. It had not been long since his passing
and it was All still fresh to her. Now she wondered if their were anymore
Shadowblades out there, anyone left alive. She looked up at the stars as
she prayed that someone would answer the parchments she had posted
everywhere.

She sighed deeply as she walked away from the rail of the balcony and sat on
the floor. She sat there thinking, hoping someone will answer her. She did
not wish to be the only Shadowblade left, she needed her family, she needed
to know she was still loved. Lately she had been feeling so alone and she
did not know what to do.

Jesamaine sat there untli her thoughts turned to sadness and she broke down
and cried silently.... Alone.




Writer: Reagan
Date Mon Jan 19 20:47:52 2015




Writer: Csyla
Date Tue Jan 20 08:28:58 2015

To All Galeru

Subject A Red Dragon



Csyla peeked through the archway of the courtyard and saw the massive
red shape clearly over the top of the buildings. She stopped for a
moment, astounded again by the sheer size of the beast in the town
center. Waiting for her! She shook her head to clear her thoughts and
hurried toward Temple Road. Main Street was awash in red, the sun
glinting off the dragon's scales and giving the buildings a rosy tint.
She approached the massive Red slowly, his form filling the town center
looking like a living, breathing being composed of blood red rubies.
The Red tipped his head on her approach, a massive eye coming down to
examine her.
"Ride."
The ground trembled with the rumble of the dragon's word, a pot
shattered, shaken from it's perch on a windowsill. Csyla took three
shaky steps to the Red's leg, grasping tenatively at the spikes there
and trying to ignore the dripping, rotting corpses crushed against his
underside. She pulled herself up onto the broad back, careful of the
sharp scales rising and falling with each breath the dragon pulled. The
wings rose on either side of her, blocking out the sunlight with dark
red leather. Csyla held on tight as the Red took his first steps and
took a chance to look around at the landscape speeding by her.
The trees blurred into a streak of greens and browns beneath them as
the dragon took flight, the landscape quickly changing to solid blue as
they left the coast and headed over the ocean.
Hours later and still dripping sea water, Csyla scraped the dirt and

flower into a new pot and set it carefully on the windowsill.
Pocketing the shards of pottery, she knew she would never forget the
adventures of today.




Writer: Nistle
Date Tue Jan 20 09:41:09 2015




Writer: Nistle
Date Tue Jan 20 09:47:43 2015




Writer: Sithara
Date Tue Jan 20 10:32:13 2015




Writer: Liviya
Date Tue Jan 20 18:17:42 2015

To Verminasia All ( Marcaus Laleine Lowenir Traice Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Going Black



Liviya shook with anger as she sat cross-legged on the platform
within the meditation room of the temple she had built. There had
been tears before, the product of overwhelming emotion rather than
true sorrow, but now there was nothing but rage.

She focused her mind inward, envisioning her own heart. She watched
it beat, feeling its echoes in her veins, and slowly she stopped
shaking. The rage coalesced within her, adding itself to her soul
until the dark gray she had become was black once more and the
heart she saw in her mind's eye was a chiseled hunk of black stone.

She wasn't ready yet to give the situation the critical analysis it
needed, to face the level of failure that had to have been present
for him to rally support against her so easily.

What she was ready for was the pure hatred she felt for him. In
her fingers she clutched the skeleton key she and Leithan had made
as children. It opened every door in her father's estate. At the
time, it had been primarily used for sneaking glimpses of things
they were not supposed to see, letting them in to peek at the work
in their mother's laboratory or the powerful and mysterious items
within the family vault. She had last used it to creep into the
estate and steal the black queen from her father's chessboard: a
souvenir marking the gaining of her lifelong dream.

She ran her thumb over the round parts of the key and jabbed her
fingers at the pointed ones, raising little spots of blood on the
pads of her fingertips.

She had a key. Now she needed a vorpal dagger. A sword or axe would
have been quicker and cleaner, but he had made this personal. She
wanted to saw his head from his neck one tendon at a time, to see
the muscles recoil and the veins snap and gush blood All over her
hands. She wanted to hear an arcanium blade grind against the bones
of his spine before severing the nerves they protected. She wanted
the life in his eyes to go dull while his sneer never left his face.
She wanted her final moments with her father to be intimate.

His powers would make it difficult, but not impossible. Her plan and
the execution thereof would have to be flawless, or it would be her
own life lost.

That would take practice. That would take time.

She took a deep breath and rose from her meditation.

Patience was a virtue.




Writer: Ozleust
Date Wed Jan 21 14:22:37 2015




Writer: Thargred
Date Wed Jan 21 21:59:37 2015

To Conclave All IMM Sebatis RP

Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies I



Thargred always seemed to be in a fairly decent mood, which was strange
for his race of dwarf. What was also weird was that unlike his dwarven kin
who were stocky, sturdy, stout, he was not. Not one bit. The fact was he
was fat. The kind of fat that some people would look his way and look at
him in silent surprise. His shirt strained to keep his belly covered. The
buttons looked like they would shoot off in All directions if he ate another
bite. His fingers were pudgy, his belly shook when he walked, and when he
looked down to his feet, he couldn't see them.

Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he owned up to his weight. He knew
what he had done to his body, and he knew it was time for a change. He saw
his kin and wanted to look like them. He headed out the portal with a piece
of parchment with a name and location. He was on another journey along with
the one he was on in the Conclave.




Writer: Cassioppia
Date Wed Jan 21 23:34:06 2015

To All IMM RP Religion Cliath

Subject Changes



Cassioppia spent her time between the Crafting Room tanning her whale
skins, or at the Vallhalla resting in front of the blazing fire having an
occassional glass of milk. So many changes have happened in her life that
her head was still spinning and she more tired every day. Since leaving the
Jewel and returning home to Nordmaar, she lost her diety, her husband, and
her life.

Now that she is home everything has changed. She sat there thinking about
how Haryk won her heart in his silly little ways and his persistance, how
they married in a nice quiet way promising their vows to each other under
the moonlit sky, and now expecting a little one to share their lives and
love with. Her life was almost complete. All that was left was for Father
Cliath to accept her and her life would be complete. She was quite content
now that even the plans for their home were submitted and waiting for it to
be built. She got comfortable in her favorite chair as she dreamed of all
the good things in her life as she slowly drifted off to sleep.





Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Thu Jan 22 01:19:09 2015

To All ( Roleplay )

Subject A reckoning?



Drip...drip...drip.

The sound of water droplets falling upon the polished stone floor was
almost thunderous in comparison to the deathly silence of the chamber.
The floor to ceiling windows were caked with alternating layers of dust
and rime, showing no sign of attention having paid to them in years.

Drip...drip...drip.

Irritation. That was his first waking emotion. He had watched the builders
align and mortar every single stone. He *knew* that there shouldn't be any
leaks. An eye heavy from magical sleep opened slowly to take in the room.
Everything was precisely as he had left it with not so much as a single
vermin's tracks marring the fine dust which had covered every surface. With a
growl and alacrity not expected from a recently-roused mortal, the elf moved to
seek the source of the drip. His eyes could not find a puddle or even spot the
falling water, yet the sound continued steadily.

Drip...drip...drip.

Cursing now, the Elf turned back to the dais that had held his slumbering form
for years - and that is when he saw a solid blotch of crimson marring the furs
which covered his bed. Looking down at his hands, the source of the annoying
sound became suddenly clear.

Upon his left wrist the black glyph which normally pulsed strongly with dark
energy appeared cracked and ragged. From the rents in his flesh came a steady
flow of blood. His hand must have slipped from the raised dais, the blood
dripping onto the floor in thunderous succession. In All of his centuries, he
had never seen any damage to the glyph - a remnant of the World Tree and aside
from his hair, the only reminder of his sacrifice.

What could it mean? It was with that thought, that the Elf realized just how
much he had seen and how tired he suddenly was. It was almost overwhelming,
and soon he found himself involuntarily slumping back onto the dais to gaze
out upon the sea separating Gyathoth from Icewall. Was he finally dying? Had
the Gods or even the greater powers finally tired of toying with him?

He almost called for aid before realizing that he had run All of his servants off.
He ruled over a dead and empty land now, a keep which once was planned to show
the strength and eternal nature of Zandreya's influence now desolate enough to deter
even treasure hunters and vermin. The irony of the situation sent Kaelowyth into
a sudden paroxysm of bitter laughter. "So what now?" He thought, knowing that not
enough blood had been spilled to be responsible for his weakness. What could it
all mean?

Defeated for the moment, he simply lay there, taking in the white-capped waves in
the distance. Whatever this was, it could not be good. For now he had nothing to
turn to. Faith had failed him. Family had failed him. King and Country had
failed him.

His own strength simply seemed to follow suit. After all, time brought about All things.




Writer: Thargred
Date Thu Jan 22 12:36:08 2015

To Conclave All IMM Sebatis RP

Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies II



His breath was short as he was straining to breathe. He swallowed hard
as he came up to a decent sized building on top of the large hill in
Althainia. Thargred brought his decanter up to his bearded face and poured
the cool water All over his head and face, then finally bringing it to his
lips and chugging. He coughed a bit and placed a chubby hand on a pillar of
the building, his body slumped some as beads of water dripped off his head
and beard and hit the ground. He gathered his composure and walked up the
couple steps and inside the building. The first thing he saw was a giant
wooden sign etched with the words Rich'ard Symons and Bylee Blaenks Extreme
Weight Loss.

"Ye go' tu bae kiddin' mae..? '

Various instruments of excersing were in different parts of the large
building. Sets of barbells were against a wall, a weight bench set off to a
corner, and various other things like belts and ropes hung on the walls.

Bursting through a door like two cannonballs fired at a paper ship were two
very, very large half ogres. Large as in the sense they were only a couple
feet shy of a giant ogre, and built like the mountains. One had a deep tan,
poofy curly hair, and was wearing what would make most men, probably most
people really uncomfortable if in public, a pair of tight short shorts, and
a shirt that showed off most of his chest. On his feet a pair of athletic
boots.

The other half ogre's skin was a deep deep dark black. He wore what one
would call a one piece, some hand wrappings, and like the poofy haired half
ogre, a pair of athletic boots.

Both half ogres moved to stand in front of Thargred, the differrence in
heigts made it very awkward for the dwarf. Dunna stare, dunna stare, dunna
stare...
Is All he could think, then finally he looked up.




Writer: Amex

Date Fri Jan 23 19:37:32 2015




Writer: Sefony
Date Sat Jan 24 13:25:07 2015




Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Jan 24 14:07:11 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2, Part One)


Uni'qlo breathed in the cool morning air deeply, as she slowly made her
way down the front steps of her cottage, and into the hustle and bustle of
the newly named 'Thimtax Loop', one of four such roads which encircled the
town. The elderly lady was making her way to the market, as she had done
every day since moving to Mart-Town.

The move was in fact her son's idea. With Uni'qlo's declining health and
advancing age, he felt the need to give up his wandering ways, and find a
place where he could both make a living and care for his loving mother. He
had heard of new opportunities with Ixi-Mart and the newly formed town
around the tower. Together, they came to the plain, and he built themselves
a small cottage.

And so, as had become her daily morning routine, Uni'qlo slowly hobbled
through the crowd towards her usual destination, her favored produce stand.
The old, diminuitive man behind the card smiled as he noted her arrival.

'Well hello, Madame Uni'qlo! And a fine morning to you! What can I do for
you today? '

The old lady smiled and answered in a soft, raspy voice. ''Hello, Mister
Purvins. A good morning to you as well. Today is my son's birthday, and I
am preparing him a nice lamb supper for when he returns from work this
afternoon. I need a few sprigs of rosemary, some marjoram, and a couple of
heads of garlic, please. ''

''A birthday dinner, eh? '' The old man smiled softly. ''Well, aren't you
a sweet, thoughtful mother? It just so happens, I bought an entire bushel
of fresh rosemary with me this morning. You know, All my herbs and produce
come freshly picked from the fields just north of Althainia, each and every
morning! ''

Uni'qlo chuckled and nodded in sage agreement. ''I did know that. And that
is why I come to you every day. Now. How much will I be owing you? ''

Purvins paused for but a moment, then replied, ''Seven silver will get you
all the rosemary you'll need, with some extra for drying out for later use.
A pouch of marjoram will run you three more. ''

The old man quickly scanned the cart before him, then added. ''Having a
bumper crop of elephant garlic this season. I couldn't keep it from growing
if I tried. Tell you what. Ten silver for the rosemary and the marjoram,
and I'll throw in the garlic for free. I'll even throw in some fresh
horseradish. I know you like to use it when you make your delicious mashed
potatoes. ''

Uni'qlo smiled broadly at the generosity of the elderly vendor. ''That's
very nice of you, and I thank you for it. Ten silver sounds like a fine
price, Mister Purvins. I've got it All right here, in my pur-''

The old lady's words were immediately halted as she felt something sharp
jabbing her in the back.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Jan 25 01:30:39 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Two)


'J-just h-hand over the bag, lady. N-nobody has to get hurt. '

Uni'qlo froze in abject horror, as the nervous yet threatening cutpurse
increased the pressure on the bodkin he held to the small of the old lady's
back. She struggled to speak.

'W-what's going on? Why are you do-'

The thief abruptly cut off the terrified woman's words, as he reiterated his
demand.

'I'm not playing around, lady! Just hand over the purse! I don't want to
have to use this thing, but I will. Now, hand it over! '

'Hey! What in the hell do you think you're doing? '', the aging vendor
yelled, as he rose to feet behind the cart. ''You get your hands off of her
right now! '

''S-stay out of this, old man! Or you're gonna get it too! '' The now
clearly agitated thief looked around haphazardly. He noticed that his
brazen attack had begun to draw the attention of the surrounding townsfolk.
If he was to have any chance to escape, he had to act, and fast. Unwilling
to do the unthinkable and dispatch the old lady, he opted for the next best
alternative.

'Come on, lady! I don't have time for this! I need it! Oh, nuts to this!
'

With one swift motion, the frenzied thief shoved Uni'qlo bodily into
Purvins's produce cart, simultaneously removing the bodkin from the small of
her back, and raising it upward, cutting strap of her purse from around her
shoulder. Quarry in hand, the unscrupulous thief made a break for the gate
at the end of the road, as old lady and cart alike collapsed to the ground
in an avalanche of fruits and vegetables.

Purvins hastily made his way around to the front of the cart, coming to the
woman's aid.

'Madame Uni'qlo! Madame Uni'qlo! '' he called out urgently. ''Are you
alright? '

Uni'qlo reached for the vendor's outstretched hand, and with his help,
managed to extricate herself from the mountain of produce.

'I'm... I'm alright, Purvins. But, that man! He took my money! Help!
Stop Thief!! '




Writer: Grushg

Date Sun Jan 25 01:33:27 2015




Writer: Rmed

Date Sun Jan 25 15:31:22 2015




Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Mon Jan 26 12:46:32 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Three)


Furui quietly made his way unnoticed through the everyday traffic on the
Outer Loop road, one of four such circular streets which wound their way
through Mart-Town. This had become a daily ritual for the meek, unassuming
man, clad in simple brown robes. He had been making his rounds throughout
the city for nearly ten weeks. And thus far, nothing but the slightest of
acknowledgements from any of the townspeople. It was almost as if he was
invisible.

This bothered the normally pleasant man to no end. He had moved to this
town in his human form, with the sole intention of making sure that his late
friend Thimtax's tower and town remained safe and just as the little gnome
had envisioned it. To do this effectively, Furui knew that meant gaining
not only an understanding, but the trust and respect of its inhabitants as
well. However, this was proving to be a more challenging task than he had
anticipated.

There seemed to be a clear disconnect between Furui and the softlings of
Mart-Town. Granted, he was offered polite nods and smiles as they passed
by, and thankfully, he had not taken part in, nor seen any conflicts since
his arrival. But beyond that, he had made no real connections of
significance.

''I do not understand. What is the problem? '' the frustrated man mused,
as he continued his leisurely trek around the town. ''I walk, talk, and
dress like the softling. I purchase from their markets. I live amongst
them, and cause no trouble. And yet, I might as well be a complete stranger
to them. Could it be, that they can sense I am different from them? I just
don't understand. Perhaps it would have been better, had I chose to keep an
eye on this place from afar. ''

His unusually pessimistic thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a raspy,
shrieking voice.

'Stop! THIEF!! '

Immediately, Furui wheeled around to face the direction of the scream. He
could not pinpoint its source in the crowd, but he quickly observed a man in
a black cloak running towards him at full speed, swiftly weaving his way
through the crowd. He was clutching what appeared to be a ladies' purse in
his right hand.

'A thief!? '

The man clad in simple black robes hissed in righteous indignation. ''How
-dare- he!? ''




Writer: Amex

Date Mon Jan 26 13:27:43 2015




Writer: Joselynn

Date Mon Jan 26 18:31:16 2015

To All ( Cliath ) RP IMM Religion

Subject A Long Path Home



At age five, Joselynn had watched the MacGregor fued in her home. Her
Granda' and her da' argueing over something she did not understand. Her da'
was so angry he took her mum and her and left Nordmaar with them. How she
missed her Granda' and Grandmum but her da' refused to return. They
wandered from place to place, never really settling anywhere and her mum
taught her All she needed of book learning and etiquette.

When she was fifteen, Joselynn met Brandien the young man who would become
her fiance. When she turned sixteen Brandien asked for her hand in marraige
and she accepted. There wedding was scheduled for the following year. Two
weeks later, Brandien left with a group of friends on a hunting trip for big
game in Tropica, it was the last time she would see him alive. He was
attacked by a wild beast on the savannah and his friends found his body and
returned with it so they could bury him with respect.

Her parents decided that, in her grief, they should return home. Joselynn
followed behind her family a few feet behind. Breaking into tears every so
often as the memories crossed her mind. After, what seemed like walking
forever, they finally camped for the night. She set up her tent and built a
nice roaring fire close to a felled tree where she could sit. After her
parents went to sleep, she sat there staring into the fire. She was so deep
in thought she had not heard the rustleing around the campsite or the
howling a bit away. She finally stood up and went to her tent and fell fast
asleep.

