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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

Moving Forward - A New Blacksmith - Chapter 4
Moving Forward - A New Blacksmith - Chapter 5
Fw: Nothern March
Bright Aegis: For the Children
Forward North
Quest for the Eternal Flame: The Beginning
Quest for the Eternal Flame: Gathering the Party II
Fate Displayed
Fate Displayed - The Count
Reading the Cards
Aspirant's Resolve
Quest for the Eternal Flame: Gathering the Party III
The Long Nap
Ever Forward
Sloth (I)
Sloth (II)
Slot (III)
Quest for the Eternal Flame: Which Way Do We Go?





Writer: Rorra
Date Thu Dec 12 12:34:30 2019

To All Chaos Malachive ( Scorn Erebaal Immortal )

Subject Moving Forward - A New Blacksmith - Chapter 4



A few hours had passed she escaping from the walls of Althania and though
the excitement had passed for now, there was still plenty to look forward
to. After all, those merchants were pretty well renowned for a number of
reasons and it certainly was not just because many of them were very
wealthy. She suddenly stops, turning an ear slightly as if she had heard
something, yet the expression upon her face darkens considerably just before
a toothy smile claims its place upon her maw. She now knew where it was
that might hold her prize and getting there would be a simple matter as she
retrieved a sliver of some kind of material from the pouch. A few arcane
words and a downward stroke later, the rift was created and off she went.

Darkness truly had claimed this land, though it was not a place she often
would visit, it was something to behold for its grand designs. Not to
mention the occasional execution that would be on public display.
Verminasia had so much to offer if you looked in the right places and for
that she was glad considering many of those places were away from prying
eyes. All the while she maintained a cheerful demeanor while walking and
even sometimes hopping around and across several places where the roadways
had become misshapen. There was hardly a concern in her mind to whether or
not the guards would stop her considering there were even a handful of
crates stacked together and using them to briefly get a better vantage
point.

It took longer than she would have liked, but eventually found the alleyway
she had been informed of. It reeked of.. Something, but she truly did not
want to find out anytime soon, or ever. Even a few rather shady looking
characters were hanging around this alley. A few minutes later and she was
at her destination- A doorway covered by a dark colored canvas. Upon seeing
it, she wildly swung her arm to forcefully push aside the covering and step
inside. She wasted no time at All announcing her presence either.

"Greetings! I am Rorra and I have come to make you an offer! "

The room was silent as not a soul was present, yet the glowing embers of a
forge still burned brightly All the same. Where was this blacksmith and why
are they hiding from such a grand opportunity? There were few things that
could take the fun out of things for her and that was having no one there
when she expected them to be. Did she spook them with the casual nature of
her arrival? Well, nothing to show for her efforts now but return to
searching for a new blacksmith.

Immediately after pushing against the canvas to leave, the sound of dragging
metal catches her attention, to which she whips around, pointing against the
far wall as though threatening the air for making a sound. It stopped
immediately without a trace of who or what it was. Nothing was there even
now even though the sound was clearly from within the room. One helpless
shrug later and she finally makes her way back out of the building. Most of
the hooded figures had vacated the area by this point in time which left an
eerie feeling lingering in the air. It was time to head back for the night
to sadly report in that she has yet to be successful in the search. At
least she was able to spread a little fun during her time out here.




Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Dec 15 20:34:15 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Mon Dec 23 02:29:31 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Mon Dec 23 02:31:06 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Mon Dec 23 02:32:44 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Mon Dec 23 02:33:46 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Mon Dec 23 03:34:08 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Mon Dec 23 03:37:35 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Mon Dec 23 22:34:18 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Wed Dec 25 03:38:54 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Wed Dec 25 03:39:14 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Wed Dec 25 03:39:34 2019




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Wed Dec 25 03:40:31 2019




Writer: Euterah
Date Sat Dec 28 21:17:17 2019




Writer: Pharis
Date Tue Dec 31 21:40:58 2019




Writer: Phylip
Date Wed Jan 1 18:58:47 2020




Writer: Rorra
Date Sat Jan 4 10:36:02 2020

To All Chaos Malachive ( Scorn Erebaal Immortal )

Subject Moving Forward - A New Blacksmith - Chapter 5



The air surrounding the Warp was still. Not a soul lingered about the
jungles and even fewer could be found within. Something was certainly
amiss, but to what that may be is lost on the felar. Even she was visibly
down for having not found a new blacksmith regardless of how little time she
spent searching for one. That much had gotten to her enough that even her
tail would drag across the ground, which ultimately meant it was going to
require bathing to clean the fur of All the debris it would inevitably pick
up.