Joselynn awoke to screams piercing the nights quiet and tearing and
scratching as she could hear her parents tent being torn apart. She took a
torch and lit it and ran out of her tent and into a bunch of mangy mutts.
She swung the torch around wildly as she hit two of them and watched them
fall as at the same time calling to her parents. Blood was everywhere. She
scared the mutts so bad that they All ran away. She searched wildly for her
parents hoping they got away but feeling dread as she continued the search.
She finally found them hidden under some underbrush, still holding each
other, gone from this world.

Joselynn knelt down to pray "Father Cliath, Accept Da' and Mum into your
hands, give them peace only you can offer. I hurt Father and I look to you
for comfort as one of your fold. Please watch over me as I continue to live
for You. In Your name I pray. Amen.


She continued on her way to Nordmaar and, after some time, reached the
gates. She was the last of the line of the MacGregors on her side of the
family and she felt alone. Hopefully she would finally find a purpose in
the place she calls home.




Writer: Thargred
Date Tue Jan 27 03:26:00 2015

To Conclave All Sebatis IMM RP

Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies III



Rich'ard was the first to speak, and by speaking he was very animated,
"Hey there short fella! You came to the right place! " His voice was what
one would call, efeminate, and suprisingly a bit high pitched. His hands
rested on his hips as he spoke the last two words with a large smile on his
face.

Thargred closed his eyes for just a mere second thinking to himself, 'Dear
Sebatis, plaese 'elp mae.
'

He opened his eyes then a large yellow hand wrapped fist punched the wall
right by the dwarf's face. He froze as Bylee pulled his arm back and began
to dance like a pugilist, moving his feet with skill and his arms the same.
"We gonna work you out, then work you in, then out again! We're gonna make
you the dwarf that you wanna be!
"

Thargred looked up with wide eyes and some frozen fear and nodded. Rich'ard
jumped suddenly and did a split in the air, as he landed he clapped his
hands then pointed at Thargred, "Are you ready to run! "

Thargred shook his head quickly, "No! "

Rich'ard motioned to Bylee, Bylee went to a wall and gave it a bump with a
fist and up came a pice of the wall and inside that piece of wall was a
wolf. A large wolf. A large and hungry wolf with evil looking eyes, sharp
teeth and those evil eyes spotted his lunch. His meal was the fat pudgy and
round dwarf with the long beard.

Bylee had an intense look on his face as his hand was at the collar of the
wolf, holding tight. "You got two seconds to open that door and run! "

"Swaet Gods 'n' mercaey! " Those were the words Thargred screamed and
bolted out the door. Bylee let the wolf go and both half ogres laughed
wickedly.




Writer: Rmed

Date Tue Jan 27 17:25:48 2015




Writer: Elathan

Date Tue Jan 27 20:51:12 2015




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Jan 28 01:14:14 2015




Writer: Rikam
Date Thu Jan 29 12:52:04 2015




Writer: Dxutim
Date Fri Jan 30 10:12:11 2015

To All Xhyr'ryhx Drakkara Immortal RP

Subject The Crown of Anguish (1)



The immense shadow of the Ziggurat loomed over the coastal cliff and
stretched out over the Arsataw Yaa. The shade over the ocean seemed darker
and the rough waters surrounding it oddly still and almost misty within the
shadowed patch. Inside the temple's doors were dual symbols of Drakkara,
and Mencius. Remnants of the architect that created the complex. Atop of
the structure was the Shrine where the Ogre and the Minotaur stood. Between
them an incredibly dark, obsidian statue of a beautiful creature. Which was
in stark contrast to the worshipers, the Ogre was, well, an ogre. What
could be seen of the Minotaur's face that wasn't concealed within his cowl
was a marred visage. Scarred from magic and spears both, the permanent
disfigurement of a Gladiator. The cowl was pulled closely to his frame and
the minotaur's head was bowed in prayer along with the ogre, the hood
adorning Dxutim's head had two deserted holes at the top where his massive
horns once protruded, which would prove to be the Champion's final wound
within the arena, and the one that shamed him the most.

Xhyr'rhyx stood facing the statue in the middle of the room, but still a
fair distance away as the design of the shrine was in the shape of a
pentagon, the middle containing a deep expanse of black water preventing
anyone from coming within fifteen feet of the Midnight Mistress' effigy.

"Ah will pray fer your suffering, Chosen. "

Dxutim acknowledged the priest's words only by staring up into the
impossible darkness of the Shrine's vaulted ceilings.

"Malhavoc built this Ziggurat to exalt Her and gave his life for Her
glorifying the power She bestowed upon him.
"

The hornless Minotaur moved toward the priest, looking him in the eye.

"The Shadowknight may have seen the act of letting me live furthering his
prophecy of doom. But before the world burns I must regain my strength.
You will help me, Ogre.
"

Xhry'rhyx nodded and knelt before the statue of Drakkara so he may pray.
The menacing Minotaur looming in the background pulled his hood from his
head revealing the broken horns which still bled, as if the wound was
eternal.

As the priest prayed the pillars in the room and the pentagon on the floor
began to glow a strange blue. The hornless minotaur reared his head back in
an insane laughter that sent a chill down Xhyr'rhyx's spine as he prayed to
his Mistress.




Writer: Rmed

Date Sat Jan 31 09:05:50 2015




Writer: Iao
Date Sat Jan 31 10:14:50 2015




Writer: Ashbie
Date Sat Jan 31 11:09:40 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal

Subject Raising Hell: Barfight III


A much scrawnier man challenged her next. He was quick, but Ashbie was
quicker. A nimble sidestep of his first punch and a kick to the back of
his knee sent the man to the ground, crying out in pain. Ashbie sent her
elbow hard into his temple and he slumped unconscious.

"You're a sorry lot, All of ya," Ashbie said, "Come then, don't need to all
fall to me one at a time." The grin never left her face. She'd tamed her
pugnacious instincts but a good honest fight still managed to get her blood
pumping like nothing else could.

Two men stepped forward this time, fists raised and their disposition wary
as they approached her. One stood half a head taller than the other, but
they looked similar. Brothers, perhaps. They were roughly shaven with
dark brown eyes and close-cropped hair, each of them lean with ropey
muscle that corded around their limbs and necks. Scars ran across their
hands and faces. They were no strangers to fighting.

Yet, as they approached, Ashbie noticed how close they were to one another
as they drew near. She had to be quick and decisive in her actions. If the
fights lingered on enough, she would wear out quickly and be unable to
sustain enough fighting to keep her going and prove her point. Her victory
had to be absolute.

Ashbie waited until they were just out of reach, the two challengers
stopping as they assessed her. One thing that Ashbie's father, Rikam, had
taught her from an early age was to be quick. With quickness, one could
overcome a number of deficiencies in battle. Ashbie's hands flashed out,
and, expending as little movement as possible, she knocked the brothers'
heads into one another. Like ragdolls they fell to the ground in an
instant.

The crowd shifted uneasily. Clearly they had expected more from the two
men. Ashbie, however, simply grinned, "Come on then!" She shouted to the
crowd. Then the dam broke. Ashbie watched as the passive crowd became
a mob in mere moments.

The mob worked to her advantage. Unfocused, unguided, its members were
just as likely to fight one another as they were to target her. Ashbie
stood at the epicentre, watching as fists flew around her. She ducked
and feinted, doding blow after blow, sensing the subtle currents of battle
as it whirled around her. It was easy to incite further chaos. Ashbie's
hands worked deftly, guiding a fist aimed for her into another man's face.
She spit and kicked and misdirected with All of the precision and talent
born from a life of practice.

Ashbie was not immune to the violence she had created. The first blow she
felt glanced across her cheek, jarring her teeth and sending her rattling
backwards. Had it been her first fight, the blow might have stopped her
there. However, Ashbie had been in countless fights. She knew pain, and,
gritting her teeth, she delivered and equally fierce blow straight into a
woman's face. The woman's nose broke beneath her fist, the soft squishing
of cartilage giving way to the viciousness of the blow.

Bruises, cuts, and the concussive shock of pain developed across Ashbie's
face and body. Yet Ashbie pressed on, continuing to fight with the
fierceness of an animal about to die. Slowly, her challengers fell, whether
to her own blows or from the blows they inflicted on one another. Bodies
began to pile on the floor, but Ashbie remained standing.

In the end, there was only one, a ragged man with bloodshot eyes, a cut
lip and purple bruises scattered across his face. He staggered, sneered,
then fell as Ashbie tripped him and sent an elbow to his temple.

"Gods above..." Whispered the tavern keeper in dismay.

Ashbie turned to the man and grinned, she tossed him another small bag
filled with gold coins. "Tell them, when they wake up, that I'll be at
Castor Manor." Without another word she turned and walked out.




Writer: Ellminaidra
Date Sun Feb 1 07:31:35 2015




Writer: Bauk
Date Sun Feb 1 11:49:11 2015




Writer: Laiton
Date Sun Feb 1 14:16:55 2015




Writer: Shiara
Date Sun Feb 1 15:58:46 2015




Writer: Shiara
Date Sun Feb 1 16:03:20 2015




Writer: Shiara
Date Sun Feb 1 16:07:08 2015




Writer: Shiara
Date Sun Feb 1 16:10:23 2015




Writer: Aiowynn
Date Sun Feb 1 23:41:20 2015




Writer: Pieruette
Date Mon Feb 2 09:35:34 2015




Writer: Biem
Date Tue Feb 3 05:06:38 2015




Writer: Laiton
Date Tue Feb 3 22:39:39 2015




Writer: Thargred
Date Wed Feb 4 00:29:10 2015

To Conclave All Sebatis RP IMM

Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies IV



Thargred's routine was sporadic at best. He would go to Rich'ard's and
Bylee's gym, do some weightlifting, then at any given moment the wolf would
be released and he would have to run as fast as his dwarf legs would go.
The first time he made it out the door and down the hill. Thargred thought
the wolf was being generous the first time as it leapt as the dwarf's foot
hit the ground at the hill's bottom and proceeded to basically maul and try
to eat him. Before the wolf's jaw found his throat Rich'ard saved him.
After a while Thargred could actually run a bit, but the wolf always caught
him. He was after All a dwarf, and was shorter and stouter than most the
races on Algoron. Dwarves were not really made to be marathon runners.

Now that Rich'ard and Bylee thought his cardio had improved over the weeks,
plus the added regiment of lifting weights, they started him on Dojia Pugi.
That is a mix of Dojia martial arts and pugilism set to an ear shatterting
thump thump thump of a group of gnomes beating the ever living hell out of a
drum and playing some lutes and flutes to inspire, or something like that.
Bylee yelled a lot, and Thargred had no idea why. Usually it questions
screamed at him like 'You ready for this? You got what it takes? What do
you want?
'

Thargred, usually dripping sweat, and wearing a one piece almost like
Bylee's, except his was not flattering at all, and had the handwraps would
usually yell back, 'No! I naed watah! Watah! ' But he kept at it. He
even learned how to grab somebody's head and thrust his knee into the face
in rythem with the gnomes music, so he had that going on for him.

All in all, he learned that diets sucked but had to stick to it if he wanted
to not be how he was, had to excersise daily, even if it was for a short
time, he couldn't run faster than a wolf, Rich'ard and Bylee probably had a
secret relationship but that's alright, different strokes for different
folks he thought. He would continue to go to their gym, but not to lose
weight, but to stay fit. He became what a dwarf, what he saw in dwarves,
was supposed to be. Stout, tough as nails, and ready for a fight.




Writer: Thargred

Date Thu Feb 5 19:24:37 2015




Writer: Traice
Date Thu Feb 5 22:42:31 2015

To Verminasia Marauders Shadow All ( Tashio Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject |Molding an Empire|


Months ago...

Thalimir stood before him, defeated. He had placed the crown on the table,
ceding the race to him. Traice leaned back at his desk, testing his new
chair as his crimson eyes looked over the elf, and then trailing towards the
general patch, sitting next to his new bejeweled crown.

As the elf turned, having received his orders, closing the door behind him,
Traice's eyes shifted towards the corner of the room, a small smile
spreading across his thin lips.

"It is done. " he spoke softly.

Emerging from the shadows a hooded man emerged, hands folded in his sleeves
as he gave a slight bow of the head.

"Assign the Raijians to him. Let them walk into our trap. It is time to
thin the herd.
"

_________________________________

A few days later...

The casualty reports flooded Traice's office from All across the Marauder
provinces. As his eyes looked over the reports, a grin forming on his face.


Slaughter.

The former Highlord's force was obliterated. Killed to a man, the rest of
the army suffered heavy casualties in taking Eaglemont. Everything was
happening as planned. The rebellion, the response, the crown. He pushed up
the later on his forehead, his thumb tracing gently over the signet ring of
the fort on the opposite hand. The soldiers loyal to Raije had been
decimiated, over eighty percent of the elite were dead. They would slowly
be replaced by soldiers of the dark faith.

He had already moved quickly, entrenching three loyal followers of the
darkness in critical positions. As he flipped through the reports, his
advisor strode into the room, nodding his head once more as he spoke.

"Boy. The Fort will grow weak and lay vacant before it grows stronger. The
losses suffered in the uprising and the old guard which must be purged will
decimate morale. This is necessary. Once All is done, you will find those
you need to mold an empire.
"

Those words were what drove him. Embedded in every action, spurring himself
forward. It allowed him to endure the hatred and ridicule. His life was
not his own to live, sacrificing everything for God's will. It was his way.
Flesh, bone and viscera - these mattered not. Sacrifice was not only
expected of him, it was necessary.




Writer: Biem

Date Fri Feb 6 05:41:51 2015

To All Erebaal Malachive Religion Imm

Subject A Gnome in the Darkness



Flitting through the night as silent and unseen as an owl's shadow, the
gnome hunted.

Through the city gates he went, a terror in the night unnoticed but for the
hairs his passage raises on the backs of necks. In the streets ahead, he
heard the calls of the guards. Voices ringing through the night, the sound
of boots stomping and weapons clattering as the Watch gave chase.

Through alleys, squares, and streets, an elf of Shalonesti darted through
the city with a man that was once human hot on his heels, and the guard
close behind. As Erebaal rounded a corner, only to be faced down by the elf
and another contingent of soldiers, he spit out a curse to the gnome he knew
to be nearby. 'Too many damned GUARDS! Next time he ails, kill it! '
Faced with overwhelming odds, Erebaal retreated and took refuge in a nearby
establishment.

The elf, Epsilahn, was confident in the protection of the guards. After
seeking aid from the Althainian temple, he returned to the Market Square to
wait.

The gnome saw all.

Biem studied the elf as he laid out a plan to the Everchosen. This city
would offer no protection to those that still served the gods.

The elf caught a glimpse of the Everchosen inside the Gryphon, and pushed
the fight, thinking - with the guards at his back - that he had the
advantage. But the guards remained vigilant in the Market Square, and what
followed Epsilahn into the tavern was something altogether different.

From the front, Erebaal launched himself at the elf with a howl, flails
entwining him in the fight. At his back, the unseen shadow leered at the
elf and brought his blood to a boil.

Once, and the elf cried out in agony. Twice, and he dropped to his knees
and screamed. Three times, and there was nothing left but a bloody corpse
laying on the floor.

Their work done, the gnome tipped his head towards the man-thing. 'Now, I
must seek shelter from the light. '

As the gnome stepped through the doors, Erebaal grunted, saying, 'A legion
of guardsmen, or a worthwhile Champion... '

--------------

Having found refuge from the daylight, the gnome allowed himself a moment of
satisfaction. At every test in his long life, he had accomplished what
others could not even fathom. Even with the gods looking down on him, he
had faced his challenges with detached calm.

Though no god would assist the gnome when he uttered words to spells he knew
well, it would not diminish him. The black mage would not be silenced.




Writer: Ashlen

Date Fri Feb 6 06:15:30 2015




Writer: Rikam

Date Fri Feb 6 13:14:56 2015




Writer: Ulrog
Date Fri Feb 6 16:44:57 2015

To All Fatale Imm Religion RP Zola Phaere

Subject A Prayer of Carnage



The darkness of the Thaxanos Brawling Pit was a perfect haven for the
pale, gaunt dwarf. Underground, safe from the rays of the sun, he was free
to don the face of the demon and unleash his full fury on any foe, day or
night. It was the perfect place to prove his worth to Lord Fatale.

At All hours of the day, the vampire called out to the realm for duels. Win
or loss, the death would be pleasing to the Master. With each fight and
passing hour, the demon grew more comfortable in his host and stronger in
his blows. As often as he could, the demon espoused the teachings of the
Lord to the public, defending his views from often hostile detractors.

Fatales messenger had told him to continue proving his worth, and the only
way the demon knew to prove his worth to the god of death is to deal His
salvation to All who would deny the Master. He learned the teachings of the
Master from priests of His cloth, Zola of the Dungeon, and Phaere of
Verminasia, whose words and encouragement guided him during the journey of
his shunning.

A shriek of pain accompanied by the thunk of an axe sinking through flesh
pierced the din of the Pit, and Ulrog used his opponents momentary
distraction to lunge forward towards his throat, fangs bared, shearing
through the naked flesh and tearing out his windpipe. As his cries died in
his lungs, the demon rose from the corpse, grinning a bloody smile.

'Lord Fatale, this one requests He take this soul into the void for his own,
adding it to his power and the glory of the darkness. It hopes the Master
is pleased with this ones efforts, and will judge it worthier with each soul
he sends to the great void.




Writer: Reagan

Date Fri Feb 6 21:33:52 2015




Writer: Evary

Date Sat Feb 7 00:23:07 2015




Writer: Traice
Date Sat Feb 7 00:37:55 2015

To Marauders Shadow Verminasia All ( Tashio Roleplay Religion Storyline )

Subject |Molding an Empire II|


The room was dark, torchlight flickered across the faces of those
gathered. Long, dark shadows framed the faces of those gathered. Traice
stood, leaning against the wall underneath the torch, hood drawn up over his
face, conceiling his features. His fingers toyed carefully with the
garrote, fingertips rolling the latch to the side, letting it click and
unclick softly. His crimson orbs peered out like a light in the darkness,
watching carefully, taking in every movement and flinch.

His advisor sat by himself on one side of the table, two large and burly men
on the others. The two large men carried the look of soldiers, while his
advisor dressed in his ebony robes, hood drawn up over his features as the
man spoke.