A few of the cultists looked up as the downtrodden feline entered the main
chamber, though they averted their gaze soon after. Something strange had
gripped the sanctum and there was only one way to find out what that thing
was. She moved from one room to another, seeking the Everchosen to pry for
an answer whether he liked it or not. It took some time, but she eventually
found the hulking beast of a man down within what might as well be a tomb as
far as she was concerned. Not a place she liked to visit at All if she
could help it.

"Mm... Everchosen, why is everyone so... Sad? Surely no one would know
that I faaiiiil-ed? Yet? Okay, maybe not, but I will keep trying as long
as I need to! You can count on that!
"

The sudden upbeat tone of her voice finally made the Everchosen turn his
head, to which the metal armor that had fallen into disrepair, screeched
loudly. The sound alone caused her to wince in pain, covering her sensitive
ears as though it was the worst pain imaginable. This ultimately forced her
to turn her head downward, shutting her eyes tightly before the horrible
sound finally ceased. A slight tilt of her head alongside a cursory glance
towards where the Everchosen had been reveals his imposing presence mere
inches away to which she yelped quietly and took a step back from him.

"While your quest for an armorer toiled in vain, so too has another blade
dulled and shattered in my hand. The Marauders prove recalcitrant, and the
blood I have shed upon Arkanian soil does naught but feed the gluttonous
hunger for our destruction. Our need grows yet more dire, Felid. You will
find capable hands, or it will be the doom of All we have created. "

".. Reca.. Huh? Oh, mm... Okay! I will still do my best even if it
means more drastic means of locating a... Willing person? "

The Everchosens words were as clear as ever in his way of speaking that kept
her wondering exactly what half of what he said was intended to mean, but
she did know one thing- She had to succeed no matter the cost. A cheeky
grin spread across her maw to which made her stand apart much more from the
dour mood of countless others around the Warp. All of this time so far had
been spent on spreading the Truth to others who would listen even if she was
putting herself in harms way. That and lending herself to the goal of
replacing or even something so grand as recovering the lost smith, but for
now, she needed to rest.




Writer: A'nekou

Date Sat Jan 4 19:31:09 2020




Writer: A'nekou

Date Sat Jan 4 20:35:09 2020




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Jan 5 00:57:02 2020




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Jan 5 02:12:33 2020




Writer: Mokla

Date Sun Jan 5 15:50:24 2020




Writer: Mokla
Date Sun Jan 5 15:50:30 2020




Writer: Euterah
Date Mon Jan 6 17:25:08 2020




Writer: Jankyu
Date Mon Jan 6 18:15:09 2020




Writer: Phylip
Date Wed Jan 8 17:47:13 2020




Writer: Euterah
Date Thu Jan 9 14:54:18 2020

To All Cayenna Scorn (Storyline - Darkonin)

Subject Fw: Nothern March



| -----Original Message-----
| From: Jankyu
| To: Darkonin
| Subject: Nothern March
| Date: Mon Jan 6 18:15:09 2020

This far north, there were nights the snows could fall so deep they could
bury a full grown horse, and winds could blow with such intensity they could
strip the flesh from bone and leave a mere man frozen and dead before they
hada chance to turn back.

Jankyu Nakob Dreadmuck was no mere man.

The dull clang of his iron boots echoed throughout the landscape as he
dutifully marched his platoon in the wake of the Witch Queen, following her
to Fort Ghyt in the Northlands. He and his men wore the same sort of armor,
they could be heard miles off thanks to their iron-clad boots. They were
designed that way, meant to evoke terror in the enemies of Darkonin.

While behind him lay many other, similar platoons in the service of
Darkonin, Jankyu's Black Guard were All hobgoblins. Like their leader, they
were clad in cold metal that covered them head to toe, armed with poleaxes
of deadly steel, and mercilessly drilled until their discipline was nigh
unto the level of a gnomish clockwork machine. Efficient and deadly, sworn
to the service of the Dark Mountain.

When the attack came, they were ready. Their leader was first amongst them,
cleaving through enemy beasts with just as much ferocity as they, leaving no
survivors. Their efforts allowed the Witch Queen to escape, making her way
to the Fort. They would follow.

After they had left no survivors.




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Thu Jan 9 16:31:19 2020




Writer: Angela
Date Thu Jan 9 18:42:02 2020

To All Knighthood Althainia Gray_Church Immortals Taliena

Subject Bright Aegis: For the Children


Returning to Shokono on the Archangel, Angela was pleased to see the camp
was in much better condition than it had been several months ago. The
refugees, while still displaced and down on their luck, were making the most
of their new life. Sometimes, that was All you could do.

Still, she was glad the Knights were here to help, and supervised several
Pages unloading new supplies. That done, she made her way into camp to
check on things, making her rounds to ensure everyone was healthy and cared
for.

Angela came across one difficulty. The crates with healing herbs had gotten
soaked through during the trip, and were waterlogged and largely useless.
Setting aside those for compost, she decided to find new ones rather than
waiting for a fresh shipment from the mainland. And to that end, Angela
gathered the children under the age of thirteen to her from across the camp.