"The Fort is weak. Andry will lose the crown to Thalimir, and the people in
the territories will bristle with malcontent as they are forgotten yet
again. The focus of the new-new regime will be promises of building the
army, unleashing war upon the world."

The advisor gestured along with his words, his pale fingers escaping from
the sleeves of his robes as he spoke, his head bowing respectfully in
certain points of the conversation, drawing in his crowd.

"With your forces supplemented with those we will provide you with, you will
be able to challenge the Army an untested ruler. He will rely on others to
wage his war. And for you? Combine our payment with what you will receive
in ransom and you will have more wealth than you can imagine. "

_____________________________________

The meeting over, Traice strode out of the building behind his Advisor, his
eyes studying the back of the man's head carefully. They walked for a while
in silence, down the forested paths, Verminasia's gates visible through the
treeline as they stopped. The elder turned to him, nodding.

"You will not return with me to the Dark City. You will speak with Thalimir
and join Fort Ironclad. Use what I have taught you and gain influence and
rank within the Fort. When the time is right, our new.. "friends" will
attack. You will be the one that liberates the territories for Ironclad,
not Thalimir. "

That night, Traice turned from the Dark City, leaving behind his home, and
all he knew for Ironclad.

__________________________

Months later...

Traice, disembarking from the Raptor one final time, passing his admiral hat
to Speyburn and accepting the role of General for the Fort. He entered the
Highlord's chambers, war maps of the home provinces laid among his desk.

"The Provinces have begun an uprising, General."




Writer: Thzad

Date Sat Feb 7 02:19:07 2015

To All IMM Kyri

Subject The new Thane



The new Thane of Wargar wore a rich, thick gold chain woven through his
beard that day. His Runed chainmail freckled with light when the fleeting
glimmer of the torches in the tunnels of Thaxnos reflected on it. His best
friends and closest kin accompanied him, singing his praises, buying ale and
food and making quite the ruckus. As they meandered down Pub Row the folk
of Thaxnos stopped to dof their helms and shout their congratulations. The
new Thane was not one to express his emotion but those dwarves closest to
him noted his joy taking it All in.

It was at the Bearded Lass that some bold dwarf shouted "Thane Grimbolt!
Wut shall ye do about the demon Ulrog?"
The new Thane bristled. He
pounded his runed stein on the bar until All quieted down, an then he
shouted "BUGGER THAT SHELL OF AH DWARF! WE BAE TAKING HIS HEAD!" A shout
of applause went up, and each dwarf raised their glass and then drank.

Another shout went out in the packed pub "Thane! What shall we do wit tha
Dark Swarf Grix? He were Ah Lord an went o'er tah tha Horde!"


A third dwarf yelled out "Wargar became Peacegar! Wut about that?"

And then some dwarf threw a barstool. Out on Pub Row, at the end of the
tunnel you could hear the shouting and see a random dwarf get knocked down
out of the door only to scramble up to his feet and jump back in. And it
went on like that through the night.

And after a while the shouting and fighting turned into singing and
drinking, old dwarvish songs sung in the hearty and sonorous tongue of the
dwarves. Loud shouts and cheers and laughs, and of course a fair amount of
side fights between some of the more irritable dwarves drinking there.

The new Thane walked down into the old Grimbolt family Hall carved into the
inner wall of Thaxnos's Great Gate, in the tunnels nearest the gate. He
went to the Hall that his father's called home and added wood to the fire.
Thzad fed wood to the fire, setting his stein down next to him and sipping
at it while the flame began to grow. He tended to it well, and began
singing a tune he heard on Pub Row that eve.

Tending the fire, the Thane sang to himself, "come mae allies, heed mae
call, take up yer arms an thy enemies shall fall!"





Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Feb 7 10:05:44 2015

To Marauders Shadow Verminasia All ( Tashio Roleplay Religion Storyline )

Subject | The Crucible of an Empire I |


Two years ago:

++++++++++++++++++++

Smoke clouds the air, obscuring vision. Farmlands burn. An old weathered
fortress is stormed by men in heavy armor enameled with a familiar red sign.
The archers release a final volley, falling back as the walls are breached -
but it is not enough. Something moves overhead and a monstrous shadow falls
upon the Fortress, the beasts wings blotting out the very sun as it comes to
land upon the tower. One by one the keeps and citadels fall like so many
pieces on a board.

"YOUR BLOOD WILL FORGE AN EMPIRE WORTHY OF ME. "

++++++++++++++++++++

The sound of rain against the tall windows brought him back from his vision.
The dreadwood Throne loomed behind him as he looked out upon Verminasia
below. His heart strained within his chest, as if held by a dreadful grip,
struggling to pump blood as the Priest-Kings vision began to fail. As
suddenly as the vision took him, the pain in his chest vanished and the
Priest dropped to his knees in gratitude.

His tentative hope had been misplaced within the half-ogre. One man, no
matter how disciplined, could not purge the rampant incompetence from the
fortress. Too long had they tried to lead the army to a greater glory, to
its true destiny only for the old guard to rebel at the thought of success.
To them, it was better to languish in ignominy than stand together as
brothers in darkness.

A few minutes later a six crows were released from the tower - the contents
of their message simple: Infiltrate the Marauders. Prepare the way. Await
further instruction.

"Raije may stand with Kwainin, but War will always be the instrument of
evil."




Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Feb 7 10:10:27 2015

To Marauders Shadow Verminasia All ( Tashio Roleplay Religion Storyline )

Subject | The Crucible of an Empire II |


One year ago:

++++++++++++++++++++

Failure. Traitor. Betrayer. Deserter. Hellfire washes over him. The
crown melts upon his brow. His flesh sears and boils as the molten mithril
drips from his head. Trembling hands catch the droplets squeezing them with
all his might despite the agony. Because of the agony. Then suddenly, it
is gone. Within his hands remains an object. A bird? A falcon of
blackened mithril.

"YOUR BLOOD WILL FORGE AN EMPIRE WORTHY OF ME. KNOW THAT MY PATIENCE WANES.
"

++++++++++++++++++++

The pain still hung heavy within his minds eye, a point of searing white-hot
agony that would last for days. It was a blessing. Of the six, only four
remained. Of the four, two had failed already. Of the two, only the shadow
rose. A new stratagem was required. In a few months, the boy would come of
age, his schooling complete. It was still unclear if he would be useful,
but conquest requires pawns. The Priest looked down at his hands, the flesh
still pitted and raw so many years after his confrontation with Mencius.
The falcon was still warm to the touch.

Their leadership had vanished, as was expected. It changed hands a number
of times in the intervening time. Andry Katel was Highlord. Again. The
Priest had dealt with her before. Thalimir served as her second in command.
He too, had named himself Highlord once. What victories had the army won
during their reign? Emptiness. Broken oaths. Cowardice. And yet, they
still thought they were the army of Oge Ironclad, strong and respected.

A shard of Seanan had been secured by the enemy due to the lack of
leadership within the Council. Blame was cast about and none would take
responsibility. The Marauders were named an enemy for their betrayal of the
alliance, but it was an empty gesture. Pain smoldered behind his eyes, a
reminder that he had been away for too long.

The words of the Master echoed within the Priests mind and a plan began to
form. The Fortress would fall to Darkness. He would tear it apart from the
inside.

"Your Word is my command, Master. And so shall the meek be devoured by the
jaws of giants. "




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Feb 7 11:47:08 2015




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Feb 7 14:31:27 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Four)


The man in the black cloak smiled wryly, as Gate 'B' appeared before him
intermittently, as he dodged in and out of the crowd. He had taken a grave
risk in this endeavor; one he had never envisioned himself taking part in.
But, desperate times called for desperate measures. Once he was beyond the
gate, there would be no stopping him. A strong feeling of relief came over
the man.

'I'm.... I'm coming, Linnai! You're going to be just fi--- UUGH! '

The thief crumpled to a heap on the ground just before the gate, blindsided
by an unseen force. Uni'qlo's purse flew from his hand, landing feet away.
He was roughly turned over onto his back, and he then saw the face of his
attacker, a simple common man in brown robes with unusual strength. He
struggled desperately to break free of the man's hold.

'Insolent PEST!! How -dare- you attempt to steal in this place! I should
wipe you from existence!! '

'Let me go! '' the cutpurse shrieked, continuing to struggle madly. ''I
have to get to my-'

Furui tightened his grip on the frantic man. ''You're not going anywhere!
What more, you're but ONE chance to convince me not to tear you limb from
limb right here! ''

'I said let me GO!! '', the thief shouted as he redoubled his efforts to
escape from Furui's hold. ''I have to get my my daughter! She needs
medicine bad! Do you think I want to do this!? I -cannot- fail! '

Furui paused briefly at thief's mention of a child. He knew full well it
could be a simple lie, spat out by a desperate common criminal in an attempt
to escape. He once again tightened his hold on the man.

'And you thought to come here, where honest work is not only plentifully
available, but rewarded? -This- is the example you set your for offspring!?
'

The man in the black cloak never ceased his struggling despite the
significant chance of losing his life. Furui raised himself up to his
knees, using them to pin the man's arms securely to the ground.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Feb 7 14:34:43 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Five)


Even the remote possibility of a child in peril was enough to for Furui
to give the stuggling man the benefit of the doubt. Besides, ripping the
thief apart in front of the townspeople, would probably not be the best
course of action for him. Scowling at the man, he plunged his right fist
into a pocket in his robes, pulling out a pair of pristine blue diamonds.
He then reached over, grabbing the man's left wrist, shoving the diamonds
into his hand.

'Take these, and leave this place. Restore your daughter's health, if you
can. But I swear to you here and now. If you -ever- step foot into this
place again, I will personally reduce you to a singularity! Now, come on.
It's time for you to go! '

Furui then grabbed a handful of the cutpurse's hair and stood up, forcing
the thief to do the same. Calmly, the man in plain brown robes strode
towards Gate 'B'. Reaching the gate, he swung the man in front of him,
giving him a swift boot to the arse as he did so.

'And -stay- out! And do try to be a better example to your kin from now on!
'

Furui stood at the gate for several seconds in silence, watching the
terrified man scuttle away from Mart-Town at a breakneck pace, until an
unknown voice called out behind him.

'Who -are- you!? '

The cherubic man wheeled around in surprise. What he saw then, surprised
him even more. An unusually large crowd had gathered around the gate behind
him. Men and women, children and elderly alike, looked on in amazement.
Not another word was uttered.

Not five minutes before, Furui had lamented his ability to connect or bond
with the people of Mart-Town. All that had changed with one selfish, heroic
act. Now, All eyes were in him. He was elated. He held his head up high.


''Who am I? '' he asked, flashing a sparkling, white smile at the crowd
before him.

'The name's Shinchu. Furui Shinchu! '

The entire crowd broke out in heartfelt applause.




Writer: Benjin

Date Sat Feb 7 21:22:38 2015




Writer: Crystallis

Date Sun Feb 8 00:16:57 2015




Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Sun Feb 8 02:04:42 2015

To All Valanthiriel Liviya Telthian ( Necrucifer Roleplay Religion )

Subject End of the road (Part 1)



Numbness, that was it. Not death, not some horrific dismemberment. Just
numbness. He should have anticipated it, having felt it before not once but
twice - a sensation few creatures would ever know even once if they were
unfortunate. In truth, the more he thought on it, the more he remembered
the past times - each event leaving him on the brink of death with another
'bargain' on the table.

"Live, and you can come back."

"Renounce the Darkness, and you can remain in the clergy."

"Succumb to the Darknes, but serve two masters."

Always, the bargains were inequitable. Somehow the Gods always got the
better of him, and so it was that he truly did live to serve them. In doing
so, he lost his first wife, he lost his livelihood, he lost his home and his
kin, and every year that passed - he lost his memories. The mirror was in
truth the cruelest gift of all, a simple way for him to relieve himself of
the burden of centuries worth of sadness, regret, love, hope. A crux upon
which he could no longer rely on. The weak must be culled. Those were the
words that ran through his head now.

Each of the persons who spoke to him this day had spoken of the trials and
the sacrifices to be made. Each one a reminder, in their own way, that even
though he had given up everything - it was still not enough. He was not
worthy. Yet.

The thought stirred the vestiges of hope within the Elf's mind, his eyes
raising from the floor of the Altar of Darkness to the statue which
dominated it. He remembered well the confrontation between Talmont and his
former Goddess, the awesome and terrifying powers they wielded so casually.
It was not for his sake, surely. No, with what Telthian and Liviya had
said, if anything - it was a reminder. He was -not- worthy of the favor of
something which was so far beyond his comprehension of power and glory.

And so it would go. Each night, from now until the end of time - he would
toil. No longer to strike a balance, no longer to extol the virtues of
observing the forces of this world. It was as the two Bishops suggested.
He would take what he had learned, and he would use it to benefit Him.

Nature was the perfect example of the endless cycle of rot and death. Those
who dwelt within it, the perfect examples of avarice and rage. Those who
defied it, the very epitome of weak-minded. He would take his lessons and
use them.

Vengeance, for the past sacrifices, would be his. His hand would bring
death to the lands in opposition to him and his new Master. His heart would
be hard to the virtues of others - kin, progeny, or lovers alike. His
identity would be subsumed by that of the righteous.

He would become one of Necrucifer's children.




Writer: Rhaxx

Date Mon Feb 9 12:15:53 2015




Writer: Rmed

Date Mon Feb 9 18:51:54 2015




Writer: Thzad

Date Mon Feb 9 21:06:00 2015

To All IMM Kyri Raije RP

Subject The Throne built into the Stone



In the private Hall of the Thane of Wargar there is a Throne carved
directly from the anterior wall of the living stone. It is impossible to
stand behind the Throne of Wargar, All must stand before it and the one who
sits on that Throne. On this occasion the Thane of Wargar was kneeling on
the Throne itself facing the wall behind it. He was banging his head into
the wall over and over again. A Mountain Dwarf cleric of Wargar stood
before the Throne, quill and parchment in hand, watching as his Thane
headbutt the wall over and over again, cursing up a storm as he did so.

The Dwarven Cleric hesitated ah bit before speaking. He didn't want to make
the Thane any angrier than he already was. "Are ye sure ye want me to put
that last bit in there?"


The Thane stopped smashing the wall with his head and grumbled before
bellowing out "Damn right, lad! Now let me see here what ye got written
down there."


The cleric handed Thane Grimbolt the parchment. Thzad read it over a few
times, sipping his stein as he did so. Beer spilled down his chin and he
wiped it off with his sleeve. "Have this posted en every tavern an town
center in tha lands."


The Mountain Dwarf cleric took the scroll back and saluted his Thane by
pounding his fist upon his chest. Than he left the Throne room to carry out
his task.

The Thane drank from his stein again and cursed aloud in the empty hall.
{"Bugger that sodding git, Ah dunnae care who he is, he shall see that no
Thane o Wargar shall ever bae kissin tha arse o a lout like him!"


And when he was done with his stein he stood up from his throne and flung
the mug at the wall, shattering it into many pieces. Then he marched out of
his throne room, saying to himself "This bae bloody Wargar. Ah aim tah see
the whole o Algoron knows wut that means."





Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 10 22:27:50 2015




Writer: Krazeth

Date Wed Feb 11 03:08:39 2015




Writer: Azula

Date Wed Feb 11 13:14:19 2015




Writer: Azula
Date Wed Feb 11 13:15:16 2015




Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Feb 11 16:06:11 2015




Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Feb 11 16:07:02 2015




Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Feb 11 16:09:44 2015




Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Wed Feb 11 23:26:58 2015




Writer: Zqii
Date Fri Feb 13 21:51:40 2015

To Darkonin All IMM RP

Subject The Gnomish Solution




The low lit tunnels deep inside the icewall mountains are
dimmer than usual from lack of maintenance to the wall torches
and oil burning lamps. But, at the core of Darkonin a meeting
is being held.

The central hearth is alive with flickering shadows and the dense
smell of burnt cedar as the large fire is stoked by attendants.
With the fire used as light a single small goblin and large ogre
discuss current events and finally come to an agreement with
stern nods to each other.

In but moments the two are drawing on the stone walls of the
hearth with their pointed fingers through the soot, leaving
streaks on the surfaces of marble as their fingers drag away
the thin layer of black ash.

Once done the illustration is titled "Best Method", and shows
a round curly haired severed head being slammed vertically
downward on a sharp line of rock like a split coconut. An
arrow points to the head and unmistakably says "Gnome Brain".
At the bottom it is signed "X & Z"

With that, the two part ways and the attendants leave the hearth.
After hours the crackling fire melts the logs to ash, and the sun
dawns on the icewall range.





Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Feb 14 07:28:37 2015




Writer: Ulrog

Date Sat Feb 14 12:53:01 2015

To All Fatale Imm Religion RP

Subject A Murderous Rage



The sounds of lofting hymns rang around the cathedral as the High Priest
of Austinian led the Church of Stars in prayer. Countless pews, filled with
pious citizens and clergy, lined the church, and through the guise of
peaceful calm, none noticed the pale figure in the rafters, hidden in the
shadows and seething with a murderous hatred.

Stained glass windows cast colorful shadows on the floor of the cathedral,
but as the setting sun sank lower in the sky, the light of candles was all
that illuminated the service. As the light gradually dimmed, Ulrogs keen
night vision allowed him to see every heartbeat, every pump of blood that
kept each individual alive. He inhaled deeply, then wrinkled his nose.
Yes, the smell of so much warm blood was intoxicating, but it was tainted
with joy, rather than seasoned with fear. The demon had plotted every
moment of this night, planning to wait until the sun had fully sunk below
the horizon before sacrificing every person and creature in the cathedral to
the Master.

As the last ray of the suns light disappeared, Ulrog waited until the High
Priest called for a prayer, and All heads were bowed. When none were paying
attention, the demon leapt from the rafters and sank his fangs into the
priests exposed neck. When the sound of the prayer was abruptly cut off,
replaced with the thin, gurgling sounds of the High Priests death, the
worshippers looked up in astonishment only to see and hear a maddened, pale
figure wielding two axes and bellowing as he beheaded each member of the
congregation in turn.

As the screams began, Ulrog inhaled deeply once more. Yes, there it was.
The scent of All this blood tinged with fear filled him with strength, and
an obscene strength filled his limbs. The Killing Rage, the skill so
beloved by the dwarves, but useless in their pathetic hands. This was a
rage only worthy of the Master Fatale, and only in His servants could the
skill be utilized to its fullest. Every heartbeat was a beacon to be
extinguished to the demon, and with the snuff of each unworthy life, the
vampire uttered a silent prayer to Fatale, sending each to the void in His
name.