"Alright, little ones," she said. "I've got a game for All of you. We're
going to go into the fields; surrounding the camp and pick flowers."

Predictably, a few of the boys groaned at that. Still smiling, Angela held
up a box. "And the one who; collects the most gets a treat."

That got their attention.

Giving instructions on which flowers and herbs she needed (and warning them
about some foliage which could be more harmful) Angela let them loose,
setting them off in their race to collect plants. She went with them, of
course, and when some of the smaller, younger children looked confused or
lost, she gently guided them in the right direction, and even helped them
collect a few herbs herself.

When the sun was starting to set along the Kurotaka mountain range, she gave
a whistle, inviting them All back to see who had won. Some of the older
children had collected quite the piles, it was obvious one of them had one,
but she made a point to thank even the smallest of them for even a single
extra flower.

"Treats! Treats!" They cried.

Smiling indulgently, sweet as sugar, Angela brought out the box from earlier
and brought out some chocolates she'd purchased in Shalonesti. Each child
got one.

"Hey, you said the one with the most got the treat!" Protested one of the
older boys, standing by a veritable pile of plants, only about half of which
were what she asked for (though the rest would still be useful).

"So I did," Angela replied. "But I never said the others wouldn't get them
also."

Her gentle teasing mitigated their upset feelings (as did a few extra sweets
for the winners), and All in all, they'd procure more than enough herbs for
her to start distributing them to those in need.

It was a start.




Writer: Euterah

Date Thu Jan 9 18:47:54 2020

To Darkonin Cayenna IMM Scorn All (Storyline - Darkonin)

Subject Forward North


Dkom tossed another log into the wood stove as the Queen watched the
progress of soldiers into the Fort out of the single paned window. Looking
as if been through some fray, the infantry arrived into the central
courtyard staggered groups of goblin and ogre kin seeming out of breath and
spent. The Witch grabbed her cloak, moving from the warmth of the office to
the snow blurred courtyard. There were many bodies now within the
courtyard, milling about, services though limited were coming to the aid of
those infantry and the military with its seeming confusion began to gain
order. The Witch Queen moved through the falling snow, thick heavy flakes
muffling noise, her boots sloughing through the snaking drifts as she sought
to uncover what had transpired.

She was unable to pull together the whole event, but the Witch surmised that
it was a larger pack of the same beast she and Kreegah had encountered
previously. The infantry was mostly counted for, yet she did not see the
Dreadmuck as she expected. The Witch watched from the gates as the snow
slacked, weakening to smaller drifting motes, sky turned from its lighter
gray to heavier gray, she kept by the now lit watch fires that ranged across
the southern gate.

The grizzled veteran Dkom brought the Witch some details and assured her all
the troops would be accounted for. From the Fort set out a number of
experienced scouts to travel the road, however the sky foretold of another
approaching front, the dark looming in from the east, blanketing the land.


The Witch Queen continued her vigil as the day waned.




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Thu Jan 9 18:55:30 2020




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Jan 10 15:20:36 2020




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Fri Jan 10 15:20:51 2020




Writer: Thasgerd

Date Sat Jan 11 12:44:39 2020




Writer: Geirhart

Date Sat Jan 11 15:49:41 2020

To All Thasgerd Austinian Xenophon Knighthood Althainia Imm Religion

Subject Quest for the Eternal Flame: The Beginning



The candle burned low in the library. Geirhart had been searching for
more information on this sect of adventurers. There was little mention of
an Azimuth let alone this guild. Taking a break from his research, he put
down his book and leaned back in the leather chair.

From the corner of his weary eye, he saw a book on the history of the Gods.
It was a simple book, worn from use. He picked it up and flipped through
the various pages and pictorials. He stopped on a picture of the war
between Austinian and Necrucifer. It showed the blow Austinian had given
his brother that caused his blood to corrupt the land. The dark rain
falling upon the world and twisted beasts growing up from it.

Geirhart had thought this only a tale but myth was reality for the Mages of
Storm Keep could harness it. Looking at the picture he found some notes in
the margin that surprised him.


Research shows the Eternal Flame of Austinian exists. Where there is
Shadow, a Light is cast.


The old man arched two fuzzy eyebrows, and peered at the notes.

The Eternal Flame was allegory for the goodness All mortals are capable of.
Supposedly, when Austinian saw the corruption the blood caused, he took a
piece of His Light and gave it to the first races. Thus it passed from
person to person, a legacy of hope to All people. A nice tale but could a
shard of Austinian's power actually exist on the mortal world? Could this
flame be harnessed?

The old man rubbed his eyes and closed the book, putting it aside. He
picked up his staff and walked back to the Gray Church dormitories. Sleep
dulled his mind but the flame tugged at the corners.