The cathedral had turned into a bloodbath, with severed heads and limbs,
each pumping thick rivulets of blood, littering the stone floor, and a
short, pale figure with glowing red eyes surveying the carnage he had
wrought in the center of the chapel.

'Lord Fatale, this one has wrought this deed of murder and death in His name. May each life this one has taken this day be pleasing to Him, and may the Lord of Death look upon His servant with favor.'




Writer: Traice

Date Sat Feb 14 13:25:23 2015

To Verminasia Marauders Shadow All ( Tashio Roleplay Storyline )

Subject |Molding an Empire|


Traice stood next to his advisor, arms folded across his muscular armored
chest. His crimson eyes watching as the workers prepared the statue, ropes
unraveling from the top to the floor and being attached to carts. Each rope
tied around a point in the God's crown, drawn taut as they ascend downwards.

Traice glanced over at his advisor as he spoke, "Raije's statue will be
pulled from the sky, and in its place a grand temple will be erected to
symbolize what the Marauders once were, and what it will be again. It will
be a symbol of what is to come, and allow us to retake our claim as a true
"Dark Army""

The Advisor gave a snort as the sound of the new soldiers of the darkness
trained behind them. The sound of steel on steel clashing in a rhythmatic
orchestra of grutns, clangs and the occasional scream. Traice raised his
eyebrow in curiosity towards the advisor.

"With this, we will be seen as declaring war on Raije, you know."

"No boy. We simply return the Iron Citadel back to a time it was. Before
it was crippled with the weakness instilled in it by Valdaglarion and Raijes
vengeance upon him. Before Raije turned a proud army into a pack of
sniveling weasels. Back when they were feared. When they were conquerors.
"

The Advisor scowled up at the statue, his eyes burning with disgust before
pivoting, his back turning to it as he strode away.

Traice shrugged his armored shoulders, his crimson orbs watching until the
advisor turned the corner. Behind him the sound of stone breaking apart
filled the air, the statue crumbling to the ground.

"You might not think we're declaring war. But Raije will.'




Writer: Rmed

Date Sat Feb 14 17:09:14 2015




Writer: Obaediah

Date Sun Feb 15 05:48:08 2015




Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Sun Feb 15 11:53:04 2015

To All Verminasia Epistatia

Subject The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 1/2]


The small board room was packed; for the first time in ages, every
shareholder who held an interest in the town's shipping yards was present,
from the lowest sailor to the highest lord. All were on edge, crammed into
the tight room, their fears and discontent falling from their worried lips
without censor or thought. Word had reached them that their Viscountess,
Epistatia, had sent forth a new handler --- one that was expected to arrive
with tomorrow's dawn, and herald great changes to the world they called
their own.

'I hear that he is a demon without conscience,' whispered one of the ship
captains.

'He is coming to steal away our jobs! To take our income for his own!'
shouted a sailor, his voice filled with anguish at the thought.

'I hear that he sups on human flesh,' the head of the carpenter's guild
rejoined.

'They say that he sails with the dregs of the Crimson Armada... The worst
of the worst!'

And so on and so forth rang the rumors, the lies, the whispers and
half-truths and screams of abuse to come. In such a den of liars and
merchant-thieves, Devion's tenets became law; misdirection and
misinformation spread like wildfire, unstopped and unchecked as each tried
to frighten the others, only to be frightened in turn. For hours on end,
they raged and ranted, in fear for both their livelihood and lives,
questions and complaints on every tongue. And then, amidst that splendid
array of cacophonic chaos, a feminine voice rang out, a touch of musical
harmony tinting the sweetness of her words, discordant to All that had been
said or shouted:

'I have heard, my sweet little dears, that he... Is really a she.'

There was power in those words; a power not wholly of the mundane kind.
Tongues drew to a silence, listening to the fading notes of a song they
couldn't quite here. Eyes turned towards the center of the room, the source
of the unfamiliar and comely voice. Noblemen and sailors alike sat in awe,
drinking in the form of the red-headed dark elf that knelt amongst them.
She looked almost demure, kneeling upon the table in a submissive enough
position, her heavy leather skirt pooling about her folded legs, her blouse
buttoned just high enough to be scandalous rather than immodest. For long
moments, nothing but silence met her words, her quiet music, nothing but
fear welling and growing within the room. For All of their posturing in the
supposed privacy of a gathering, they were at a loss now, faced with the
sinful creature their Viscountess had been cruel enough to send. She
waited, gathering her magic, preparing herself while she drank in that sweet
cocktail of uncertainty and fear. At long last, her voice once more broke
the silence, words reverberating with a singer's prowess.

'Good morning, dear ones. My sweet Viscountess has bid me to make these
docks profitable, and to build them up into something dear Ithersea can be
Proud of. I do hope you don't mind.'

So soft was the voice, so kind the intonation that it took several seconds
for the masses to drink in the meaning of her words. Voices began to rise
in question and complaint once more, a barrage of questions growing. She
listened to each complaint in silence, gave no answer to each question.
Finally, when the words had grown heated enough, her voice rang out once
more, the softness of her voice carrying across the harsher tones of their
own.

'Do not fret so, my dear and lovely compatriots.... There is still a place
for All of you in Ithersea... Upon the docks and ships and woodworking
shops. We have much to do, for Ithersea to prosper... And we will do it
hand in hand.'

And then, in the silence that followed... She began to sing.




Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Sun Feb 15 12:01:44 2015

To All Verminasia Epistatia

Subject The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 2/2]


Emerald green eyes traversed the board room. Those who had been charmed
and taken stood passive, waiting to be taken away by members of the Armada.
Their new fate would not be the cozy fires and sumptuous meals that they had
known in the past --- but then, it would be some time before they knew any
better at all. They at least would live; if they could not understand the
beauty of such a gift... Well, then they would not have it for long.

The light sound of footsteps broke the elfess from her reverie. Without
glancing up, she gave her orders to the small form that was approaching, a
fondness in her voice.

'The mess will need to be cleaned --- pack what is edible, and have the rest
disposed of.'

Throughout the room, tintinnabular laughter resounded, ringing out in
gleeful response as her subordinate set to work.

'Yes, Miss Susan!'




Writer: Dahakon

Date Mon Feb 16 09:07:38 2015

To All Verminasia Iolanthe Religion Mencius Imm RP

Subject Dahakon's Vanity



The carriage rolled atop of the wet mud, bouncing lightly against the
many rocks on the path. The Baron of Iolanthe was off to visit his barony
once again. How he hated traveling in the inclement weather however he was
to inspect a portrait of himself ready at the manor. The carriage stopped
suddenly at the steps of the manor as the driver scrambled out and hurried
to get the carpet out from under the carriage to lie out on the wet ground.
The Baron opened the carriage door and stepped out onto the driver's back,
using him as a common step. The Baron drove the driver into the ground and
hurried up the steps. The large doors to the manor were opened and several
servants were on hand to remove his cloak and dry the Baron's boots. 'He
awaits your presence in the Great Hall, milord', said the servant as he
bowed his head deeply. Dahakon strode quickly towards the Hall, a jeweled
Bishop's crosier in his hand slapping loudly against the stones as he
rounded the corner.


'Let us see it, artisan, I have neither the time nor the patience' roared
the Bishop.

'Milord, a pleasure to serve you, as always. I believe I have it correct
this time' responded the meek and mild local artisan. The artisan removed
the cloth hiding the portrait and unveiled it to the Baron's feasting eyes.
The large portrait showed Dahakon Kensey in Bishop robes with the familiar
crosier lying across his lap. A crown was pictured on the left breast of
outer cloak while All the titles he styled himself were engraved in the
frame itself outlying the portrait. The Baron had a smug look on his face,
one that showed a certain evil in his eyes and darkness in his subtle grin.

'You finally got it right man. It's about time.

'Indeed milord. I've been a fool. Where would you like it displayed? '
The Baron scanned around the room looking for just the place for this final
portrait as some workman hurried around readying for where the Baron would
wish it. He had already chosen a few places in the passing months but had
crossed them All off his list. He had even considered constructing a new
building just for that purpose. The Baron stopped for a moment, rubbing his
chin thoughtfully as he stared at the wall above the high table.

'There', said Dahakon as he pointed. Following the Baron's finger he
pointed at a blank space beside a portrait rendering of a god on the wall.
The portrait showed a giant ogre with tusks as long as a human's arm
protruding from a huge, snarling mouth. A large Warhammer is in one hand as
a pitch black bastard sword is in the other. He towers over a non-descript
burning city as an army of mortals are portrayed behind him. At the bottom
of the frame is a gold plate with one word, 'Mencius. ' The artisan smiled
as he snapped to the workers.

'Indeed, my Lord. This portrait will look rightful below the portrait of
our God. '

'Not below, dear Artisan, beside', answered the Baron calmly. The artisan
just stared at the Bishop, his mouth gaped as he realized fully what the man
was saying.

'Be... Beside, milord? '

'Indeed, I have earned my place there. See it done. ' The Baron turned
abruptly from the room, striding from it smugly as ever. The artisan and
workers were left in the wake of his exit simply staring at each other. The
artisan simply hung his head in defeat, shaking it slightly.

'Our Baron has slowly been falling into his own pride since he first became
a Novitiate. Over time it only gets worse. This will be seen by All that
visit as a blatant display. Hang the picture and let us away lest we feel
his wrath. '




Writer: Ulrog

Date Mon Feb 16 22:19:44 2015

To All Bloodlust Fatale Kyri Imm Religion RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood



Ulrog crept through the darkened alleys of Althainia after the sun had
sunk below the horizon. Ever since joining the fray, the void in his days
had been filled with the opportunity to murder and sacrifice whomever he
wanted to the Master, an opportunity he relished. He would continue proving
himself to Fatale and the Horde, in hopes of earning a place in the Dungeon
so favored by the Master.

The task given to him by Syrsaena hung in the back of his mind: to prove
himself a versatile and loyal servant of the Master, he had to give up his
most comfortable weapon and accomplish his next series of kills using the
Masters favored instrument, the dagger. To do this, the demon could not
enter the killing rage he favored, he had to be cunning and silent,
everything a favored killer of Fatale should be. Crouching in a dark
corner, the demons red eyes glowed dimly as he surveyed the thinning crowd
of people still wandering the streets after dark.

In these killings, the demon would be indiscriminate, killing whomever
wandered near at the opportune time. He would sow fear into the minds of
Althainias citizens over the next days. None would know who would be
slaughtered next.

The clack of a shoe on cobblestones drew Ulrogs attention. A lone young
woman strolled down Crown Street, basket in hand and obviously headed home
from a days shopping. He inhaled deeply. The scent was intoxicating, and
she was as good a first kill as any, innocent and pure. Waiting until she
passed, the demon sprang out from his hiding place, unseen until the moment
the dagger plunged into the young womans heart. After her pale body
crumpled to the stones, the demon hauled the body to the shadows and removed
the knife from her body.

Thirst grew in Ulrog as the scent of the blood on the blade wafted toward
him, but this kill was not meant to feed his thirst. These kills were for
the Master, so the demon left the sticky blood clinging on the blade as he
made the midnight trek to the temple of Fatale. Kneeling before the altar,
he wiped the blade on the stone, leaving a red streak across the symbol of
the Master.

'This kill was made for you, Master. This one prays that with each kill he
makes, his worthiness as a servant grows to Him, and his worthiness as an
ally grows to the Horde. May the innocent fall to the Lord of Murder, and
Darkness prevail.




Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Feb 17 10:18:02 2015




Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Feb 17 16:25:46 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Two


Two days had passed since Ulrogs last random killing. Tensions in the
city of light were high, and hardly any walked the street after dark. The
Empress of Althainia harbored deep grudges against his kind, and had
immediately suspected vampire involvement. Thus, she had warned her
citizens of the dangers, and the pickings were slim as light disappeared in
the sky. The demon stalked through the alleys, finding none to sacrifice to
the Master. It appeared that the Empress had succeeded in making his task
more difficult, and he had to hunt a prey that expected his arrival.

Ulrog approached a small inn, and spotted a light glowing in an upper
window, shining light onto the street and drawing his gaze. Cloaked in
shadows, the vampire scaled the stone walls and peered inside. A large
human man lay in his bed, reading by the light of the candle on the bedside
table, unaware of the demon perched outside his window. The door bolted,
the man assumed himself safe to open a window and let the breeze in while he
slept, and his mistake would prove fatal.

Darting into the room, Ulrog remembered that his task was to remain calm and
collected, not entering into a rage or wielding his preferred axes. Drawing
a knife from his belt, he lunged toward the man, reaching around and cutting
his throat, letting the blood spill and stain the white bedsheets. As
before, the demon ignored the intoxicating aroma of the mans spilled blood,
taking none for himself. These kills were done in the Masters name, and he
would take no blood for his own sustenance. Drawing a crystal vial from a
pouch at his side, Ulrog let the mans blood drip slowly into the vial. Once
full, he stoppered it and leapt once more through the open window, merging
into the shadows and leaving the man to be discovered by the innkeeper the
next morning.

Trekking to the Masters temple, the demon amused himself by imagining the
look on the innkeepers face upon discovering the corpse, and the Empresss
reaction when she realized her citizens were still being slaughtered in the
streets and in their beds, with nothing she could do about it. When he
arrived at the altar, he unstoppered the bottle and poured it over the
carved stone, kneeling at its base and murmuring a prayer:

Lord Fatale, this one will strike fear into the hearts of those that follow
the light. None shall sleep soundly in their beds, nor shall they walk
safely in their streets. This one shall sacrifice the innocent to Him, so
that the Master may feed from their blood and terror, and judge this one a
worthy slave.




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Feb 17 17:19:17 2015




Writer: Gurfing

Date Tue Feb 17 20:39:23 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Tue Feb 17 20:57:56 2015




Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 17 21:36:40 2015

To All shadow Ellminaidra Reklah Jurann imm rp

Subject The testing of a knight



Atheran sat back on his blanket as he spoke to the men of the keep. The
room was loud as the stories of combat and the words of God were passed
around. A loud and powerful voice rang out from the distance, echoing off
of the walls. As the room calmed down, the yell come rushing through the
room once more. 'Hydrea, your office! ' The voice was unmistakably
Abram's. Atheran quickly stood up and marched himself to the chamber of
Strategy. Upon entering, Atheran quickly stood at attention and saluted his
Chancellor. 'Sir? ', Atheran quickly asked. Abram paced back and forth
behind the table that was placed within the center of the room. 'Our fort,
posted upon Icewall, is in dire need of assistance.
' Atheran stared
blankly at Abram as the words dug their way into his head. 'What do you
mean, sir?
' Abram released a deep sigh as he removed his helmet and set it
next to a map. Leaning against the table, Abram pointed down at the map.
'Here, here is the fort. ' Atheran stepped forward to the table, examining
the map as Abram continued. 'To the west of the fort is a valley which
holds little. If you continue a days time, you will find a forest which has
not yet been looked into. This is what has troubled us.
' Again Atheran
spoke up to Abram, 'Sir? ' Abram continued to stare at the map as he
continued on. 'A spirit rift has been spotted on the edge of these woods.
From the rift, a wilder priest has appeared.
' Abram looked back up at
Atheran before continuing, 'I want you to look into this situation. I want
to know everything there is to know about this rift and priest. The fort is
worried and we can not sit by if things begin to turn for the worst. You
will be given fifty men of the Legion who will assist you on your trip.
'
Abram stood back up from the table and posted himself before Atheran. Do
you have any questions, Hydrea?
' Atheran shook his head as he was
questioned. 'No sir. ' Abram nodded his head as he spoke his final words.
'You have one day to prepare yourself before the ship departs. Tell your
family goodbye as we are unsure what is to be expected in the upcoming days.
Now be off, you are dismissed.
' Atheran brought his hand up once again,
saluting Abram. Quickly leaving the room, Atheran began thinking on the
best way to handle the situation.

Atheran searched the barracks for forty nine men worthy of taking up arms
against a forced that they were not prepared to fight. He was nearly
prepared to depart, as he considered the last man that he would bring with
him to fight the threat that plagued the fort on Icewall. He marched down
the lines of barracks until He reached the last. A young man, wearing dark
robes, stood and saluted as Atheran approached. Atheran checked the sign
that stood above the door. "Gray Robes". The young man ran into the
barracks yelling out for the men to stand at attention.

Atheran barreled through the long lines of men. Each stood at the ends of
their bunks, their hands balled up at their sides, at the position of
attention. Atheran quickly looked the men over as he went. The markings on
their robes only named them as petitioners, here and there stood a novice.
As Atheran reached the end of the barrack he stopped in front of a young man
who wore a faded robe that had thick blotches of pink and green goop,
covering it.

Merkalis, you have been chosen, as my student, to join me on a mission.
Prepare your things and be at the docks tomorrow morning.
Merkalis stood
in confusion for a moment before offering a simple, Yes sir. As Atheran
turned to leave the barracks, Merkalis quickly spoke up. What about my
cauldron, sir? Who will assist in moving it?
Atheran became angry with
the question. He expected the young warlock to be prepared for any
situation. Atheran slowly turned back toward the man and whispered, Have
your fellow recruits assist in moving the cauldron toward the ship.
With
that Atheran barreled back out of the barracks and made his way home.





Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 17 21:44:57 2015

To All Shadow Ellminaidra Reklah Jurann imm rp

Subject The testing of a knight



Atheran sat, looking out over the waters, on his loyal steed, Merigold,
as the sun began to peek above the ocean. He turned his attention to the
large formation that stood before him. Forty nine men of the legion and one
young man of the robe were prepared to follow his orders into potential
combat. The men were prepared to die in defense of a fort that they had
never visited. As the sun hit his armor, the gold began to shine bright.

Atheran pulled Merigolds reigns, turning himself to face the formation. Men
of His keep, today we head toward a threat that is unknown to us.
Atheran
paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the crowd that stood before him.
Death has its grasp on us as we move forward. We are All to remember that
God is All around us. Should we fall, it is for God.
As the final words
were spoken a loud roar, from the formation, bellowed out. FOR THE
PROPHECY!
Tingles ran down Atherans spine. He was pleased with the men
that stood before him.

Atheran bowed his head, quickly followed by the large formation that stood
before him. Lord Necrucifer, Master of Darkness, we thank you for the
strength that you have given us. The task at hand holds difficult as our
men offer their lives to ensure that Your Prophecy comes into fruition.
We
thank you for bringing us men worthy of serving you. Together we stand as a
force that none may stand against. Lord, we thank you for your protection.
In your guidance, should conflict arise, we will stand in victory, not
defeat. May Darkness guide these men. Amen
x Together the crowd echoed the
word, AMEN

Atheran lifted his head, once again looking over the crowd of men. You are
dismissed, board the ship!
The men broke from the formation, one after
another, boarding the ship. After All of the men were boarded, Atheran
guided his loyal steed up the plank, leading her to the stables. After
dismounting, he came to the front of Merigold, to offer her a pet on the
snout. Atheran left the stables to join his men within the ships quarters.




Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 17 21:54:51 2015

To All Shadow Ellminaidra Reklah Jurann imm rp

Subject The testing of a knight (part 3)



Atheran found his bunk, blocked from the rest by a flimsy wall. He
wanted himself to be close to the men. If death was possible, he would
spend the hours before, speaking to his men. Conversation carried on as the
ship moved through the water. Men slowly began to disperse as time went on,
all except for Merkalis. The young man was an interest to Atheran. Novice,
share your story with me.
, Atheran spoke as he rested his head against the
outer wall of the ship, his legs spread out on the floor. Sir, wouldnt you
rather speak of yourself first?
Atheran chuckled at the thought of a
novice not wanting to share his story first. Atheran nodded in agreement as
he began his story.

My life began in a small village, placed in the northeastern edge of
Tropica, concealed in thick jungle. It was a hard place to find unless you
knew where it was. The village was built for those of the Darkness who
claimed themselves to be thieves and murderers.
I learned most of what I
know about God there. During the day we would learn to fight and steal to
ensure the survival of my family. At night we would sit around the fire and
listen to our elders as they spread the words of God.
As I grew older I
became engrossed in the teachings of God. I would stay up late to listen to
my father as he prattled on. Later in my teen years, one late night, I
found my mother sneaking away to a church of Nadrik.
To ensure this would
end, I waited until she left the church and I killed her. Her throat was
slit and I watched as her blood drained from her body. I did not hide it, I
wanted the world to see her as a traitor. After I waited for her death, I
returned to the village and I burned it down.
I watched as men and women
ran in a panic. They were All scared but I was hoping that the traitors
would die. I dont know if any others survived and I pray that none did.


'Atheran looked up, as he finished his story, to a surprised look on
Merkalis face. What is wrong, Novice? Merkalis shook his head, as if he
was disapproving of what Atheran has spoken of. When I was a young boy, my
father told me a story of a village.
The village was for the men who
claimed themselves to be thieves and murderers. The village was burned down
and my father was lucky to escape.
Merkalis let out a thick cackle just
before he questioned Atheran. Are we brothers? Atheran shook off the idea
and stood up. 'It is time to rest, Novice. Take your place in your bunk
and we shall speak later.
Merkalis nodded toward Atheran as the two went
to rest.




Writer: Sindraste

Date Wed Feb 18 00:25:50 2015

To Bloodlust All ( Dekaios Admin Storyline Scorn Fatale )

Subject Symphony of Sorrows



The underground chamber was full of screaming.

Dozens of voices wailed without lungs to breathe with or vocal chords to
give sound with. They screamed and howled without the means to express
themselves, enslaved to the will of one creature who beckoned and gestured
with flamboyant extravagance, like a conductor leading a choir. As its arms
rose and fell in the near-darkness, the pitch and volume swelled and
diminished, creating a symphony of sorrow that echoed unnaturally in the
subterranean chamber.

The Lich laughed gaily, the sound lost in the din, and continued to conduct
its masterpiece even as blood trickled down from pointed ears, the thick,
glutinous ichor spattering on the shoulders of its voluminous overcoat. The
sound was too great, and its eardrums had ruptured under the constant
bombardment of shrieks and screams. The creature that wore mortal flesh,
however, had no need for ears for hearing, and it basked in the miserable
adulation of its choir.

Each voice had a source, some from a skull that sat on its own plinth on the
stone platform, some from hearts that rested on small cushions. Each was a
trophy- a prize cut from each soul that had been claimed by the Lich in its
service to Fatale's dungeon. Each bore a small piece of its owner's soul,
and it was that tiny shred of self that the necromantrix tormented now,
eliciting the uproar that made the vampire cavort and dance as it conducted,
ecstatic at the agony of hearing and the sorrow of its subjects. Each life
belonged, in some small way, to Fatale, had tasted the Abyss before being
reeled back into the mortal plane, but each now knew the mark of death that
was imprinted on their souls.

The vampire smiled, baring eye teeth that glinted a dull red from the glow
behind its spectacles. It took a perverse, almost sensual glee in its part
in battle. Rarely seen, rarely felt, often never even raising a finger
after its work was done. It was merely a messenger, the gatekeeper that
opened the way for Fatale's favored to pour through and deliver the sentence
as was due All living things- a swift and bloody end. It enjoyed how
understated the role was, the exhilaration of guile and the exultation of
overwhelming victory. There was nothing so sweet as the blood of the fallen
when steeped in hopelessness, and that gift of despair was the most
heartfelt gesture the spirit wearing elven flesh could give.

The screeching chorus built to a deafening crescendo one final time, the
sounds making the vampire's fangs chatter and the blood that sat in pools
quiver before it finally lowered its arms, allowing the concert to end.
With a whisper, the demon repaired its own dead flesh, necromancy mending
the sundered eardrums and restored the appearance of passing vitality.

The hour was almost upon it, it knew, and when it came, the Dungeon's door
would swing wide to admit the shadow that loomed over Algoron.




Writer: Pieruette

Date Wed Feb 18 08:29:04 2015




Writer: Bauk

Date Wed Feb 18 15:52:27 2015




Writer: Cala

Date Wed Feb 18 17:02:54 2015




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 18 21:26:13 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Three


Ulrog waited three days to reenter the city and stage his next kill.
However, when Althainia came into view on the return journey, the gates were
barred shut, the walls lined with torches, and far more sentries than
ordinary stationed on the ramparts. It seems that his efforts in the city
had been noted, and the Empress and her husband had taken measures to make
his next kill much more difficult. The surplus of guards would not make his
deed impossible, but it would make secrecy and silence even more important.
The strength of his host, combined with the demonic power at his disposal
made him a fearsome warrior, but not even he could withstand the onslaught
of the entire city watch if they knew where he was.

Sinking unseen into the shadows, Ulrog made his way to the base of the wall,
finding finger holds and small protrusions to grab hold of and heave himself
over the wall. Once over the ledge and on the ramparts, Ulrog was forced to
duck and hide from several different patrols pacing the wall. Even moving
unseen, it would not do for the guards to see a haze in the air or the
rustle of dust with the city on high alert. Making his way into the city,
the demon once again noticed that the streets were empty, and All doors
barred and windows latched. Such trivial things could not stop him, but
when secrecy was his ally the sound of a broken door or pane of glass would
be un unwelcome enemy.

On this night his target was not a civilian or innocent youth. The demon
would instead strike closer to the Empress, letting her know that his blades
and fury could reach even the most secure targets. He would not take any of
her children, they were far too well guarded in the evening, notwithstanding
the alert in the city. However, he would take someone close to her in
proximity, a guard in the citadel. A murder so close would terrify her for
the safety of her family, especially for her brood of children. It was not
necessary to touch the Empress or Emperor themselves, nor any of their
family, only to strike fear in them of the possibility. Such would be a
great victory in itself, to have the leadership and the citizens of the city
of light so terrified of the darkness that they would not leave their homes
or keep.

Ulrog darted behind walls and kept to the shadows All the way to the
citadel, where he waited patiently for a lone guard to wander the grounds
near his location. When he saw his target come within a few feet of him,
the vampire lunged with his knife, taking the guard in the chest and making
him groan in pain before Ulrog clapped a hand over his mouth. The wound was
serious enough to kill on its own, but this particular death, more so than
the others, was meant to send a message. Dozens of times the demon plunged
the knife into the guard, leaving over a score of deep, bloody wounds all
over his chest, neck, and body.

Continued...




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 18 21:30:26 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Four


My god! Ulrog heard a voice cry as he finished his work. In his
reverie, the demon had not noticed that a second patrol of three guards had
rounded the corner, and had spotted the mutilated guard on the ground. The
demon was unseen, but still kneeling over his kill. All it would take would
be a wrong move, and the guards would spot him before he was able to get out
of the city. As the rushed forward to check the condition of a friend who
was quite clearly dead, Ulrog was able to use their distraction to slip
away.

Rushing towards the outskirts of the city, he turned down a back alley only
to find a second, larger party of guards, All wearing brightly shining armor
and bearing torches. In the lead, the Emperor of Althainia himself marched,
carrying a torch in one hand and a sword in the other, and bearing a wooden
stake sheathed at his belt. It appeared his deeds were being taken more
seriously than even he had hoped for, if the Emperor was risking himself to
hunt for him. However, at the moment Ulrog was still unseen, and therefore
safe from the Emperor and his men. Turning away from the alley with the
patrol, and making his way the other direction, the demon heard one of the
members of the patrol call out to the Emperor, claiming that he had seen
something at the far side of the alley. With the sound of clanking metal
and pursuing knights at his rear, Ulrog hastily retreated and the shouts of
the men diminished with distance.

Believing that the worst was behind him, Ulrog made it back to the wall when
he heard the warning bell toll, and the sound of roused guards was coming
from most every direction as he peered around hastily looking for a clear
escape route. The only means of escape with the city closed off was over
the wall, and it was teeming with guards. However, it was the only option
available. Ulrog scaled the wall once more, when midway up he heard a
female shout from below him. Lit by the torches of a dozen knights that
surrounded her, Aliera stood with a sword in her hand, shouting at the men
surrounding her to spread out and keep their eyes open, and not to search
anywhere by themselves.

Such wise counsel, the demon thought. If only the demon had any intention
of staying to see what the Empress intended if she found him. Instead, he
finished scaling the wall and climbed up to the ramparts, turning to vault
over the other side when the wooden shaft of a spear strike him in the side
lightly. Slightly startled, Ulrog turned to see a shocked patrolman staring
at the empty air in front of him. The man had obviously seen something
suspicious in the air surrounding the vampire and waved his spear in front
of him, and abruptly the vampires secrecy was blown. The shock turned into
rage as the guard managed a shout of triumph and drew the attention of the
other patrols in the area, including the Empress on the grounds below.
Snarling, Ulrog shoved the man over the wall and he fell screaming to his
death far below, his warning shout the last sound he ever made. Turning to
descend the other side of the wall before the others caught up to him, the
demon took one last moment to sneer at the sight of the oncoming torches,
thinking that it would be a long while before any in Althainia slept
comfortably in their beds.




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 21:53:55 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:18:16 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:18:30 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:18:38 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:22:19 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 23:13:03 2015

To Althainia All Shalonesti Ulrog Imm RP Nadrik

Subject Fighting Back part 3



A veritable cache of weapons were delivered to Alieras feet, shimmering
stakes and magnificently crafted blades, tumbled out of the delivered chests
to spread across the cobblestone streets before the castle with the ringing
of metal on stone. The Empress looked down at the weapons, taking stock of
them before glancing up at the men that had delivered them. All of them
blessed, All of them enchanted?
The vorpal blades hummed with magic and
were glowing softly in the slowly brightening light of the morning as the
sun rose to just peak above the high city walls.

With a nod and a bow the head of the guard answered, Of course my Empress,
the best of them as you commanded.
Bending down to pick up a stake in her
right hand, Aliera looked down at the deadly weapon as she spoke.
Distribute them, every one of our military in the streets, every guardian,
every sentry on the walls, every gate guard, All of them. There will not be
a man or woman that protects these streets that is not bearing at least one
of these, do I make myself clear?
A crisp salute was issued from her
officers before they took at once to the streets, carrying out her wishes
and arming every patrol they passed immediately.

The next step was the water. It was nearly noon now and the sun beat down
on the streets of Althainia as Priests of Light went to each and every home
and store, blessing the water stores or replacing them entirely with holy
water brought in. The Empress herself stood at the fountain in the Temple
complex and dipped her hand into the water, blessing it with All of the
powers of good she could manage. Every drop of water in Althainia would be
blessed, and though the effects of holy water were unclear on these demons,
it could not possibly hurt to try.




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 23:13:46 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 23:22:00 2015

To Althainia All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog

Subject Fighting Back part 4



A brief issue of trumpets sounded at the northern gate, announcing
someone and Aliera smiled, walking from Crown street northward to greet the
King of Shalonesti at the gates. My Speaker, she intoned in Elvish,
greeting her friend and ally in his native tongue. My Empress he answered
in kind, causing a few of her guards as well as a few elves that stood
watching to just stare with their mouths slightly agape as the Speaker of
the Stars and the Empress of Althainia seemed to be more than allies. A
select few however, just managed to suppress a smile before Aliera and
Laendyn changed in demeanor to All business.

Scores of elite Elven guard followed their King and the Empress of Althainia
to the Market Square, joining the gathered Althainian military and guard
alike. The message was straight to the point and spoken in Althainian as
well as Common and Elvish, leaving no room for error. The undead are
hunting these streets and we would see it stopped. Bring us its head.
The
heads of state watched as new weapons were passed out amongst the Elven
guard and added to their already deadly bows and blades, the vorpal energy
shimmering on each of them before the task was done.

They moved through the city in force, the combined forces of the Imperial
and Vallenwood guard, there would be no peace for the undead in Althainia.




Writer: Vadol

Date Thu Feb 19 01:50:25 2015




Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Feb 19 07:47:24 2015




Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Feb 19 10:20:18 2015




Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 14:51:58 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part One


Ulrog knelt as he completed his ritual of dripping the blood of his kills
onto the altar of Fatale. The last kill of the Althainian guard had been
his boldest, but he still felt the need to return to the city one last time
to do the Masters work. The Althainians were growing ever more prepared for
his attacks, and any trips now would be a serious danger, but this was his
test, and overcoming the danger as it grew was a part of the task.

He muttered a short prayer to the Master and stood, staring at the stone
altar with its countless dried blood stains. The normally gray hue of the
stone was permanently dyed a ruddy brown, stained with the murders of
generations. He contemplated his final kill, and evaluated how best to
strike a blow at the light. The murder of the citadel guard would be a
nearly impossible kill to best, without putting himself in serious peril.
His actions had incensed the Empress and Emperor, and he was sure that this
would be his most difficult mission yet.

Ulrog had to strike a personal blow against the Empress, something that
would shatter her world and render her a gibbering mess. The foolish woman
was terribly attached to her brood, and although they were heavily guarded,
slaying one of them in the Masters honor would be the greatest deed the
demon could accomplish, short of assassinating the leaders themselves. The
children, squealing leeches All of them, were surrounded by guards and
attendants on the safest of days. Ulrog was sure that with his attacks, a
veritable army would be guarding the children. Nevertheless, the demon had
to try. If this was to be his final blow against the city, he would aim
high and murder the eldest son of the royal family, Nikolai. However, he
was certain that they would be prepared for him, so secrecy was of the
utmost importance. He could not make a sound when he was entering the city,
or he would draw the attention of the city watch. Thus, his plate armor was
the wrong choice for this mission. He unbuckled it and instead donned a
lightly armored leather outfit that would grant him much greater freedom of
movement and silence, if not the same protection.

Turning and leaving the Masters temple, he murmured a short plea to Fatale
to guide his blade and grant his limbs strength in his impossible task. He
used the cover and shadow of the tree line to make his way back to the city,
but when he was perhaps a mile from the city gates, his sharp hearing heard
the crunch of boots on the forest floor, perhaps a dozen men. It seemed the
fools wished to hunt him where he had the advantage in terrain, if not in
numbers, and this was perfectly fine with him. He made his way closer to
the noise and took cover behind the brush perhaps twenty yards from the
search party, unseen to most mortal eyes. It appeared to be the Emperor
himself, along with his personal guard. Interesting that he went himself
beyond the safety of the walls to search, but it meant that the personal
guard around the citadel was also slackened, however slightly.

The demon was confident that he could sneak past the search party unseen,
and took a step to move around their flank. The first step he took, he
noticed Cierans eyes dart in his direction and he held up a hand to his men,
halting them immediately. Damn perceptive human, All that could have been
visible would have been a slight shimmer in the air. The Emperor swiftly
muttered a few words, and a wall of fog curled around him and spread toward
the area the demon was in. Clever tactic. The vapor split around him, and
the empty space of air was All it took to blow the vampires cover. With a
shout, the Emperor hurled his sidearm at the space, but the demon leapt away
with alacrity and sprinted back into the woods, hearing shouts and war cries
behind him. Retreating back to the shadows, he moved around their flank,
hoping to lose the men with his speed and make it appear as though hed moved
away from the city.

Continued...




Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 14:57:11 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Two


The demon made his way to the other side of the city, far away from the
sounds of the Emperor and his guard, and evaluated the patch of wall in
front of him. The wall would be no more difficult to scale than on his last
venture into the city, but peering up Ulrog was able to see bright light
coming from the ramparts and the city itself. Judging by the glow, the city
would be lit up like daylight, making it far more difficult to move unseen.
The artificial light would not harm him directly, but it would harm his
chances of secrecy. However, it was irrelevant. His task was All that
mattered. Climbing the wall, the demon peeked over the edge of the
ramparts. Men and elves, hundreds of them, were patrolling the streets and
walls of the city. All of the guards had three things in common, a flask at
their hip, a wooden stake sheathed on their belt, and a sword in their hand,
each one the same. The demon assumed the flask was simply for drinking, but
the blades, those bore a shimmering aura that caused his stomach to lurch,
an odd sensation since the vampire had no need for mortal sustenance
anymore. They were vorpal blades, he was sure of it. He bore an axe with
the same aura around it and was quite familiar with its powers. Those would
be a problem. The stakes could be an issue as well, but only if it were to
pierce his heart.