'Folly... But everything I thought was folly has turned true... Oh my. '




Writer: Mercerion

Date Tue Jan 14 22:51:54 2020




Writer: Mercerion

Date Tue Jan 14 22:53:37 2020




Writer: Geirhart

Date Wed Jan 15 12:39:10 2020




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Wed Jan 15 18:36:51 2020




Writer: Sabrina

Date Thu Jan 16 10:51:22 2020




Writer: Sabrina

Date Thu Jan 16 10:51:30 2020




Writer: Euterah

Date Mon Jan 20 18:32:09 2020




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Mon Jan 20 20:51:34 2020




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Mon Jan 20 20:59:02 2020




Writer: Lothaw
Date Mon Jan 20 21:05:22 2020




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Tue Jan 21 16:30:27 2020




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Tue Jan 21 16:33:23 2020




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Tue Jan 21 16:33:45 2020




Writer: Mercerion
Date Tue Jan 21 23:24:07 2020




Writer: Geirhart
Date Fri Jan 24 10:15:09 2020

To All Religion Thasgerd Caireall Austinian Imm Rp

Subject Quest for the Eternal Flame: Gathering the Party II



The Gray Church was still and quiet so it surprised the old man to find
the mentalist resting in it's chambers. Caireall had changed little from
the man who had assisted him in the evacuations of the Althainian citizens.
Geirhart was happy to see his friend again though he was concerned that
something more brought the man to these chambers.

They spoke at length and Caireall agreed to assist in the coming journey
assuming the Empire didn't need him. The priest was lucky to have the
devotee of Kantilles in his group. If arcane skills were needed, Caireall
could assist. His motley crew was coming together. Hands were shaken and
the young man departed.

Several days later word reached Geirhart that Boof had used the horn once
more. He prayed to Austinian and thought perhaps now might not be the time.
Thasgerd and Caireall would be needed to defend the Empire and he did not
wish to take resources away from this fight. Anyhow, he needed on more
person to round out this task, someone who could help them traverse the
wilds..

Perhaps it was time to call out to others and see who might be willing to
join this goose chase.





Writer: Aldnir
Date Sat Jan 25 20:03:09 2020




Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Jan 26 15:26:05 2020




Writer: Hrathen
Date Sun Jan 26 20:54:55 2020




Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Jan 26 22:25:23 2020




Writer: Euterah
Date Mon Jan 27 13:43:51 2020




Writer: Maccus
Date Mon Jan 27 18:33:42 2020

To Abaddon All ( Imm Fatale RP )

Subject Fate Displayed



Maccus crossed the room to an array of tools that he had used so many
times before in his time as Overlord of the Dungeon. When the Count put the
offer across to him he couldn't quite believe it, yet here he was once again
doing what needed to be done. Such had been the way of his life for some
time for that of Darkness. Do what was needed, where and when. Questions
were not something that he needed to ask until it was All over.

A pair of guards entered the room, dragging the body of a convicted traitor,
ready for his punishment. Maccus pointed to a spot atop a crucifix for the
guards to tie the traitor up in, and without more than a second glance at
the blood and scar coated Inquisitor.

Maccus looked over the man with such disgust, dissatisfaction and pure anger
that the traitor could but cower. "I will ask this once, who are your
co-conspirators?
". His tone betrayed the look along his face, coming
quite calmly. The traitor in question gulped, shaking his head quickly from
left to right. Maccus grinned now, selecting a small pair of pliers from
his toolkit. "You know, your screams will make a lovely symphony with the
rest that I've heard today.
"As he reached closer to the man, idly snapping
the pliers as he got close...

Several hours later Maccus called out for the guards, "You can collect this
one gentleman, and then bring in the next, I want them to see what they have
in store
". As he walked out of the room, inspecting the upcoming line of
whimpering men and women, those who had failed Abaddon or committed a crime
against the Kingdom. The pair of guards walked into the room, and a gag
could be heard, and then an audible punch. Maccus didn't bother looking
within the room, knowing the men would sort it out themselves.

The body being carried out on a cross had the unmistakable word "TRAITOR"
carved into the chest for All those to see. With a grin Maccus turned and
looked at those who came next and idly snapped the pliers in his hand again,
"Who wants to go first? ". His arm would extend and then with a point of
his finger he picked an ogre from the back "That one right there will do"
before turning around and back into the room as a series of orders and
shrill yells were heard.




Writer: Phylip

Date Tue Jan 28 14:18:52 2020

To Abaddon ( All rp imm Fatale )

Subject Fate Displayed - The Count



Phylip walked through the dungeon, the sounds of screams and the gutteral
groans of suffering so deep sound is no longer concious. Entering the room
he sees maccus as he finishes carving yet another criminal. Phylip wasn't
interested in thugs and criminals, he was interested in plots, conspiracies.
And he would find out. Pulling a trough from the corner, he fills it with
rotting, chopped up, corpses. Turning to Maccus he says 'Sorry for the
smell, leave it for three days, the water will be nearly black, but let the
prisoners see it.