He sneered. The Althainians were quite prepared, and they had brought in
backup from the elves. That was unexpected, and the demon would have a
difficult, if not impossible time coping with the might of two cities at
once. Even so, he had to make his last foray into the city of light,
whatever the cost. How he wished he could use his axes on this mission, but
he was only armed with the single dagger, as per the instructions of
Syrsaena. It would limit his options in battle severely, but he was under
no illusions that if it came to outright battle with the sort of might he
was seeing, he would lose, no matter what weapons he wielded.

The demon waited until the path was clear, and leaped over the edge of the
rampart, grabbing hold of the other edge of the wall and began his descent,
doing his best to remain silent. He was able to remain unseen, but his body
would still cast a shadow in the bright light that could give away his
position if he was not careful. Quietly landing on the ground below, he
decided that the best way to proceed to the citadel without alerting the
patrols in the street would be to make his way to the center of the city by
sneaking across the roofs of the houses. If the patrols on the wall were to
look inside the city instead of towards the woods, they might spot his
shadow, but the risk was far better than the prospect of being spotted by
one of the street patrols.

Ulrog climbed the nearest home, and silently crept along its roof, leaping
from building to building when he was confident no patrols were near, and
slowly made his way toward the citadel. He was lucky, and his leaps drew no
noticeable attention from either the patrols nor the citizens inside the
buildings. The slow process of waiting and timing his movements took him
the better part of two hours to make the relatively short trip to the keep,
but by the toll of midnight he had made it. Entering through any door was
out of the question, and the children would be on one of the top levels of
the citadel in any case. The best option was to scale the building, and
enter through either a window or an arrow slit high in one of the turrets.
He made his way higher along the wall of the keep, and came to an
appropriate arrow slit. He peered inside, and saw no guards in the
immediate area, so he ducked inside. The demon had no idea exactly where
the children were kept, but he thought it likely that the tallest turret
would house the royal family, and the Empress would never be far away from
her sniveling wretches.

Continued...




Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 15:03:25 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Three


Thus, the vampire climbed the tower, ever mindful of the presence of
guards. He had several close encounters, nearly being spotted by both an
elven and human patrol at different times, but managed to remain unseen and
not attract attention. Ulrog reached a landing on the spiraling stone
staircase, and a sound echoed down the corridor, a soft, motherly cooing
sound, and the laughter of a child. Yes, the children were here, but if he
were to make an attempt on one of their lives while the Empress was present,
he would be in for a serious fight, especially when armed only with the
dagger. He crept along the hallway, and came to the closed door where the
sounds were loudest. Was this murder wise, given the circumstances? The
demon was outnumbered, out-armed, and the children were in their mothers
care. He decided it made little difference, he would break down the door,
attempt to do the deed quickly, and escape the city before the warning bells
were rung. After the citadel guard knew his location, stealth was
irrelevant. Escape was the only priority.

Summoning his massive strength, the demon threw himself at the barred door,
cracking its timbers and making an incredibly loud crash. Cover now blown,
the demon smashed the door several more times in quick succession, knocking
the door off its hinges and revealing a startled Aliera and three squealing
children. There were only six guards in the room with them, but the crashes
had drawn attention, and even then the vampire could here the sounds of
booted feet barreling down the hall. The startled expression on Alieras
face only lasted for a moment. The moment the threat became clear, her face
morphed from shock to anger, and she quickly drew her vorpal blade and
readied it at him. Ulrog lunged towards one of the children, but they
retreated behind their mother and she scythed her blade towards him when he
drew close, making him draw back. The guards rushed him, and it was clear
from the aura that their blades were vorpal as well. He stepped to the
side, and attempted to charge the children from the flank, but the Empress
once again stepped in front, swinging her blade at him and clipping his arm.
Blood seeped from the wound, but it was not life threatening. The blades
aura burned him, but he could not be killed by it unless she were to sever
his head.

The Empress called out, "The water! ," And the guards simultaneously drew
the identical flasks Ulrog had observed earlier, and threw the contents in
his direction. The liquid soaked through his clothing and drenched him, but
otherwise did absolutely nothing. The tactic however, did succeed in
surprising the demon. He had no idea what the water was going to
accomplish, but it made him drop his guard for a moment, and that moment was
enough. Aliera, stricken with fear and anger of what the demon had come to
do to her children, drew a wooden stake and lunged forward, aiming for the
center of the demons chest. Unencumbered by armor, the vampire had been
able to move silently, but he was far more open to danger. The point of the
stake pierced his leather shirt and went straight through, exiting out his
back, and staggering him backwards. Pain shot through every nerve in his
body, but the stake had just barely missed his heart, entering perhaps three
inches to the side. Wooden shaft thrust through him, the demon realized
that his time was up, and the choice was now whether to retreat, or be
killed, permanently. Staggering wildly, the demon lurched outside the room,
tripping over the broken door and stumbling down the hall towards the
nearest window. Guards were flooding the hallway, but they were still
several yards behind the vampire. Hurled stakes scored grazing hits or mild
flesh wounds, but none pierced his heart or did damage equal to Alieras.
Reaching the window, Ulrog leapt outward, crashing through the window and
scoring several gashes from the broken glass, and falling several stories to
the ground.

Continued...




Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 15:09:07 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Four


The impact broke his body, but the fall could not kill him, not like the
vorpal blades or stakes. Groaning and bleeding on the ground, the demon
knew he only had a few moments before the were on him again. He muttered a
healing spell, thanking the Master from the deepest part of himself when
life reentered his limbs. He was hurt, broken, and bleeding from most every
area, but he could move. Ulrog crawled towards the levee, knowing that he
had no prayer of fighting through the guards in the streets and the Emperor
out of the gates in his current condition. The river was his only escape.


He was able to crawl slowly, but he managed to make it to the levee wall.
They would be on him in moments, his blood trail was smeared on the ground
all the way from where he fell to the river. They would know exactly where
he had gone and how he had escaped, but he hoped the rivers current would be
enough to give him a lead enough to escape. This would be his last
assassination in the city of light for quite some time. He was young in his
power, and the city was far greater prepared than normal for his sacrifices.
Future sacrifices would have to be made elsewhere.

Dumping himself into the river, his body floated down the current and out of
the city, washing up on the bank far downriver. Heaving himself into a
shaded grove, the demon melted into the shadows once more, and lied down to
rest and heal his broken body.

Master, this one has failed, the demon said quietly into the air. It hoped
to strike one final blow to the light, but the mortals were prepared far too
well. This ones final sacrifice is its own blood, taken in the service of
the Master and given willingly.

The demon reached a hand up to his chest and wiped away a congealed glob of
blood, and smeared it on the ground. This one is in no condition to
sacrifice its blood on the altar, it hopes the Master hears this ones words,
and accepts the blood this one sacrifices to the ground in His honor.

Groaning and leaning back, the demon finished his prayer and closed his
eyes, beginning the long process of healing his wounds. Alieras stake
wound, however, had formed into a puckered bleeding mess, and no magic the
demon was capable of would likely ever remove the scar that would form.
Releasing himself into oblivion, the vampire slept.

End




Writer: Aliera

Date Thu Feb 19 16:28:49 2015

To All Althainia New Thalos Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog

Subject Fighting Back part 5



A large assembly of Althainian and Vallenwood guard stood mostly around
the newly shattered decorative glass window, a few marking on the
desperation of the creature to have dove through it. There is no way it
could have lived through that fall.
One of the young sentries, voiced.
Another two of similar age nodded their agreement with the assessment and
then startled at the sound from the windowless room beyond. A barked
command left an entire compliment of guards in the center tower room with
her three youngest children before Aliera snatched up another two stakes
from the chest in the room and walked out the door. The words of the
Empress were soft but seething with anger and an edge of coolness in her
voice as she passed, It has not been alive- for a long time. It took
exactly a fraction of a second for her point to get across and understanding
to dawn on almost All of their faces at once as she took off down towards
the spiraling staircase of the tower with a stake in hand. The combined
forces followed in quick pursuit of the Empress as she ran down the stairs.


The outer base of the Tower was littered with what had been, before it was
shattered, a beautiful scene of the Goddess Kadiya. The variegated pieces
of glass lay mostly shattered in the street, many of the edges and the stone
beneath coated in the unmistakable sight of blood. The urgency of the
moment did not prevent the grisly scene surrounding the Goddess of Peace
from being burned into her mind, but for peace to be restored the terror
this demon was trying to propagate could not continue.

The trail was unmistakable and led straight to the levy it had thrown itself
into the waters below, hoping apparently that the river would be merciful
and sweep him clear of the city. We have permission from the Magistrate of
Thalosia to pursue it there, sweep the city, if it did not manage to crawl
out of the river, he will have landed there. This ends tonight.
Turning
on her heel, Aliera stalked away from the levy banks to find her Emperor.




Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Feb 19 17:45:07 2015




Writer: Tatsuo

Date Thu Feb 19 19:26:58 2015




Writer: Asrar

Date Fri Feb 20 16:49:31 2015

To All ( Imm Fatale Religion )

Subject Conviction of Faith



Asrar walks silently into the Hall of Onyx, fighting to control the demon
wanting to take control. Having just fed on some random citizen, it doesn't
take much effort. Walking past the statue without a glance, she walks into
the Obsidian Hall and methodically begins undressing. Ritualisticly
cleansing herself in the fountain, she rids herself of dirt and grime.
Dried blood and sweat mix with the cold water to run down the drain.
Satisfied, she dons a simple acolyte robe, leaving her armor and weapons and
returning to the Onyx Hall.

Kneeling before the statue of Fatale, she bows low, her forhead touching the
chilly tiles as she prays. Master, never before have I come before you
feeling I must confess my service or my faith in You. Yet hear I am,
kneeling before this stone altar, with doubt. Doubt is fear, fear is the
blackness of the Void. There is no room for fear or doubt in the Master's
service. I relinquish my mortal body to your service. Let the demon within
come forth as I give myself totally to you. May this act be pleasing to you
Master.


Asrar slumps over convulsing as the demon inside her comes over her, taking
her easily. As the face of the demon pushes against her skin, it morphs her
features until what once was Asrar Miete is barely recognizeable.

Only the Vampire remains. Only the servant of the God of Murder is left.




Writer: Rikam

Date Fri Feb 20 18:21:07 2015

To All ( Verminasia Imm Devion )

Subject -The Shadoweaver-


On a very old chair in a very old cottage between two very old hills sat the
Shadoweaver. Nobody was sure exactly how old the Shadoweaver was,
but she often referred to the ancient epochs of baron red earth and
primordial fire as "the good old days." When asked directly, she would
always say "only slightly older than my teeth, dear" and then carry on
with her weaving. Of course, at her age, she had no teeth to speak of.

Most people who met her were very sure that she was senile.

"Not sure I'll be doing business with him again," said the Shadoweaver
to her empty fireplace. "A bit rude, that boy."

This time it was a pair of gloves. The time before, some boots. He was
never satisfied with her work, and almost never paid, but he was the only
client she had these days. Clothes made out of shadows, it seemed, were
not in terribly high demand.

"More's the pity," the Shadoweaver complained to her fireplace, "But
I suppose fashions will change."

She had finished the gloves by dawn of the next morning, when her client
came.

"Good morning, Grannie," He said with a mean looking smile. She
was sure his teeth were pointed, but never dared to look twice.

"What have you got for me today?"

"I put a curse on those," she said, motioning towards the gloves on her
kitchen table. "As soon as you put one on, you're sure to lose the other."

The client grinned his mean old grin and nodded. "Half a cake is better
than none, hmm? Though equating these to cake might be a bit unfair to
pastries everywhere."

She made a point of cursing every item the client ordered, but she wasn't
sure she was so good at those kinds of things. The client never seemed to
mind, anyway.

"Rubbish, as usual," the client said after inspecting the gloves. "But
I suppose they'll have to do. It's a shame you're the only one who knows
anything about working with shadows these days."

"It's a dying art," she agreed gruffly. "Is that All you'll be needing
today then is it?"

"In such a hurry to be rid of me, grannie? Your hospitality has gotten
terrible in your old age." The client sighed, then continued, "I'll be
having a new cloak, I think. This one's in tatters. I'll give you a month to
have it ready. That should be plenty of time to make sure you get it right."

"A month?" the old woman cried, but the client had already gone. "A
month indeed," she muttered to her empty fireplace, and then she set to work.
"I wonder if that will be enough time to teach the hood to eat its wearer's eyes."

The thought kept her spirits lifted as she worked through the day and into
the following night.




Writer: Nistle

Date Fri Feb 20 21:13:57 2015

To All Conclave New_Thalos Sebatis Religion Imm RP

Subject Sebatis' Gift



Nistle's wings beat furiously as he shot across the desert sands. The
heat didn't bother him to much, it was hot on Tropica, but the dryness still
bothered him. He smacked his lips and made a disgusting noise as he stopped
and looked around before unstoppering the small decanter at his side and
taking a swig.

'Hrm.. There's got to be a good place for it. 'he mused to himself before
he was off again, stoppering the decanter. A few more minutes brought him
to the outskirts of New Thalos.

"The Sultan said he would help find a place. Hrm. Works for me. " he
thought, slipping amongst the shadows of the larger peoples and carts of the
merchant traffic. A single thought kept running through his mind.

'Sebatis will have a temple, damnit. And it'll be a gift to Algoron, just
like me
'




Writer: Zoranthus

Date Fri Feb 20 23:45:42 2015

To All Conclave Perrinn Atlantos Imm RP

Subject A Study in the Necromantic Arts



As Zoranthus started getting comfortable in his new course of advanced
studies, he called upon a well known ally of the Conclave, Perrinn Aybara.

"Ya wanna help me practice some of this stuff? Zoranthus asked Perrinn.

A slight grin came across Perrinn's face as he started reaching for his
weapons. However, before he could grab them, he found a shovel in his
hands. The grin disappeared.

"To the Cemetary, I need practice instruments! " Zoranthus says to Perrinn
with wide crazy eyes.

Perrinn begrudgingly agrees, saying "Fine, I get your first dracolich,
though.


With that, Perrinn and Zoranthus proceed to the closest cemetary to start
wantonly excavating cadavers in order for Zoranthus to begin practicing
animating the dead.




Writer: Nistle

Date Sat Feb 21 10:31:57 2015

To All Conclave New_Thalos Sebatis Religion Imm RP

Subject Sebatis' Gift : Part 2 : The Searchening



Nistle stood on the chair, pacing around in a tight circle, his wings
giving an irritable flutter every few steps.

Where ARE his priests? That damn dwarf went off somewhere and that was the
only one I ever saw.
'

Furious, Nistle flitted off of the chair and buzzed around the bookcases,
his fingers skimming the titles of the tomes that weighted it down.

There has to be some of his tenants here. Something that I can use to get
the priesthood back on its feet. Lazy bastards!
'

Fed up when the search returned nothing, Nistle sighed, slumping his
shoulders. 'I just wanted to do something nice for him. After all, he gave
Algoron me.
'

Sebatis help me...where are your damned priests'




Writer: Nistle

Date Mon Feb 23 01:22:03 2015

To All Conlcave Antalya New_Thalos Sebatis Religion Imm RP

Subject Sebatis' Gift : Part 3 : The Priesterly Meeting



Nistled flitted about the laboratory absentmindedly, his thoughts
flitting through his brain as fast his wings beat the air. He didn't even
notice that his test subject had come back from the brink and was now
yelling through the gag.

So, there is a priest. An actually priest priest. I was hoping for more...
But maybe this will help the old stiff get promoted, then the gift could be
bigger.
'

Sighing, Nistle finally noticed the subject and frowned, tapping his lips
with a gloved hand.

No.. The potion just was not strong enough.. But which part was it? '

On the table the subject screamed and tried to escape from the restraints,
its massive muscles straining at the shackles holding it down.

Ah.. More of Chemical-N should do it. '

While he mixed the vials again Nistle lost himself in thought again. The
priest didn't seem All that interested after all. He was more interested in
going and fighting. Which was alright, but that was not what Nistle was
needing right now.

Sighing, once more, Nistle turned to his subject and opened the tip of the
tube, pouring the vial into it, watching as it slowly drained into the
subjects chest.

Now now, you are furthering an important study. ' Nistle mused as he stood
back and crossed his arms, watching as the formula began its work.




Writer: Pukje

Date Mon Feb 23 13:25:08 2015

To All Conclave Perrinn Atlantos IMM RP

Subject The Art of Killing



"Put that shovel down!" Pukje said tersely. "What sort of work have
they been giving you?!"

The angry Pixie hovered around Perrinn, considering him from different
angles, his wings a translucent blur.

"No, today we shall be making things dead, dead, and more dead until I'm
satisfied and All of these.." Pukje held up and small book crackling with
energy and continued, "Are firmly fixed and available to these!!" As he
waggled the fingers on his free hand.

"Oh how I would love to lash you into oblivion pixie..." Perrinn retorted
half heartedly.

"What, what, what? Actually, forget it... We have important work to do!
Insolence is a lesson for another day!"




Writer: Elathan

Date Mon Feb 23 21:45:43 2015

To All Shadow Necrucifer Imm religion roleplay

Subject A Time of Meditation



Elathan sat cross legged on the cool ground, his eyes closed, in a
relaxed position. In the dark and isolation he attempted to empty his mind
of the usual activity. Trying to focus on the void and emptiness that lay
within. He had been taught this technique by the Bishop Fel.

Thoughts entered his mind regardless and he would capture them, thinking on
their source and what fueled them and then let them go. Flashes of anger,
pride, grief, regret, passion, zeal, All with unique points of origin and
all directed in different places.

He would focus on these thoughts as they came. Learn from them. Use what
he could to better himself or channel them to more useful places then let
them go. Returning his mind to emptiness. To peace. He knew the error of
his ways and the emotions that went with those errors.

They would return from time to time but he recognized them for what they
were and he had learned how to repurpose those emotions into something
useful.

No longer would he be ruled by stubborness or emotions that only served to
do him harm. He would master them so that those thoughts might never again
escape his lips or take root in his mind. He would learn from them and
their various sources and use them to become better.

However long it took. He would not allow his emotions to dictate his
actions again. One who follows the heart finds it will bleed. He knew this
better than ever.

And so he sat in the dark and emptied his mind. Focusing those thoughts
that entered towards the Prophecy and how he could still be of use.