Find Without a word, he leaves Maccus to his work walking back past pleas of
mercy and forgiveness, deaf to their cries.




Writer: Calisander

Date Tue Jan 28 23:50:23 2020




Writer: Nehtur
Date Thu Jan 30 22:13:55 2020




Writer: Heiryal
Date Fri Jan 31 07:11:24 2020




Writer: Heiryal
Date Fri Jan 31 07:14:15 2020




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Jan 31 16:43:51 2020




Writer: Ognir
Date Sat Feb 1 03:37:53 2020

To All Religion RP Drakkara

Subject Reading the Cards



The Priests tending the garden had long retired for the eve and the
ravens and crows crowded into the surrounding trees were silent. Mixed
smells of the pungent forest and the sweet black flowers in bloom wove
together into a heady tapestry. The burning pyre in the center of the
garden cast shadows dancing about the garden shine adding to its malevolence
and unreal beauty.

A young orc sat before the marble statue of his Dark Goddess, a thick velvet
cloth laid before him, each corner weighed down by a simple crystal. In the
center of the cloth sat a bowl clear water.

"It is time. "

With that Ognir looked up the pitch black sky, the black moon was now full
now in All its glory. The crystals, once clear, now appeared obsidian and
pulsed with dark magick. Ognir bent forward and dipped his face into the
bowl of water, the skull painted in white over his visage, washed off easily
- swirling pale and milky within the water at first, and then darker until
the bowl reflected the fullness of the Black Moon above.

After a moment of basking in the pulse of the Black Moon, the young orc set
aside the bowl and removed a small deck of cards from his belt pouch.
Giving it a quick shuffle he drew the first card and place it gently before
him. At the center of the card was a giant wheel covered in the symbols of
the gods of Algoron.

"Dhe Wheel of Fortune, " Ognir said to no one in particular, his voice flat.

Change, cycles inevitable fate. Yes - this made sense to him. Change had
come to Algoron. It was as inevitable as the passing of time and His
Mistress' hand had caused it.

He drew a second card and placed it down gingerly, bobbing his head up and
down, causing the bells woven into his dreadlocks to tinkle discordantly.
An angelic form was depicted upon this card, one foot dipped into a pool of
water, another on dry land. A cup in each hand, the angelic creature poured
water from one into the other. This card was inverted, however upside down.

"Temperence. Very interesting, Mother of Dark Magick. "

Balance within the darkness was indeed lacking. There was rage in excess.
Understandably so, but it had been long enough. This would need to stop in
order for those who called themselves part of the darkness to succeed and
bring to heel the rest of Algoron.

From the deck Ognir drew a third and final card. Depicted was a figure
sitting inside a vehicle driven by two black and which sphinxes.

"The Chariot. " The young orc nodded, feeling slightly sheepish. The
chariot meant direction, control and willpower. Three things Ognir already
knew the darkness would need in order to succeed in their mission.

The piercing scream of a man in agony cut through the night air. Ognir's
mouth turned upward, a smile graced his lips. Bodrum had reached too far
too fast and he had paid the price. Ognir wouldn't make the same mistake.

Tomorrow was the council meeting and with that his chance to move forward on
the pat he had set himself upon. He would not disappoint his Mistress.




Writer: Hrathen

Date Sat Feb 1 08:53:44 2020




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Feb 2 16:17:00 2020




Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Feb 2 16:17:06 2020




Writer: Nymaya
Date Sun Feb 2 22:48:02 2020

To Shadow Jermichael Vincent Ithelim ( Necrucifer RP Religion Cayenna Admin Imm Scorn All ) Rasavadi Telthian

Subject Aspirant's Resolve



Was it commitment to the Master or to the Keep that would validate one's
worth to the Order of Shadow? Should they not have been one and the same?

The question was insistent as she reviewed the facts; It was one thing to
know your own achievements but it was quite another to prove them when time
had become the enemy, obscuring the details beneath the layers of ages and
loss.

There were so few left, certainly none to remember what she had done in His
name. Her longevity had become a weight, dragging her out of recollection,
and her supportive role from within Reklah's shadow had sealed her fate.

The inner sanctum of the church was cool and silent despite the desert heat
and the rise of the wind that had begun to bear down across the dunes,
remaining temperate and cloistered - but neither easing nor comforting in
the depths of her contemplations.

She was missing something and age old skepticism whispered that it, verily,
came down to the blood in her veins if not her very gender. She was being
weighed against her actions though, and logic broke through skepticism to
suggest that that had to be the answer.

'Which actions' became the next hurdle to overcome.

The pew creaked softly as she sat forward, her fingers entwining as her
elbows fell to rest on her thighs, and she gazed up at the statues beyond
the altar in the shadowy distance.

Reklah had never shirked on sharing details with her. His own personal way
of offering her a greater connection - the basis of a path she had always
wanted to tread - and equality in their union. She knew how the Keep worked
and the traditions and disciplines of the Purists were nothing if not
demanding and predictable. If what she had already done could not speak for
her, the Keep itself could dictate a path as it did for its aspirants.

To find herself back at the beginning, yet again, and wading through a
veritable fog of unknowns was no less than where most Necruciferians found
themselves currently and gave rise to the insinuous question of 'why'. It
stirred from beneath the fires of ambition - where the ashes had begun to
settle caustically atop the heart of rage. This was not change, it was a
wisp of something akin to possibility and Necrucifer needed much more than
that.

Her position on the pew was uncomfortable and that discomfort broke through
her concentration to remind her of the wound in her side and she sat back
slowly, her gaze angling down to look upon the bandaging that yet covered
the scabbed puncture and the strangely burnt - but healing - flesh around
it.

The umbra stone had left its mark, which was a curiosity but one not like to
be answered anytime soon.

Puffing out a tight, if frustrated, exhale she sat back slowly and shook her
head. Waiting on the painfully slow politics of Storm Keep was turning out
to be a lesson in patience for the ages. Apathy threatened at the edges and
her gaze returned once again to the statue of Necrucifer.

"I knew it would not be easy but is this truly what You wanted?"

Her whisper fell heavily into the air and silence returned.




Writer: Vyanne
Date Mon Feb 3 10:48:15 2020




Writer: Sabrina
Date Mon Feb 3 11:44:42 2020




Writer: Sabrina
Date Tue Feb 4 14:13:37 2020




Writer: Geirhart
Date Sun Feb 9 19:14:37 2020

To All Religion Xenophon Austinian Imm Rp

Subject Quest for the Eternal Flame: Gathering the Party III



Geirhart was busy working on his latest weapons in the forge when Brother
Roric walked in. It seems the druid had read his missive and offered his
services on this latest endeavor. The old man was thankful and accepted the
aid. It seems his party was forming but Caireall's involvement would be
questionable with the horn business still going on.

Later that day, he gathered Roric and Thasgerd together to go over the
plans.

'Now then, the mystic vault holds many old tomes. The vaults rivaled the
great Library of History in it's size. I think this would be a good start
in finding any clues to the Eternal Flame. While I respect Kwainin's
library east of Thalos and the Gray's, this is our best option without
having to battle any defensive golems.
' explained the priest.

'Now then let's go over the legend so we are All on the same page. ' and
with that, Geirhart recounted the tale of the flame.

The candles in the Gray grew low as the old man spoke. Shadows flickered
upon the walls as the night wore on. When he was done, the trio knew what
had to be done.

Thasgerd saluted and mounting his horse, rode back to Gareth to prepare.
Roric and Geirhart wandered back the the dormitories of the Gray talking
about legends and history.

If this quest was fruitful, they would be making history.




Writer: Maccus

Date Tue Feb 11 14:34:38 2020




Writer: Maccus
Date Tue Feb 11 16:42:32 2020




Writer: Diuxa
Date Tue Feb 11 19:41:51 2020




Writer: Mercerion
Date Tue Feb 11 22:48:34 2020




Writer: Mercerion
Date Tue Feb 11 22:51:10 2020




Writer: Vittkis
Date Wed Feb 12 16:09:27 2020




Writer: Thasgerd
Date Wed Feb 12 17:47:54 2020




Writer: Krankle
Date Sat Feb 15 09:27:25 2020

To All Cayenna Conclave RedRobes

Subject The Long Nap



A wry smile spread across the Tinkers face as he slid the extra small
arcanium gauntlet into the extra large one. The space between the layers
was exactly as he had calculated. His nimble fingers then squeezed the bent
piece of wire hanging from above the Masters workbench and placed it inside
the small gauntlet, leaving it oriented to his exact specifications upon the
small copper peg that rested in the middle finger of the larger glove.

Glancing out through the window of his personal tower, he took note at where
the crest of the Red Moon aligned with the gashes he had meticulously placed
in the wooden frame of the sill. Seems to be about 7 cycles until His Moon
is at the peak. The revitalization of the permency should be complete
within 5 Perhaps it is a good opportunity to fix some dinner before
progressing with the experiment.

As the Red Moon rose in sanction, the gnome finished packing his leftovers
into several small bowls. One by one, he lovingly picked up each bowl and
whispered the incantation of one if the first spells he had ever learned.
His mind reminiscent with thoughts of his mother, he absently froze each
bowl with his hands and placed them into the earthen pit.