Writer: Thaydius

Date Tue Feb 24 00:23:41 2015

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Work to be done



The innards of Kadiya's Church were set to glow with a sway of
yellow-tinged light painted by sincere artistry and solemn spirits. Even in
this late hour, days after the holiday, a small group of people remained to
pray and remember the Goddess who had given everything she had for this
world. The mortals were shadows to Thaydius. He could see the golden light
within them. He could see their eyes and their hearts. And he could see
her. Like a sun in the center of the room, bright enough to keep the
hopeful observers safe from any kind of darkness here in her home, long
after she was gone.

Kadiya was always a giver. That was who she was, from the time she was born
to the time that she died. It was never more apparent to Thaydius than it
was now. And these people knew that. They did not look to her because she
was a giver, and she was not a giver so that they would look to her. She
trusted them. They trusted her. It was an important distinction of the
Light. They left their requests because it was her life's work to grant
them. It was neither duty nor obligation.

Thaydius collected hundreds of tiny sheets of parchment from the temple. He
had heard these people committing prayers to paper over the several days of
observance. As he had explained to the newest of the Silver Wing very
recently, he was not a god. Thaydius was nothing compared to a god, but he
was connected to All of them. And he could hear the people. He could feel
them. It was this connection to them that made him love them. They were
revealed to him, raw and without guile. Beneath All of the armors and
social constructs that mortals build around themselves, deep inside them
they were much simpler than they let one another know. And it was this
simplicity that they used to pray and to speak with his family. To speak
with him, too.

He started to look over the tiny slips, hearing and seeing the people who
had committed their wishes to the temple's open arms. I wish dad could work
again. Mom is so lonely. I don't want Bessup to die. I hope we have
enough food for winter. The voices washed over Thaydius, their simple
desires and honest requests pushing his divine blood through his veins like
electricity.

Focusing on the lives and lifestyles of Algoron's elite citizenry had
narrowed his perspective. But his eyes were open. His ears were open. He
focused on a single slip written by a young girl wishing her leg would get
better. Thaydius looked off into the distance, sifting through the hundreds
of thousands of golden auras and setting his focus onto one in particular.
With a light gesture of his free hand, he warped through the fabric of space
and set to work giving to these people. It was what Kadiya would have done,
if she could have been here. So now it was up to him.




Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 00:53:24 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)


The pungent scent of blood and animal stink filled the air, metallic and
sharp. It was strong enough to unsettle even her battle trained steed. She
could feel the horse shift beneath her, its muscles twitching as it waited
for her next command. She'd have thought the behavior odd but the animal
stench was strange - nothing she had ever smelled before.

Her breath misted in the still air. The evening was bitingly cold and had
it not been for the grizzly business displayed before her, she would have
been indoors, coiled before a warm fire. Impatient to be home now, her
thoughts turning ever toward her husband's impending return, she angled her
cold blue gaze down on the sickening display spread out over the ground and
set her distractions aside.

The patrol, indicated only by a few fragments of armor and the Kayen sigil
on bits of blood-soaked tunics and cloaks, had been ripped apart until
nothing remained of the people they had once been. The light of the stars
cast the scene before her in a pale silvered hue and pushing back her deep
fur-lined cowl she took note that none of the gore had been eaten. No,
something angry had torn these men apart. Something enraged, very powerful
and perhaps not natural.

The silence seemed heavier, more threatening, for the thought and her horse
shifted again while its ears swivelled at the thick darkness in the looming
trees. The sense that the beast lurked nearby was certain but she
hesitated, her gaze roaming southward. The boarder of Iagothal was near
enough and the creature's trail clear enough that it was obvious it had come
from outside the province.

Starlight glimmered pale on silver hair as she shifted the horse around to
the north-west with a flexing of her legs. The crunch of brittle sticks and
leaves sounded, the soft snort of the gelding followed and slowly, she
reached back to draw the sword at her left shoulder. The folded steel of
the elven blade hissed as it left the sheath and as the tip cleared, the
whisper of a forbidden melody lifted into the frosted night. She spun the
blade easily in her grasp once, sending a hollow threatening metallic
whistle forth and willed herself to ignore the Haunt.

If she had calculated right, the beast's angle would take it deeper into
populated farmland and one of the province's bustling market towns. She
couldn't let that happen.

A glance back the way she'd come made her pause. Another patrol was to
follow her out here, to aid in the investigation but in the half hour she'd
taken to observe the mauled patrol and the area nearby there'd been neither
sign nor sound that they were remotely close. She saw no torch or lantern
light back the way she had come, there was only the thick silence and as her
gaze returned to the broken path the beast had left, she knew she couldn't
wait. It was moving fast.

(cont.)




Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 01:48:30 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)


With the barest pressure of her heels against the gelding's flanks, the
horse nudged forward and they began to follow a barren game trail that ran
parallel to the creature's path.

Over the sound of the horse picking its way through the brush she listened,
casting her senses out. The darkness was more complete beneath the trees
but she could still sense it moving, its bulk and strangeness impossible for
her not to notice. Occasional splashes and droplets of blood dotted the
ground, drawing her gaze unerringly. She was certain anyone could have
followed its sloppy and destructive trail.

She heeded every warning the horse lent along the way but in the long hour
that passed, nothing attacked and the trail changed disturbingly. The
broken trees and limbs disappeared upward, drawing her gaze to the sky. It
could... fly? A wry quirk of her lips belied annoyance with this newest
occurrence. She didn't slow in its wake though, still drawn on by the blood
trail and the stench - she didn't carry a bow and quiver full of arrows for
the cosmetic appeal.

Rapidly going over new tactics, the edge of the forest rose up ahead. The
gelding didn't need to be stopped, it paused of its own accord just past the
break and stomped at the ground with a snort of warning. They'd caught up
with it.

The urge to dismount settled on her but even as muscles tightened toward
that motion, she stopped cold - heeding a gut instinct. A sound buzzed by
her ear. Insect? The season was entirely wrong for insects. Alarms began
to sound within as a veritable swarm of flies engulfed them, biting flesh
wherever it was bared. The horse swiveled its ears and flicked its tail,
snorting and shaking its head as it grew more annoyed by the second.
Ignoring the flies, she slipped down from the saddle deftly and made a
cautious trek further into the clearing. An icy lake lay lower along the
countryside and in the far distance the shadow of mountains arose into the
starry night sky. It was while she gazed toward those majestic peaks that a
dark blot caught her attention. It weaved through the sky, blackening the
stars. Its shape reminded her eerily of the lesser demons she had seen from
afar, even down to the flexing of its massive wingspan.

Disturbed by its appearance and somewhat concerned that it might, in fact,
be a legitimate demon she hesitated in her reach for the strung bow at her
shoulder, drawn instead to watch the creature. She was, thus, not taken by
surprise when she realized that its shape was falling fast - directly toward
her. It had drawn its wings in and was diving through the frigid air,
outstretched claws reaching forward.

(cont.)




Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 02:16:29 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)


She had time to react, though not to shoot it. The snap of its wings
splintered the air above her as she hit the ground and rolled away but into
the charged atmosphere followed an enraged roar. She was up and crouched
defensively by the time it touched the ground with its taloned feet and
turned its bulk toward her. Its evil, slanted gaze was a malevolent amber
and glowed with the depth of its animosity. It easily towered over her and
its body was broad, bulky. A mix of scaled black flesh and blood, with
tufts of indistinguishable fur along its arms, legs and middle. It flexed
impressive claws at the ends of thickly coiled arms that could clearly rip
men in half. Likewise, its legs crouched over wicked black talons and a
pair of bat-like wings stretched out over its back. Vapor slipped between
the fangs of its gruesome grin and then it came at her with a howl that set
the fine hairs at the back of her neck on end.

The face that snapped at her was bestial, more demonic than animal in the
darkness but she rolled away once again. Her sword sang in the same
instance, leaving a wound along the creature's outstretched arm and sending
the unique aroma of its blood to join the stink. It barely seemed to notice
the wound and its claws caught her cloak, leaving long ripped rents in the
durable fabric.

Without breaking stride she unclasped the garment while circling around the
clearing with the beast who followed in stride though she was given the
impression that it quivered with anticipation. It wouldn't be long before
it attacked again. Base instinct would work against it but until she
witnessed it further, she was at a disadvantage.

The next attack was surprisingly fast. Faster than she had anticipated as
its bulk shot toward her in an unnatural glide but in the seconds between,
she took stock of its openings and determined that she could cripple it,
perhaps kill it outright, but only if she took the hit.

The split-second decision made, she committed to the act but even in the
doing so the ground began to shake to the thunder of hooves. She had to
twist wildly, gracelessly, to get out of the way but the beast, trapped in
its initial rush, was caught by the tip of a lance and sent tumbling by a
shattering impact. She watched with a certain satisfaction, sprawled as she
was in the snow, as its crumpled body came to a rolling stop and ceased to
move some distance away before finally turning her attention to the horse
and rider.

He was heavily cloaked and even then tugging on the reigns of his
nightmarish steed to turn it around. Silhouetted by the stars and the night
sky the unholy creature tossed its head haughtily and turned toward her,
guided by a steady hand. She rose up from the ground sword still to hand
and, taking no heed of the snow caked along her side, met the advance.

"Are you alright?" Mildly spoken. Had her husband been concerned? The
thought made her curious but she responded to the query.

"I am uninjured. I had its trail. If I'd waited, we would have lost it in
the night sky and it might have reached the farmsteads or the town." She
made a gesture toward its crumpled body, which he turned to observe now.

(cont.)




Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 02:43:28 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (4/4)


In the silence that fell between them, he shifted his armored weight and
dismounted. The lance he left couched with the unholy steed but the smooth
sound of metal announced the drawing of his blade and they both made their
way to the side of the unmoving beast.

"Do you know what it is?" He asked, his sword point drawing one of its
crippled wings outward.

She shook her head slowly and remarked, "I've been to every end of Algoron,
studied more creatures than most but this - no. It looks..."

"Twisted and demonic." He finished in a low tone, which had her nodding in
agreement.

The flies that had swarmed her and her steed earlier continued to make a
nuisance of themselves but appeared largely confined to the body of the
beast now. An interesting development she found herself contemplating but
one without answers as long as the origin of the creature remained a
mystery.

"There have been enough events of recent to warrant new creatures emerging."
The tone made his words sound more like a suggestion but it stood to
reason.

The stillness of the night was abruptly broken by the sound of many horses
and voices. The patrol. They both turned as lantern light fell over the
clearing and a dozen men dressed and armored in Kayen livery rode in from
the forest.

She called to her steed as Reklah began issuing orders to the men at arms.
The query of the strange beast would be answered but not this night. It was
late and there was little more that could be done until the body could be
seen in light.

With the rush of adrenalin gone, the deep chill of winter's evening became
more apparent and she couldn't restrain the shiver that took her while she
brushed a hand gently over the insect bites that riddled her steed. It
brought her thoughts around to the rent cloak she had discarded for the
brief battle but before she could turn to find it, his hands slid the
familiar weight of it back over her shoulders. He clasped the fabric back
in place and set a kiss to her cheek while she reached up to brush her
fingers affectionately over his hand.

"You read my mind." She said with a smile, turning to regard him.

"Maybe." He replied with an amused twist of his lips. "Let us return now."

(fin)




Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:28:55 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Creativity X


Creativity.

One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his enemy.


The dragon wasn't very old, it seemed to be little more than an overgrown
hatchling in many ways, and it was painfully nave. Either abandoned or
having struck out on his own, this little wyrm was off in the
wilderness all
by itself, part of no great flight. Even so, Zola could not engage the
creature All by himself. The dragons hide was harder than steel, its breath
was death, its strength tenfold his own. Fatale
might welcome his embracing
death, but that did not mean he should blindly rush towards it with no
purpose in mind.


He could have called on his comrades in the Dungeon to storm the creatures
den and impale it on spears. Or made arrangements with Sindraste or Ulrog,
children of death that they were, to sneak in and drain the beast
dry. But
no. Fatale understood a need for wolves to fight in a pack, but at the end
of the day, his rewards were given to the one who committed the finishing
blow.

No, this called for Creativity.

So he planned, and he plotted. Fatale cited survival of the strongest, but
strength was not measured simply by raw power. Cunning and subterfuge were
equally valid weapons to employ against a stronger
enemy. Psychological
warfare was a truly refined art, if one knew how to employ it.


And so it was Zola researched a rare poison that affected dragons, coated
the fur of captured animals with it, and set them loose in the forest
whenever the dragon ventured out to eat. In a matter of
days, the beast was
in agony, its mind turned against it, playing tricks on it. It saw shadows
and flame everywhere it went, and it died frightened and alone, never even
seeing the scythe that sliced
through the air and then its vulnerable neck,
severing its throat and letting its blood spill over the floor of its cave.

Extinguishing the flames of his scythe, Zola stared impassionately at the
fallen dragon. It would receive no proper funeral, no dignified burial, not
even a prayer to its Gods of Lights. Its body would serve
the darkness
instead. With a sweeping gesture of his hand, Zola called forth the hunters
he'd hired, bidding them skin the beast and take everything of value.
Dragonbones, dragonclaws, dragonteeth, and especially
dragonskin. The meat
was foul, they would leave it behind to rot. Or else poison any animal
stupid enough to consume it.


The weak and foolish had no right to live.

Finally, the task was done, and Zola waved his arm again, bidding the
hunters follow him as they departed the dragons cave, dragging their
trophies along with them. Sadly, the creature was too young to have
a hoard
of any substance, but a few diamonds might be gleaned from its contents.
They would go to the Church of Fatale. The bones would be given to the
Dungeon, to be made into weapons and tools of great
strength and resiliency.
But the true prize he kept to himself.


Zola had his dragonskins. Now to find himself a tailor...




Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:29:23 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Preparation X


Preparation.

One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his objective.


The forest grove was in a more remote part of the woodlands on the Arversia
Continent, though it was rarely patrolled by any of the great
kingdoms.
Pine trees grew in great abundance and of enormous size, perfect for his
purposes.


It may have been easier to seek out the logs he needed directly from a
professional lumberjack, like the Listers, but Zola found this course of
action would be much, much more
satisfaction. Hiring woodcutters of dark
intent and simple earnings, he'd unleashed them upon the grove. They would
cut down thirteen mighty pine trees. And the rest they would burn to the
ground. It would not go unnoticed by the trees protectors, however.

This called for Preparation.

So it was, when the first dryad came storming into the grove, demanding Zola
and his men put an end to their madness, they failed to notice the hour of
the early evening, or the moon rising in the sky above.

Nor did they notice a pale dwarf slide out of the shadows as if he was made
of them, not until they had latched onto the dryad's body and dug sharp
teeth into their neck. They
could not see their attacker, they only felt a
terrible pain, their last image of Zola's plague doctor mask as the world
grew dark forever.


Thanking their protector Ulrog, Zola urged his woodcutters on, setting a
nearby sapling ablaze to speed their progress along. In mere hours the
grove was stripped, the
tree trunks lashed to oxen that carried them away,
leaving behind only burnt saplings and a raging fire that would burn itself
out in due time. The air would be thick with smoke and ash for days to
come.


With All of these pine logs, Zola would soon have quite a few pine boards in
his possession. And then, he could begin work on pine boxes... And what to
fill them with...





Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:31:10 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Acceptance X


Acceptance.

One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his victim.


He was almost in his forties now, though he looked far older, his body
emanciated and painfully thin, his hair graying from stress and lack of
nutrition. He wore the
dull gray smock of a prisoner, and considering he
was in a prison, it was an appropriate fashion statement.


Zola didn't bother to remember his name.

Thirteen years ago, he'd been an up and rising citizen of Abaddon. But in a
fit of madness, he'd attempted to commit the ultimate sin against Lord
Fatale, and commit suicide. Count Deccan and
Zola had prevented this, and
found a suitable, fitting punishment for him instead. He'd been forced to
live.


Thirteen years imprisoned in an Abaddonian dungeon. Solitary confinement.
Force-fed food whether he was hungry or not. Given no opportunity to end
his life, always under constant
watch. He'd begged, he'd pleaded, he'd
cried, wanting to die. He'd finally gone into a catatonic state,
unresponsive to outside stimuli.


He was ready. He had accepted his death as inevitable. But now he also
understood the futility of denying Lord Fatale his murder.


Nodding to the Count, who stood watch at the entrance to the jail, the door
was opened, and Zola stepped inside. The prisoner looked up fearfully at
the spectre of death that loomed over him.


But Zola only dropped a dagger in the middle of the room, and stepped aside,
leaving the doorway open. Count Deccan did likewise. This was the
prisoner's final
punishment, and his last chance at redemption in the eyes
of his deity.


His eyes darted left and right. For a moment, he wavered, tempted to point
the knife at his throat and end it. But with a mighty, wordless wail of
rage, he instead
charged the doors and the guards. They intercepted him,
impaling him on their spears, so violently the bloody tips erupted out of
his blood, splattering the red fluid over Zola's robes
and mask. Without
flinching, the hooded priest side-stepped the dying man to reclaim his
dagger, showing it to the prisoner as he held it up in both hands.


The dagger snapped like a twig, revealing its wooden nature and dull edge.
It couldn't have slain a kitten. It was a childrens toy at best.


The follower had chosen correctly, and Zola passed his hands over the man's
face as his soul departed for the void. He would
not be warmly welcomed by
the Lord of Murder, but no longer was he condemned to suffer. At the end,
he had chosen correctly.


Chosen to be killed rather than simply to die.




Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:33:01 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Patience X


Patience.

One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his guests.


Rohesia, Ghede of Abaddon, was a lovely young woman with raven-black hair
and skin untouched by the sun, looking positively alluring in the dim light
of the Midnight Grove of
Eclipse. By contrast, her elven friend was tanned
and blonde-haired with the brightest blue eyes and the most naive of smiles.

She thought she was safe here. How very wrong she was.

Rohesia had been preparing this one a long time. Softening her up, getting
inside her guard, subtly preparing her as a sacrifice. True, Abaddon had
many sacrifices
of the course of the average week. And elves were a
particularly hated group because of the invasion years back. But dragging
them kicking and screaming to their death
could lose its appeal over time.
No, this one would be different.