The room flashed aglow as the Red light focused through a series of
magnifying glasses and met with an intricately designed glass orb filled
with water. Awakened from his haze, the gnome abandoned his task, leaving
the last few bowls upon his workbench. His purpose redoubled as he began
opening the case of glowing blue vials from New Thalos and pouring them into
the space between the gauntlets.

As he poured the last vial, the collections of potions rose to a meniscus
that bridged the two armored gloves. With great haste the Transmuter began
casting the usual spells in preparation of his final seal of magic.
Blessings, glowing, and protection from heat were All laid in succession in
an effort to bring a warning on the uniqueness of the potion should the
experiment be a success. As the final spell of preparation enveloped its
target, Krankle bowed his head, sat into a meditative posture, and began to
pray to his Crimson Father while his body regained some magical energy.

As the cycle started anew, the Tinker opened his eyes and slid the diffusing
orb out of the way, allowing the beam of red moonlight to focus upon the
gauntlets contents. Taking a moment to appreciate the purple hue of the
light mingling with the blue liquid, he then began the incantation that
would make things permanent. The flair of the spell flowing through the
outer shell sprang up in a diminished light through the rim of the inner
gauntlet and subsided just as the Tinker slumped forward in exhaustion.

With trembling hands, the Master of the Conclave poured the contents into a
distribution flask, not noticing the small trickle that traced its way along
the backside of one the pinky finger and landing in one of his yet to be
preserved leftovers. He then moved on to fill the test flasks and align
them into a shelf marked, Bad Mojo. Taking a moment to marvel at the
purplish hue that emanated from his test batch, he turned his attention to
cleaning his workbench and finished preserving the leftovers of his cooled
dinner.




Writer: Euterah
Date Sun Feb 16 10:46:59 2020

To All Darkonin Cayenna (Storyline)

Subject Ever Forward



The distance between the time you arrive and the time you leave has
everything to do with attention, the Witch found herself suddenly within
Fort Ghyt. Startled, covering it succinctly, she allowed help in
dismounting and a stable hand take an chuffing Kreegah to a seeming deserved
rub down, meal and rest.

Dkom led the way to the newly constructed lodge. Euterah suddenly was aware
of the wind that ripped at her scarf, whirling her cloak to chill her. She
came into the new undertaking of engineering skills the Mountains people
held. The pine structure was far warmer when she was ushered in. She
offered Dkom a smile, letting the scent and humid warmth sink into her. She
then realized how cold she was.

How are you, Dkom, tell me of the Fort, She shivered clasping her cloak
around her as Dkom offered her a stool by the fireplace, pulling up a stool
himself. Waiting a moment until the Queen had regained her composure as the
brackish eyes settled with sobriety on him, the hobgoblin leaned forward.

Ah believe we have discovered ah significant detail Queen.

The Witch turned to her sergeant, in lieu of Supreme General she knew whom
she could trust. She lowered her head scarf, letting the fire sink its
teeth in her bones. It was delicious against the bite of the frozen north
winds and snow.

Curling her lips into a curious smile she returned, Do tell, Dkom, this will
be interesting.
Her brackish gaze settled on the hobgoblin.

Some of our scouts returned from the bogs around the Blood Sea. Seen the
tracks.


The Witch inclined her head letting her white gold locks obscure her
expression. Her dark eye lit upon Dkom once again as she answered,
Excellent well. We shall set watch and warrant.




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 17 02:10:20 2020

To All ( Religion Fatale Immortal )

Subject Sloth (I)



The hooded figure flit from shadow to shadow to shadow, observing the new
generation of the city's inhabitants. Over the years the city had changed.
Count after Count, he included, All had contributed to the greatness of
Abbadon. As he prepared to slip through the archway of Fatale's church a
sudden chill passed through his body.

"Still you lurk in shadows, demon. " The husky whisper caused his charred
fur to stand on end.

The hooded figure whipped around, a massive, an opaline staff in one hand
and crackling black energy in the other.

"Oh, such a display of bravado, demon. Bravo! " the voice echoed, seeming
to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"You taunt me from the shadows, where I make my home. That will be your
undoing, fool!
" The towering minotaur pulled back his hood, his smile
twisting his scarred visage as he melted into the surrounding darkness.

"I've watched you for a long time, demon, " the voice continued. "Watched
you squander the gifts the Master rained upon you.
"

"How dare you speak to a Bishop of Fatale's church in such a manner! "
Z'Quarus voice boomed from the gloom.

"A Bishop, you say? Hah! You have done nothing. Behaved as a Novitiate,
shirking your duties,
" the voice mocked the Minotaur.

The temperature lowered as chanting filled the streets. Suddenly a blizzard
whipped through the area, followed by fire raining from the sky, sizzling
upon the frosted earth. After a moment a second cloaked figure, just as
massive as ZQuarus, shot from one alleyway into another. Chains of darkness
shot from the shadows, wrapping around the trailing cloak and holding firm.




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 17 02:35:42 2020

To All ( Religion Fatale Immortal )

Subject Sloth (II)



Good to see you haven't forgotten the training Z'Quarus endured - but
this is a pitiful showing from you, demon.


A snarl reverberated throughout the street.

Does that upset you?

Fog began to fill the empty street, and with it the sweet scent coppery tang
of blood. The disembodied voice hissed, its wrath growing. He is an elder
priest. You taint his legacy with your sloth.


The Minotaur paused, assessing the situation. Pulling himself further into
the shadows he made a decision and moved toward the entrance of the church.
The fog was too thick for him to see and whoever this was, they were
skilled. Dangerous even.

You have allowed other priests to raise higher in regard. How long have you
been free to walk Algoron? Still you have not grown to your full potential.
Still you remain a bishop!


Z'Quarus darted forward, leaving the voice behind. The entrance to the
church was only a few steps away.

The Minotaur grunted as a massive figure slammed into him nearly sending him
sprawling across the paved street. He steeled himself and looked toward the
figure now blocking the entrance and grit his teeth. You know nothing,
spectre!


The figure surged forward, weapons drawn, raining down a hail of blows upon
Z'Quarus. I know more than you think!

Black flame illuminated the street, the acrid smell of black magicks and
clashing of sword against shield followed soon, weaving together into a
dirge of death.

Z'Quarus grinned his face shifting into the demonic visage he rarely showed.
The thrill of battle surged through his blood, waking within him his base
urge to kill.

Allow me to share with you Fatale's gifts. Burn from within! The Minotaur
clenched his hands and concentrated on igniting the blood of his prey.

The figure threw its head back screeching in agony.

Now, what were you saying?

Z'Quarus advanced forward, a dagger of obsidian in hand.




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 17 02:42:28 2020

To All ( Religion Immortal Fatale )

Subject Slot (III)



The figures screech turned into a snarl and then a bellowing laugh. Oh,
demon, you may have squandered your time but I haven't.


With that the fog cleared, the black moon bathing the streets in darkness.

Z'Qarus screamed as the blood within his veins boiled. The acid pools
within the lair of the great Charok did not sting as acutely as this. Nor
did the lava within Volcano burn as hotly.

So this is what I could be - this is what power I can look forward to -
provided I can make it through the night.
Z'Quarus thought.

I know your true name and if you continue to skulk in shadows, doing
nothing, your inaction will bring about your extermination. Trust that I'll
be watching closely, demon


Z'Quarus watched as the fog roiled throughout the streets again, enveloping
the massive vampire. The taste of bile and bitter failure thick in the
minotaur's mouth. All that the figure said was true. But, he would remedy
this. As the dark moon once again bathed the streets, Z'Quarus grunted,
hoisting himself up. He dusted off his robes and proceeded through the
church's entrance, taking note of the acolytes who cast quizzical glaces his
way.

Father. Forgive me my sloth. May my renewed vigor honor you.




Writer: Nehtur

Date Mon Feb 17 18:57:06 2020




Writer: Geirhart

Date Tue Feb 18 21:08:09 2020

To Caireall Thasgerd Roric Austinian Religion All Imm Rp

Subject Quest for the Eternal Flame: Which Way Do We Go?



' Umm, Brother Geirhart, I don't believe this is where you wanted to be...
' stated Roric as a two headed dog ran by.

Geirhart had wanted to find the Mystic Vaults but they had turned north at
Arkane's capitol and ended up in the Occultist Halls. Thasgerd, one hand on
the pomel of his sword and the other on the reigns of his charger, looked on
obviously perplexed. Various animals with odd enhancements wandered about
the halls.

'Indeed Brother Roric, you are correct, I believe we should have gone south
not north.
' and with that, they mounted their steeds and headed south to
the Arkanian plains.

The sun was setting by the time they found the caverness entrance to the
Vaults. Dismounting, the three companions secured their mounts and stared
into the dark cave. Geirhart lit a torch followed by the two other men.
Thasgerd also unsheathed his holy sword, the torch light glinting off the
blade. The general took the lead while the others stayed close behind.
Rustling sounds could be heard farther in.

'Wot bae tha noise? Bahts? ' questioned the paladin.

'Nay! ' exclaimed the pair.

Geirhart chuckled as they continued walking

'You'll see. ' said Roric.

Farther in, the cavern opened into a dwelling place. Doors could be seen
and the smell of mold and rot hung in the air. Opening a few they found old
tables and chairs, some rooms had bedding with rotted sheets still on them.
Then a large archway came into view and after it shelves. Amongst the
shelves where flying objects that seemed quite like bats...



 


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