Reaching into a basket on the ground, Zola drew out a rare Abaddonian swamp
viper. Notoriously lethal, very quick, and equally patient creatures. They
could sit still for days on end until
prey wandered close enough for their
deadly bite.


He showed the snake first to the elven girl, watching her eyes grow fearful
as he described just how terrible a creature it was. The scent of her fear
filled the grove, making ravens caw up in the
trees. He then passed the
viper, very cautiously, over to Rohesia, who held it by its neck, letting
the long, multicolored serpent coil around her wrist. Her other hand
rested
on the elf girls shoulders, promising her it would be over soon.

And so it would be.

Without warning Rohesia lunged, the viper's teeth sinking into the elven
girl's shoulder deep enough to penetrate bone, injecting its terrible toxin
into her
bloodstream. Within minutes she couldn't breath, and seconds later
she collapsed under her own weight onto the dark grass. Rohesia giggled as
she slipped the
viper back into its basket. The sacrifice could only wonder
why. Why she had been betrayed by such a good friend. Why she was being
hurt for having done nothing. But
that was precisely the point. She was an
innocent, untouched by death, and thus unworthy to live. And Rohesia had
never been her friend. She
had been prepared for this a very long time.
But tonight their patience would pay off in a glorious sacrifice to the Lord
of Murder.

Watching the girl writhe in agony, Zola slipped off his ever-present mask,
allowing Rohesia to see the man behind it. Their lips met as the girl, one
of the only others
to ever see his face, quickly took the knowledge of it
with her to the grave.





Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Feb 24 17:12:57 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - A Slow Recovery


Ulrog reclined against the cold stone of the tunnels, still sore from his
wound at Alieras hand. The injury itself had sealed, but the demons pale
flesh remained scarred and puckered several inches to the side of his heart.
He knew instinctively that such a grievous wound, so near his heart, was
unlikely to ever fully heal. The anger and rage at his failure flared, and
he reflected on the events that brought him to this place, and the new task
he was set to do.

------------

After leaping from the citadel window, horribly wounded by the Empress, he
had followed the river for a time, then fled into the city of New Thalos.
Attempting to remain unseen, but more conspicuous due to his injuries, the
demon limped into the tunnels underneath the city, hoping to remain hidden
for a time and heal his injuries. He ruminated on his failure, resting in
the darkness, and discussed his coming tasks and challenges with the White,
Syrsaena. His failure to kill the Empress's child on his last mission would
be avenged. The Masters salvation came to all, willing or not, with time
and patience.

For now, he would find a new target, he was not yet sure who, and kill them
with his bare hands. The White bade him to eschew All weapons, and find
someone prominent for the light to sacrifice. His or her entire corpse
would be burned on the Masters altar, in the presence of His church and
followers, and All would come to know His salvation.

------------

This new task was a heavy burden, and the White had not given the demon any
thoughts at All on who he might choose to slaughter. The choice was his,
and the choice itself was perhaps as much of a test as the act of killing.
Ulrog decided he would wait, and let the opportunity arise. Patience was a
tenet of the Master, and the vampire was confident that the correct choice
for his sacrifice would reveal itself in due time.




Writer: Biem

Date Tue Feb 24 17:58:54 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Feb 24 22:04:57 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Feb 24 22:17:49 2015




Writer: Azheri

Date Tue Feb 24 22:31:06 2015




Writer: Azheri

Date Tue Feb 24 23:09:46 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 25 14:13:10 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog

Subject Seeking Demons



Aliera read over the letter twice before glancing up at Lashion, the
Captain of her City Guard. He had known her as a child, a teenager, Regent
and now as the Empress. We need to check on this, the couple is suspected
to have harbored that monster.
The older man nodded and assembled the
guard. Before the Empress addressed them. The Emperor has taken his guard
with him, The Royal Guardians and Protectors will stay with the children...
A level gaze from the Empress insured the Guardians of just how serious she
was before she mounted up onto her horse and took a small compliment of the
city guard with her, leaving most along with the lingering Elven force, to
watch over Althainia.

The information led them to a small house on the edge of the Empire, far
from the typical rounds of the guards, but not quite in the insufferable
desert surrounding Thalosia. The couple within tugged at Alieras heart.
While the Empress had grown up in the Palace of Althainia, these people were
scratching out a living on the edge of her Empire, and she did not even
know. They were guilty of being poor, in judgment as well as money perhaps,
but there was nothing sinister about them. The visit ended with a promise
from the Empress for aid in exchange for work, and the information she was
most seeking. He was seen entering the tunnels under Thalos. With her
guards and the blessing of the Thalosian Crown, the Empress went hunting.




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 25 15:21:05 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part One)


Ulrog awoke from his healing trance as the sounds of boots echoed around
the tunnels beneath New Thalos. Peering up, he spotted the Empress of
Althainia herself, surrounded with a retinue of a half dozen guards.
Scrambling backwards, he sized up the guards. They were armored, but there
were open spaces at the joints and neck where he could strike bare flash,
and armed with blades. Aliera wore a sword at her side, and carried a
glowing ball of light to reveal the vampire in the darkness.

The Empress cried out when she spotted the vampire, 'They were right! '

Darting backwards, the demon growled softly and melted into the shadows,
'This one is pleased she discovered it in the darkness.. '

'Spread out! He cannot be far! ' Aliera called to her guards, peering
around the tunnels for the near invisible vampire.

Ulrog crept at the edge of the Empresss light, watching as the guards broke
formation to spread and search for him, making them excellent targets. Only
one guard remained next to Aliera, obviously the Captain, with gilded armor
and a cloak denoting his station. Unseen, Ulrog darted around the group,
assassinating each guard in turn with quick, unarmed, flurries of strikes to
their unprotected necks.

Fear flashed in Alieras eyes as she watched each of her guards fall, and she
and the Captain back up slowly.

'Foolish, foolish girl. She has stepped into this one's place of power. '
The demon cackled from the darkness.

'Lashion, we need to leave... He is not as weak as we have been led to
believe" Aliera said to the Captain.

Limping, Ulrog emerged from the shadows, stepping into the glow of the ball
of light Aliera still held. He cackled, 'Yes, this one is weak, but it has
far more power than her forces individually, especially in this place, which
she so invitingly wandered into"

Aliera edged backwards, dropping her ball of light and drawing her sword as
Ulrog edged nearer. In his focus on the Empress, Ulrog did not notice the
Captain slip from view, edging around and hoping to catch the demon unawares
from behind.

'I am not afraid of you... You are a demon and an unholy thing, but I am
not afraid."

'And that, Empress. Has been her undoing. This one remains weak, but it is
sure that the blood of the Empress of Althainia would speed its recovery"
The demon chuckled softly.

Continued...




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 25 15:29:46 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part Two)


Aliera trembled slightly against the wall, and made the fatal error of
darting her eyes behind the demon towards the Captain. Catching her slip
and whirling around, Ulrog caught the Captain by the throat just as he was
beginning to lunge towards him. Squeezing his windpipe, Ulrog stared at the
Captain with his glowing red eyes, growling his words in a menacing tone,
"What did he hear the Empress call him earlier? Lashion? He will have the
great honor of being burned upon the Masters altar soon, and the Empress
will have the great pleasure of watching him die"

Aliera started towards them with her blade ready, calling out, 'No! ', but
she was far too late. The demons eyes flared and he squeezed his hand
tighter around the Captains neck. The Captain began to gurgle, and steam
started to pour off his body as his flesh started to turn a red hue. Veins
in the mans eyes burst and popped and the mans blood began to boil inside
him, and the demon hurled the dead mans body against the wall, cracking his
bones against the stones as Alieras howl of horror echoed in the chamber.
She charged towards him, swinging her blade wildly.

Ulrog ducked out of the way of the Empress's blade, and cackled as he melted
once more into shadow, watching the distraught and maddened Empress charging
around him. 'And now... Now her friends are dead. What will she do now?
' Ulrog called to her, the sneer evident in his voice.

Voice trembling slightly, Aliera replied, "She will fight the demon, she is
a Priestess of Honor, of Goodness, of Light"

She searched for the wall behind her once again, desperate to have one safe
side now that she was All alone.

The demon stepped into the light once more, abandoning All secrecy.
"Indeed... This one will not kill her for her foolishness.. Her death will
come in time. This one will make an example of her... And grant her the
honor of speeding this ones recovery with her blood. It is a great honor,
she should be proud."

Aliera growled, and softly said, 'Never.. '

Ulrog snarled, and his demonic appearance began to take shape, fangs
elongating in his mouth, and he lunged towards the Empress, knocking away
her pathetic resistance and sinking his teeth into her neck. Strength
rushed into the vampires limbs as her body slowly drained of blood, and he
dropped her limp form to the ground after she lost consciousness.

Kicking her body once, the vampire paced over towards the Captains broken
corpse and gathered it up, dragging the bloody body away from the tunnels to
get embalmed, in preparation for the sacrificial ceremony to come. Such a
prominent kill, and such a close friend of the Empresss would be a fine
sacrifice for the Master. The demon prayed his Master would be well
pleased.




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 25 17:30:52 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm Rp Nadrik Ulrog New_Thalos

Subject Seeking Demons part 2



The tunnels beneath New Thalos were confusing, and as soon as Aliera and
gone underground she became disoriented, losing her bearings on the streets
above. The Guards came before and after her, Lashion at the rear and making
sure they were not followed, he was the last into the tunnels. Summoning a
ball of light to her ball, the Empress sought to alleviate the heavy
darkness, revealing a scrambling vampire. They were right! Aliera cried
out in almost complete surprise. They had come searching for him but she
had never expected to find him, let alone almost trip over him.

The vampire took advantage of the surroundings and the dark almost
immediately, melting from sight as he taunted her from the shadows 'This one
is pleased she discovered it in the darkness..
' a shudder ran down her
spine at the words as she ordered the guard to find him, Spread out! He
cannot be far!
The darkness was suffocating thick and the demon stalked
the edge of it, taking out her guards before her eyes.

Aliera reached out with her mind, alerting briefly to the danger before fear
crept in and started to take over. Speaking softly to her captain she
started to back towards the unseen wall behind her 'Lashion, we need to
leave... He is not as weak as we have been led to believe.
They would be
the last words she spoke to her Captain. The demon stepped into the circle
of light the ball was bathing her in, fully into view as it spoke in a voice
that made her skin crawl. Yes, this one is weak, but it has far more power
than her forces individually, especially in this place, which she so
invitingly wandered into"




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 25 17:35:07 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog New_Thalos

Subject Seeking Demons part 3



Dropping her ball of light, the Empress drew her sword and drew on her
courage, and her faith. 'I am not afraid of you... You are a demon and an
unholy thing, but I am not afraid.
The exchange of words gave a brief
opening, in which the forgotten Captain moved behind his intended target
while the demon delivered another threat. And that, Empress. Has been her
undoing. This one remains weak, but it is sure that the blood of the
Empress of Althainia would speed its recovery
" Seeing the flash of blade
behind the vampire, Alieras sight was caught for just an instant, and it
would prove the death of her Captain.

The creatures words rang in her ears, , "What did he hear the Empress call
him earlier? Lashion? He will have the great honor of being burned upon
the Masters altar soon, and the Empress will have the great pleasure of
watching him die"
and by the time she could move, he was already dead.
Aliera screamed as she lunged at Ulrog the sickening thud of a body hitting
the ground heard amid her echo.

'And now... Now her friends are dead. What will she do now? The mockery
in his voice angered her, the truth it cut her to the quick and she stood on
the only thing she had at her disposal, who she was. "She will fight the
demon, she is a Priestess of Honor, of Goodness, of Light
" even she could
hear the trembling in her voice, the fear edging it as the worst possible
things flashed through her mind.

Backing up again, she sought the safety of the wall, recalling in the back
of her mind the training she had watched guards go through time and time
again, to always have one safe side to work from. Her fingertips just
scraped the surface as the vampire spoke again, "Indeed... This one will
not kill her for her foolishness.. Her death will come in time. This one
will make an example of her... And grant her the honor of speeding this
ones recovery with her blood. It is a great honor, she should be proud.
"
The word Honor on the lips of the demon spurred her like she had been
slapped.

A growl escaped her in response and she willed her body to move, refuse what
the monster was seeking as the word left her lips, Never The snarl was the
last thing she heard as the teeth of the vampire were bared and he buried
his fangs into her neck, stealing the force of life from her and healing
before dropping her unconscious body to the floor. The Empress of Althainia
was left alone under New Thalos, and bleeding badly as the demon walked out,
taking his prize corpse with him.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Feb 25 19:58:48 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Wed Feb 25 20:01:13 2015




Writer: Gebze

Date Wed Feb 25 20:25:03 2015




Writer: Gebze

Date Wed Feb 25 20:25:29 2015




Writer: Rmed

Date Wed Feb 25 21:02:21 2015




Writer: Aliera

Date Thu Feb 26 11:59:58 2015

To All Althiania Shalonesti_Kingdom Ulrog Imm RP Nadrik

Subject Seeking Demons part 4



The entire room was filled with steam, the fog like tendrils of it
creeping along every surface as the bath in the middle was heated beyond the
comfort level of most humans, yet Aliera was freezing. Despite the nearly
burning water, her skin was cold as ice and she could not stop trembling.
The shock to her system was overwhelming, and the night had been
insufferably long. Screams had woken the Empress every time she passed out,
only after the fourth time did she realize they were her own. A servant
urged Aliera out of the bath just as the water tinged pink, the seeping
puncture wounds at her neck dropping blood into the water. Another few of
them quickly removed to the tub, trying to minimize her exposure to the
sight. It was the third time today the water had been red from wounds, some
from the Empress, and the rest from the last breaths of the Cityguard.

After bandaging her broken ribs again, Aliera pulled a robe on and sat down
before the mirror in her bedroom. A faint gesture made those in attendance
yield the room to the Empress, suddenly having other things to do, and
leaving her alone in silence to look at herself for the first time since.
The condensation on the mirror slowly cleared, revealing the image of her
damp spirals clinging to her neck and shoulders. The water from the air was
still heavy in her platinum curls as she adjusted them, pulling them back
pinning them behind her head with shaking hands. As the mirror cleared
completely, the second of the golden pins fell from her fingers and
clattered to the top of the vanity as Aliera gasped softly, the wounds
visible for the first time. A pair of deep puncture marks, raw and
irritated perforated her neck on the right side. They were imperfect, the
demon had not just wanted to feed, it had needed to, the force behind his
taking it from her evident from the tears at the edge of the wound. It had
needed to replace the strength she had taken from it and what it had
expended in killing her mortal protection.

Humiliation, disgust and pain flickered over the features of the young woman
in the mirror before settling on the mask she so regularly had to have in
place. Her life was not a private one, and despite her estate nearly being
locked down and the servants sworn to secrecy, it would not go unnoticed
that the Empress was missing from the castle and palace. She would come
back from this, but not without help, dropping the mask again, and in the
privacy of her bedchamber, the Deacon cried out to her Lord.




Writer: Azheri

Date Thu Feb 26 12:23:26 2015

To All Kyri Bloodlust Ulrog Imm RP Necrucifer Fatale

Subject Ulrog's KILLING rage



The two met in the darkness of the lands. Azheri says to Ulrog, "You
fought hard last evening, but the Warlady is not a pushover.
" Ulrog nods
in agreement, but says "The sun did a great deal in determining who the
winner was.
"

Azheri said to Ulrog, "
Show me your best then. " Ulrog grabs a hold of his
axes and swings at Azheri's legs, hitting his hamstring, pushing Azheri to
nearly fall to one knee. Azheri quickly grabs the nearest stick that he
sees, and quickly goes into a defensive stance, hiding his entire body with
his shield. Ulrog kicks the dirt into Azheri's eyes, blinding Azheri for a
few moments as he begins kicking hard on the shield. With every kick at the
shield, Azheri takes a step back from the brute force of the dwarf. Azheri
says to Ulrog, "Let it go. Let it go. " Ulrog goes into rage. His body
became completely overtaken by the dark soul from within.

Ulrog's body swings, and swings, but he is unable to control his hits.
There was no precision. But the vampire notices that with every hit, Azheri
would take damage - little at a time. It was as Ulrog was scratching him to
death. Azheri whispers, "This is the spirit that I wanted to see," as he
attempts to dodge every hit. But punch after punch, kicks after kicks,
Ulrog continues to wear Azheri down.

In the height of the battle, Azheri prays to Necrucifer as he sings his war
howl song, knocking Ulrog to the ground, and even punching Ulrog's torn body
as he is down. Azheri does not stop - he wanted Ulrog to see what the
Dungeon is made of - ruthless savages.

Ulrog laid still, not moving a muscle. Some may think that he died, but the
vampire within has only stepped back to give this some thoughts.
As Azheri walks away, he whispers, "Let it go. You are what we need in the Dungeon."




Writer: Laendyn

Date Thu Feb 26 20:10:07 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Ulrog Imm RP Nadrik Zandreya

Subject Entering the Fight



Laendyn.... Help.... Thalos

Was All that he heard before he the silence filled the undead words.
Vampire.

Like a flash, the portal opened, the first of his Kyorl entering before he
could even fully lower his hand. With a grim nod to the rest of his Kyorl,
Laendyn entered the portal himself, the hot desert winds of Thalos blowing
against his skin.

"Yin'uil and Bin'val, find her tracks, quickly now', he ordered and off two
went in either direction. If the she had been here with her guards, it
would have drawn attention. Another four Kyorl, came up behind Laendyn,
nodding as they stepped back, All six remaining close to their Speaker.

Laendyn looked up and down the busy street, the busy merchants giving him
little more than a look of two over the Kyorl's shoulders, before they moved
on. It would not surprise him if the world of his arrival had already
spread on this half of the market.

Yin'uil appeared next to the Speakers arm and nodded, pointing down one of
the alley's, before melding with the rest of the Kyorl surrounding Laendyn.

As one, they moved from their spot, the Kyorl gently, and efficiently,
making a path through the crowds. In no time they were free of the crowds,
moving swiftly down the alley and down into the underground. Taking a knee,
Laendyn sent two more Kyorl in either direction. It was not long before
Bin'val came back, looking ashen faced and nodded.

A massacre and, in the middle, the Empress. Sheathing his blade he picked
up the Empress and sent another Kyorl ahead of him to call upon those within
Althania.

He had to get her help.



 


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